Couple of things of note before this chapter starts:

It took me an age and a half to get around to it, but I officially changed Byleth's mother's name to the canon 'Sitri.' Fair warning, don't be surprised when you see it.

Second, I took the liberty of naming a handful of characters that did not have names in 3H. So, don't be surprised by those, either!

And third, thank y'all for being so patient! I haven't replied to every review, so I do apologize for that. I've come to realize that as this story progresses, the chapter's get more difficult and more intensive to write. I've focused the brunt of my attention on the work, instead of replying to the reviews as of late. Again, thank you all so much for reviewing! I've read all of them, and hopefully once we get to some not so important chapters, I'll be able to reply once more!

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

Their return to Remire Village this time around had… not gone well. Byleth had fond memories of this village the last time they were here, as many had been kind and friendly, but this time had been different. Father had business to take care of, specifically with the blacksmith, so he had left Byleth with one of their old neighbors. A family of four: a dad, mother, and two kids. Apparently, Elizabeth and her family were out traveling, so he couldn't stay with them.

It hadn't gone well this time.

The children had called him weird. Boring. They didn't want to play pretend with him, because he was 'no fun.' They even had the nerve to go play by themselves without including him at all. Byleth spent most of the time playing with his stuffed lion, all alone and sitting on the grass. He loved the lion greatly, but he couldn't help but cast longing glances towards the other children, thinking of how much more fun it would have been if he got to join too.

For whatever reason, their mom and dad didn't seem to try all that hard to include him. In fact, they didn't talk to him much at all. They sat on their porch, chatting to each other the entire time as they half-heartedly watched them all. At one point, Byleth had even heard the mother whisper to the father that he seemed 'nothing like Jeralt.' They didn't realize he had heard, as he was pretending to play with his lion, but of course he had heard.

Fed up with it, Byleth ran away. When the mom and dad had their back turned, Byleth had made a break for it. He ran towards the nearby forest, his small feet carrying him as fast as they could. They had called out after him, but as far as he was aware, they didn't try very hard to stop him.

Not that he cared. They were stupid, anyways.

There was no particular place he was running away to, now. No destination in mind. As long as it was away from here, Byleth did not mind. Away from the people that didn't understand him, and away from the people that couldn't see the real him.

It hurt. It hurt greatly.

And now, he was crying. Beads of boiling hot tears streamed down his face without restraint, seemingly burning his skin as they streaked downward. His vision was blurry- or, at least it felt that way. The green blades of grass beneath him felt distant, almost indecipherable.

Like any kid who had been bullied, Byleth was crying. It was the normal response, was it not?

Byleth couldn't understand why they would treat him like that.

He wasn't weird.

He wasn't! He was normal!

He wasn't boring… He could be fun if they just… gave him the chance.

Byleth kicking a nearby pebble as hard as he could, taking all of his anger and frustration out on it. It skipped across the ground, eventually making it into the nearby pond. There was a splash as ripples were sent across the water's surface.

Why did no one seem to like him? What was so different about him? He had ears, eyes, a nose, and a mouth, just like everyone else. What was it about him that upset people so? He didn't understand. Was it because he wasn't like Jeralt? How could that be his fault? Maybe he just took after his mother…

It wasn't like he was some kind of monster, or something. Just because he wasn't as loud as others didn't mean he didn't like to play. Just because he wasn't as expressive as others didn't mean he couldn't feel. Why did people treat him so?

Byleth walked up to the water's edge, dead set on proving them wrong. He would see his crying reflection and know that he was no different than anyone else. They were just mean. There was nothing boring, nothing weird, nothing wrong with him at all! He was just like they were, except not mean!

Letting out a huff, his little steps turned into stomps as he approached the pond. He'd prove them all wrong.

Lowering his head, he looked at his reflection.

A reflection… He wished he had not seen. It was something he instantly regretted.

Because in that reflection, there was no crying boy. It was the face of a little boy he did not recognize. A little boy, far from normal.

His tiny hands lightly touched his cheeks. His fingers probed his skin.

That… That didn't make sense. He felt… He felt them! He knew he was crying, how could they not be there-

"There you are!"

Byleth heard his father shouting from somewhere behind him. It was obvious he was worried; even as a child, Byleth could pick up on that tone from his voice. He sounded like any caring father would when their child had gone missing. He had heard this tone dozens of times before- he knew it by heart, now.

But, at this moment, he couldn't seem to find the will to care. He was too enraptured by the sight of his own face.

"I've been searching everywhere for you!"

Jeralt was close now. Probably only a foot or two away.

Unless Byleth wanted a serious scolding, he should probably turn around and apologize.

But, he found that he could not.

"Damn it, kid, why did you run off like that?! Do you know how worried I was?!"

When Byleth still did not respond, Jeralt began to realize something was off.

"…Byleth?"

Byleth could hear the soft mushing sound of grass and dirt as his father came up behind him. A hand gripped his shoulder- not hard, but firm enough.

"Byleth, what are you doing?"

"I was crying."

"Crying?"

After a second, he could see his father's reflection in the pond. As he expected, Father was distraught. His cheeks were slightly flushed. He was breathing heavily. His rugged face, usually so composed, was colored in emotion.

And he looked confused. Confused that Byleth's words didn't match the picture played out across the water's surface.

Because there were no tears. No puffy eyes. No runny nose. He wasn't crying. Not even close.

There was nothing. Nothing at all. Seeing his father's face next to his, a stark contrast to Byleth's blank, emotionless disposition… They looked nothing alike… There was nothing…

All there was were his gray eyes staring back at him. Lifeless and cold, nothing befitting that of a child. Nothing like his father's, and it was safe to assume they were nothing like his mother's.

Lifeless and cold, those were the only descriptors applicable to his colorless eyes. Eyes that only he bore.

Lifeless and cold, they tore into his soul.

It took him awhile to remember this information, but Byleth knew now that the human heart wasn't one, steady color. It wasn't simply red. It was red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, purple, and so on and so on. The colors of every emotion bled through. There was never one color that shaded the entire organ.

As a child, before the blacks, whites, and grays of human life reared their head, Byleth knew this. He had felt these emotions, he had known the vibrant colors.

But, for a time, his life was nothing but a dull gray. For a time, it had been easier for him to live an ashen life without color than it was to not. It had been easier to close himself off than it was to remain open and vulnerable.

Until he came to Garreg Mach, he had no reason to believe otherwise. People hurt him; they whispered behind his back because they feared him, they shunned him because he was different.

Emotions hurt him; the pangs of sadness bred from the loneliness and isolation cut him deeper than any knife could. The anger and self-loathing from being so different ate at his young mind. Many days, this pain he had to keep to himself. Bottled up and tucked away.

There were times where those emotions got the best of him. Times, as a child, he could have sworn he felt those tears stream down his face… He could feel their heat, their wetness, their texture. He could feel that stinging in his eyes.

Except, when he looked at his reflection, just to prove to himself that he could feel these things and that he was normal, his face would be as impassive as always. It was as lifeless and inhuman as it always had been. There were no tears. No red, glistening eyes. Nothing.

He hated his reflection. It had been a constant reminder of all of the things he was not.

None of it could not be trusted. His reflection, people, emotions, they told lies. They deceived him. They could not be held close, knowing that when they were ripped away, the pain was far worse than anything imaginable. At least, as a teen, that was what he decided. As a teen, he fully embraced that dull, colorless life. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing and the lack of love or acceptance outside of his father, or perhaps it was due to how the outside world viewed him, but for a time, this was how the Ashen Demon lived.

Isolated. Alone. Emotionless. Motionless. That child that yearned to be accepted by others, to be loved by others, occasionally resurfaced, but every time, Byleth pushed it back down.

It wasn't until he came to the academy, until he met the Black Eagles, that he realized such a lonely life didn't have to be his fate.

With some help from his new friends, he began to see the colors again. The grays, blacks, and whites faded away, replaced with something much more stunning and beautiful.

And now, at this moment, all he could see was red.

"Sir?"

The guard looked slightly concerned as Byleth stepped out of the dungeon. His brow was furrowed slightly, while his eyes seemed to be darting back and forth between the professor and the door he just stepped through.

Byleth decided it very unlikely that the guardsman didn't hear his shouting.

Gathering his wits, he shook the remnants of his rage from his mind as he stepped past the man.

"Carry on," Byleth said, feigning confidence; one of his stronger points.

The guard nodded slowly. Though they only met eyes for half a second, Byleth saw a hint of mutual understanding. That dumbstruck look faded, replaced by a neutral, albeit fake, expression.

"Understood, sir!" The guard saluted Byleth's back as he left.

Once the professor was certain the man could no longer see any inch of his face, Byleth exhaled slowly, a trembling hand massaging his sweaty brow.

Trembling?

Byleth huffed, forcing his hand back down to his side. It was only then that he noticed the pain in his chest. The dizzy sensation in his head. The shortness of his breaths. The heat in his face.

It seemed as though it might be impossible to force that rage and anger completely from his mind. He couldn't remember the last time he screamed like that… and for so long. It wasn't uncommon for him to bark orders on the battlefield, or shout when the occasion called for it.

But he damn near screamed at that man for a solid minute before he quit. Byleth's throat felt scratchy, and his mouth dry.

He coughed, wincing at the unpleasant, scratching sensation, but otherwise ignored it.

After a few minutes of uninterrupted walking, Byleth reached a flight of stairs. As he was still unfamiliar with the layout of this castle, he wasn't quite sure how to return to the throne room, or where Edelgard might be in this maze. He wanted to hopefully find his way back to her before their business was taken care of, as she did offer, but he feared that might be a lost cause.

Sighing, Byleth began his climb up the stairs, with no real destination in mind. If he could not rejoin her at this moment in time, he would simply stay true to his word and explore the place she once called home. No destination was required for that.

Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps if he focused on her, focused on these hallways she once strode through and this castle she once lived in, he might be able to clear his head.

…

Though, try as he might, he could not ignore those words echoing endlessly within his mind. Those pained sobs of a man who deserved far worse. He couldn't ignore the soft, spongy feeling of the Prime Minister's neck at the tip of his sword.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop replaying the same two scenes over, and over, and over again. They kept repeating, and repeating, and repeating ever since he stepped foot in that cold, dark dungeon.

Two scenes from a not so distant past, when Edelgard had opened her heart to him.

Byleth's lips curved into a frown as he recalled her words.

"There are times I long for the warmth of the sun, for the sweet breeze on my face… I'd sooner give up breathing than give up those things."

Though his feet kept moving aimlessly, his eyes began to lose focus. The hands at his sides tightened into fists.

"We were imprisoned underground, beneath the palace. That is why I treasure this sky above us. These things we so often take for granted… When you go for months without feeling the caress of the wind at your face or the grass beneath your feet, you find yourself willing to sacrifice your own life if it meant you could feel those things one last time."

He began to grind his teeth, his breaths coming in short gasps through his nose.

"They violated our bodies by cutting open our very flesh."

Byleth closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of that mental image. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

He didn't want to picture it. He didn't want to picture Edelgard as a child, crying and screaming as some monster dissected her. He didn't want to picture what her siblings must have looked like as they perished or slowly lost their minds. He didn't want to picture their lifeless faces or hear El's cries.

He didn't want to, but Byleth didn't have much say in the matter. His aching heart had taken the reins.

"…If I'm lucky, I'll make it to thirty."

He stopped walking as that anger overcame all of his senses. There was a dull ache in his thigh. It took him a moment to realize it was because he had punched his leg.

The dizziness was more powerful. He felt sluggish. His chest was lighter. His lungs burned.

Byleth had only experienced this a few times before: hyperventilating. The inability to fill his lungs with oxygen was a terrifying sensation. That natural response of fear wracked his chest and clouded his mind, only serving to worsen the situation.

And his chest… It hurt still. But not in the ways he was used to. It wasn't as though he was cut by a sword or pierced by a sword, it was more internal. It wasn't like the sensation he felt when he heard that drumming sound, either. It was different. Uncomfortable.

It was… light. Like gusts of wind were ravaging his insides.

He realized why, of course. The cause was obvious.

It was that burning, lump of heat in the pit of his stomach. That unquenchable rage, that burning anger. It was a familiar feeling. One he had felt in the fall of Remire, or when he was brought face to face with his father's killers.

Coming before the Prime Minister brought all of those emotions screaming back.

Those flames engulfed him. They made him dizzy. They made him hurt.

Byleth would have killed him. He should have killed him.

The temptation to move his blade just an inch deeper… To make that cut just a bit wider…

The temptation had been so maddening, he nearly killed that man right then and there.

He should have killed him. He should have let his sword cut just a few inches longer, a few inches wider. He should have spilled the Prime Minister's blood all over the floor. He should have made him suffer as they had suffered.

But… Edelgard had decided to let him live. As she and the rest of her family were the victims in this, ending Ludwig's life was not his decision.

So, instead, Byleth gave the Prime Minster a number.

Twelve.

Twelve years.

That stupid number. That cursed, unfair deadline. A number, always ticking down, forced upon Edelgard against her will. With each passing day, no matter how great or wonderful it might have been, the time she had left was slowly depleting.

The thought of how much this number must have plagued Edelgard's thought physically pained him. Any time she enjoyed herself, any time she felt frustrated, depressed, lazy, anything at all, was this number always in the back of her mind? A constant reminder of a death fast approaching?

How painful must it have been for her knowing it was a very real possibility she would expire before reaching the end of her dream?

Life shouldn't have such a short expiration date. It shouldn't be like a plate of food, or a glass of milk that set out too long. It shouldn't end so quickly.

…At least, not for her, nor for Lysithea. Not for people like them.

The people that did this to them, on the other hand…

Even if it meant reaching up from the depths of hell itself, Byleth would drag Ludwig von Aegir down there with him. He truly he hoped the Prime Minister spent these next years cowering in fear. He hoped that each time this man stared at the clock, the timespan Byleth had given him wouldn't be far from his mind- that nothing could be enjoyed without dreading that number twelve.

Byleth truly hoped Ludwig spent the next twelve years of his life riddled with anxiety and fear, flinching at every sound, shirking away from every shadow, worrying about what might be behind every corner. If Byleth became a boogieman in this pig's terrible life, he'd be thankful. Byleth would happily go blind if he could acquire vengeance.

The professor took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Finally, the rage seemed to be subsiding.

Taking a quick look around, Byleth was in a different, unrecognizable hallway now. It curved around the corner, seeming to go on for quite a while. Paintings of past emperors and royalty hung on the wall, spacing the gaps between each ornate window.

Truthfully speaking, he wasn't quite sure where he was. Still.

But, the portraits of Edelgard's ancestors did intrigue him.

Byleth decided to continue on this path, determined to see every painting. He did not know much about his own family tree, but he found himself deeply invested in Edelgard's.

He pushed onward, his eyes glued to the wall and the paintings, looking for even the tiniest amount of similarity within the faces.

Occasionally, he'd pass by a window. Each time he passed one, his reflection would flash across his eyes. A reflection of a man with puffy eyes and a slightly runny nose. A man whose emotions were easily discernable, even if the reflection was blurry.

Byleth swiped his arm across his eyes and continued onward. He tried not to fixate on his own reflection.

Turning his attention back to his task at hand, Byleth began to take note of the portrait's genetic similarities. With each passing picture, it felt like he could pinpoint one aspect that was similar to Edelgard in some way. A woman had a similar jawline. A man with a similar, pointy nose. Another woman that had a similar height. He wasn't sure which genetic features were passed down from her mother's side and which from her father's, but each time he spotted another similarity, Byleth felt himself relax just a tiny bit.

There were a few names he recognized from history books and the like. Wilhelm I, Lycaon I and Lycaon III… Byleth had never really considered it before, but it was somewhat strange realizing the woman he had fallen in love with was a descendant of all of these important names and faces. He always had to remind himself that she wasn't just his El, but Edelgard von Hresvelg, descendant of Wilhelm I, founder and the very first emperor of Adrestia. She came from a long line of very important people, while Byleth… Well, his origins were muddy, to say the least.

After a few more minutes of walking, Byleth came upon one of the portraits he was highly interested in seeing.

The professor slowed to a stop, his eyes hovering on the nameplate. He recognized it instantly.

His gaze moved up from there, slowly traversing the man's height. He was fairly tall, and given the width of his shoulders and the way his body fit out the royal garments, quite well built. The emperor's face was bright and full of youth, from the chiseled jawline to the subtle smirk he bore. His closely trimmed, yet full beard matched his brown hair.

Ionius's eyes painted a different picture from the rest of the man, however. In this portrait, he couldn't have been much older than Byleth was now. But, unlike him, those eyes were neither sharp nor emotionless. Unlike, say, the excitable and cocky Caspar, Ionius's eyes had a cool, levelheaded strength to them. Almost like steel. And unlike Felix's, there wasn't an underlying anger to them.

They were strong, but soft as well. Eyes filled with heart. In his heyday, Ionius must have been quite the adept leader.

Hardly anything like the decrepit, old man Byleth had met just an hour ago. The difference was so steep, if he didn't know any better, Byleth would assume they were different people. It was night and day.

I suppose that's the toll losing your family takes on you… I doubt anyone would be any different in his shoes.

Giving the once proud Ionius IX a farewell, Byleth moved onto the next portrait. It was the last in the line.

This one, however, was a family portrait. Ionius was once again present in this one, as strong and regal as he looked before, but this time that subtle smirk was replaced by a small, yet genuine smile.

Surrounding him was eleven children, all differing in ages. Some with light and dark brown hair, some with black, and one with blonde. Many of them were nothing but children or teenagers, while the oldest of the bunch appeared to be a year or two into adulthood. This one seemed to be a year or two younger than Byleth was now. His hair was cut nearly identical to Ionius's, and there was a thin layer of facial hair growing in on his cheeks and jaw. It was almost surprising how similar this one looked to Ionius. Even their height was almost identical.

His eyes slowly traveled downward, taking in each young, rounded face of a child before they eventually landed on the one he knew.

A small, innocent nine-year-old. Purple eyes wide and cheerful. Face brighter than the sun. Long, flowing brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders.

Brown hair…

"They're… beautiful, aren't they?"

Byleth flinched, his head shooting to his left, eyes widening to saucers at the sight of the one man he didn't expect to see.

Granted, he was flanked by six other men, but still.

"Sorry to startle you," Ionius coughed into his fist.

The former emperor motioned for his armed escort to leave them be. The siz guards that accompanied him all bowed and saluted, quickly making themselves scarce.

"No need to apologize." Byleth shook his head, inhaling slowly. "I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight, Your Majesty."

"I was returning to my quarters and… I noticed you examining the artwork," Ionius replied, his eyes darkening as they moved to the portrait of his family. "This… happens to be along the way. I stop by it every night."

Byleth nodded. He imagined Ionius spent a lot of time here, staring at this picture of his past.

He turned his attention back to the painting.

"You're right, they're beautiful children."

"They… they were…" Ionius mumbled, his eyes lost in the brushstrokes before him. He lingered on each and every face before moving to the next one in the line.

They stood in silence like that for a few moments, both examining the artwork, before Ionius opened his mouth to speak.

"Did you manage to find Edelgard?"

"I did." Byleth pointed towards the little girl he knew to be her, but he dared not touch the actual piece. "I'd recognize those eyes anywhere."

Ionius chuckled, and for a moment, his expression seemed to grow wistful and reminiscent.

But, only for a moment, before the grief and despair crashed back into him, dragging his features down with it.

"She… She was a wonderful child…" Ionius murmured. "They all were."

Byleth shifted his weight awkwardly, fighting the urge to try and console the man. As Edelgard once put it, all he could truly offer Ionius were some worthless words from an outsider looking in, but…

He felt he had to say something.

"I… I am deeply sorry for your loss, Your Majesty."

Ionius sighed, but it sounded more like a dying man giving his final breath than a person simply exhaling.

"Nothing… has ever been the same since they…"

The older man closed his eyes, turning his head away from the portrait.

"Edelgard told you, did she?" Ionius asked, opening his weary eyes to stare at Byleth. "Of what happened…?"

"She did."

Ionius sighed again, but this time… It sounded more out of relief? It was hard to tell. Each breath the man took was so extremely labored.

"I am glad."

Byleth blinked. Glad?

"She has been carrying that weight… for many years," the emperor explained. "After what happened to her and her siblings… she was never the same. She stopped laughing… She no longer smiled… Those eyes of hers… no longer held light any light. She was but a husk… Far too similar to as I am now."

Ionius opened his eyes, stealing another look at that portrait. His gaze seemed to land squarely on Edelgard's young face.

"For years I've feared that I had lost all of my children to that… to that hell."

Those eyes reddened as they filled with tears.

"I've never been more happy… more relieved… to be proven wrong."

Ionius turned to Byleth.

"I was hoping I might run into you once more, Sir Professor, so that I might thank you. It is my assumption… that you played a great role in that."

Byleth hesitated, wondering how much of his relationship he should truly divulge to Edelgard's own father. He didn't want to take credit for any of Edelgard's own personal growth or strength, either. It was true that perhaps his presence in Edelgard's life played a large role, but it was Edelgard herself that had been able to pull herself up out of the darkness. All Byleth did was offer a hand.

But, it took a fool to not realize Ionius didn't have much time left in this world. Honestly speaking, seeing this man before him now, Byleth doubted he had more than a year left. Two at the most.

Hiding something as trivial as their relationship to a dying man seemed almost coldhearted. He did not want to hide the words that would likely offer the man some comfort.

"There is no need to thank me," Byleth said. "Your daughter… means a great deal to me. I'd do anything for her."

"I have noticed."

Ionius hobbled over to the nearby wall, leaning his back up against it. He allowed his head to rest against the surface, but his eyes always seemed to gravitate back towards the image of his children.

"If… what happened in the dungeon earlier was any indication…"

Byleth's eyes widened, his face paling. How did he already…?

"Do not look so alarmed. Word reaches my ears… rather quickly in this place." Ionius smirked weakly- a far cry from the depiction of it Byleth saw earlier. "I suppose I should be thanking you for that… as well."

"Gratitude I would not be worthy of."

"But I offer it all the same."

Byleth did not quite know how to properly respond to that, so he decided it best not to. Perhaps it was better that way. It must have offered Ionius some amount of relief, albeit miniscule in size, to know that those guilty of his children's deaths would be punished one day.

So, instead, Byleth's gaze returned to the painting.

"Your Majesty-"

"You may call me Ionius."

Byleth glanced at the man with a raised eyebrow. Calling a former emperor by their first name seemed a little…

However, technically speaking, he had been on a first name basis with Edelgard for a while now. Though it felt a little different, a little strange, Byleth supposed obliging Ionius's request was allowed.

"Very well." He nodded, clearing his throat. "Ionius, may I ask you a question?"

"You may."

Byleth motioned again towards the portrait. This time, however, to the other, unfamiliar faces he did not know. They all bore some resemblance to Edelgard, but it was only now that Byleth realized he knew nothing of the people they were, or even their names. He had only heard of their fates- nothing of the people themselves. It felt like… a disservice to Edelgard's family to not know more.

"What were they like?"

At that, Ionius's brows raised. Not by much, but it was noticeable.

"El has not told… you?"

"No, and I have yet to ask."

Byleth paused, scanning the picture and committing each of their pure, youthful faces to memory.

"I do not want to push her. When Edelgard is ready to tell me, she will." Byleth nodded, content with that decision. He was content with it, and yet… "Part of me would regret it were I to leave this place without at least learning their names."

"I see…"

Ionius pushed himself away from the wall, only to stumble and fall back against it. Byleth jumped forward, quickly offering him an arm to steady himself with it. The once great emperor accepted it begrudgingly, using Byleth as a support as he pulled himself forward.

"I am sorry, Sir Professor… But, I cannot."

The answer did not surprise Byleth, but hearing the 'no' did make him feel incredibly guilty. It was likely uncouth of him to ask the father to reminisce on the love he had lost. Byleth should have had more tact.

Ionius continued before Byleth could utter his apology.

"As… As much as I loved them… It is no longer my place to tell their story."

Their story?

Byleth was confused. If there was anyone to tell what happened to these lost souls, would it not be those most affected by it? Between Edelgard and Ionius, there really wasn't anyone else to tell it. At least, none that Byleth wanted to hear it from.

The emperor limped towards the painting. With an unsteady hand, he reached out to touch them and their faces. His pale, boney fingers brushed against the canvas. His sons, his daughters, his forefinger and middle finger grazed all of their cheeks.

It was… a heartbreaking sight. It stopped Byleth in his tracks, his mind inevitably jumping to his own personal loss and what those events left him with. It reminded Byleth of the days he stood in front of Sitri's grave, desperately wanting to feel a mother's touch, a mother's warmth, her love… only to be met with the hard, unforgiving cold of her tombstone.

Just like that grave, this painting was as close as Ionius could ever get to feeling their cheeks beneath his fingertips ever again. That course, rough canvas was as close as he could get to his children.

A barricade preventing him from reaching a heaven he longed for.

"This painting… Those warm, lovely memories of better days… Are all that I have left… They are all I have… and I will continue holding them close to my bleeding heart until it grows still."

Ionius's hand closed into a fist and fell back down to his side. His gaze was fixated on the younger version of Edelgard.

"But, the same does not have to hold true for El-"

The emperor turned away from the eleven, glowing pairs of eyes, and faced Byleth.

"She still has time… There is still happiness for her to find… People in her life that love her, and she loves in return."

Ionius closed his eyes, a single tear breaking free. Byleth would not have noticed if not for the dark bags of his eyes, or the paleness of his skin. The clear, almost glistening drop was a stark contrast to the rest of him.

"Those scars that cover her heart will never heal, but… There will come a day where they may hurt just a little less. A day where… she might be able to stride forward without looking back…"

The emperor straightened his back, exhaling slowly as he opened his eyes. They were slightly red and filled with unshed tears, but not another broke through.

"And when that day comes, it is my dearest hope you'll be there beside her… To nudge her slightly, and listen to their story… It is not the place of a dying man to steal that from his daughter. I hope you understand, Sir Professor."

"Please, Byleth is just fine," he murmured, his eyes sneaking a look at the little El before returning to Ionius. "And of course, I do."

"Thank you, Byleth."

Ionius nodded, glancing back at the portrait.

"Truth be told, my account will likely do you… no good. As fiercely as I hold onto those memories… Even they are beginning to fade with each passing day. Soon… I am sure that even they shall pass from my mind. One day, they shall leave me, too."

The emperor sighed, his eyes growing wistful as he stared longingly at his children.

"But, hopefully not before the end…"

It was almost chilling how welcoming Ionius appeared to be for death, but… Given all that he knew, Byleth couldn't fault him. If he had lost Edelgard or his students in a manner as tragic as that, well, he doubted there would be much strength left in his heart either.

"May I ask another question, then?"

Ionius turned to Byleth, raising an eyebrow.

"Would you mind telling me about the El from before?" Byleth asked, Ionius's previous account of her still lingering in his ears. "I've… only ever known her as she is now. I would like to know what she was like… before all of this happened."

Byleth often thought of that happy, blissful child; the girl Edelgard had been before her siblings were torn away from her. He wanted to know more of that stubborn, little El who hated to lose, or the El that once loved to dance, or the El that once loved her birthdays. Byleth wanted to know all there was to know about the woman he loved, and of that young girl before her entire world was cast in shadow.

"Very well." Ionius nodded, coughing into his hand. "I see… no harm in revealing that to you, at least."

To Byleth's surprise, the emperor turned away from the painting, and began walking in the opposite direction.

"Ionius?" Byleth called after him, confused.

"Let us converse as we-" Ionius coughed once again. "W-walk. She is sure to be waiting for you in the… garden. She seemed very anxious to get there."

The garden…

Byleth cursed silently.

How could he have nearly forgotten that?! Visiting the garden together was one of the few things she had wanted to do together before they returned, and Byleth had nearly forgotten. Was she already waiting? When they left each other, it hadn't been entirely clear when they would meet up again… But the thought of the newly crowned emperor waiting for his return… all alone… was painful.

Byleth pushed the thought from his mind. Hopefully, that wouldn't be the case.

"Y-yes, of course." Byleth nodded, hurriedly following after the much slower Ionius. If not for Edelgard's father, it might have been an hour before he found her.

Slowing his pace to match the emperor's, Byleth sealed his mouth shut as he waited for Ionius to begin.

"You seem to know my daughter… quite well," Ionius stated, sneaking a glance in Byleth's direction. The professor had been the victim of those kinds looks quite often, so he knew when he was being assessed. "So, whatever it is you are picturing… is likely to not be far off."

"Truly?"

Ionius nodded.

"She was… very spirited, even at a young age. Some of her sisters might have even fondly referred to her as 'bratty…'"

There was that rueful smile that again as he continued. His eyes were pointed forward as they walked, but to Byleth, it seemed as though they were staring through stone floor.

"She could be very fiery and competitive when she chose to… Anselma and I would joke that El started to walk just so she could catch up to her older siblings."

Whatever hint of a smile that had been present was thrown to the wayside at his own mention of the name Byleth didn't recognize. Anselma? Edelgard never mentioned anyone by that name…

"That is, before… before…" Ionius drifted off, his cloudy eyes darkening.

But, given the context, Byleth assumed it must have been her mother. That story Byleth heard in the Goddess Tower came rushing back, a love story between the emperor and his consort.

Shaking his head, the father continued.

"Regardless, El was always eager to learn from her shortcomings. Even as a child, if there was something she struggled at… She would try again and again until she perfected it."

They continued walking, and Ionius's wistful smile returned as he reminisced.

"I can still vividly remember the day I taught her to dance…" He murmured, his gaze moving to the ceiling above.

"Oh?" That piqued Byleth's curiosity.

"A ball was being thrown for Alexander's birthday…" Ionius continued, seemingly oblivious to Byleth's slight prod. He appeared to be in his own little world now, if the second, unknown name dropping was any indication.

Byleth assumed it to be one of the brothers.

"I told her there was going to be dancing and other festivities… and she pleaded with me to teach her… She was bound and determined to dance with the others."

Ionius chuckled. Unfortunately, it sounded more like that of a choked sob than it did soft laughter.

"We spent an entire afternoon in the courtyard, dancing in the heat and beneath the sun… Even I had grown tired near the end… But, not her. She could have kept going… until her form was perfect…"

Ionius slowed to a stop as he lifted a hand. Byleth watched curiously as he seemed to… pat the air? There was nothing there, but… not to Ionius, clearly.

"…As expected of my El…"

His voice was no higher than a hoarse whisper.

The hand drifted back and forth, his fingers sinking into nothing. The look on the emperor's face… It was unnerving. There were many times during the conversation where he seemed to grow distant, his eyes lost as he recalled the past. Byleth considered it unavoidable given the circumstances, but… This time, they were truly not there.

"Ionius?"

The man blinked. His hand fell back to his side, his entire body nearly toppling over.

Byleth placed his own on Ionius's shoulder, steadying him.

The emperor shook his head fervently, the look fading with each shake. Once he seemed to get ahold of his senses, he murmured a shaky 'thank you.'

With the moment over, Ionius continued walking without another word, so Byleth followed behind. It was almost as if that near accident had never transpired at all.

"And of course… she always had a sweet tooth," Ionius coughed into a hand. "There were many dinners… Where we'd catch her sneaking her vegetables onto a sibling's plate… so she could get to the dessert quicker. Alexander was… always complicit in those nefarious activities. Always the partner in crime."

There was that name again. Byleth was assured now it had to be a sibling.

In a way, it made him feel guilty for homing in on these slip-ups. Almost as if he were taking advantage of an ill man's loose lips.

But, as Ionius spoke about those happy times, he was smiling again.

"Does any of that…" He looked at Byleth, eyes gleaming with a faint hint of hope. It was as if he was testing his further hypothesis. "Ring any bells?"

"It does." Byleth smirked as well. "That sounds very much like the El I know."

"Good… Good."

Ionius nodded a few times, a hand reaching up to wipe something out of his eye.

"I am… glad to hear that."

The two continued to walk together, through the hallways El once walked through. Byleth made sure to keep his pace slow, as to not hinder her father, and was always at the ready in case the sickly man stumbled or tripped.

As they walked, Ionius continued to regale Byleth on tales from Edelgard's childhood. There was not much talking on Byleth's part, but he also didn't feel the need to add any input. He simply listened to Ionius's stories, stories through the eyes of a loving, proud father. Stories about how a little El tried learning to swim, or how she would often play hide and seek with her oldest sibling in the very garden they were heading to now.

Byleth listened intently. While the imagery of a younger Edelgard, playing and having fun, brought him great happiness… It was hard not focusing on that weight in his chest as he watched Ionius speak of days that were no longer possible, days involving children that were no longer there.

Edelgard let out a lengthy sigh as she sat down on one of the handful of wooden benches that occupied the garden. Her feet hurt. Her back ached. Her eyes slightly stung, and there was a subtle, yet steady throb behind them. Her new garments, while they fit comfortably, still took a bit to get used to. She had worn the academy's uniform for so long that the crimson dress she was wearing now felt strange. It was slightly unnerving feeling the breeze on her back and the rough, coarse wood of the bench rubbing against her, but that was the price she had to pay for deciding not to wear the cape, she supposed.

It had been her intention to find Byleth immediately after their meetings had concluded for the evening and the work had finished, but after all of that mental gymnastics, she had to take a moment to catch her breath. The title of emperor was something she had prepared for, trained for, lived for, but now that she had finally acquired it… It was more stressful and intensive than she ever could have realized. With each word, each order, each decision, there was inevitably someone else's life on the line. Someone whose life would inevitably change with a simple sentence or a brush of her quill.

That weight… took time to get used to. Even though she had prepared intensively for this day, with a full understanding of the consequences that laid behind her actions, that weight was heavier than she ever realized. Knowing that in just a few short weeks, thousands would be sent off to a war that she caused…

It was something that must be done, but even still, it was taxing. It felt as though she just ran a dozen miles in a full suit of armor.

Undoing the buns her hair had been tied in and shaking it free, she allowed herself to rest fully against the bench. Her snow, white hair spilled across her red shoulders as she lifted her head to stare up at the twilight sky. With the sun setting beneath the horizon, the beautiful, blue canvas above her was tinged with hints of orange, purple, red, and yellow. It was truly a breathtaking sight, and one that she was thankful to have the opportunity to witness. A series of white clouds rolling in hid the sun from view, but it didn't detract from the image.

Edelgard closed her eyes, slowly inhaling through her nose. She focused on the various scents of the garden, carefully separating and dissecting them like a surgeon might his patient. The smell of the freshly cut grass, the slight, but present fragrances of the blooming flowers, the underlying, pungent smell of the freshly laid dirt.

Each smell, no matter how slight, brought Edelgard back to days past. To a time where she would spend many hours here, either alone or with her family. Somedays, she would just sit. Others, she might have planted flowers with her mother or one of the servants. On many occasions, she might have played hide and seek with her oldest sibling or some game with another.

They had been beautiful, loving memories… Filled with conversation, laughter, and happiness…

Edelgard opened her eyes, a small smile on her face as she lowered her head to look at the freshly planted flowers not so far away. Lilies, roses, carnations, daffodils, you name it, they were there. A cacophony of different colors, but because they were all so different, they were that much beautiful.

As her purple eyes got lost in the colors, she could almost hear Alexander's voice in her ears…

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Back then, she would often hide behind one of the bushes, or perhaps behind a pillar or in the gazebo in the very middle of the garden.

"You can't hide from me forever, little princess!"

Alexander would often throw out teasing remarks as he prowled the area…

Thinking back on it now, she really wasn't that great of a hider. Perhaps her brother simply drug his feet or purposefully avoided the tufts of auburn hair that would be poking out. She won far too many times for that not to be the case.

Despite being the oldest, the one with the most burdens among them, Alexander had always made time for her… Was always a kind, loving older brother.

Edelgard giggled softly as she recalled the games they used to play together. Everything from hide and seek, to 'fancy' tea parties.

She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, her smile growing as she continued to examine the garden she spent so many days in.

She was thankful that those happy memories of her older brother weren't paired with the grim, cruel reminder of what happened to him. She was thankful for that in this instance, when she pictured her eldest brother's smiling face, his lifeless eyes didn't immediately accompany it right after.

Lowering her head, she glanced to the hands resting in her lap. Now, they were covered in the red cloth of her new gloves. A look she had to get used to.

She slipped them off and set them down in the spot beside her.

Edelgard studied the various scars that marred her skin, her eyes traversing their length. Some small, some large, but each told a different story. Each scar had a painful, terrible memory attached to it.

Just like this garden, and just like this lonely castle, Edelgard's scars always reminded her of her brothers and sisters. They would always be linked. She could not have one without the other.

"Alexander…"

She whispered the name out into the air. Her soft, weak voice was carried off by the gentle breeze.

It… had been so long since she had spoken his name. It felt familiar on her tongue and her lips, but the simple noise of her beloved brother's name sounded foreign in her ears after years of disuse.

When had the last time been? Had she even uttered their names since… since those days? Not even Byleth, the one who she had shared all of this with, had heard them yet. She hadn't even found the strength to tell him yet.

It was a terribly sobering realization, knowing how long it had been since Edelgard had spoken her siblings' names aloud.

"Helena, Irmhild, Bernhold, Eberhard."

She had always loved their names… The way they sounded in her ears. The way they rolled off her tongue pleasantly. The way they filled her chest with warmth.

"Lorelei, Eduard, Friedrich."

They had all been quite close… Most of them even had nicknames for each other, much like 'El.' Nicknames they would call each other, names born from love.

"Aveline, Dedrick."

Though they had been as close as any sibling might, they had all been so… different, as well. All with differing likes, dislikes, personalities, and hobbies.

But, that never mattered.

She had loved them dearly. Even though they, at times, annoyed and pestered each other as siblings do, she loved them with all of her heart.

El had loved them so…

But, just as it was with their names, she had begun to wonder just when the last time was that she had spoken that truth? Had it been even longer?

She… She couldn't remember. So desperately did she want to, but… She just couldn't. Nothing specific, at least. It was all hazy and fuzzy. Pieces missing, like someone had taken a pair of scissors and cut out sections of her memories. The only ones that seemed to be completely intact were the ones that hurt the most.

When had been the last time she told them she loved them?

Lifting her head to the sky above, Edelgard scanned the horizon, and what laid beyond it.

"I… love you all."

Edelgard's lips began to move, her eyes never leaving the horizon's edge. Her voice, nothing but a soft whisper, drifted off into the air.

"Not a day goes by where I do not think about you. Not a moment where I do not wish for your presence at my side."

Like all things regarding the topics of religion and faith, Edelgard hardly believed in those fairytales anymore. Her 'faith' had been lost with her brothers and sisters. Unlike them, however, it wasn't particularly something she longed to have back, nor did she feel that she needed it any longer.

Since then, she had found something else to believe in. Another figure more worthy of her faith; faith that was not blind, nor unwarranted.

"Not a second goes by where I do not miss you…"

But, the thought of her siblings somehow being able to hear her words was… greatly comforting. Even if they could not, she did not mind.

"I have no right to ask this of you, but please… Continue watching over me as you always have, and be patient just a little while longer"

The clouds parted, allowing the falling sun's golden light to break through. As she had been looking directly at it, the sudden light nearly blinded her…

But, at this point in her life, she had witnessed far brighter lights.

"I want you all to bear witness as we banish the shadows that have plagued this realm. I want you to watch as… we stand together and reclaim our lives from the darkness."

"Well said."

Edelgard flinched as a hand fell upon her shoulder. She had been so lost in her own little world, her heart nearly leapt from her chest at the sudden touch.

The emperor whipped around, wide eyes immediately landing on Byleth's small smile. It took her nearly an entire second to realize that her father was standing but a few feet away, his cloudy eyes watching the scene unfurl intently. They had yet to leave her.

"B-Byleth," Edelgard gasped, her hand gently massaging her chest. Beneath the skin and bone, her heart was hammering. "You startled me."

"Sorry," Byleth said, but his smile didn't dissipate. He continued peering deeply into her eyes, almost to the point that even she felt somewhat embarrassed. "That was not my intention."

Edelgard cleared her throat and averted her gaze, hurriedly rising to her feet.

"I take it you showed him the way, Father?" Edelgard asked a question she already knew the answer to. "Thank you."

She gave him a slight bow, but Ionius rose a hand to stop her.

"There is no need. We simply… happened to run into each other. After he informed me of your plans to… rendezvous in the garden…"

The former emperor paused, his eyes finally floating off to the flourishing garden. Just like Edelgard, he appeared to be enraptured by the bright and vibrant colors.

"Guiding him here was the least… I could do," he finished, closing his eyes and turning away.

Edelgard shifted her weight, a sudden pain assaulting her chest. That brief flash of regret and longing that played across his eyes was enough to make her heart ache.

"Please, stay. We would both enjoy your company."

Byleth nodded eagerly.

Ionius glanced at the two from beneath his white hair. His lips had curved into a tiny smirk as her words registered in his ears, and for a second, Edelgard truly believed he would accept the invitation.

"Perhaps… another time. I am afraid there is not much strength… left in these bones tonight. Regretfully, I must rest."

Edelgard felt herself deflate slightly. It was an answer she had expected, but…

"However, once you are finished… Please, join me for a meal. You both must be famished, and… I would enjoy the chance to talk with you more."

At that, Edelgard smiled widely.

"Of course, Father. Until then."

"Until then." Ionius returned her smile with one of his own, and this time… It appeared more genuine. More… human.

He then turned to Byleth, giving her professor a long, poignant look. One that almost flew directly over Edelgard's head.

"Do not… forget our-" Ionius coughed into his hand, his entire body shaking with the intensity of it. "Conversation from earlier, Byleth."

"I won't." Byleth nodded, growing serious. "You have my word."

"Good… Very good."

Ionius coughed a few more times, giving the two a nod in farewell as he turned to leave.

"Make sure to… take all the time you need. I will see you both again later in the evening."

"We will, Father. Thank you."

Giving one final nod, the former emperor left the garden, but not before giving the gazebo one last glance.

Edelgard watched him go, long after he was already out of sight. He still appeared ill and weak, but… He was more expressive, also. More talkative. It felt almost rare that she got to hear her father speak without it pertaining to their position as royalty, or his guilt, regret, and grief over what had happened.

"How was he?" Edelgard asked, looking to Byleth. "When you two talked? Did he seem…"

Cognizant?

She trailed off, hoping Byleth would be able to pick up the pieces.

The mercenary's smile faltered, as she had expected. It wasn't very noticeable, but Edelgard immediately picked up on the way his pupils had moved an inch or so to the left, purposefully avoiding hers.

That alone was answer enough.

"…About what you'd expect. There were times where he seemed clear and spoke easily… But, I fear he does not have long left," Byleth answered carefully. Her teacher hesitated, meeting her eyes. "He seems to feel the same."

"I noticed," Edelgard sighed, sitting back down on the bench. Reclaiming her gloves, she motioned for Byleth to sit in their place.

Doing just that, Byleth quickly sat down beside her. For the first time during this conversation, he gave Edelgard's new outfit a once over. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw some sort of recognition flash across his eyes, or that his lips had twitched into a frown, but she decided her eyes must have played tricks on her.

"Truth be told, I am not surprised. Seeing him today, watching him try to speak, try to walk… I know full well there is not much time left," Edelgard murmured, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I suppose I should be thankful that I got to see him once more before…"

Edelgard exhaled slowly, her eyes traversing the garden once more. This time, however, the flowers did not seem as colorful.

"It was not the way I wanted to see him, however."

Byleth fidgeted in his seat, his head angling towards the exit Ionius had just walked through. After another second, he turned back to her.

"Would you like to go join him now?" Byleth asked quietly. "We can always sit here another day."

"No." Edelgard shook her head. "Father does need his rest and… truthfully, I could as well. It has been… a long day."

Byleth bobbed his head up and down, but didn't voice a reply otherwise. After a few moments of silence, she felt a tender hand cup hers. However, unlike before, Byleth had taken his gloves off as well. She hadn't even noticed…

Relishing in the heat of his skin, Edelgard squeezed him back.

"What did you two speak of?" She asked as casually as she could.

"You, mostly."

As blunt as ever, came the response.

Byleth glanced at her, gauging her response.

"I assured him I would look after you. He thanked me."

Edelgard wiggled in her seat, her gaze moving to the grassy floor beneath them. Under normal circumstances, the emperor would protest that she needed no one to 'look' after her. Simply the thought of indulging in such a statement screamed weakness. The leader of the Adrestian Empire, the woman who would shortly incite a country-wide war, requiring a babysitter?

Under normal circumstances, a proper ruler would reject the notion.

But… she was far from a proper ruler. And knowing that her father wanted her protected made her… Happy.

Edelgard gave a small smile, focusing her mind on the feeling of Byleth's hand in hers. The days ahead would be uncharted territory, filled with anxiety, self-doubt, and fear, but knowing that his hand would be there to comfort her as it was now was freeing.

Knowing that Byleth would be there, not at her back, or at her front, but directly by her side, allowed her to feel hope.

Hope was a very powerful thing. To Edelgard, it was what truly made humanity unique, and what separated them from a common beast. With hope bolstering the heart, giving it the strength to beat, it was possible to make it through even the darkest of nights. Possible to weather even the most frightening of storms.

To be able to feel it again, and to feel it so strongly…

Edelgard flinched, torn from her thoughts as Byleth pulled her to her feet. She gave him a questioning look, but given his expression, he seemed to have something in mind.

"Come on, El," Byleth said softly, motioning to their surroundings. "Let's walk through Enbarr's garden."

The emperor blinked, and for a moment, she felt herself get lost in the green of his eyes. This time, they reminded her of the fallen leaves, swirling in the wind.

"Okay." She nodded, her smile growing as she interlaced her fingers with his. "Why don't I show you the flowers?"

"I would love that."

Together, the two walked towards their beds. Beautiful colors, they were. Edelgard had always loved them.

"Do you have a favorite flower, Byleth?"

A question she had long considered, but never found the opportunity to ask.

The man paused as his eyes landed on the various petals.

"I suppose saying carnations would be cheating, no?"

"It would." Edelgard smirked. She had a hunch he would try to venture her favorite.

Byleth paused again, scratching his chin as he examined the different flowers.

"…Daffodils," he replied after a moment of reflection.

"Is that so?" Edelgard raised an eyebrow, sneaking a glance at the almost glowing yellows of their petals. "A fine choice. They suit you."

Byleth gave her a dubious stare.

"Do not give me that look, my Byleth. I truly believe they do."

The professor hummed, giving the brilliant yellows of the daffodils one more look. He still didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded regardless.

"Since it's you, I'll believe it."

The two shared a small smile with each other, and once more he squeezed her hand. It wasn't forcefully or assertively, but… carefully. As if her very hand was one of the fragile flowers before them.

Even after all this time, even after holding it so many times before, the warmth in his hand surprised her still.

And though there were no shooting stars, and though they were not within the walls of the Goddess Tower, she allowed herself to silently repeat the wish she had already made once before.

It was likely a silly wish, and for some, incredibly simple, but to Edelgard, it meant more than words could describe.

Because she knew there would come a day when her freezing hands would be coated in the blood of the fallen. A day when the rain, like tears falling from the heavens, would envelop her entire life, obscuring the path to her dream.

It was a silly wish she made, but for Edelgard, it meant the world.

For each and every one of those days, from now until the very end, Edelgard wished that she would never forget the feeling of Byleth's hand in hers.

And that's that! Thanks for reading everyone!

This chapter took me an AGE. It wasn't even necessarily work and stuff keeping me back, it was literally this chapter. There was so much that I had to decide, so many things I ended up changing. So many things I had to double check and make sure I didn't screw up timeline wise. AND THE SIBLINGS' NAMES. I deliberated over that for daaays (a big thanks to my friends in the Edelgard discord, who helped me brain storm some good ones, love ya guys). I loved this chapter, but man, I won't lie it was hard to write without a little stress.

A couple of fun things I'll go over before I let you all go this time!

First, those who guessed the 'twelve' was in regards to Edelgard's lifespan were correct! That was the intention there. A little poetic justice for ol Ludwig.

Second, I gave Byleth a favorite flower hehe. That was actually kind of fun to think about. I'll spare you the trouble of looking it up, but the daffodil is a symbol for spring, and symbolizes stuff like new beginnings and rebirth. For Crimson Flower Byleth, this just felt like perfection to me. I love flowers, man, I really do.

Third, and likely the big take away this chapter, Edelgard's siblings. It felt like such a missed opportunity to me to go through this entire segment without even naming her brothers and sisters. I tried to stick to the running theme of Adrestia and Edelgard, so most of them are Germanic, one is obviously derived from Greek, and I believe one or two are French. I tried to pick names that had meanings similar to the character I envisioned for them, and if the time comes, I may go further into the siblings. I did create a very short, very rough outline for their personalities and stuff.

You may have noticed a few callbacks to past chapters or scenes in this one ;) (sorry Edelgard, I spoiled the wish you made a few chapters ago). And, of course, I had Edelgard wearing her post time skip outfit in the final scene. It felt kind of strange for her to spend this entire coronation in her regular outfit? That's just my personal opinion, though. It'll be put back into the closet until later on.

Next chapter will be the final one in this coronation arc! Though, it is possible I might toss in a Moments Lost in Time here, as well. In which case, two more chapters. But, if I do, it's going to be short. Haven't fully decided just yet.

Anyhow, see you all next time! Stay safe everyone.