Linhardt cringed, watching Caspar slice a man down in one fell swoop. He never seemed to be affected by killing others, nor understand Linhardt's distaste for it. He led the way as the two fought together. Not quite together. More so Caspar killed their enemies and Linhardt healed him. It was easier that way. He was nauseated enough just watching his dear friend kill, let alone do it himself. Caspar's blade struck enemy after enemy, axe becoming bloodier and bloodier with each kill.

Caspar would slice into another man's skin, until he would fall to the ground, dead. His axe, armor, and skin would all cover in blood. Linhardt would heal him, though the blood never left. A grim reminder to Linhardt that the horrors of war could never leave him. No matter how hard he scrubbed his skin, though the blood may leave, the memories never would. That would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Soon, they had taken down all the people in their path. Now, they were faced with a Beast. The giant dragon in their path was nothing compared to their final enemy, The Immaculate One. Though, Linhardt supposes, perhaps he shouldn't worry until then.

Linhardt was able to attack the Beast with a bit less issue than the people. As long as he kept long ranged attacks to stay away from the blood, as well as avert his eyes to another part of the Beast after an attack, he'd be fine.

The Beast lifts up one clawed leg, throwing a pile of rubble Linhardt's way. He narrowly managed to dodge, sending fire right back. He heard the beast's cry, taking that as proof he had hit it. Caspar was on the beast with his axe and, as Linhardt threw another attack its way, the two managed to take out the Beast.

As the Beast fell, a large pile of dust was hit, throwing it towards Linhardt. He sneezed, jumping out of the dust cloud.

"Damned Beast," He muttered, trying to rid his clothes of the dust.

Caspar was breathing heavily as he regarded Linhardt, "You think the others have defeated their Beasts?"

"I doubt we beat Seteth and Flayn or the Professor. But perhaps the rest."

"Aw yeah!" Caspar exclaimed, clearly about to race to their meeting place, just before the doors that held the Immaculate One.

"Caspar!" Linhardt called to his running friend. "Don't wear yourself out before the final battle!" Linhardt sighed, following Caspar through the maze of walls.

"Shit."

An arrow had just hit Linhardt's shoulder. He ducked behind a wall, looking for the attacker. As he looked through a hole in the wall, he found the archer, who immediately noticed him, notching an arrow. Linhardt jumped back, narrowly dodging the well-aimed shot. He quickly ducked into the hole again, sending a Nosferatu towards his attacker. The archer cried out as Linhardt regained his health. Linhardt sent one more attack his way, knowing he had killed him by the thump of his body hitting grass as well as the gurgled cry of pain.

There was no reason to look back at the man he had killed. No reason to look at all the blood he had caused. Throwing up when he was so close to the end of this battle wasn't an option. So, he ran past the archer without a second glance. His feet stomped against the grass as he sprinted, not wanting to cause any worry for his friends.

Soon, he reached the meeting place of the former Black Eagles. Dorothea was healing Petra as she handed her a Vulnerary. Caspar was talking to Ferdinand as Bernadetta stood slightly off from the group, drinking a Vulnerary. Seteth and Flayn stood on their own, clearly discussing something.

Byleth looked up as Linhardt approached the group, giving a relieved sigh.

"Oh, thank the Goddess you're safe, Linhardt."

"Linhardt! What happened?" Caspar called, but Linhardt was more focused on his approaching professor.

His light green hair was matted with a bit of blood, his previous white clothes stained red. "I apologize for approaching you with all this blood on me. I know blood makes you sick." Byleth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y'know Linhardt. I could go on and on about how charming I find you. But I feel that before anything may happen to either of us in the battle, I wish to tell you some things." Byleth took a breath, meeting Linhardt's eyes.

"Linhardt. I love you. Dear Goddess, I've loved you for so long. I've wanted to hold you to me for so long. Oh, this is so nerve-racking. Linhardt, you most likely know how inexperienced I am in the ways of romance. It's quite obvious to all. However, He pauses for a moment, clearly trying to find the words. "I wish to learn these things with you."

Linhardt gasped, watching the sight before him. His professor, on one knee on the muddy ground before him. "Linhardt... would you marry me?" He pulled out a ring, presenting it to Linhardt.

"Holy shit. Yes, yes. Dear goddess." Linhardt felt in a daze, the professor he has had a crush on for five years asked him to marry him. Byleth righted himself, slipping the ring onto Linhardt's finger.

"May I?"

Linhardt didn't bother to answer him, instead placing his hand on Byleth's cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss Linhardt didn't think he'd ever forget.

Maybe, this memory could cover some of the bloody memories he also had on this day. As he kissed Byleth, he could do nothing more than hope for a happy future with the man he loved so dearly. As the two men pulled apart, Byleth smiled at him apologetically.

"I wished to ask this of you in a more romantic location but... when I saw you alive, I suppose my emotions got the better of me."

"I couldn't ask for anything better. I wish to spend my days with you, no matter where you ask me."

Byleth smiled softly at him, reaching down to squeeze his hand. "We'll make it through this. And we'll live a happy life together." Linhardt squeezed back.

Caspar 'Whoop-ed' quite loudly, causing the moment to be broken.

"Ah, apologizes," Byleth smiled at his former students, "However, if anyone else has a love confession they'd like to share, you are welcome to do so."

Dorothea grinned, "I believe you two were the only pining idiots in our class. Those Blue Lions though..." She seemed to think for a moment. "You think Sylvain and Felix ever admitted their feelings to each other?"

"Dorothea, why are you speculating on other's love lives?" Ferdinand questioned.

"Ferdie, sweetie, I speculate on everyone's love lives." She responded. "And, yes, even yours."

"Well then, what were your findings?" He asked.

"Hm. Well originally, I just assumed the Professor since everyone was into him... Though, I eventually decided that if not him the only two other ideas I could think of were myself and Hubie."

"You include yourself in your speculations? That's quite vain, wouldn't you say?" Ferdinand mused.

Dorothea snorted, "Like you can talk about being vain."

"Dorothea, I only act in a noble manner. That is all there is to it."

"Mm."

"Well, if that is all... Are you ready to take on The Immaculate One?" Byleth questioned, hand still intertwined with Linhardt's.

Caspar pumped his fist in the air, Petra mimicking him. Dorothea and Ferdinand called out a 'Yeah!' while Bernadetta just nodded meekly. Linhardt nodded as well, checking the Vulnerary he kept in his pack. He still had a good amount; in case he ran out of Physics and Heals.

As the rest of their team ran to the door, throwing it open. Byleth and Linhardt paused for a moment, giving the other a final kiss. From there, they walked to the door hand in hand.

As they entered, the Immaculate One let out a loud roar, turning to their group. Byleth immediately went back to professor mode, instructing everyone.

"Dorothea! Get the mage on the left, Ferdinand get the one on the right. Everyone else, attack the Immaculate One. For now, focus on defense. The mages will most likely be able to heal her. I'll take the mage up top. Once the mages are done, attack the Immaculate One with all you've got!" Byleth gestured to his students, who all nodded, before running up the stairs next to them.

Dorothea and Ferdinand strayed slightly from the group, attacking the mages in the front. Linhardt followed the rest of his former classmates, knowing he'd have to do more than heal this time.

As Caspar sent a well-aimed blow to the Immaculate One's foot, hindering her movement, Linhardt caught on, aiming a fire ball at another foot. Seteth dug his lance into another, Bernadetta notching arrows at another.

The Immaculate One groaned in pain, now unable to move without hurting herself. She roared loudly, painfully picking up her front foot to throw rubble. It wasn't well aimed, but since Linhardt was right in front of that foot, he had to duck out of the way. Dorothea and Ferdinand came running, having killed the mages. Linhardt wondered where Byleth was. As though his thoughts had brought reality, Byleth jumped from the floor he was on, slicing the Immaculate One with his Sword of the Creator. He had managed to severely injure the monster, but...

"Byleth!" Linhardt screamed. "Watch out!"

At the angle Byleth was jumping from, he was right in front of the beast. In a final attack, she managed to grasp Byleth in her claws, tearing into his skin. Byleth dropped his sword, the claws digging deep into him. Linhardt ran forward, grasping the sword in his hands.

It was nothing more than an oddly shaped sword in his hands, but it would still do enough damage. All thoughts left his mind other than Byleth, half-dead in this monster's hands.

Linhardt jumped, putting enough power into his attack to cut off the monster's hand. The hand, Byleth resting in it, fell with Linhardt. As he hit the ground, he heard a loud crack. He forced himself to stand, limping over to his former professor.

He placed his hands on his chest, using Heal over and over again. Once he ran out, he began digging in his pouch for Vulneraries. He grasped one, but even he knew it was futile. His hands shook as he held the bottle, feeling himself tear up. His fingers lost their grip, the blue liquid spilling all over Byleth.

He placed his head on his fiancé's chest, letting the tears spill.

His classmates let him be.

-------

A few days later, a funeral was held. Linhardt was on crutches, refusing to be healed by magic. He felt dirty. In his blind rage, he had covered himself in blood. He could still feel the blood on his face, on his clothes, in his hair. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he was certain he could still feel some under his nails.

Despite this, he refused to take off the ring. He had cleaned it while bathing, refusing to do anything but rinse it with water. Touching the ring had become a habit in these few days.

Linhardt was collecting flowers. He had done his research to figure out the most romantic flowers. Ones that meant 'I love you,' 'You're beautiful.' Nothing would be enough to convey his dismay, however. As he formed a bouquet, he pulled out a ring of his own from his pocket. He used the ring to hold the flowers together.

He stood at the man's grave, placing the flowers down. The ceremony hadn't begun, allowing him to be alone.

"I love you... This is the closest I can get to giving you this ring. You'll never go forgotten. Not by me or history. You died a hero, Byleth. But, to me, you died my fiancé. It's selfish of me, but all I wished for was for us to live a happy life together. I love you and will never forget that. This ring... will be a testament to that." Linhardt felt tears run down his cheek. "Goodbye, Byleth. I hope to meet you again, someday."