In the Beginning – Part One

Jeralt Eisner used to be a man who did good for the sake of being good.

"No, Avatar. You can't have solid foods until your stronger."

That was before he stopped aging. Before he worked for the Knights of Serios.

"Byleth, it's wrong to take your sister's food."

He's two years sober, a week fleeing from the church, and in over his head.

"You two-" he sighs. It's probably the most adorable thing they do; Avatar grasping her brother's leg with all her strength and him crawling along, dragging her across the floorboards. "You know what, carry on."

He's scared and yearns for a drink more than ever. The children are so opposite of each other it makes him twitchy. Avatar clings only to her father or brother and ends up curling up into a ball to shake if left alone. Byleth is too curious and hates being picked up, hides away every chance he can and giggles when he's found. Byleth cries when they're both hungry, Avatar is always the first to sleep.

They both look three months old instead of three weeks old.

Jeralt's hands shake as he prepares the inn's bedding in a way they won't fall off. The doctor had said his son's heartbeat was a smidge fast, his daughter's low. He claimed it wasn't uncommon to see one healthier twin, but Avatar's inability to roll was concerning. That she doesn't cry might mean a problem with her lungs. The biggest worry was Byleth accidently hurting her.

It doesn't seem as large an issue now, not with how in sync they are. Byleth doesn't tug on his sister, going still until she's holding him. He babbles loudly and listens when she softly babbles back, not that they make noises often. The silence only makes his fears worse. Like now, he can't hear his daughter getting dragged on the floor.

Jeralt turns, and then breathes a sigh of relief. Avatar's lower half can be seen under the windows. The man pulls back the curtains, his son giggles at being found. Avatar releases her brother to open and close fists at her father. The man kneels and snags them both, "Time for bed, kiddos."

Avatar falls asleep on his shoulder. Byleth wiggles and whines until he's put under the covers. A pillow separates the kids, and his son looks up just to make sure she's still here. More wiggling, Jeralt sits on the edge and lets his kid try to gum at his hand while he tells a story. Only when Byleth is asleep does the too old, young looking man break a bit more. "What am I supposed to do?"

The children are growing too quickly, and he isn't aging. The plan had been to get as far from the monastery as possible, maybe get hired as some small town's boarder guard to give the kids a bit of stability. Like this, he's not sure they can settle anywhere. He'll have to take odd jobs to support them. Jeralt can take down monsters by himself, but they can't risk the attention. He can't risk losing time with them.

If they're aging quickly, how long-

No, he refuses to think about it. He'll teach them the best he can. Language, reading, writing, spells, glyphs, self-defence- he really should be writing this down. What will they need to learn? What can he teach?

"I wish you were here," Jeralt bows his head and prays his wife is in a better place. "I never wanted to do this without you."

He cries and continues to mourn.

Jeralt still doesn't turn to alcohol.

l-l-l-l-l

They rest on the steps, a throne behind them and the world turning below.

"So, let me get this straight," Byleth is a man here, tattoos still on his back but he looks like his before self. "There are three houses."

"Correct," Avatar traces the markings on her legs. She looks like her before self as well, though her hair flickers blue on occasion.

"And you have to pick one."

"Mhm."

"And you're actually a teacher, not some master strategist."

"Bingo."

He falls silent for a moment. "What do you think the pitch meeting for that game was like?"

Finally, she cracks a smile. Lowers her voice. "Okay. So we do the Fates thing, but- and hear me out -school teacher."

"Fates?"

"Fire Emblem: Fates."

"Never heard of it."

"Ugh," she goes back to a blank face. "Our worlds were so different."

"I mean, at least you know what's going to happen?"

"War," she flicks her skin. The world below them keeps turning.

"That's a given if it's a Fire Emblem game."

"The Fire Emblem isn't even in it."

"Wait, really?" Byleth blinks owlishly at her.

"Yah. There are these things called Crests, but no physical emblem or thing we need to collect. It's rather disappointing."

A silence. "Maybe we can find it? Just because it's not on the continent doesn't mean it's not on the planet."

"And what would we do with it?"

"Well… um… show it off?"

Avatar snorts, smiles. "Okay, so, what was the Fire Emblem in your world?"

"Ughhh, it was called the Crest of Flames," Avatar freezes while Byleth thinks about it, "and the Binding Shield. There were five gems. It could open any treasure chest and repel dragons."

"Okay," Avatar nods slowly, an idea coming to mind. "Well, there are people in this world with the Crest of Flames. Maybe they'll know something about it. Is the Fire Emblem cursed in your lore?"

He gasps. "Is it cursed in yours?!"

"Um, yah?"

"Then maybe we shouldn't," Byleth groans and reclines on the steps. "This place is a nightmare."

This place is their shared headspace, only accessible when they are both asleep. More dream than nightmare. "Well, it's something to think on." Avatar reclines as well, crossing her legs and waving her fingers to zoom out. The expanding universe unfolds before them. "We've got years before the plot starts. Let's work on balancing our stats first."

He makes a face. "Any luck with the strength stat?"

She glares at the pun. He laughs.

Byleth points out, "At least we aren't going to be children forever."

She concedes the point.

l-l-l-l-l

Their father exercises with them in the form of games. He'll put Byleth on either side of Avatar and have her roll or crawl towards them. Both father and son loudly cheer her on. For Byleth, they have a little competition where the boy has to throw balls at small target-like drawings on the ground. Byleth has terrible accuracy, but that isn't the point. It's to regulate his strength, just as Avatar needs to work on hers. When Jeralt sits her up – they're still working on her core – she can roll the ball to a target within a few feet away. It's a perfect roll every time. Byleth can throw the ball across the room without a good grip. Jeralt is slowly coming to realize what they already know.

The twins are perfect splits of each other.

What he can't understand is the effects of their Crest, thought to be fair he doesn't even know they have one. As the essence of a Beginning resides in them, the Crest of the Goddess – more commonly known as the Crest of Flames – comes with more than the usual healing ability. They are input and output. Receiver and sender. Knowledge and Power. Avatar constantly sees the world as numbers and words, while Byleth is a bundle of force. He has a presence that makes people sit up and take notice, while her emotions have been muted since the chest implant; and she remembers everything since her rebirth.

What Jeralt doesn't know, is that his oldest is teaching his youngest the language spoken commonly in Fódlan. He doesn't realize that the siblings telepathically speak to each other whenever Avatar isn't overwhelmed by the information of the world. Doesn't pick up on Byleth hardly touching anything with his fingers as he learns the range of his strength. What the father does is talk to them, play with them, and never shy away from them. Not at their quirks, or at their start to a speedy aging.

What he does notice is the intelligent gleam in their eyes and their love of his stories. If he can connect with them this way, he'll talk for hours. Anything to keep them engaged and not causing trouble. A month on the run passes, and he's finally comfortable enough to leave them in a village while he hunts to earn a bit of money.

When he comes back, picking them up from the woman who coos over how sweet they were, Byleth is fast asleep and Avatar stirs for just a moment. Just long enough to utter her first word, "Daddy."

This, Jeralt realizes with misting eyes and a smile, is why he does it. These are his children, no matter what.

Quietly, his fears begin to ebb away.

l-l-l-l-l

His name is Cichol, and he groggily wakes to the smiling face of Seiros above him. "Sister."

"Brother," she hums, cupping his face. "I have missed you so."

The last of his memories are stains on his soul, and his strength is not yet complete. "Seiros, why am I awake?" Where is- "Cethleann! Where is she?!"

"Calm yourself, dear brother," Seiros hums and continues to stroke him. The touch feels… different. "She is in the next room, as she was when you fell into slumber. Do not fear. Your daughter is safe."

Panic gone, the toll is sleep dragging at him again. "Seiros, I-"

"Hush, brother," she holds a finger to his lips. "You have been asleep for a long time. Rest. I will watch over you both and explain everything when you two are reunited."

He sighs, eyes forcibly shutting. "Thank you."

Lady Rhea removes herself from his side, smile breaking as tears threaten to spill. She giggles and cuts a path to the next room, strengthening the silencing glyphs as she goes. It would not bode well for Cichol or her guards to hear what's to come.

The young girl – a sister to the body in the other room – thrashes on the ritual star she is bound to. The knights believe Lady Rhea is conversing with an old, hermit friend. That he's the one who gives her Crest Stones, and not that she scavenges rubble looking for her sleeping brethren. They don't know she's trapped a few of the squatters who took refuge in Zanado. They'll easily buy that she convinced her friends to come to the church, where their skills can be put to use. In a way, she is doing just that.

The Immaculate One plucks the Crest Stone from the bones in the room. She coos at it while the girl screams around her gag. "Cethleann… darling Cethleann…"

Minutes later, the screams go quiet. The change is instantaneous. Head hair volumizes and curls a light green. The tan and sickly complexation revitalizes. Calloused fingers turn soft. Rhea holds one to her chest as green eyes flutter open. "M…"

Lady Rhea's heart fills with joy. Her brother and niece will walk this world once more.

A/N: As the family of three runs, Jeralt is left with the looming question: how do you run from a major religion? The children are not children. Two Crest Stones have awakened.

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