Summary: Feelings of insignificancy aren't much when someone serves as a guide into becoming better.

As the only child of Lord Edmund, Marianne already knew her fate was sealed: marry, bear an heir, and keep the Edmund name in good standing. There was little point in furthering alliances with the other students representing the Leicester Alliance when they hailed from merchant families and duchies, she thought; the territory she was set to inherit was so remote, practically insignificant compared to the rest. It wasn't like they had much to offer to the bigger families to begin with.

There was always a chance that her father had sired a bastard sometime, somewhere, and thus invalidating her place as next-in-line; she was adopted, after all. Her father had raised her to devote her heart and soul to the Goddess, however, and she hoped he had at least been similarly devout.

Whenever there was a break from classes, she would go off to a far corner, the weeks since beginning her enrollment allowing her to slowly assemble a small flock of birds and rodents, feeding them bits of bread and cheese she snuck out of the mess hall. Tearing off a small bit of crust, she looked up to see a pigeon landing on the bench, cocking its head at her.

"You must think I'm sad, right?" she absently asked the congregation around her, pausing from their nibbling of scraps at the somber bluehead. "Truth be told, I don't need to learn these things, I'll just get pushed to the side once my usefulness is up."

With the torn scrap of bread, she lowered her hand, a rat having approached and taking it from her fingers. It had finished half of it until its eyes caught something, causing it to run off, the other animals doing the same. Marianne couldn't help but sigh.

"Good afternoon, Marianne," her instructor greeted, settling onto the bench with her. "Can I ask what you're doing here by yourself?" Silence answered his question.

Truth be told, she liked Byleth as a teacher. She found his lessons easy to follow and he listened to input on how certain students would like to further themselves, and out of class he was always giving advice or even helping out with extra-curricular activities. Really, he was worlds more approachable than even her peers.

Except she couldn't see him as a teacher. The mercenary, the battle-hardened commander on the field, the man wielding a sword with power incomprehensible…

And Byleth sitting down next to her didn't help matters. Him trying to reach out to her, caring for her, not out of obligation to protect the next head of a family, but as just another person on campus.

Goddess forbid, her heart ached for him.

The lump in her neck practically refused to go down, her nerves at their limit as she tried to answer. Was she blushing? Did she go pale? She mentally begged for a mirror so she could at least see her own face, to try to reshape her expression to how she liked and put up a guard.

"Are you alright, Marie?" he asked, breaking her out of her stupor.

"M-Marie?"

Byleth merely chuckled. "Oh, so that gets your attention."

"... Why did you call me Marie?" she asked in a small voice, as her face attempted to remain apathetic, despite the chaotic whirlwind in her head.

"Huh?" He rested his forearms on his thighs and leaned forward, his hands joining together. "Well, usually nicknames get people's attention, whether they like it or not. I mean, as a mercenary, I work with too many people to know full names, so that's how I get by."

Silence washed over them as Marianne pondered the answer, softly nodding. "I don't suppose the others' have nicknames?"

"Oh-ho, yeah, Raphael is 'Raffy', Lysithea is 'Thea', Leonie is 'Leon'," he answered, counting off fingers. "Claude is just 'Claude' though. Kind of hard to make a nickname from a one-syllable name."

"But you use these out of convenience?"

"... Yes." His finger rubbed at an odd spot on one of his gauntlets. "Y'know, I was gonna call you Annie, but it didn't feel right, like I would have had to ask if you were 'okay' all the time, although I suppose I'm doing just that right now."

"And I appreciate it, professor," she followed with, continuing to stare at the ground. "I would just rather be alone right now."

"Alright," he returned, rising up from his seat. "I'll be in my office looking over the class' work from today, then. You know where to find me if anything comes up."

After the fifth footstep, her eyes trailed towards the walking mercenary, his coat softly waving with each step, a slight bounce in his sea green hair. She continued to look in his direction as the birds slowly returned, a good twenty minutes of relative silence before she picked up on her heartbeat.

Once more, it ached.

Their near-routine weekend bandit quelling took a turn for the interesting when Byleth suggested some of them switch to horseback. Minor issues arose in picking up the art of equestrianism, but the ones who made the change grew comfortable with their steeds nonetheless. Marianne's usual training was in magic on foot, but he had suggested her switching to a lance, and despite initial complaints she soon found a groove in wielding it from her saddle. When it came time to attack, the combination of mount and weapon became second nature to her, and she zipped across the battlefield to take down foes giving even Raphael some trouble. Ignatz would later comment on that movement as 'scary'.

The march back, however, had taken a turn for the worse as a storm unexpectedly enveloped the Golden Deer and their instructor. The horses were untroubled by the buffeting winds, and those on foot standing near the mounts' sturdy frames, but the riders didn't fare so well, with Marianne being swept off her saddle by a rogue gust, sending her down the muddy foothills. Byleth had immediately leapt after, his cloak becoming slick as he slid down the slope. By the time he had caught up with her, she was struggling to stand in a flooded river, her boots slipping on the stones. She managed to grab onto his hand, only to end up pulling him into the rapids.

By the time she came to, she found herself in a cave, a fire lit by the mouth, and Byleth, stripped down to just his trousers, sitting cross-legged as he rung out the water from his clothes. She watched the faintly-scarred skin, stretched over toned muscles and shoulder blades, flex as his hands twisted at parts of his dripping cloak, every little movement tugging his scapulae around. The sight of dripping water gave her a reminder that she was currently laying in a puddle from her soaked uniform, becoming increasingly uncomfortable as the seconds passed. Attempting to sit up, she flinched at the squelching noises of her wet clothes against stony ground, but the snap of attention from her professor caused her to freeze in place.

"Oh, you're awake," he simply said, returning his attention to his own clothes as he tried to dry them out. "The storm isn't letting up soon, by the looks of it."

Mumbling an affirmative, she scooted over towards the fire, raising her cold hands in front of the flame. "I…don't suppose you expect me to strip myself too, do you?"

"It's your prerogative." His attention didn't wane from the fabric in his hands. "You'll catch something, though. I know how many layers go into those uniforms of yours." His eyes soon wandered, catching a glimpse of Marianne pulling her coat from her shoulders, revealing the soaked, now almost-translucent, collared shirt underneath, his eyes immediately snapping away from the sight.

This didn't go unnoticed by her, and so she scooted by him, a wet shoulder grazing against his. Her stone-grey eyes noticed his frame stiffening up, either from the cold touch or just proximity, and so she resumed peeling away wet fabric from itself.

"You're...very close, Marie," he lamely said, having completely stopped trying to ring out his cloak. Every single graze against her shoulder sent shivers through his arm and into his body as he attempted to unsubtly lean away.

That was when he noticed her chilling gaze, as a hand raised up to pull at the soggy cravat around her neck, previously stuffed under her uniform's coat. The same eyes he saw as she tore down bandits of all shapes, the same eyes staring down enemy forces earlier that day. The same creature in front of him now making a show of trying to dry out, as if it was a challenge.

"This is better, is it not?" she said in a small voice, the barest hint of boldness permeating it, enough to pull the muscles in his neck taut. Then, an eye, peeking from a corner as her head cocked towards him, locked with his, freezing him in place.

She began peeling the wet shirt off of her frame, her gaze unbreaking until she laid it on the ground before the fire, her hands then moving to her waist to pull down the skirt of her uniform, raising her rear slightly to get it to her knees. Soon, she was left in a damp camisole, clinging to her brassiere, the shorts she wore underneath, and the underlying tights as she reached over to undo her boots.

Once her footwear was off, she tucked her knees close to her body, her arms tightly around her shins as she leaned against the mercenary, noting his tenseness. "Are you alright, professor?" she asked him in a mix of concern and teasing.

She felt his shoulder trying to loosen before he leaned forward, his hands dropped into his lap, her body following suit. "I...I know it's cold, but this—isn't this a bit much?"

"Whatever are you thinking?"

"It—it's a bit personal, don't you think? Too personal?"

She answered by leaning her entire weight against him, her blue hair nuzzling against his shoulder. "Perhaps…" she said, one hand grasping the other wrist. "Perhaps the Goddess conspired to put us here… I've prayed, you know… If we could ever be together…"

"You shouldn't put your romances in the hands of higher powers, Marianne," he retorted, finding some confidence in guiding her, even a little. "And I'm sure your Goddess wouldn't advocate for staring me down as you stripped."

Silence washed over the two, only broken up by the occasional crackle of the firewood. "Well, putting divinity aside, professor," she said suddenly, "I really do want to be with you."

She felt him swallow the lump in his throat, his face unchanging. "We'll… We'll discuss this when we return, Marianne," he said after a long pause. "Right now, we just need to survive."

When his hand shifted onto his thigh, she dropped one of hers onto it, lightly grabbing it; he made no protest.

When the storm subsided in the morning, the two reunited with the rest of the Golden Deer, continuing their march back to the academy. After parting with her stained uniform and changing into a clean set, she made her way to her professor's office, caution racking her bones as she nervously made complete 180s whenever another student or faculty member crossed her path. Still, she found the door and slowly entered, finding Byleth polishing his armor at a table by a bookshelf. He peeked up briefly, seeing her, before quickly finishing the spot he had been buffing before placing the pauldron and rag back down. The two approached each other, making slow steps as each pondered how to start.

"Professor, I—" she started before he caught her into an embrace, his nose tucking against the crown of her head, the tip pressing against the braid. Her heart jumped into her throat, any thought she had regarding the state of the two completely wiped as her face grew flush.

"I… I think that should suffice," he returned, pressing a kiss on her head. He felt her shoulders loosen as she returned the embrace, her head nuzzling against his chest, a happy sigh resonating from her rumbling through the two of them.

The silence, a comfortable thing they found in this moment, was only broken when Marianne spoke up. "I love you, Byleth."

"And I, you, Marie," he returned, letting himself melt against her.

Author's Notes: This first chapter is just to establish the relationship, that's it.

Oh yeah, the chapter title is a reference to another blue-related thing, if you can venture that.