Linhardt was scribbling away with his owl feathered quill when he first heard the news. It was like the light had returned to his life as the cloud of darkened sorrow lifted. He had swiped away the smile that came to fruition when the messenger looked up at him, steadily awaiting a reply. He ran his fingers down the rachis of the quill as he dismissed the man who came on behalf of the Empress. The smile returned as the door closed and Linhardt leaned back in his chair. The professor was alive. He had hoped, but as the years went on a small dark part of him convinced him that his teacher was gone. But now whispers of the alliance leader and his friends nearing the borders of their countries had Linhardt recalling the promise they had made five years ago. He immediately knew where they were and why, and tried not to allow the quip of his lips to gather any further up his cheeks in dread that someone was watching him. He hadn't told the messenger that, and he felt his pulse quicken at the thought of Edelgard smashing down his door and threatening his life for information. It was clear he was still untrustworthy in the Empress's eye, having transferred from the Black Eagle class to the Golden Deer and then fought alongside them against Edelgard in the fight for the Monastery. In the aftermath, Linhardt had been dragged back home. He stood beside his fellow Black Eagle students before their new Empress, her slitted eyes wholly on him and him alone. Edelgard had taken pity on him – much to Linhardt's surprise – and found himself whisked away back to his family's manor; where he found himself bombarded with tedious jobs Edelgard tasked for him. There was no doubt it was to keep him out the way and it certainly didn't help that he was monitored almost twenty-four hours a day.

He had to get out of here, escape the constricting claws Edelgard had around his every move. Now that he knew the professor was alive and it seemed Claude was ready to make his move, Linhardt needed to be ready for what was to come. He yawned and scratched his cheek, placing his well-kept quill back into its case. He ran his finger over the engraved writing and blinked some of the tiredness away. It was one of his most prized possessions. From the professor, of course. Received over a lovely cup of angelica tea to discuss whatever Linhardt had desired. He had felt the exhaustion from their conversation instantly lift when the man offered him the beautiful feather. Linhardt took it with surprised thanks and had spent the rest of the afternoon inspecting every barb with a delicate touch – despite insisting he would nap. That was when he realised that, perhaps, the professor could provide more for him than professor Manuela could. It did help the man had a mystery inside him that had him intrigued to study – which was extremely odd for Linhardt.

As soon as his monitors left for the night, he packed a bag. The quill the last to be placed delicately on top. Linhardt looked in on his sleeping parents, silently apologising before he fled into the night. Though he was one to dabble in magic, stealth was something he could use to his advantage. How else could he nap in class so obviously without anyone batting an eyelid? He was tense as he ran, not wanting to alert anyone if he took an empire stallion. As he got closer to the border the lighter he became. He hoped Claude and the others would recognise him and remember him for who he was as a person and not from where he hailed. Linhardt didn't sleep – he couldn't – not with Edelgard. The Empress was most certainly aware he had now bolted. He continued on with the thought of being able to rest his head on his bed at the monastery; that was only if the dormitories still stood.

He reached the town below the large church and found it slowing lingering with life. People were slowly returning, hearing the news that Claude and the new archbishop were making a stand. As Linhardt started to trail with his footsteps, allowing himself to finally stop looking over his back for a swinging axe, he found himself thinking of the professor. Had the man changed significantly? Perhaps he had grown a beard? Linhardt had to sneer his nose up at the thought. Or had he grown out his hair? Had he grown in stature? Was Linhardt now taller than him? That thought caused the young man to blush, wondering what it would be like to admire at his teacher from above. His fascination wasn't long-lived when his arm was suddenly grabbed firmly. Linhardt snapped his gaze up to the knight who caught him and stuttered out in panic.

"What are you doing here?" The knight demanded accusingly. Linhardt tried to explain himself but he soon found himself being escorted rather roughly by three Knights of Seiros towards the monastery. He felt a small part of him wanting to scold the men for handling him in such a way. He was a noble, respected in both his field and country – well, perhaps before...before Edelgard declared war. Now, he was just simply the enemy. He was from the Empire after all and it wasn't as if they knew he was here for a peaceful visit; having stumbled out his words.

"Hey, hey!" A familiar voice called out in urgency. Linhardt turned his gaze up to the stairs of the bazaar, to find the alliance leader skipping several steps to get to them. "There's no need to treat our honorary Golden Deer like this."

The knight analysed Claude for a moment in consideration before letting go of his captured prey. Linhardt swiftly rubbed his arms and viciously glared at the knight. His annoyance was swiftly squashed as an arm was slung around his shoulders.

"Claude..." Linhardt furrowed his brow a little at the friendly show of affection. Claude laughed loudly and let him go, coming to stand in front of him.

"You're late, Linhardt." The man said with a large smirk and placed his hand on his hip. "But I guess it's better late than never."

"You're mind-numbingly happy...it's making me tired." Linhardt had to suppress a yawn as he struggled to adjust to the brightness Claude brought with him.

"Ah, same old Linhardt." Claude chuckled in amusement. "You may look more mature, but you're still the same sleepy head we adored five years ago."

Linhardt found the lightness the young – now lightly bearded – man cloaked him in was more than what Linhardt could currently bear. From living in a world filled with darkness, flames, and blood to being suddenly thrown into the blessing rays and over sense of happiness that was Claude caused Linhardt to hyperventilate. It had been too dark for too long. He hadn't spoken to anyone important to him for five years, besides the occasional visit from Caspar. Linhardt wished he could have brought the blue-haired man with him, knowing he disliked this war just as much as he did.

"Hey, you alright?" Claude's tone turned serious and Linhardt flinched slightly at the alliance leader's soft touch to his shoulder. "Breathe buddy."

Linhardt nodded and closed his eyes to block out the blinding light. The small amount of darkness that called to him had the warlock calming slightly. When he heard another familiar voice, one he had been dreaming of for the past five years had Linhardt looking up in anticipation. The problems with his erratic breathing stopped – literally. The professor somehow looked exactly the same. Perhaps, if he looked closer there were a couple more crows feet niggling at his eyes. And even a few new scars beneath the sleeves of his clothes. But as Linhardt looked at the professor it was as if five years did nothing to him at all. He was still the man that taught him that his quest for Crest knowledge was admirable. The man who treated him as an equal; despite their landings in society's pyramid. The professor who offered him a space in his class because he could see he was thirsty for knowledge only he could provide. His admirer that treated him to baked goods and spent quiet outings with him, fishing. He furtively prayed the professor could still recognise him.

"Linhardt." The man approached them and sent the warlock a small smile which somehow jumps started his heart and allowed his lungs to work again.

"Professor," Linhardt replied and smiled in return, clasping his hands together in front of him. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Claude huffed and placed his hands behind his head in delight. Linhardt felt himself heat up under the professor's gaze, allowing the man to analyse every detail about him. A sudden bout of self-consciousness filled him. He began fiddling with the hems of his gown sleeves and prayed his hair was not as disheveled as he knew it would be. Linhardt gasped a little when the professor suddenly pooled himself into his personal space and wrapped his arms around his back.

"I'm happy to see you again."

Linhardt beamed, closing his eye and hesitantly hugged him back. It was too good to be true. This was surely a dream and he could awaken at any moment to find himself stuck behind his paper worked filled desk, drowning himself in desolation. But when the professor pulled away and he opened his eyes he found himself gazing at his teacher and the bright young alliance leader beside him.

"You wanna see the others?" Claude asked Linhardt. The magician instantaneously nodded and needed reassurance this was still reality.

Claude led the way as he talked to Linhardt behind about what was happening; the professor in stride beside the warlock. Linhardt gambled himself a sneak peek at the professor only to find the man gazing at him. Linhardt blushed a little and smiled at him before a loud voice called out his name. They were all so different but instantly recognisable. Five years did all of them unbelievably well. Raphael who had seen him first was somehow possibly even larger than before, yet the cheerful, carefree spark in his eye had yet to be extinguished. His rough bearded sideburns tickled his cheek and Linhardt could not deny the man the moment of affection.

"It's good to see you too, Raphael." The warlock showed the brawler an expression of appreciation after he let him go. Linhardt groomed himself over and turned to the others. "It's good to see all of you again. I had dreamt of this for some time."

Lorenz was the second to greet him; still over-polite and political with his speech, yet calculating with his eyes. Hilda was still as bubbly as ever, cooing over in approval at his own choice of hairstyle. Ignatz still had his round spectacles perched absolute upon his nose and was yet to grow out of his innocent guise. Marianne was still the quiet self-conscious girl he tried to persuade his subjectivity on. Her smile was wider though, closer to her eyes that were now awake to the world around them. Leonie, the typical trainee knight had grown out her red hair. She looked prettier now, more feminine, but her one-mindedness of her opinion of nobles showed him that the girl was still unattractive in such aspects. Lysithea was still headstrong, ready to bite anyone's head off at the slight chance of disrespect. He did receive a gentle smile from her however, which he knew was from his understanding of her rather peculiar Crest situation and his willingness to help her. But, then again, who could blame him. The whole thing was utterly fascinating. He had missed it, the tantalising research and results it brought to both him and his subjects. Linhardt couldn't help but smile at the thought that despite being separated for five years, they were still fast friends. Linhardt had been concerned that he would have been turned away, but he knew Claude and the others were not as self-righteous as Edelgard. They were true friends, not chess pieces at their leader's disposal. To think that they thought Linhardt himself was a part of their group had the warlock finally relaxing. He yawned loudly and fluttered his eyelids drowsily. The others laughed, seemingly glad Linhardt still kept his quirkiness.

"It would probably be best if we hit the hay. It's been a long day." Claude announced and stretched his arms above his head. Linhardt couldn't help but agree but felt himself elaborate that it had been almost a week for himself. He was exhausted and was about ready to pass out on the spot. Linhardt felt himself begin to fall forward before he was floating suddenly, his feet leaving the ground. He grumbled a little in protest but didn't seem to stop whatever was happening to him. Linhardt automatically nuzzled himself closer to the beckoning warmth and sighed in content. When he started to move without his own accord, he blearily turned his gaze up. The professor. Of course. Linhardt tangled his hand in the man's shirt and admired his sharp jawline and a couple of new tiny scars that tarnished his once flawless skin. This wasn't the first time the professor had to carry him to bed. Late nights at the library researching or staying out to stargaze always seemed to make Linhardt nod off. But the professor was always the one to find him, to gently coax him into his arms and carry him to his room without complaint. Linhardt started to do it more often than not, loving the feeling of someone – or in this case the professor – doting on him. He never confessed he was purposely staying out so the professor could fawn over him, but Linhardt was sure the professor caught on. He was thankful his teacher never pulled him up and confronted him. It was like a small part of him enjoyed it too. Just like now.

Linhardt spoke incoherently as the professor set him down on his bed and tried to remove his teddy bear-like grip.

"Come on, Linhardt." The professor couldn't help but quip his lips upwards. The yelp that escaped him as Linhardt pulled him down with unknown strength caused the warlock to wrinkle his nose. "What are you doing?"

Linhardt shivered. The professor's voice was barely over a whisper and Linhardt had never heard him speak that way. His tone was always confident, stoic and particular in the words he chose. But his voice cracked slightly and the hitch in his breathing didn't go unnoticed by Linhardt as he shifted closer, and nestled himself beneath the professor's chin.

"Sleepy." Linhardt managed to string together a word and closed his eyes fully. When arms encircled him protectively and a whisper of promise brushed his ear, Linhardt allowed darkness to take him, this time with welcoming arms.