Act V

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It was around dinner time when Beleth heard the shouts.

"What was that?" Byleth asked, looking up from their card game.

Beleth set his cards down and peered out the window. He stiffened, causing Byleth to rise from her seat as well.

"What? What happened?" Byleth asked.

He did not answer and instead grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her away from the window.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Beleth did not respond to her question, his mind racing a mile a second, his brain still processing what he saw outside the window.

A mob of people, an angry stream flowing towards the palace. A few plates of armour glinted in the evening light, but most of them wore tattered clothes. These were no soldiers, but farmers, civilians, clearly seeking to unleash their anger. And in times like this, when a mob is driven by passion, they are more dangerous than any trained soldier.

And leading this mob were two warriors, the anger of a thousand militia soldiers compressed into each of them. One with flowing white hair, the other with an eyepatch. They looked so much different than when Beleth had last seen them that he nearly did not recognize them.

We need to get you somewhere safe, Beleth wanted to say, but where could he take her? What could he do?

"Beleth!" Byleth shouted, pushing her brother's hands off of her. "What's happening?"

He clenched his fists. "...A revolution," he answered.

Byleth's face hardened. She stumbled backwards, seemingly unable to process what was happening. "A...A revolution?" she repeated. "That can't be right. The soldiers will suppress them. Go tell Felix—"

"No," Beleth cut her off. "Our battalions are significantly drained after the attack on the Leicester Alliance. They won't be able to hold them off." Especially not those two.

"But...but what can we do?" Byleth asked.

How can I get her away safely? Beleth wracked his brain, trying to think of a solution. If he could not think up a solution to this, what was the point of all his training, of leaving the palace in the first place?

This is no place to think like a knight. Think like a mercenary. What tactics, however dishonourable, could be used to save her? It was only when he looked at his sister and saw the same fear in him reflected on her face that he realized the answer was right in front of him.

"Take off your clothes," Beleth said.

"Excuse me?" Byleth said incredulously, taking a step away from him. "Have you gone mad?"

"Take off your clothes and switch with me. You'll become me, and I'll become the princess they're looking for."

"But what will I do?"

"You'll run away. Anywhere. Go hide somewhere in Brigid, or even the Leicester Alliance, somewhere they won't find you. They won't be looking for you, because they'll think they have you here. But they'll actually have me. You'll be safe."

"No!" Byleth shouted. "It won't work! They'll find out. And how can I run by myself? I don't..." She collapsed to the ground, her dress bawled in her fists. "I don't want to be alone again." She lowered her head, but Beleth saw a glint of light drip down her cheeks.

Was she crying? Beleth knelt down and gently lifted his sister's chin, and indeed, she was crying. She made no audible sounds, but tears were streaming down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his sleeve before giving her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

"They won't be able to tell," he reassured her. "We're twins, remember? They won't be able to tell us apart. It's good we look so similar." He grabbed onto her hands, and guided her to her feet. "You'll be fine. I promise. You're brave, aren't you?"

"...Yes," Byleth croaked. "But..."

"It'll be just like when we were younger. We'd play hide and seek, and Father wouldn't be able to tell us apart when he found us."

"Hide...Hide and seek," Byleth repeated.

"Yes." Beleth nodded. "You'll do it?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Even though they were the same height, she looked so much smaller. The fancy dress, the elegant hairstyle, everything that used to make her look larger than life seemed to fade away, leaving behind his sister he needed to protect. He wrapped her in his arms, and she did not struggle.

The door flew open, and Beleth pulled away, immediately reaching for the sword at his hip. Byleth hid behind him, and Beleth braced himself, preparing to face off groups of farmers, or even worse, one of the two leaders of this uprising.

But instead, it was Felix, an urgent look on his face as he burst into the room. "Your Majesty!" When he saw her, with Beleth and unharmed, an obvious weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

"Felix. How are things outside?" Beleth asked.

The other man lowered his sword. "...Not good. Seteth is down, so is Cyril. Catherine and Shamir are holding them off for now, but I don't know for how long. We need to get you out of here, Princess—"

"Felix." Beleth stopped him. "You would protect the Princess with your life?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then I'll hold you to it." The sword seemed to glow before Beleth slashed it into Felix, dragging it down from his shoulder into the chest.

Felix seemed to realize what was happening, because he lifted his sword. He was fast, but Beleth was faster. As he collapsed to the ground, his amber eyes met Beleth's, as if searching for some explanation or some sort of remorse, at least.

Beleth held his gaze, but did so defiantly. Although he was sorry he had to kill Felix, he was not apologetic for doing so.

Felix hit the floor, dead. Even Byleth could not hide her surprise. "Why?" she asked.

"Are you sad?" Beleth asked her.

"No," Byleth responded. "I thought he might have been useful as a bodyguard."

"I don't trust him. No one can know anything about us changing." Beleth held his hand out to her. "Are you ready?"

Byleth hesitated for a moment, but took his hand. "Yes."

He examined her smooth hands in his. He was not able to be here for her during her debut into society, but at least he could be here for her retirement.

"Princess Byleth von Eisner," Beleth said. "It's time to go."

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