Byleth in her Sothis regalia because it's so pretty. I mainly wanted an excuse to play around with lighting, and found a really interesting reference photo on Pinterest.
It wasn’t something that occurred to him at the beginning. So much had happened in Byleth’s first year of life - and after he managed to get this little, silent infant out of the direct gaze of the archbishop, he tried not to think about anything relating to his past life at Garreg Mach. The keyword is tried. On days where he failed, he’d drink until his brain couldn’t function anymore.
I mean, sure, he knew that his lifespan was too long. He’d honestly stopped counting somewhere in his eighties, but he still knew it was incredibly unnatural for him to still be alive to walk the roads of Fódlan. Then again, there wasn’t much in his life that wasn’t unnatural in some way - and, with that, comes an odd sense of normalcy in the abnormal. It seemed to him that Byleth hadn’t truly noticed or found it odd - either that, or they just didn’t feel the need to broach the topic. Regardless of which one it was, it didn’t matter to Jeralt.
The reality never truly sank in until he joined an old mercenary friend of his for drinks one night. She made the inevitable comment about how well he had aged, but what he didn’t expect was the follow up comment about Byleth, who was just on the verge of adulthood at the time.
“Keep up whatever miracle routine you’re doing, Jeralt,” She hummed around the rim of her tankard as she took a swig, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before continuing, “At this rate, you and the kid will look like siblings.”
It was an unwelcome, uncomfortable, and nauseating realization. He had been so focused on the present, on keeping them both safe and alive, that he hadn’t thought much about the future. Byleth was growing older, and he wasn’t. He got drunk that night.
This fact haunted him on the daily from that moment on. It’s normal for a parent to want to rewind the clock to when their child is young again, but only a handful of them had to face the reality that they’d have to bury their own child.
It’s after their return to the monastery that Jeralt gradually begins to accept it, and he shifts gears. Byleth had always had a striking resemblance to Sitri, but it stuck out like a sore thumb when seeing them tending to the same things in the same place that their mother once used to. The one thing he had wanted for Sitri above all else was her happiness - he would go get her favorite flowers and tell her all the stories she desired until she had fallen asleep in his arms with the most beautiful smile on that pretty face.
As much as he distrusts Rhea and her plans, teaching the little brats seemed to change Byleth for the better. Their emotions started to really shine, something that left Jeralt in absolute awe. Perhaps he really had spent far too long focused on survival, and not enough on their happiness. He couldn’t change the past, but maybe he could try a different approach going forward. He would outlive Byleth, but he would do his absolute damndest to make those years the happiest he possibly could.
It’s ironic, really, that he died just after he had come to terms with everything - and even more so that not long after, through circumstances of their own, Byleth stopped aging.
I’ve been trying really hard to resist the urge to make this an oc page but this might end up being an oc page sorry to the two people who care about my fe stuff that I barely do ever
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