Byleth blesses the Archbishop with a miracle.

Deep within the monastery, behind heavy doors and posted guards, the most powerful and well-protected woman in all of Garreg Mach, if not the entirety of Fodlan, sat at her writing desk. The Archbishop Rhea was aware that pockets of dissidents across the continent pictured her inhabiting a seat of power and luxury; while she wasn't wanting for comforts, she wondered what those...

Those what? She searched for a word. "Heretics," came to Rhea first, only within her head. "Ingrates," came next, although that felt not exactly right. "... Misguided souls," she finally settled on.

She wondered what those misguided souls would think if they saw their bogeyman poring for hours over an enthralling assortment of Church documents, legislation, tax ledgers, scripture, and Academy reports, then winding down with a single chapter of a dry romance novel before heading straight to bed. Tomorrow, she'd wake up to do it all over again: documents, meetings, readings, speeches, prayers...

She'd been halfway from her desk to her bed, her saintly figure drifting across the floor in a long, flowing nightgown of fine material, her ethereal green hair falling to her back. Suddenly, as though in pain, she had dropped to her knees in prayer, bowing her head, clasping her hands, and clenching her teeth while setting her bright green eyes towards the sky (or ceiling, as the case may be). A beauty even in her pain with an undeniable aura of divinity, the woman might have been posing as a model for one of the many paintings of the founding Saint Seiros around the monastery.

"Oh, Goddess... I know I must never think such sacrilege. I know I must have faith in you. It is my sacred duty to guide the people of this land... my duty to them, and to you. But some nights... I confess that I look around me, witnessing these piles of the stacked, trivial concerns of these people... the windowless room necessary for my protection against those who should be your subjects... I see these things and I confess I feel the days of the warmth of sunlight are behind me. I fear I will never feel free or fulfilled again... I fear I will serve these people until my body and bones are dust, and a tomb is built for me. The crown I wear grows heavier when I consider who may possibly wear it next. And I confess, Goddess, that while I know the lost souls will destroy each other without me, and it is your will that I guide them... Is there no succor? Is there no reward waiting for me at the end of this eternity of servitude? And without you, Goddess, is there purpose in us remaining here? If you intend to return to us, why do you not manifest yourself now?"

She remained silent. Her chamber was silent: when she stopped speaking, there was not even an echo to answer her.

"Do you even hear me?" she asked quietly, hoarsely. No sooner had the words passed her lips then she bowed her head again in penance, begging for forgiveness, begging to hear the Goddess's voice, but not expecting a response.

A knock came at her door, startling her. A visitor at this hour of the night was practically unheard of. There were, in fact, only a couple of people in the monastery with either the strength or authority to get past the guards to reach her chamber door. "Seteth?" she guessed, wiping her eyes and feeling ashamed.

"Professor Byleth, Lady Rhea," the voice returned. Although it was announcing someone else, it was definitely Seteth's masculine voice. She could picture the straight posture of her right hand man, the only other person she truly considered worked as hard as she did in the Church's service. Even announcing a visitor for her at this odd hour of the night, the man would likely wear the same strict expression and express every formality he always did. "The Professor has requested permission to deliver something to you in person. For your eyes only, I should add. By your order, I will remind her of the protocol, respect, and decorum expected when seeking an audience with the Archbishop."

"Oh...! Oh no," Rhea replied quickly. "Please, bid her come."

"... With her surprise in hand? I am aware you grant our esteemed Professor some degree of special favor, but I advise against that decision."

Rhea frankly didn't care if Byleth had brought her piece of rubbish, a rare jewel, or a sword to run her through. The idea of any visitor at all sounded thrilling to her on this particular night; all the better if it was the mysterious Professor she favored above all others at the Academy. "Yes, Seteth. I value your caution, but we both know I can defend myself."

The Archbishop smoothed her gown and hair fussily, adopting her straightest posture. She briefly considered throwing a shawl over her already very conservative gown, but decided against it. She regretted it immediately, however, as the blue-haired professor entered the room fully dressed in her usual Academy garb. Rhea felt quite disarmed... but also, undeniably excited to have company. She had to resist the urge to offer the other woman a seat and invite her to chat. Instead, she acted with what decorum she felt was required. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, at this late hour of the night?"

"... I don't know," Byleth told her honestly. "Strike that. I only partially know. I was made to bring you this. A gift."

"A gift...?" Rhea's calm eyes widened slightly. "From yourself?"

"... Not exactly," Byleth replied, again, honestly. "I've been told everything about it is to be kept a secret for now, and it's a gift for you, personally."

Rhea looked at the cloth-covered bundle apprehensively. struggling between curiosity and the caution which regularly kept her unharmed. "Shall we review the contents together?"

Now Byleth seemed apprehensive. "I'd intended to drop this off and head back to my quarters."

"Oh, please, I insist. Rather... I don't believe Seteth will allow you to retire until we've confirmed what you've delivered is not some form of booby trap." She smiled softly, indicating that the very true words she'd just spoken ought to be taken as no concern.

Byleth seemed to be listening to someone else, frowning. Finally, she relented, although she didn't look pleased with it. "Well, this ought to be fun. I hope you aren't about to get me killed... If you insist."

Rhea didn't understand, but she could tell Byleth was agreeing. Feeling unusually giddy with anticipation, the Archbishop daintily removed the cloth covering on the metal device in the other woman's arms. "It's... hm. Something expensive, I'm quite certain. A generous donation to the Church, then. We offer our thanks..." The Archbishop's bottled speech of gratitude began to slur and taper off as her calm eyes widened once again. She looked as shocked as if she'd seen a ghost. "Move your hand," she commanded in a shaky voice.

Byleth understood her meaning and shifted her grip so her hands were underneath the box she was holding. Doing so revealed the rest of a strange series of marks she'd painstakingly carved into the box earlier in the day, marks which were total gibberish to her.

In contrast, Rhea's breathing grew sharp as grabbed the device in both hands and brought it close to her face, her eyes darting from the markings to Byleth's concerned gaze. Finally, she spoke to Byleth with unidentifiable but clearly powerful emotions. Among them, Byleth saw something almost fanatical. "I ask again. Is this signed gift... from you?" Rhea's emphasis seemed to have special meaning.

"I tell you again, not really," Byleth replied uncomfortably. "It's a gift to you."

"If it is not from you, where did it come from? I must know, immediately."

"I don't know that, either. Sorry about that."

"You don't... remember where it came from? It must have come from somewhere!"

"... I was guided to it," Byleth replied in a half-truth, growing annoyed at the voice in her head she was speaking on behalf of. "Anyway, I've been asked to be here when you hear it. Um... you should lock the door."

The previously cautious Archbishop did so without a second thought. "It is done. Please, I cannot wait a moment longer. I must hear the message."

"Again... Not a message. A gift." Sighing, Byleth hovered her finger over a button on the box. "Here goes nothing..." She pressed it down.

Rhea braced herself, trying to find her breath as she fully expected to hear the voice of the Goddess of Fodlan fill the room. Throwing aside any pretense of decorum, she held her arms to either side, wearing the blissful smile of one who expected the breath of a deity to wash over them.

Instead, she was in perfect position to be blasted in the face by a loud whistle blaring from the artifact, ringing her eardrums and blowing her hair back. As her exalted chamber was filled with booming reverberations, claps to a beat, and sampled whistles, Rhea was first baffled, then visibly furious. She grabbed the Boom Box, hurling it with surprising **** towards the wall by her bed, hard enough to leave a minor dent in her wall. Despite that, the music didn't stop, and the Box appeared unscathed.

Seteth was immediately banging on the door and asking for an answer, but Rhea couldn't hear it over the combination of the loud bass and her own rage. Still, she was the Archbishop, and she composed herself before demanding an explanation. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You don't like it?" There was no sarcasm in Byleth's voice: it was a genuine question. As she took her cloak off and let it fall to the floor of the Archbishop's chambers, she walked closer alongside Rhea, allowing them to hear each other without screaming.

"Do I like it? This racket, it is..." she began to indignantly protest. She grew quiet, however, and leaned towards the thing she'd thrown onto her bed, propping her elbows on the bedspread and facing away from the door. "It is... What? What is this music?"

"It's a gift," Byleth answered again, joining Rhea in placing her elbows on the soft sheets and sticking out her butt towards the entrance.

"A gift..." Rhea repeated after the professor. "Why... What curious noise! It is most incredible. I've never heard anything like it."

"Me either."

For a moment, Rhea was silent, hardly aware of the fact that both she and her favored teacher were shaking their asses at the door in time with the music, as though they'd practiced. When Byleth looked at her face, the Archbishop seemed to be in a prayer-like trance, almost peaceful. Shocked, Byleth quickly realized the other woman was shedding tears. "Are you all right?"

"I'm... moved... so moved by this... beautiful song," Rhea declared, listening the boisterous voice demand she "move her thang like a boomerang." "I feel as light as a feather, yet as powerful as a pegasus... I feel as young as... well, as you, yourself! Tell me you do not know of a musician who composed or sang this. Please tell me you do not know of an inventor who created this."

Byleth shook her head, stunned at this reaction. She had seen varying levels of fear and excitement in response to this music from Edelgard and Bernadetta, but had never seen this kind of bizarre, reverent bliss Rhea was displaying. "No clue," she told the other woman.

"Then it's a miracle! A true gift from the Goddess...! Can it be... is this what I prayed for? Or is this a gift to be shared with the servants of the Goddess? Perhaps this is what will finally slake their thirsts, the endless appetites of the lost, and bring peace to their troubled hearts! Or, dare I imagine, perhaps it is both?"

"... That good?" Byleth asked, incredulously. Somehow, hearing the ordinarily peaceful and saintly head of the church speaking with the excitement of a giddy schoolgirl was stranger than seeing her twerk to a beat. "But you must realize your body is being controlled-"

"My body is being filled by the spirit of the Goddess," Rhea immediately corrected her, smiling and punctuating the declaration with a swift swat on her own shapely behind, which pressed against the flapping fabric of her preposterously conservative nightgown. "Yours as well," she added, giving her Professor a friendly but firm slap on the seat of her dark shorts.

Byleth winced, flushing a bit. "So even the Archbishop is powerless against this-"

Before the women could explore the meaning of the music (or the resistance of each other's asses) any further, the sound of splintering wood crashed behind them. An ornate axe had emerged through the door, which, unheard by either woman, had been shaking violently since the music began. When the weapon was withdrawn, a portion of Seteth's green bangs, trimmed goatee, and grim expression peered through. "What dark magic is going on in here? I heard the sounds of combat!"

Both Byleth and Rhea realized it was a bit much to have their butts thrust out and bouncing for a man who, by all appearances, was related to Rhea. They'd turned around and attempted to straighten themselves in front of the Box, as if to hide it. Even as they did, their hips jerked defiantly in alternating directions and in time, as if threatening to expose a window between the two of their lower bodies through which the Box might be seen. Meanwhile, their hands roamed restlessly and uncontrollably, either crossing behind their heads to thrust their chests out or sliding down their own faces to hook an index finger teasingly in the lower lip.

Rhea cleared her throat, somehow summoning her authority as the Archbishop. When she spoke, it was around her own index finger. "There is no danger, Seteth. I was simply sampling the incredible gift our dear Professor saw fit to bestow upon us-"

"I cannot hear you! Pray, speak more loudly!"

Rhea looked a bit irritated. "There is no danger!!" she shouted loudly, thankfully getting her finger out of her mouth and avoiding biting it. "Leave us!!"

Seteth didn't seem to know how to respond. When he finally settled, he sounded unsure, as though he had many things he wanted to say and worried he was choosing the wrong one. "The hour of the night, Lady Rhea, grows long, and midnight approaches! Surely such noise-"

Rhea sighed, then turned around and fiddled with the box, briefly and testily shaking her butt at the man in doing so. Quickly, she managed to turn it off, surprising Byleth with the ease by which she did so. "Very well. It is silenced. You speak fairly, as it is late. We all have work to do tomorrow: classes to teach, sermons to give... doors to repair," she finished, passive-aggressively.

"Yes, Archbishop," Seteth agreed, seeming to take it as a matter of fact and not as any criticism of his decision. "Professor, I will escort you out. May the Goddess watch over your sleep, Lady Rhea."

"Yours as well," Rhea dismissed the two of them, sighing regretfully and watching Byleth leave. She sat on her bed and cradled the box in her lap. She was making an expression which, whether she knew it or not, she had not made in a long, long time: the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros was pouting. "To be granted the Goddess's very song and told I must wait until daylight and free hours to bear witness to it... One would think I was imprisoned in this monastery." She briefly contemplated the idea of playing the music at a low volume, but realized that unless torches were extinguished and the room silent save for her snoring, Seteth would surely return to hound her constantly. So, she made the room dark, returned to bed, and tried to fall asleep.

As she did, she smiled warmly, feeling at peace as she hugged the golden Boom Box to her chest, heedless of its sharp edges. "In due time, all efforts made in your name are rewarded... Thank you, o Goddess. I shall not squander what you have seen fit to bless me with..."