Astaroth

Astaroth was an ordinary young man, once. An ordinary man who taught as an ordinary professor. An ordinary professor turned extraordinary by the presence of a goddess, right. Before. War. 

His students, his KIDS, tried to tear each other apart in front of him. He was being pulled in so many directions, had to choose which to follow…choose in the wake of one of his students being revealed as the Flame Emperor herself. Of being ordered by Rhea to kill her. Kill his student. His kid. 

…He couldn’t do it. And Rhea, he had been on edge around her from the start. Heeding warnings given by his now-dead father before everything went so wrong. And then, when he made his choice, Rhea’s reaction…no, that was not the reaction of a sane woman. Or, dragon, as it turned out.

So Astaroth went to war. Planned and strategized and taught, as they fought to reclaim Fódlan from the tyrannical beast that had ruled it with an iron fist since antiquity. Fought against a mad dragon who just wanted her mother back. 

Except, even after they pushed through her forces, slew the men she’d turned into monsters…Caspar was killed. By Rhea. His students, ripped apart one by one by dragon claws. Caspar. Ferdinand. Dorothea. Bernadetta. Petra. Lindhart. Hubert. Edelgard. All dead in front of him. No matter how many times he rewound time, they all still fell.

He screamed, out of charges, of the strength to turn back time, and then. Everything just. 

Shattered. 

He was alone, adrift in a void, like he had been once so long ago. And then, he heard it. Crying. A young girl’s voice, crying. He followed it, and the blackness dissipated, revealing none other than a tiny version of Edelgard before him, in chains and stained with old blood. 

Divine Pulse wasn’t meant to work this way. It could only turn back time so far, and he’d run out of the strength to do so again-

But, he was here. And this was Edelgard in front of him, without a doubt. Edelgard, who looked up at him with a child’s tear-stained eyes, and gasped in fright. 

“Wh-who are you?!” The words hurt more than Astaroth could’ve imagined, but. This was before they met. Before they became friends. Family. 

“A-are, are you a saint?” Edelgard continued, taking Astaroth by surprise. 

“Why would you ask that?” Astaroth wondered. Edelgard flinched a little, the chains around her wrists and neck rattling at the motion. 

“Well, you’re see-through, like a ghost. And, saints show up for good people, and I’ve, I’ve been praying…” Edelgard‘s voice trailed off in a whisper, and she was right, he was a ghost. A specter of his former self. But that didn’t matter, not when one of his kids was suffering right in front of him. He kneeled down, putting a ghostly hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him in surprise and hope. Desperate hope. 

…Astaroth was no saint, not in his definition of the word. But, if all it took to become a saint was to be Nabatean, then…

“They call me the Saint of Flames.” After Sothis, and what had brought him this second chance. “And I’m here because you need me, Edelgard. And I’ll stay as long as it takes until you don’t need me anymore.”

At first, Astaroth thought that was it. He stayed with Edelgard, unable to be seen by anyone else. Even Those Who Slithered In The Dark, and it made him RAGE to see what horrors they inflicted on Edelgard. Horrors he was powerless to prevent, helpless to stop. Edelgard was the only thing he could touch of this world. Otherwise he would’ve freed her long ago. 

Then, screaming. Quiet, as though from far away, but still there. A boy this time, screaming in anguish and fear and pain. Astaroth was moving before he even realized it, his surroundings going dark all around him as he lunged until-

Until he emerged next to a boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes. A boy covered in fresh blood and surrounded by dead bodies, kneeling on the ground screaming against something only he could hear. 

Dimitri. Dimitri needed help. He’d been hurt, broken, before, used and tossed aside like a broken tool by Rhea in the war-

But this wasn’t the war. Dimitri wasn’t a mad, broken king. He was a scared, traumatized child, in grief and in pain. Alone with nothing but ash and death. 

“Hey. C’mon. You can’t stay here.” Astaroth said, getting the tiny prince’s attention. 

“I-I- you-“ Dimitri whimpered again, clutching at his ears. Astaroth reached forward and took his hand. 

“Hey. They can’t touch you, not while I’m around.” Astaroth promised. “Now come on. It’s not safe here.”

“O-okay.” Dimitri said shakily, clutching at Astaroth’s hand as he led him away from the gruesome sight, further into the streets and away from any enemies that might’ve been attracted to his screams. 

“Here. This is safe enough.” Astaroth decided, after having led Dimitri through twists and turns and finally, into an alleyway deep in the city. 

Dimitri just sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, and Astaroth knelt, opening his arms in invitation for a hug. Dimitri let out a tiny wail, before throwing himself onto Astaroth, sobbing into his robes. Crying until he had no more tears left to cry, and then, and only then, did he let go. 

“You’re a lot nicer than the others.” Dimitri said out of nowhere. Astaroth frowned. 

“Others?”

“Uh-huh. Over there, and there, and there…” Dimitri said, pointing at nothing but empty air. “They want me to avenge them. It’s not fair that I got to live, when mommy and daddy and so many others didn’t, so I got to make sure they get justice.”

“Oh, Dimitri.” Astaroth said mournfully, getting a look of shock from the tiny prince. “No parent should be mad that their child lived. These things, that you’re seeing, they’re not the people who died. They’re…” Astaroth thought quickly, scrambling for a believable excuse. “Demons, alright? They’re demons, and they’re using your parents’ appearance to trick you, okay?”

“Th-they are?” Dimitri asked, eyes wide. Astaroth nodded. 

“Yeah, they are. And they’re bad, so don’t listen to them, okay?”

“Okay.” Dimitri said, before falling silent. There was a minute of nothing, before- “Does this means you’re a saint? Cause, saints fight demons, and beat them up, and you saw they were tricking me so you have to be a saint, right?” Dimitri asked. “Plus, you’re a ghost, and normal people aren’t ghosts. Are you Saint Cichol? You have to be Saint Cichol, right?!”

Astaroth couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that, before shaking his head. “No, I’m not the Saint of Miracles.” He wasn’t Seteth. “I’m the Saint of Flames.”

“Saint of Flames?” Dimitri asked, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t ‘member hearing about a fire saint. Just the four, the saints of wisdom and faith and strategy and stuff, and the ten heroes and Saint Seiros of course.”

“Of course.” Astaroth said, though it was like ash in his mouth. “I wasn’t very important, since I didn’t fight in the final battle against Nemesis. No, I was, well…with the kids.” Because wasn’t that what he was doing now? “My job is to help them when they need it.”

“Like when the demons were tricking me?” Dimitri asked, before turning his head and scowling at thin air, sticking his tongue out at something only he could see. 

“Exactly like that.” Astaroth agreed. He tilted his head as he felt something tug at his heart; something that told him he was needed. With Edelgard. “I have to go. There’s another kid who needs me right now, okay?” Astaroth said, wincing at the look of betrayal on Dimitri’s face. 

“Wh-what?! But, but I need you!” The tiny prince protested, and Astaroth’s heart broke. 

“I know, but she needs me more right now, okay?” Astaroth said, feeling the tug again, like a rope had attached to his heart. Tugging at him, to move away from here. To go to someone else. “I’m not leaving you forever, okay? Just for a little while. But if you really need me, I’ll be here.” Already, he could feel a bond between himself and Dimitri, like the one tugging him away. He couldn’t say how he knew it was Edelgard, just that he did. Was she, was she calling him somehow? Telling him she needed him, making his little white lie a reality?

“Promise?” Dimitri asked, before holding out a small hand. “Pinky promise?”

Astaroth smiled, and hooked pinkies with Dimitri. “Pinky promise. Now come on, let’s get you home.”

It was faster than Astaroth thought it would be - they ran into Rodrigue and several other knights pretty quickly, and Astaroth watched Dimitri run ahead, throwing himself into Rodriguez’s arms. Giving Dimitri a soft smile, Astaroth closed his eyes, before opening them again at Edelgard’s side. 

“M-mister!” Edelgard whimpered, curled up on the floor. “You, you didn’t, you didn’t- you weren’t here!” She wailed. “You’re always here, and then you WEREN’T, a-and I thought, I thought you’d left me all alone-“

“No, never.” Astaroth reassured her. The girl who could never know his name, not when his past self still carried it, blissfully unaware of what was to come. “You’re not the only one who needs me, okay? But I promise, I will not leave you. Not while you still need me.”

“Promise?” Edelgard asked, in an echo of Dimitri only minutes before. 

“Promise. Now, let’s get a look at you. Where does it hurt, little flower?” What have they done to you this time? 

“E-everywhere.” Edelgard whimpered. “But, especially here.” She added, touching her chest over her heart. 

“I see. Come here, let’s take your mind off it, alright?” Astaroth asked, before sitting down on the stone floor of Edelgard’s cell. The little girl climbed into his lap, as she’d done so many times before already (and oh, how funny it must look to see Edelgard apparently sitting on thin air had there been anyone to see). 

“Can you tell me a story? The one about the knight and the princess?”

“Again? You’ve already heard that one a hundred times.” Astaroth teased, making Edelgard giggle. 

“But I wanna hear it again! You tell it the best.” Edelgard announced matter-of-factly. “You don’t always make the boys the heroes.” Astaroth couldn’t help but chuckle at that. No, it was never just the boys who were the heroes.

“Alright, alright. Well, once upon a time, there was a knight and a princess. The pair were betrothed to each other, and loved each other very much. But then one day, a dragon came, and stole the knight away…”

~*~

Astaroth found himself being tugged to more than just Dimitri and Edelgard. Claude, Bernadetta, Ingrid, Dorothea, Cyril, Sylvain…any and all of the students who’d been with him at the monastery could call him. And he went; how could he not? They were his kids, and his students, and even though the other two classes weren’t his what did that matter? They were still students he’d loved, who he’d been fond of. 

(Who he’d had to cut down on the battlefield, a lifetime ago-)

And it wasn’t just his old students who called him either. Four new ones reached out to him through the dark; children who over the years came together in a place Astaroth had never even heard of before: Abyss. The city beneath the monastery he’d lived in for so long.

What had become of it in his time he had no idea, and no way of finding out. But that was then. Right now, these kids needed him. 

To say Dimitri and Edelgard were absolutely flabbergasted to see each other being able to see Astaroth once they both arrived at the monastery was an understatement. Astaroth could only laugh at the expressions on their faces, before reminding them that it wasn’t just them who needed him. Heck, it felt like half the monastery could see him sometimes, even if it was really just his students. It was easy for him to fall into the role of professor again, when his kids were around. Even if it was just an ‘extracurricular’ teaching, and not as the head of a house.

Well, except for the Ashen Wolves house. Aelfric may be teaching them when and where he had the time, but they were getting the majority of their instruction from Astaroth. And much to his embarrassment, elected him the unofficial leader of the unofficial house. And it wasn’t like Astaroth wasn’t learning anything new either; some of the things they showed him down here in the library made him wish he’d seen them before, in the past that no longer was. Things he knew with a bitter heart to be true.

At least Rhea and the other Nabateans couldn’t see him. That would…well. 

Astaroth would never forgive Rhea for ripping his kids away from him in claws and dragonfire. Even though this Rhea hadn’t done it, he still couldn’t bring himself to not hold it against her. 

And if he was teaching his kids the truth behind the church, as one who had ‘lived’ it, well…that was nobody’s business but his own, now was it?

Now time to go see if ‘Thomas’ could see him. It wasn’t likely, given that none of the other members of Those Who Slithered in the Dark had been able to, but if he could, well…death by haunting-induced heart attack sounded like a great way for him to go. It was less than the man deserved, but Astaroth would take satisfaction in it nonetheless.

Unfortunately, the answer was a resounding no, but that didn’t stop Astaroth from watching him like a hawk. He wasn’t going to be letting him get away with things this time. Not to mention warn his kids away from the man. Now, how to get rid of him when Astaroth couldn’t even touch Solon, that was the question…

Oh, look, Jeritza can see him. Wait, WHAT?!

~*~

Astaroth waited, and waited, anxious and scared and so, so longing, and then…he came. Himself, and Jeralt. Dad. 

The man who’d been dead for years. 

And who could apparently see him, if his shocked double-take at a crying, ghostly and green-haired version of his son was of any indication. Well. That was going to be awkward. But he owed him an explanation at the very least. 

Oh, and younger him could see him too. Double awkward. But at least they took his explanation semi-well? His dad looked like he was going to pass out at the merged with Sothis part, but other than that, nobody freaked out or rejected him, so…bonus?

He’s never had a brother before. Neither has his younger self, even if they have to pretend Astaroth is his dad and younger self’s ancestor for appearance’s sake. That, he finds hilarious. But it’s…nice. For both of them. And seeing his dad again, their dad again…it was a priceless gift. One more precious than anything he could ever know. 

They did have to settle the name thing though, though their dad found it absolutely hilarious how Astaroth accidentally became a saint (which he took a lot better than the story of how Astaroth unintentionally got the power of the progenitor god). They simply went with Astaroth just going by Asta when they needed to differentiate, while his younger self kept their name, pretending to have been named after this distant ancestor. It was what made the most sense after all. Astaroth was still in the middle of living his life. Asta…

Well, Asta was weird no matter how you looked at it. But at least, for now, he was home. 

After hearing everything, Astaroth didn’t have the heart to take up leadership of the Black Eagles. Didn’t want to walk in the echoes of his older brother’s footsteps. So Astaroth ended up teaching the Golden Deer instead.

And then said younger brother ran across Abyss, learned more about their mother than Asta ever did, and brought back four students to add to his house. Four very familiar students. Well then. 

Talking it over with his dad and Astaroth in their dad’s private rooms later, they came to the conclusion that all of the Ashen Wolves must have died the first time around, with the end results being the same: the transformation of Aelfric and Sitri’s body into an Umbral Beast. As for what happened to Abyss after the monastery fell, not even the goddess could know.  

But least now, those four were able to survive. That was the important part.