Thankfully, Byleth soon stirs, the pounding in his head eased somewhat by the soft touch of a hand stroking it. It's still overwhelming, and his face contorts with that pain.

Vision slowly coming into a wavering focus.

"Themis?" He groans, even at the sound and volume of his own voice. The look on the man's face, pallid and slicked with sweat, and the smell of sick...

"You look. Terrible? What- what happened?" He tries to sit up only to be quickly thwarted by the way his balance whirls when he moves.