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With trembling fingers, Edelgard looped a purple ribbon around the neck of a bottle of wine, its glossy surface further polished with a neat bow. It had been all she could procure on short notice. No– Edelgard allowed herself no more lies. She had been willfully ignorant of the passage of time, playing at school, until Jeritza was taken from her, Kronya filling his place, Remire, them murdering Sir Jeralt Eisner and–
Edelgard forced in a deep shuddering gasp. Her chest rose and fell, her body wrestling in the aftermath of that harsh sound. There was no more time left. She was Emperor now. Had he returned, Hubert would have reprimanded her in that deferential way of his, for idling in her room over inevitable lost friendships as opposed to going over their strategy for tomorrow.
For a brief guilty moment, Edelgard counted herself lucky then. Edelgard pushed herself up, tucking the bottle of wine under her arm. She really hoped Professor Manuela hadn’t gone out on another date tonight. On the cusp of nightfall, Edelgard carefully knocked on the door of the infirmary.
“Come in–”
That singsong voice, throughout the year, had somehow managed to set Edelgard at ease. For how disastrous Edelgard’s first scheme proved to be, Edelgard was thankful for this. Even if she had hoped for a little more. The smell of medicinal herbs couldn’t quite compare to a well-brewed pot of tea, but that was enough to set it apart from the other… surgical rooms Edelgard had been placed in.
“Well, if it isn’t my house leader! Edelgard dear, come sit down.”
Edelgard did a quick once-around the room, relaxing when she found Professor Manuela alone at her desk, grading the newest set of assignments from the Black Eagles. She set the bottle down. And, selfishly, Edelgard stole another moment for herself, slipping into the offered seat.
“Thank you, Professor.”
“Oh darling, is that for me?” Professor Manuela said with a twinkle in her eye, “At least I hope it is. You know you students can’t have alcohol within Garreg Mach’s halls.”
Having chaperoned her class through morning sessions in Professor Manuela’s absence, Edelgard was tempted to rebuke her professor on that front. But… she’d rather that not be the final image Professor Manuela held of her. Edelgard’s expression must have betrayed her as Professor Manuela burst into well-natured laughter. Edelgard shoved in a prepared explanation to hide the burning in her ears.
“It’s an early graduation gift. For taking care of us Black Eagles.”
And an apology.
“I… might not be around as often in Garreg Mach. Like Hubert, I have to take on the Empire’s affairs.”
That was the excuse given to Seteth for their recent leave of absence. These were not truly lies, nor was that the entire truth. Edelgard’s own hurried succession, carried out to wrest power from Duke Aegir and then some from Thales. With her father’s failing health, they could have waited no longer. Ionius IX’s last act– crowning Edelgard herself– cannot be allowed to go to waste. The war, started on her own terms tomorrow, would cement her seat of power.
Edelgard folded her hands into her lap, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders pulled back. She will bear this weight until the end of her days. Professor Manuela sighed, ever so gently tinged with disappointment.
“Then I suppose I have to start picking up my own slack, hm?”
Edelgard pressed a weak giggle into the cuff of her sleeve, her head apologetically lowered. She would leave her Black Eagles in the throes of betrayal, and in the hands of the Church. Would Professor Manuela protect them? Edelgard recalled how the Blue Lions were dispatched to deal with Lonato. Ashe within their ranks to execute his adopted father.
Edelgard had eavesdropped then, to ensure everything was going to plan, and came away with bile rising in her throat. The teachings of the Archbishop was to strike fear into their students. For whispers of a rebellion. With Adrestia’s banner raised against the Church of Seiros, what would happen to her Black Eagles?
Let those supposed sins weigh on Edelgard von Hresvelg alone.
“Edelgard dear, is everything alright?” Professor Manuela frowned, “I won’t probe into Empire business but I can’t have my star student running herself ragged.”
“I’m sorry,” Edelgard shook her head, her smile faint, “I leave the Black Eagles in your hands, Professor Manuela.”
The infirmary door creaked open. A panicked squeal squeezed through the gap. Dorothea pushed through, that distinctive cap near slipping off Dorothea’s frazzled hair. A trembling Bernadetta also clung to Dorothea’s arm. Bernadetta poked her head out beyond the shadow of her trusted friend, worriedly fixed on her house leader.
“Hello Manuela!” Dorothea’s lighthearted voice was weighed down with strained cheer, verdant eyes shimmering, “Edie, I’m glad you’re safe. Bern and I have been looking all over Garreg Mach for you.”
Edelgard blinked, barely over the reprieve of not being walked in on by Archbishop Rhea. The corners of her lips raised of their own accord. Bernadetta had dared to leave her room. She really was proud of the Black Eagles.
“I’m quite alright, Dorothea. Do you two need my help?”
Dorothea spied the wine on the table, and exchanged a meaningful glance with Professor Manuela. The older songstress simply shrugged. To Edelgard’s confusion, Dorothea shut the door behind her. She cast a quick silencing spell on the room.
“Edie, we’re worried about you. You’ve been disappearing more and more often. Hubie isn’t around. You’ve gifted every Black Eagle something of your own. And now you’re talking about leaving the Black Eagles entirely.”
“Lady Edelgard please don’t die!”
Edelgard had nodded along with Dorothea’s summation of her recent activities, only for her to balk at Bernadetta’s conclusion. Dorothea didn’t seem to think it far-fetched either, with how her eyes smouldered. As Edelgard worked to find her voice, Professor Manuela rested a hand on her shoulder. This familiar absurdity of the Black Eagles was somehow caused by Edelgard this time round. She would have laughed, if the swell of panic didn’t clamp her mouth shut.
Although… Edelgard couldn’t exactly refute it. She had not prepared for the genuine concern over her. The choice lay before Edelgard, for her friends to think her suicidal, or for them to know the monster that was Edelgard von Hresvelg. Either way, Edelgard found herself mourning this play– this life– as a student.
Bernadetta’s eyes were squeezed tight. Edelgard sighed. Even if there was no retaliation against the Black Eagles, the Church of Seiros weren’t above sending their students into battles on their behalf. If… Edelgard could get the Black Eagles to stand down in the Holy Tomb, and in the latter siege, it would be better than sending them into the fray uninformed. Although Edelgard could hold back, blades have no mercy, especially on the battlefield.
“I’m not,” Edelgard’s voice was tinged with authority, to ensure Bernadetta would listen, “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Please gather the Black Eagles.”
On the eve of the ceremony for the Goddess’ Revelation, Edelgard spoke of the truth, in the far less prestigious Black Eagle classroom. She stepped onto the class podium, with permission from Professor Manuela. Her place in Fódlan, her cause, her impending war. Edelgard summoned the mask into her gloved hand, half of it permanently bathed in flames, and let it cover her face.
“I am Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg, the Flame Emperor, and it is I who will reforge the world.”
The Crest of Flames burned in the palm of her hand. Supposedly the Crest of the Goddess that governs the world, bestowed on her by human hands and Those that Slithered. It had only reemerged with Professor Byleth… and Edelgard couldn’t help but wonder. If you too are under their thumb, I promise to set you free.
But it appears you truly were blessed by the Goddess.
Her classmates gaped at her, their eyes darting between the mask and the Crest of Flames. As if they were all that mattered. Edelgard grimaced. Her success was the reason she lived. The news spread to those that spearheaded the Insurrection. She knew their children were different. But her heart couldn’t help but clench.
“For their sins of withholding the truth of the Crests, and enforcing their rule based upon it, Adrestia will declare war against the Central Church. Under my orders, the Imperial Army will attack the Holy Tomb tomorrow. I ask you, as your Emperor, to stand down. Hubert will ensure a safe retreat from Garreg Mach.”
The mask fell once again, those lilac eyes flickering towards Professor Manuela, who merely hummed an acknowledgement. The silencing charm remained on the room. And thank Professor Manuela for that, as the resulting chaos could not be put down to their supposed late-night study session. To challenge the Crests were to challenge the teachings of the Church itself. No longer did the Goddess manifest herself through the living blessings granted to so few people. And Edelgard knew better than to believe the Goddess would manifest herself through prayer.
If You would so silently watch us suffer, then I will right it through my hands.
“Well Edelgard, thank you for telling us.”
Professor Manuela sent Edelgard an absolutely beatific smile, and then a wink for good measure. Edelgard could only stare. Professor Manuela was by far the most religious of their three professors. But she seemed hardly insulted, nor was she eager to denounce Edelgard a traitor. The tap of her baton was a bid for silence.
“Professor, did you know?” Edelgard asked, her voice nary above a whisper.
“Somewhat,” Professor Manuela’s baton did a cheeky twirl in the air, “Dear, I was your physician and class teacher for this year.”
The air crackled, making the fine hairs on Edelgard’s neck rise. Dorothea had her palm open. The spark of lightning was alight in her eyes and between her fingers.
“What about Jeritza?”
The care Dorothea displayed for her friend hadn’t vanished completely– Edelgard would have already taken a Meteor to the face otherwise. The Death Knight– Jeritza– had stabbed Professor Manuela after abducting Flayn. In the days that followed, Edelgard made use of her role as house leader to visit the infirmary. The Black Eagles’ progress fell to her, even if the other professors and Seteth stepped in at times. Though, Edelgard recalled she couldn’t quite look Professor Manuela in the eye during those reports.
Again here, Professor Manuela observed Edelgard with that same twinkle in her eye. Had she known then? Had she believed in Edelgard then? Did she still see something, beyond the Flame Emperor?
“I have… unsavory allies. I allowed Jeritza to be borrowed by them.”
Dorothea gave pause. Those verdant eyes searched Edelgard’s own lilacs. For what, Edelgard didn’t really know. She simply let her. Dorothea breathed out a nervous, exasperated titter.
“Edie.”
The tension in Edelgard’s shoulders dropped with Dorothea’s use of her nickname.
“You really are something, you know that?”
Edelgard’s lips twitched, almost desperate for clarification but the lack of crackling electricity, and somehow, a wan smile, was answer enough. Dorothea would stay out of all this.
“I wonder…”
Linhardt focused on her, his eyes bright with curiosity for once. Edelgard’s skin began to crawl again. Although his interest in Crests was purely academic, the same could be said of those that took a knife to the Hresvelgs. Their eyes met briefly. Linhardt’s gaze slipped over to Professor Manuela. Linhardt shrugged, his curiosity apparently sated, and refrained from commenting his hypothesis.
“Congratulations Edelgard, I’m impressed. If my father and Caspar’s both support you, I guess it’s less trouble to go against you.”
“Wait– how do you know that Linhardt–”
Linhardt waved a hand to dismiss Caspar’s questions. Linhardt probably assumed Edelgard’s allies were those from the Insurrection, if she could start a war on Adrestia’s terms. He wasn’t wrong… to a degree. Only that Ludwig von Aegir, Marquis Vestra, and Count Varley had been deposed, leaving Lord Regent Arundel as the single threat.
Caspar opened his mouth then shut it again, his eyes anxiously darting towards Petra.
“Lady Edelgard is wanting us to avoid the crossfire.”
Petra frowned, a crease in her brow. She would represent Brigid’s stance on Fódlan’s war, if Brigid ever had to pick a side. The battles Petra joined could even be used as leverage to pressure Brigid into joining either faction. To go to war with or against Adrestia was not a decision made lightly.
“I am thanking you for your concern,” Petra added, “But. We are friends.”
Petra’s eyes darted around the room, a familiar evaluating gaze on their fellow classmates. She muttered in her native tongue, only reserved when she became truly agitated. Petra shut her eyes, pressed her palms together. Then Petra eyed Edelgard.
“You need warriors.”
“But Petra…” Edelgard started, tempted to get her friend to reconsider.
Bernadetta, who had forgotten her head was ducked under a book, shook so wildly at the notion of going into battle that said book went flying across the Black Eagles classroom. Thankfully, it only hit a wall and missed the window. Bernadetta shrieked at the ensuing dull thud and went scrambling under a table.
“I don’t want to go to war! Lady Edelgard will protect Bernie, right?”
Surprisingly, Bernadetta had taken less offense to the Flame Emperor. Edelgard stepped off the podium, crouching down with an offered hand.
“Of course, Bernadetta.”
Edelgard would pull every one of her Eagles, whether they were willing or not, to a new dawn. If this was the self-righteousness that would bring them to a better future, then Edelgard didn’t mind. Bernadetta rubbed at the wet shine in her eyes, her erratic breaths slowing at the promise, leaving a weak mumble. Tentatively, Bernadetta placed a hand in Edelgard’s, and allowed Edelgard to drag her back into the warm light of their classroom.
“If it’s Lady Edelgard then… we’ll be fine…”
Like clockwork, a cup of Albinean berry blend was set down in front of Bernadetta. Bernadetta mustered a small nod at Ferdinand, before quietly sipping at the tea. It worked wonders at calming Bernadetta down. And from that, an inventory of tea leaves was stored in the Black Eagles classroom, courtesy of Ferdinand.
“Thank you, Ferdinand.”
“It’s simply the duty of a noble.”
Ferdinand spoke his first words towards Edelgard. Ever since the reveal of Edelgard’s successful coronation, and the henceforth conspicuous absence of Prime Minister Aegir, Edelgard believed he put two and two together. The role that House Aegir commanded was no more theirs. Edelgard smothered the rather indignant voice in her head. Even Ferdinand should know that a man that instigated an insurrection held no place at Edelgard’s side. Much less what Ludwig did after.
Ferdinand’s ginger eyes still brimmed with hurt, under the layer of noble polish. Edelgard breathed out a sigh at Ferdinand’s deflated stance. Knowing Ferdinand, she wouldn’t be surprised if that had been hidden from him too. Edelgard would divulge Ludwig’s duplicity in private. In a contrast to their ‘duel for the throne’, Ferdinand acted first. Ferdinand crossed an arm over his chest, and offered his first bow to the newly crowned Emperor. Almost as if he was eagerly following the script of their forebearers once more.
“Petra is correct. I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and my duty is to the Adrestian Empire. For now, I am at your command, Edelgard.”
For better or worse, war meant a united front. This was no time to fracture. Ferdinand understood this. So, Edelgard would accept her friends’ kindness, and stride forward. For the last time, Edelgard summoned the mask, her eyes flickering down at the flawless, faceless surface. And as fragile as porcelain, it cracked in Edelgard’s hands. There was no need to hide. Everyone will see me as I am.
A knock came at the Black Eagles’ classroom-turned-war-council-room. Every Black Eagle froze. Ferdinand ceased his loudly whispered discussion with Edelgard. Dorothea plastered on an innocent smile, flipping a tomb shut. Caspar and Petra halted their sparring in a corner, though Petra’s tense position suggested a readiness to strike. Bernadetta slapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Even Linhardt bothered to open his eyes. Edelgard stretched an arm out, stepping forward in front of them all.
“Professor…?”
Professor Byleth poked their head in through the door, her seafoam green eyes giving the Black Eagles a detached once-over. As always, her lips were pursed in a line. Cloaked in the white of the Goddess, a faint shimmer of gold around her collar, Edelgard almost believed Professor Byleth was there to pass judgement on them.
“It is past curfew. Will you all return to your rooms?”
Perhaps it was the sheer relief that foisted a smile onto Edelgard’s face. Despite the sighs in the background, Professor Byleth’s eyes lingered on her, as if mystified by her reaction. To see that blankness fade away, however brief, had Edelgard’s lips further curling upward. It was endearingly human.
“Shouldn’t I ask the same of you, Professor? The ceremony will be held in your honour.”
Professor Byleth simply shook her head. Maybe it was the undeniable resonance between them, from those few shared battles, that Edelgard believed the enigmatic woman was troubled. Are you too plagued by sleepless nights? Edelgard was too on the eve of her coronation.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Professor?”
A single nod. Professor Byleth was somewhat fond of tea parties, if the invitation extended after Dorothea and Ingrid’s excursion was any indicator. They had ceased this moon. Professor Byleth was usually summoned by Archbishop Rhea outside of her lectures. When Edelgard stole her way back into Garreg Mach, long after sundown, she would see Professor Byleth emerge from the cathedral. Edelgard would follow, and see Professor Byleth loop around the empty fishing pond, the greenhouse, and finally her parents’ graves.
Edelgard never disrupted that routine of hers. Maybe she should have interfered long ago. You have lost yourself, Professor. Although Professor Byleth achieved their vengeance against Kronya and Solon, she only appeared to spiral further. So blessed by the Goddess after.
It didn’t matter, whether it was the Crest of Flames, or being turned into the Goddess’ progeny.
Edelgard reached out a gloved hand, an offer off her chosen path. Professor Byleth, as tentatively as Bernadetta, slid her hand in, and Edelgard led her through the door. The Black Eagles, like all the other students, were generally fond of their oddball professor. The blunt, yet courteous way Byleth treated each student made her undeniably popular among them. And so, every Black Eagle guiltily avoided Professor Byleth’s eyes. Perhaps Professor Byleth was too used to the obedience of the Blue Lions that she never questioned what the Black Eagles were doing.
“We were studying for our last certification exams, Professor,” Edelgard said by way of explanation, “Professor Manuela allowed us use of the Black Eagles’ classroom after hours.”
“Should I leave then?”
Professor Byleth asked Edelgard. After Professor Manuela retired for her beauty sleep, Edelgard was left in charge. It was something most were familiar with. Everyone knew to look to Edelgard regarding matters with the Black Eagles. So, Professor Byleth requested permission, slightly anxious, if the downward curl of her lips was anything to go by. There you are, Professor.
“We were going to take a break anyway.”
Edelgard ignored the incredulous looks sent her way. Although none of the Black Eagles really contested her, choosing to trust in her lead. The Black Eagles eased into aimless chatter between themselves, though out of Professor Byleth’s earshot, for fear of letting anything slip. If Edelgard were to be truthful, this was a selfish act. She could not deny another, so desperate for a reprieve from her role.
“Thank you.”
There was a tiny spark in Professor Byleth’s eyes. She walked at Edelgard’s side, as she had all those moons ago when they first arrived at Garreg Mach. It was cruel, really, to have that light dangle in front of Edelgard, only for it to be snuffed out moments after. Still, Professor Byleth was Edelgard’s guest, and it wouldn’t do to be rude here.
With Hubert’s absence, Professor Byleth settled into a seat at Edelgard’s side, unhindered by the strained silence. Bernadetta hesitantly pushed a plate of pastries and desserts in Professor Byleth’s direction, having finally had her fill after all the night’s chaos. Edelgard, upon learning that she disrupted Bernadetta’s nightly scrounge for dinner, procured them for the entire class.
“Thank you, Bernadetta,” Professor Byleth’s eyes glowed. Her famed record of ten square meals a day was no exaggeration, after all.
“You’re– you’re welcome, Professor!” Bernadetta squeaked and went to curl behind Ferdinand.
Perhaps it was rather presumptuous, given Edelgard wasn’t familiar with the intricacies of Professor Byleth’s preferences, that she brewed a Hresvelg Blend. Despite Professor Byleth’s respectable collection of tea blends, a good Hresvelg Blend was still rare at the merchants’. If Professor Byleth enjoyed this cup, Edelgard would leave her own stock for her. Edelgard preferred Bergamot anyway.
“Here you go, Professor. Are the pastries to your liking?”
Professor Byleth sipped at the tea. She pondered the question for a moment. A serious, decisive nod.
“Yes.”
No more words followed. Professor Byleth watched Edelgard eagerly, as if that was enough to carry on a tea party conversation. Her noble etiquette was as… unrefined as ever. From Edelgard’s last experience, this line of conversation would yield nothing further. Edelgard couldn’t help a small grin.
“Have as much as you wish, Professor.”
“Thank you, Edelgard.”
As the host, it was up to Edelgard to choose their topics of conversation. One walked a tenuous line of propriety, these seemingly lighthearted chats bound by status as much as intimacy. And so, Edelgard simply stated a fact, like she did with Professor Manuela earlier.
“We’re graduating soon. Time flies, doesn’t it?”
Almost a year… since you saved me.
Professor Byleth frowned. And Edelgard, ashamedly, was far more panicked than when she first opened the classroom door to Byleth Eisner. Although Edelgard did like to see the changes in their professor’s face, just what did Edelgard say, that warranted such a break from Professor Byleth’s neutral expression?
“Professor…?”
Professor Byleth tilted her head.
“I haven’t considered it. All of you graduating, I mean.”
“Professor, our responsibilities await us after leaving Garreg Mach. Most of us are the scions of noble houses, and the Officers’ Academy merely a last vestige of youth,” Edelgard bit her tongue, realizing the turn the conversation took, “I wonder, where your path leads now?”
“I don’t know, Edelgard.”
Soft, plain and simple. Rhea hadn’t been able to convert Professor Byleth to the Church’s ways. Despite the way each house leader vied to employ Byleth Eisner at the beginning of the school year, that same offer was somehow miraculously open. Edelgard swallowed. She hoped the tremours in her voice weren’t too apparent.
“Should you be amenable to it, Professor, we would welcome– I– would welcome you as my teacher even after leaving the Academy.”
Professor Byleth blinked down at Edelgard, and then at her half-empty teacup. Edelgard winced. It appeared that Professor Byleth wasn’t fond of the blend after all. Edelgard laced her gloved fingers together, her hands firmly placed in her lap. Professor Byleth downed the rest of her tea.
“More, please.”
Oh. Edelgard hastily refilled Professor Byleth’s cup. A smile then curled at Professor Byleth’s lips. Edelgard’s heart skipped a beat. That warm simmering pride coaxed a tease from Edelgard’s lips.
“You know, Professor, that tea won’t loosen your tongue as alcohol does?”
“…I think it does,” Professor Byleth hummed, “I learned about you.”
“Stop right there!”
Through the throes of nausea, Byleth swam back to consciousness, her eyes snapping open. She shouldn’t have sat upon Sothis’ throne. Her lips parted, almost to answer that rallying cry. Edelgard. Huddled around her like hatchlings, were the Black Eagles. Their weapons were raised in defensive positions. Edelgard rested the blade of her axe on the stone floor. Edelgard’s gaze passed over Byleth, and turned towards Rhea.
“I am the Flame Emperor. By order of the Adrestian Emperor, Edelgard von Hresvelg, I command you to collect the crest stones. If anyone attempts to stop us… kill them.”
The Imperial Army surged forward. But the Black Eagles remained with Edelgard. Byleth could scarcely comment on this oddity when Dimitri once again defied Byleth’s first and foremost rule, breaking formation and charging into enemy ranks. Brutal, sickening crunches echoed in the Holy Tomb. Her well-trained Blue Lions pointed their weapons at the Black Eagles. Their relics writhed in the eerie green gleam of the Holy Tomb. Though, none moved forward without Byleth’s command.
Dimitri was laughing, amongst the mounting corpses. He’d soon be swarmed, and yet–
Rhea was screaming something.
“Kill all these villainous traitors!”
These were students. Almost as if rallied by that call, Dimitri wrenched a fallen spear from an enemy, hurtling it towards Edelgard. Her expression set in grim determination, Edelgard launched herself forward. A hand raising a shield in front of the Black Eagles, absorbing the brunt of the attack. Edelgard pivoted on one foot, the momentum hardly fazing her, bringing her axe up in response.
From behind Edelgard, a spell– Dorothea’s– whizzed past Dimitri’s ear. A seamless warning shot.
The Blue Lions fractured into stratified groups. Sylvain, Ingrid and Felix chasing after Dimitri as reinforcement. Dedue alone in the same efforts to reach Dimitri. Mercedes, Annette and Ashe to provide cover from the back. And once again, Byleth was alone.
Rhea was still screaming.
Dimitri demanded blood.
Brandishing the Sword of the Creator only exacerbated Byleth’s fatigue from the throne. Almost as if something was wearing away within her, bit by bit. Byleth stumbled away from the altar, like a dazed lamb. She was suddenly reminded of farmers fattening their livestock just before the holidays. So much attention spent on Byleth for the Ceremony of Revelation.
Never trust Rhea.
There was another pinprick of flame within the Holy Tomb. Somewhere Byleth belonged. Across the room, Byleth met the concerned gaze of Edelgard von Hresvelg.