Chapter Text
To Weather the Dark
Prologue: Go oft awry
It happened in an instant.
Rhea – no – The Immaculate One lifted its great head to the sky. Massive wings spread over the spires of Garreg Mach, silvery scales shimmering. The sight was ethereal and for a moment, Edelgard understood why someone would worship such a creature. The beast wailed, an unnerving shriek that was not entirely inhuman. Despite herself, she felt a shiver of fear. This was the Church’s true face. This was the monster that had oppressed Fόdlan for years. Edelgard gripped her axe tight, forcing away the terror that crawled down her spine. There was no room for uncertainty. She would tear the beast down from the sky even at the cost of her life. Such was her conviction.
In her periphery, she watched Byleth stare up at the draconic figure. Her teacher held her sword at the ready, features stoic as ever. Edelgard expected as much. The woman was a pillar of strength, never balking in the face of adversity. Nothing had shaken that cool facade, and she doubted anything ever would. The Sword of the Creator glowed with devilish light. The blade’s segments flexed like a snake when Byleth brought it above her head. Yes, Edelgard thought, slay the beast with the sword it granted you. Be as Nemesis was to Fόdlan all those centuries ago and liberate us.
How naive of her to think it could be that simple. The Immaculate One opened its maw wide, an effervescent light gathering on the tip of its tongue. It roared, and with it came a great beam that sliced through the earth. A concussive wave threw her to the ground. Her axe flew from her hands, becoming lost amidst the tumult. Edelgard tumbled, something catching the edge of her leg and piercing deep into the muscle. She screamed for the Professor, voice lost as the ground tore beneath her. Then the dark took her into its embrace.
Edelgard did not know how much time passed between dazed wakefulness and sleep. Her head throbbed with agony as did the wound in her leg. Eventually, her eyes opened to a thunderous sky. Dark clouds gathered in the heavens above, a mere glimmer of light seen through misted breaks. She sat up on her hands, shaken. All around her was chaos. Her allies were scattered, bodies cast violently away from the center of the blast. In the distance, she spotted Caspar and Ferdinand crawl to their feet. The prone form of Dorothea was frightfully still. Petra, cheeks pale and bloody, staggered over to the fallen songstress.
“Your Majesty!”
Edelgard blinked as Hubert appeared before her. The young man fell to his knees, his robes torn at the neck and side. A grimace carved the severe planes of his face.
“Your Majesty, are you—”
“I’m fine, Hubert.” She waved off his concern, regaining her composure. Her teeth clenched tight as she forced away the searing pain in her calf. “Tell me, where is the creature? Did it escape?”
“The Immaculate One took flight shortly after attacking.” Hubert leaned back on his heels. He pursed his lips, displeasure evident. “The crafty beast made sure we could not follow. It will take us quite some time to regroup.”
“I see,” Edelgard exhaled sharply. Disappointment sat heavily in her chest; black and leaden. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They had been careful; strove to account for each contingency. Their might was unsurpassed, even by the famed Knights of Seiros who had been rendered helpless by their hands. Yet she had been unable to anticipate the sheer power of that creature. All of this preparation, and it amounted to naught. How terribly vexing. Gathering herself, Edelgard rose. She ignored the blood trickling down her leg. The unwelcome warmth seeped into a puddle at her feet. Her eyes took in the destruction in the beast’s wake.
To her left, Bernadetta crawled out from beneath a collapsed pillar. The girl was shaking like a leaf, hands clutching her broken bow in a white-knuckled grip. Linhardt had joined Petra by Dorothea’s side. The boy held his hands above her head, finger’s glowing gold with healing magic. His own brow was near purple and only grew more so with each second that passed. The Brigid Princess held Dorothea by the hand, expression pensive. Just beyond them, Sylvain was crouched by the corpse of his horse. An uncharacteristic look of fury sat upon his face. Felix hobbled close to the other boy, using his sword as a cane. His leg was bent oddly at the knee. Ingrid limped wearily after him, her usually vibrant hair stained with streaks of crimson. Lysithea seemed the most unscathed. The girl stared up into the clouds with stunned disbelief. Next to her, Leonie was muttering under her breath; hands clasped to her ribs. Edelgard turned back to Hubert.
“I want those that can stand to attend to the wounded. We can count our losses after we make sure the living are safe.”
“It shall be done, Milady.” He bowed at his waist before striding over to Linhardt. The boy was the best healer among them, and he would be sorely needed in the hours to come. Edelgard bit her cheek, forcing her trembling legs to remain steady. She refused to collapse now. An Emperor could never be seen as weak. Laboriously, she limped to the courtyard epicenter. The beast had obliterated their surroundings with a mere toss of the head. How arrogant had she been, to assume they could so easily triumph over such an abomination? Her father had often said that the best-laid plans were nothing in the eyes of the Goddess. Laughable. Utterly laughable. She clenched her fists. No matter. They would find Rhea and finish the job once and for all.
That monster can not hide forever. We have Nemesis’ heir. The Professor will–– Edelgard stiffened. The Professor. Before the beast attacked, Byleth was standing below the dragon’s shadow. Directly where the blast had been. A chill snaked down her back. Her heart leapt into her throat as she stared at the blackened crater where Byleth once stood.
“Professor!” The cry stole from her throat without permission, desperate and aggrieved. “Teacher! Where are you?!”
Her voice echoed hollowly. Only the pained groans of Imperial soldiers and the creak of armor answered her. She stumbled closer to the rubble, eyes darting madly. Surely the woman was still alive. This was Byleth . Detached, powerful, and brilliant. The person who tore a hole in the sky to escape an impregnable darkness. The woman who led them to countless victories, felling even the most terrible of foes. The only one who shielded her without incentive, time after time. Her hero; her savior.
Goddess, Edelgard hissed in her mind; spiteful. Should you take her from me, I will never forgive you. She searched for the crimson glow of the Professor’s sword, of the slightest hint of tousled green locks, or even a scrap of a black cloak. There was nothing. Around her, the remnants of her army milled. She skirted around them in a panic, not heeding their prying stares or alarmed gasps. Byleth was alive, she had to be. The trappings of destiny dripped off the woman, cloaking her in its embrace. Edelgard recognized this from the start. How could she not when her own life held the same feeling of inevitability? It was what drew them together and why she could not believe her teacher would be felled in this way. They were meant for something more, both of them. She was certain of it.
So why could she not find her?
“Hubert!” Edelgard called out to her retainer, drawing his attention. His brow furrowed, lime gaze flicking to her bloodied leg. She ignored this and stalked boldly up to him. “The Professor— where is she? Have you seen her?!”
“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty.” His words were slow, thoughtful. The young man glanced down at her wound once more. “I’m sure that woman is fine. She’s disturbingly resilient after all. But first, let me fetch Linhardt and have him heal you. You’re losing a significant amount of blood.”
“I told you, I’m fine.” Edelgard lowered her voice, reigning in her growing distress. Hubert’s concern was well-meant, if not appreciated at the current moment. “Are you certain you did not see her? Think hard.”
“I’ve been keeping a tally of those that survived this... unfortunate turn. Professor Byleth is not among them, as of yet. Apologies, Your Majesty.” Hubert’s head tilted down, grimacing.
“She could have ran after Rhea or the remaining Knights. Our teacher is like a dog with a bone, you know.” Ferdinand sidled up to them, his arm swathed in a makeshift sling. A weary smile creased his mouth. Bernadetta trailed behind him demurely. The girl’s face was obscured by her mussed bangs.
“No, she would not leave us unattended. The Professor would never be so callous as that,” Edelgard denied vehemently. She crossed her arms, fingers flexing in irritation. “Do not be foolish Ferdinand. Or do you simply have so little faith in her?”
“Of course not!” The tall boy squawked, flushing in indignation. He scratched his cheek, chagrined. “I was just providing a reasonable answer. No need for insults.”
“Ferdinand is right. While Professor Byleth is normally level-headed, it would not be too out-of-character for her to pursue a troublesome foe.” Linhardt crept up from behind her. He was paler than before, taxed from his extensive use of magic. The strain was clear, seen in his shaking arms. “Even if only to keep us safe, I can see her seeking Rhea out in retribution.”
“We shall see,” She relented reluctantly. The explanation did not sit well with her in truth. Her teacher was many things, but impulsive she was not. Edelgard breathed in deeply. A faint spell of vertigo came over her, but she shook it away. “Forgive me. All of this has me rather unsettled. Rhea’s resistance was expected, but I did not think we would be so helpless.”
“She took us by surprise. Don’t worry, we’ll be ready next time.” Ferdinand nodded at her, his characteristic zeal coming back to him faintly.
“I agree, Your Majesty.” Hubert bowed again. “The Immaculate One will soon rue the day she crossed you. I will make sure of that.”
“D-Do we really have a chance? Lady Rhea was so... scary,” Bernadetta whimpered, shivering. Her small frame was hunched over in fright. Ferdinand frowned and patted the girl gently on the back.
“We better. I got a score to settle with that flying bitch.” Sylvain walked up to them. His gait was stiff, hands balled in fists at his side. Rage simmered behind his russet eyes. “She killed my horse.”
“Your equine companion aside, we have suffered great losses.” Linhardt touched a finger to his forehead, the skin now a mottled violet. “Our house is relatively unscathed, thankfully. The only one who was gravely injured was Dorothea, but I was able to minimize the damage to a mild concussion.”
“Thank you, Linhardt. Your service will not be forgotten.” Edelgard blinked, another moment of dizziness overcoming her. She pressed a hand to her temple and swallowed. Spots of light flickered at the edge of her vision. “I… I will need the remaining troops to gather in the courtyard. Garreg Mach is safe for now but we… we need to...”
Her knees buckled and the world tilted on its axis. Suddenly she saw the sky, foreboding and grey, above her once more. The dark crept and lingered. Panicked voices came to her but they were distant, far as the stars themselves. She was sinking under, waves of black stealing her away beneath the tide. Before her senses failed her and memory became dream, she thought she could see a woman with hair like the sea.
Ah , Edelgard murmured airily. There you are, my teacher.
Then, she knew nothing.
* * *
The artery was grazed, but not ruptured. It was only by the grace of the Goddess that she lived, or so Professor Manuela insisted. Edelgard did not much care for that line of thinking but dared not anger the woman further. She sat mulishly in the bed, glancing disdainfully at her bandaged leg. Such a trifling wound; how humiliating for it to beset her so. Yet another annoyance to thank Rhea for. Her body tensed at the reminder.
It had been twelve days since the attack on Garreg Mach. While the Knights of Seiros had fled, it would seem no one had information on their whereabouts. They were distressingly covert, even as Imperial Scouts searched each village and port. The same was said for the Archbishop. She was rather inconspicuous for a flying lizard, but that did not mean much. The beast was most likely going to seek asylum in either the Kingdom or the Alliance, and neither would assist the Empire in this endeavor. The Blaiddyd Royal family was too pious, and House Reigan would not dare cross their distant cousins. The Empire would have to continue alone. Just as it had always been.
Edelgard stared out the window, eyes following the path of a lone raven. The animal perched upon a nearby gate, wings ruffling with the wind. Then it stilled, head swiveling with bland interest. She watched it in silence. Perhaps the comparison was unfair, but it reminded her of Byleth. Her wound throbbed as did the muscle in her chest. She reached up and pressed a hand over her heart. Despite hope to the contrary, their beloved Professor was nowhere to be found. Days were spent clearing the rubble from the ruined grounds, to no avail. There was no trace of the older woman. Impossibly, it was as if she vanished into thin air. Even the Sword of the Creator was absent, leaving their teacher’s fate a mystery. It was an unwelcome revelation.
A part of her wished to find something, anything at all. Whether a sign of the woman’s survival or a confirmation of her death; Edelgard was desperate for closure. It would be devastating, of course, to find her mangled corpse. But even that would be enough to still her troubled thoughts. If Byleth was truly dead, she deserved a proper burial at the very least. This torturous uncertainty was far worse. No Professor to guide them. No body to bury. Just... nothing. Still, Edelgard could not help but hope for the best. Her nights were restless with possibility. Perhaps her teacher was chasing Rhea after all or hounding the remaining Knights with single-minded focus. Perhaps she had been taken hostage by Catherine and spirited away amidst the confusion.
In her dreams, Byleth simply returned unscathed. The woman would smile gently, as she was prone to of late. She would not speak, for trading paltry assurances was not her way, but gaze at her knowingly instead. Then Byleth would reach out her hand. Edelgard always woke before their skin could meet. Such a sweet dream; how utterly loathsome the reality. The rest of her house seemed to sense her growing preoccupation, their visits more numerous with each passing day. She saw their concern plainly; read it between Petra’s cautious glances and Caspar’s strained bravado. Eventually, it grew tiresome and she had Hubert assign them to various tasks. Edelgard von Hresvelg was no delicate flower. She would not have them treat her as such.
They ached for the loss of their Professor too, but she doubted they felt it as keenly. Their sorrow was not quite as personal. Byleth was a mentor, perhaps even a friend, to them. They did not place every lingering hope they had left like she did. They did not lose their only guiding light within this world of dark, unspeakable things.
Man makes plans and the Goddess laughs. Edelgard watched as the raven brushed its wings with its beak before taking to the sky once more. It flew above the Monastery parapets and vanished out of sight. No parting glance was spared for its observer. An animal as free as a raven cared not for those it left behind.
Stop it. She bit her lip. The tang of blood flooded her mouth. These maudlin thoughts serve no one. I shame myself and the Professor with such weakness. The time for self-pity was over. Edelgard could no longer afford to remain stymied by grief. Alive, or dead; Byleth’s fate would be known soon enough. Until then, the Empire needed her. The remaining Black Eagles needed her. Neither God nor monster could prevent her from achieving her destiny. She would take Fόdlan back whether by pen or sword, and damn those who stood in the way of her conviction.
Faerghus, Leicester, Dagda; it mattered not. In the name of everything Byleth had given her, this chance must not go to waste. Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg vowed to crush the followers of Seiros beneath her heel. She swore to rip that snake off her lofty throne and avenge those they had lost. The corruption of this world would be burnt to cinders, and in its wake, a new dawn would come. This was her promise.