Chapter 1: Engraved in Flesh
Chapter Text
”Have you had enough? I do have other things to do.”
”Never. Come at me.”
”Hmph. Fine.”
”Hyaahh!”
Swords clashed as Jeritza and Felix sparred on the training grounds. They were using wooden training weapons, of course, but Flayn had no doubt that getting hit by one wouldn't hurt like hell, even with the protective gear on, at least judging by the ferocity with which the two were attacking each other. The men were remarkably evenly matched, and when Flayn wasn't holding her breath with excitement, she was cheering both of them on in their attempts to outdo each other. After all, it would have felt unfair to pick a favorite when they were both working so hard to win.
”Flayn?”
”Oh, hello, brother”, she said as she heard Seteth’s voice, her eyes glued to the sparring match. ”Had you need of me?”
“Yes, I—”
Flayn yelled excitedly as Felix did a bold lunge and immediately glanced at her wincing father, smiling at him sheepishly.
”My apologies—it is merely that I find it ever so invigorating to behold such sprightly, impassioned young men—”
”Excuse me?” Seteth sputtered, cutting her off promptly. ”There will be no beholding any sprightly, impassioned men—”
”Brother! Whatever you may be insinuating, I shall have you know that I am merely observing their training in the noble art of swordsmanship. There is naught more to it!”
This again.
Her father was relentless when it came to sabotaging her attempts at bonding with the humans—especially the males. She knew he was only trying to protect her, but several students were already avoiding her because of him, and it was beginning to get embarrassing. All she wanted was to feel included and learn of the world, and her father’s every action seemed to be against that.
“It is not your intentions I am doubting, it is theirs”, Seteth said in a quiet voice. “Men are prone to interpreting women’s interest in them in unintended ways. You are still so new to the ways of this world—”
“Father—”
“Shush!”
“Brother, pray, listen to me!" Flayn hissed in a hushed voice. "You ever speak of me as though I were but a child, yet for goodness’ sake, I waged war countless generations ere the forebears of either of those men were even born! I know you mean well, truly I do, but I grow ever more weary of—”
“That war nearly cost you your life”, Seteth countered in his most serious voice. ”And because of that war, you lost a millennium of your life while you recovered. My point still stands.”
Flayn huffed. She wanted to argue further, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere. Instead, she walked away.
“Flayn? Flayn! Where are you going?”
She stopped and turned around.
“Just so you are aware, dear Brother, I came hither with the intention of speaking with Professor Byleth. She is oft to be found practicing in this very place, as you are no doubt well aware. Yet, as she is clearly absent, I shall take my leave and seek her elsewhere.”
Part of her felt guilty at her own clipped words—she was talking to her father, after all—part of her didn’t.
“Professor Byleth? Why, I mean…” He shook his head and sighed. “Regardless of why you’d wish to see her, you won’t find her right now.”
“O-Oh? Whatever do you mean by that?”
“Rhea, she… sent her and the Black Eagle house on a mission. A group of bandits has stolen the Lance of Ruin, and she wishes that it is recovered before it’s… misused.”
”What? Why ever would she send the Professor, and not her knights, on so perilous a mission?”
”Rhea seems to believe young Miss Eisner possesses some extraordinary capabilities that go beyond those of even her elite knights, and… of course, her being able to wield the Creator Sword is quite remarkable in and of itself. That said, Rhea also seems to be quite… fond of her, so I do not believe she would send her out expecting her to fail.”
”Then why do you wear such a worried expression?”
”It is not Professor Byleth, exactly, who I am worried about, but her students. There are many influential individuals among them, and even if they are all capable fighters, most of them Crest-bearers…”
Seteth paused, then closed his eyes and shook his head.
”Perhaps my worry is unfounded. It’s not as if they haven’t fought simple bandits before. Let’s just hope they can obtain the relic weapon before anyone can think of attempting to use it.”
Flayn nodded, well aware of the dangers the Heroes’ Relics posed to those with incompatible Crests.
“Yes… Let us hope so.”
Later that day, Flayn was returning from the pond with her fishing gear. The few small trouts she had caught, she fed to the grateful monastery cats. She greatly appreciated the body of water inside the monastery walls that had been implemented for her recreation, but… If only her father would allow her to go outside Garreg Mach.
Lately, she had felt increasingly restless, the stone walls around her more and more oppressive. How she wished she could go fishing by a real lake, an ocean, even. On a warm day, she could go swimming. Oh, how she wished she could just travel around, visit a town, go to the market... see how people lived their normal lives outside the monastery. After all this time, it would be especially interesting to see her birthplace once again. Modern Enbarr stood there now, and she could only guess how much everything had changed since her time in there. Would she still recognize any of it?
She felt a blush creeping on her cheeks as her thoughts went back to her imaginary journeys across Fódlan.
And… and perchance, I might meet someone most special whilst abroad. Would that not be ever so exciting?
A strange commotion somewhere behind her pulled her out of her reverie. Had Professor Byleth returned? It was late, though, and she probably had more urgent business right now than stopping to chat with her. Granted, Professor Byleth was always so very kind and seemed to have time for everyone, but… she could talk with her at a better time.
As she walked over the bridge, she realized the sounds were coming her way, and very urgently so. She turned to look, and suddenly, a group of monks hurried past her, carrying someone on a stretcher.
Flayn gasped. She only caught a glimpse of the body lying on it, but she couldn’t help noticing the blood-soaked blanket it had been hastily covered with.
She stood frozen in her spot for a while, staring after the monks hurrying to the infirmary. Hopefully, the person they were carrying there would be okay. Clearly, they were still alive; there would’ve been no need for haste anymore if—
What if… what if it is the Professor? Oh, dear… Lady Rhea would be utterly beside herself if—n-no. Professor Manuela is a healer of exceptional talent. Even were it Miss Eisner, I am certain she would—
Flayn swallowed. An uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t shake gnawed at her.
Truly, there is no need for alarm. After all, it is not uncommon for soldiers to be harmed in the midst of battle.
She walked towards the main building where the stretchers had disappeared a while ago. Despite her overwhelming concern, she walked purposefully toward her own room. The person they were carrying was clearly badly injured, and the last thing the infirmary workers needed was curious people getting in their way.
She was roused from her thoughts as she heard someone running in her direction. One of the nurses dashed toward her in the corridor, the young human woman white as a ghost, as she stopped in front of Flayn.
“H-have you seen Manuela?” She asked desperately, her voice quivering and body shaking, looking like she’d break into tears at any moment.
“I have not. Is she not attending to the patient, then?”
“N-no. No one knows w-where she is, a-and t-the patient, s-she—”
She?
“Ahem… I am, in fact, quite well-versed in the art of healing magic”, Flayn said to the nurse, striving to keep her voice calm and reassuring despite the anxiety welling within her. “Pray, allow me to take a look. I shall do all that I can.”
“I d-don’t… It… it’s really b-bad”, the nurse whimpered.
“Then let us not waste a moment longer.”
Without waiting for the nurse, Flayn ran to the infirmary as fast as she could. In the operating room, she found two other nurses who were hectically removing battered pieces of armor from their limp patient.
“Oh my…”
There was blood everywhere.
As she got closer and she could finally see who it was, her hand flew to her mouth and her legs almost gave out. It wasn’t Professor Byleth, but it didn’t make the situation any better that the deathly pale, unmoving body bleeding out on the infirmary bed belonged to none other than Edelgard von Hresvelg—the very heir to the Adrestian throne. Flayn didn't even want to begin to think about the implications of the only living descendant of the ailing Emperor Ionius IX dying here in the monastery.
The nurses finally managed to peel the last pieces of bent armor from Edelgard’s body. She was still in her blood-stained undergear, but Flayn could make do with that.
“Thank you both. If you would permit it, I shall take over from here.”
“But… d-don’t you need assistance?”
“Surely you are aware that this is no ordinary patient of whom we speak. I ask that you allow me to see to the remainder with the utmost discretion, so as to preserve Her Highness’s dignity. Ah—do bring me some warm water for cleansing, if you would be so kind. You may leave it just outside the door.”
“Y-yes, of course.”
When Flayn was certain they were alone, she calmed herself and put her hands over Edelgard’s chest, closing her eyes. She could immediately sense the woman’s strong spirit, shining defiantly, if dimly, in the distance despite the dark veil of death surrounding it. Almost gone, yet unwilling to let go. She would have expected such a demonstration of perseverance from a Nabatean, but not a human. Wilhelm would have been proud knowing his blood still flowed so strong in the veins of his descendants several centuries after his passing.
It was still far from over yet. The hungering death eagerly pulled the last remaining light toward the black vortex. Despite her immense willpower, Edelgard was still human, which posed limits. A single thread of something powerful was keeping the spirit tied to its host, and Flayn redoubled her efforts, concentrating on that. The connection, however, was fading even as she tried grasping it tighter, slipping through her fingers like a freshly caught eel.
Oh no… no.
Her hands were shaking, but she willed herself to relax as she attempted to reconnect the severed threads of the spirit and flesh, desperately channeling her healing magic into the broken body. She would be so drained after all this, but right now, the only thing that mattered was to restore the homeostasis. The rest of the work could only come after that.
Through her healing trance, she could hear muffled voices from behind the door. Her father was there, at least, and she could also hear Professor Byleth. There was also a man who demanded to be let into the room. Perhaps the rather severe retainer whom she had often seen watching over Edelgard. She fought to maintain her concentration and the elusive connection, and luckily, the voices soon retreated.
T-there… I can… almost…
Suddenly, she heard a loud gasp, and impossibly strong hands grabbed her arms. The woman had just been on the brink of death; where did all that strength come from?
The vice-like grip squeezed her painfully, abruptly stopping the flow of her healing magic. Edelgard's wide, wild lilac eyes stared into hers like those of an agitated feral beast. She groaned hoarsely, perhaps trying to utter some words. Instead, she violently vomited dark, slimy blood on the bed and fainted, probably from the immense pain in her body.
Flayn breathed hard, letting the shock of the sudden surprise wear off. She pressed her trembling fingers to Edelgard’s neck and was relieved when she felt a faint pulse. There was still much to be done—things that wouldn’t be possible for human healers—but at least now there was something she could fix as the separation of the spirit and flesh had been thwarted.
Still shaking, she walked to the door and opened it. The three nurses were diligently waiting in the hallway and immediately cast horrified looks at her. Flayn glanced down at herself and only now realized how much of Edelgard’s blood was on her. She should begin with regenerating more while she still breathed.
“Do not despair”, she said softly. ”Lady Edelgard will live.”
“Praise the goddess”, one of them breathed, letting out a shuddering sigh, the two others wiping at the corners of their eyes.
“However, there remains much yet for me to attend to, so I must ask that we not be disturbed. Have you brought the water?”
“Of course. Here. We will let the others know.”
“Thank you.”
Flayn closed the door and walked back to the unconscious woman who was still breathing, even if very shallowly. Repairing the damage in her body would be an arduous undertaking, but she would see it through. She owed that much to this bloodline bearing Aunt Rhea’s Crest—to Great Emperor Wilhelm and his legacy for standing with the last remaining Nabateans.
She took scissors from the side table and calmly proceeded to cut Edelgard’s undergear off her. Before she could begin the blood regeneration, the wounds needed to be closed first, and judging by the damage she had spotted on the removed, damaged breastplate, something large and sharp had punctured her chest with immense force.
She had seen more maimed bodies in her life than she would have cared to, and certainly healed more wounds than any human had had the chance to with their short lifespans. While those gruesome sights were something she would never grow accustomed to, she rarely saw something that really made her pause, be it limbs bent out of their joints, bones sticking through the skin, or simply shapeless masses of pulpy, raw flesh. This time, however, she did pause, albeit it wasn’t because of the gaping wound.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the clink of the scissors as they slid off her hand and hit the floor while she stared at Edelgard’s bare torso.
How can this be...? Is this the true reason Father insists we remain hidden? Not on account of the humans, but... because of them? But surely they are all… gone. N–No, I must be mistaken. Aunt Rhea and Father… they would have told me. Would they not? This… this cannot be…
But as her eyes traced the marks carved on Edelgard’s skin, the crudely stitched, diagonal and triangular surgical scars… There was no doubt about their origins, no matter what she tried telling herself.
They are back. N-no…
Flayn leaned against the bloodstained bed, suddenly feeling lightheaded.
They were never even truly gone…
It had taken hours of work, and Flayn was beyond exhausted, but at least she had something to occupy herself with while the questions about the shocking evidence on her patient's body burned in the back of her mind. Edelgard had not yet regained consciousness after the brief incident much earlier, but she was breathing evenly and looked calm. The lingering effects of Flayn's magic were still repairing her body, so it was all the better if she slept some more.
After cleaning her wounds and body, Flayn had covered her as best she could and asked the nurses to move her to another, clean bed so that they could take the blood-soaked sheets to be washed. Edelgard wasn’t exactly tall—even if she was still taller than Flayn—but her muscular body was heavy. The nurses had struggled with it somewhat, and even Flayn had come to their help so that the four of them could safely relocate her. The absence of Manuela was beginning to get truly concerning, but at least there were no other patients needing such intensive care.
It was around midnight when everything was finally at least mostly in order. Flayn had assured the nurses they could go to sleep while she would stay watching over Edelgard. The humans needed their rest more than she did—after all, she had already wasted most of her life sleeping, and she only slept when she absolutely had to since the whole idea still filled her with dread.
She was cleaning the last bloodstains off the infirmary floor, thinking about sneaking into the kitchen and getting some salted fish, bread, and fruit to ease her growling stomach, when she heard the door open.
“Manuela?” she asked hopefully, but couldn't keep an indignant yelp from escaping her mouth as she turned around to be met by a tall, dark figure.
“Hmph.”
The next instant, she realized it was the Adrestian princess’s serious retainer and took a deep breath to calm herself.
“My apologies… It has been a most trying night”, Flayn said sincerely, watching the man walk by Edelgard’s bedside.
“Will she be alright?” The man asked after a while, not turning to face Flayn as he spoke. His voice was unexpectedly soft as he said the words, contrasting his somber demeanor.
“She shall. But for now, she is still in need of rest. Lady Edelgard is… most fortunate to have survived whatever dreadful ordeal befell her.”
They stood in silence for a while. Then Flayn's treacherous stomach growled again, much to her mortification.
The man turned and just looked at her, and Flayn couldn’t help but blush.
“My sincerest apologies. I find myself feeling rather peckish… As I mentioned, it has been a most exhausting night.”
He regarded her for a while, then tilted his head ever so slightly.
“If you believe you can find something to sate your hunger at this time of night, go ahead. I will stay with her meanwhile.”
“O–oh. Thank you. I shall return anon, I promise.”
The man nodded, and Flayn made the fastest scavenging trip of her life to the closed kitchen of the mess hall, not wanting to test the patience of the Adrestian retainer. As she was walking back to the main building, however, she couldn’t shake the strange feeling of being watched.
Flayn strained her ears as she walked and felt cold dread wash over her. She could hear faint footsteps from behind her. She swallowed nervously and walked a little faster, and so did whoever was following her.
Do not be ridiculous, Flayn. You are within the walls of Garreg Mach. What cause have you for fear here, even in the dead of night?
The symbols carved on Lady Edelgard returned fresh to her mind. If they were still here, hunting them…
No…
An irrational fear took control of her, and she began to run. She was sure she could feel a hand touching her arm just as she dashed around a corner and crashed into a pair of night guards.
“Flayn! What’s the matter? Are you alright?”
“I—”
She looked quickly behind her, but there was no one there.
“P–Perhaps I am being a touch foolish, b–but… might I impose upon you to escort me to the infirmary? I fear exhaustion has begun to take its toll, and I find myself feeling rather… skittish.”
“Of course, it’s no bother at all.”
When she returned to the infirmary, feeling a little more collected, Edelgard's retainer rose from the chair beside the bed and headed for the door. Before he left, his sharp, pale green eyes bored into Flayn's, and she swore she had never felt so exposed as she did now, scrutinized by the tall man.
“I trust that anything that has happened here, or what you may have seen while treating her, will remain your knowledge alone.”
Flayn swallowed.
“But of course. I assure you, I hold the Adrestian royal family in the highest esteem, and throughout this most unfortunate ordeal, Lady Edelgard’s privacy and dignity have remained my foremost concern.”
The man was silent for a while, searching her eyes, then finally let out a small, approving hum.
“Good.”
Then he was gone.
Then… he is aware of the marks upon her body as well. But what could it all possibly mean?
Her hunger reminded her of its continued existence, and she pushed the uncomfortable thoughts aside for now as she proceeded to unpack the food items she had appropriated from the kitchen. She thought she heard a whine and immediately went to Edelgard’s side. Her brow was slightly creased, but soon, she seemed to calm down again. After observing her for a while, Flayn returned to her late-night snack.
Salted fish and stale bread had never tasted so good as she devoured everything she had brought from the kitchen, down to the last crumb.
Chapter 2: Night Terrors
Summary:
Flayn's sense of security begins to falter as she wonders what is true and what is not.
Chapter Text
Flayn awoke with a start. Her body ached, and she realized she had fallen asleep in the rather uncomfortable chair by Edelgard’s bedside after finishing her heavy meal. She yawned, then turned her head to glance at her patient and jumped with a gasp as she realized a pair of hazy lilac eyes were staring at her.
“Lady Edelgard!” Flayn exclaimed and stood up. “How long have you been awake?”
The woman stared at her some more, then wetted her dry lips.
“Not… for long”, she answered. Her voice was hoarse, and her words came out sluggishly. She subtly cleared her throat before continuing. ”Why… are you here?”
“Ah, yes—of course. You see, Professor Manuela was nowhere to be found, and you were in dire need of treatment when you were brought here yestereve, Your Highness. Might you recall what happened?”
Edelgard was silent for a while, her brow scrunching in thought.
”N-not really.” A pause. ”I remember that… everything felt… heavy and dark. Then there was… a light. My mother and… siblings were there, but… I told them… can’t leave… until…”
The woman’s eyes became unfocused, and after slurring out the final words, she lost her consciousness again. Flayn quickly examined her, but her heartbeat and breathing were steady, which indicated she had just fallen back to sleep.
Soon, she heard a knock at the door, and one of the nurses entered.
”Good morning, Flayn. How is Lady Edelgard? Still asleep?”
”She awakened momentarily, but she is still very tired.”
”I’m not surprised. The condition she was in when they brought her here… I thought…” The young nurse shook her head. ”N-nevermind. I’m just glad that you happened to be there. She looks so much better now.”
”Yes…”
”Oh, but you must be longing for some fresh air by now. Let me take over for you for a while, at least. Stretch your legs, have some breakfast.”
“Thank you. That does indeed seem a most prudent course of action.”
Flayn didn’t get far when she saw her father walk to her as if he had been summoned.
”Flayn”, he hissed in a reproving voice and wrapped his hands around her shoulders, pulling her aside into an alcove. ”Have you any idea what you have done?”
She was taken aback by her father’s confrontational demeanor, but recovered quickly.
”I… saved a life? Is that what you mean?” she asked indignantly.
”Exactly! I heard the nurses talking. We are not on the Tailtean Plains anymore, and you are not Cethleann, the Benevolent One who has the ability to perform miracles on the battlefield, you are a mere—”
“I am well aware of who I am. And had I not intervened, the next Emperor of Adrestia would, at this very moment, be en route to Enbarr in a hearse! Would that have suited you better? The sole heir of Emperor Ionius IX, perishing here at Garreg Mach—all because Aunt Rhea could not be troubled to dispatch her own knights after a band of common brigands utterly ignorant of the powers they were tampering with?”
For once, Seteth was left speechless, if only for a moment.
“Flayn, I… While you may be right, the cost of you revealing yourself would be—”
“Revealing myself to whom, exactly?” she asked sharply.
Seteth narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean, to whom?”
“They are still here, are they not?”
His eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Flayn, where did you… Where did you come up with such an idea?”
Her father’s unvoiced confirmation of her suspicions irked her. When would he stop treating her like a child? Did he think hiding things from her, keeping her away from Rhea’s machinations, and feigning ignorance would do anything but delay the inevitable?
The lack of trust hurt. The endless infantilization hurt. The genocide of her people, the dark centuries of brutal warfare, the loss of her mother... it had wounded them both in ways that could never be fully healed, but it was all the more reason why they should stand together, as equals, if such a threat still existed, not keep information from each other. And perhaps it only made her angrier that her father actually thought he was protecting her with his actions.
She almost blurted that the evidence was right there on Edelgard von Hresvelg’s body, but she caught herself in time. What kind of a display of maturity would it be to betray the promise she had made? To compromise Lady Edelgard’s privacy? Besides, she still knew so little. Showing her hand now would not do her any favors.
“My apologies… father”, she said quietly, her frustration yielding to restraint. “I am simply weary after the night’s exertions and find myself in need of fresh air and nourishment.”
Seteth regarded her for a moment, then nodded.
“Do not worry about it, dear Flayn. I… understand. Perhaps I could join you for breakfast?”
“Of course.”
On the way out, Flayn noticed Professor Byleth and Rhea talking familiarly to each other, and overheard her aunt ask if the stoic, former mercenary would join her for tea before the classes. The two had become noticeably closer after the assassination attempt by the Western Church had been thwarted, and the Sword of the Creator had been handed into the care of the Professor, much to everyone’s surprise.
Flayn still had no idea how it was even possible that the relic weapon responded to Byleth’s touch, but she was certain Rhea knew a lot more than she was telling any of them. There were too many coincidences, and if she knew anything about her aunt, it was that she did nothing by chance. Perhaps Byleth’s company would do Rhea some good, though, since the young Professor seemed like such a stable and sensible person, wise beyond her human years. Flayn still wanted to talk to her, but it could wait until her student was out of the infirmary.
As they walked towards the mess hall, even in the bright morning light, she couldn't help but glance nervously at the shadows it cast behind objects. She could vividly remember the feeling of being followed last night, and it sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. Regardless, she found herself drawn to uncovering the truth, no matter how dark it was.
When Flayn returned to the infirmary, she was only half surprised to see Edelgard’s retainer there instead of the nurse.
“Could you give us a moment?” she then heard a steady female voice say, and realized it was her patient, hidden by the tall man's form, finally awake.
“Very well, Lady Edelgard”, her retainer said simply and left the room. Even though he didn't seem to pay any attention to her, Flayn had the strange feeling that the rather intimidating man at least tolerated her, probably because of all she had done for his liege. It was obvious that his loyalty was more than just a matter of duty.
Edelgard looked at her, curiosity in her sharp, intelligent eyes, and she gestured at the chair next to her bed.
“Please, do sit down.”
“How do you fare, Lady Edelgard?” asked Flayn as she took her seat. “Are you experiencing any discomfort or pain?”
“Considering everything that has happened, it would be preposterous of me to complain about anything, wouldn’t it?” the woman said, giving her a small smile before taking a moment and growing more serious. “Hubert told me what happened. The bandit leader resorted to using the lance when I cornered him, and it took control of him, turning him into a Demonic Beast. He said I severed one of its front legs with my axe, but the beast then crashed into me. The lance had fused as a part of its body, and it… pierced my chest right through the breastplate. I remember nothing of it.”
“That… would explain the injuries.”
Edelgard was silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, then looked Flayn straight in the eye.
”I… I should be dead, but I’m not. How is that possible?”
“It is true that you were scarcely present anymore, yet you still played your part—by aiding me in saving yourself,” Flayn replied, utterly composed. It was the truth, after all. “Restoring you—at least so completely—might well have proven impossible, had you not been so determined to hold on. I have seldom witnessed such resilience in h—in anyone.”
Edelgard hummed, her lilac eyes still looking intensely in hers.
”I hope you don’t mind me voicing my musings aloud, but with the way Seteth always seems to have his eyes on you, I would have thought he hasn’t let you anywhere near combat situations to allow you to practice your healing skills much. Yet you seem more than proficient in your craft, so much so that it makes me wonder if Manuela could have even been able to save me.”
Flayn considered her next words, deciding half-truths were the safest option since she was an awful liar.
“My… brother was not always quite like that. When we lost our mother, it affected him very deeply, and since I am his closest relative, he became a little… overprotective of me.”
There was empathy in Edelgard’s eyes, and her expression softened.
“I see. I’m sorry for your loss, Flayn. I have lost my mother, too, and… well. At least you still have your sibling.”
“Thank you, Lady Edelgard. It was a long time ago, but I still miss her. I— No. I… must apologize. How inconsiderate of me. Compared to the tragedy that befell your family—”
“Please, you have nothing to apologize for”, Edelgard assured. “It would be both unnecessary and infeasible to compare such things. Let’s just be grateful that we’re still here, even if they are not.”
“You are right, Lady Edelgard.”
The woman shifted in her bed and winced.
“Do take care not to overexert yourself just yet, Your Highness. The injuries you sustained were quite extensive, and I observed a number of fractured bones. Even with the aid of my healing magic, it shall take a few more days for them to mend fully. I… I am well aware this must be a hindrance to your studies and obligations, but—”
“I can handle a couple of days in bed”, the woman said calmly and gave her a small smile. “Honestly, I just feel so grateful to get another chance at all. Thank you, Flayn. I promise I will find a way to repay you.”
“Please, think nothing of it. I ask for no recompense—your recovery is reward enough. That said, you must be quite famished. I shall request that the kitchen staff prepare something both nourishing and gentle on the stomach.”
“Thank you. That sounds lovely.”
There was a knock at the door, and one of the nurses peeked inside.
“Professor Byleth asks if she can come see you, Lady Edelgard.”
“Of course.”
“Then I shall take my leave, Your Highness,” Flayn said as she rose gracefully to her feet. “I shall ask someone to bring you a meal here shortly. You remain in need of one or two more healing sessions to ensure a full recovery, so I shall return later this evening. Until then, do try to rest as much as you are able. And should you require anything, do not hesitate to call upon the nurses.”
“I’ll keep that in mind”, Edelgard replied with a smile, and it made Flayn smile, too.
On her way out of the room, Professor Byleth also expressed her gratitude to her, and there was extra spring to Flayn’s step as she walked to the mess hall and asked the staff to deliver Edelgard a meal to the infirmary. She roamed the monastery grounds without any specific destination in mind, allowing her thoughts to wander.
How fortunate that I happened upon that nurse when I did. Lady Edelgard strikes me as a most amiable young woman. Lycaon I was ever so haughty and self-important, yet she… Hm. She does remind me somewhat of Wilhelm. Though I daresay she would not allow herself to be so easily swayed by affairs of the heart, as he once was.
Healing was always invasive, which was something Flayn supposed people who didn’t have the gift didn’t think about much. Then again, consent mattered little when someone was delirious with blood loss, broken bones, and rearranged insides. The more severe the case, the deeper the cleric had to go. While the process didn’t allow to glimpse into anything very specific, even the most intimate emotions were still laid bare. While Nabateans could conceal them even when they were unconscious, humans lacked that ability. She had been exposed to such desperation, fear, and regret during her time as a cleric in the War of Heroes that she’d rather not even think about it. Sometimes, facing all that emotional barrage all over again was more draining and exhausting than the act of healing itself.
She had also had the honor of healing by Wilhelm’s side in many battles, and she once thought the Great Emperor might even possess the same ability as Nabateans did. One time, however, he was grievously wounded, and as Flayn healed him, she realized the man wasn’t as indomitable as she had thought, his sore, unprocessed bitterness and heartache bleeding through the healing bond. Disenchantment. Unrequited love.
It was after that Flayn had finally realized the lengths Rhea—or Seiros, as she called herself back then—would go to further her own goals. She respected and cared for the older Nabatean, considering her as her Aunt, but she would never forget how ruthless and impassive she could be, using anything, even her feminine charms, to her advantage. Flayn was as much a victim of a genocide as Rhea was, but she still wasn’t full of apoplectic, volatile hatred, and she had decided never to be such a person, either. After she had finally awakened from her long, restorative sleep and joined the monastery, she was surprised but pleased to see that Rhea had clearly mellowed over the centuries, and seemed to have even developed an appreciation for humans, whom she had previously seen rather as a necessary evil while carrying out her revenge with their help.
Flayn thought back to how far into Edelgard she had to reach to restore the connection of the spirit and the flesh, and yet she had only revealed her strong will to live. It was truly remarkable, especially considering what she had seen on her body. She had seen so many corpses, both human and Nabatean, mutilated and discarded by them, used and experimented on until they had simply expired. The Adrestian princess had to be deeply traumatized and affected by whatever they had done to her, and still her mind was her own, untainted by their influence.
But what did they want with her, and how was it possible that she was still alive? Had she escaped? Had they allowed her to live? What did Edelgard and her retainer—Hubert, as she now remembered his liege calling him—know of them?
And knowing that, what if… What if there is more to the unfortunate fates of her family than just an epidemic?
All this time, her father had kept her in the dark about so many things, only telling her what was necessary. If they still existed after all this time, who knew how far they had advanced? They already possessed strange technology and had access to unnatural magic when they were forging the relic weapons. What might they be capable of now?
The thought made Flayn shiver and she couldn’t help glancing around her, even in the broad daylight. Perhaps she should limit her wandering until she knew more, ask the knights to accompany her if needed. Still, she had to sate her curiosity somehow.
Perhaps she should start her investigation in the most obvious place.
“You wish to see the oldest writings? The very ones written by Saint Seiros herself?”
“Yes, please.”
Tomas regarded her, curiosity in the old man’s eyes.
“Usually, only scholars who wish to cite them for their academic work and who bear a written permission from Seteth are allowed to peruse them.”
“I… am his sister, though”, Flayn insisted. “Please, I just wish to learn.”
The old librarian rubbed his chin in thought.
“I suppose… that is not an unconscionable request. If you’ll give me a moment, I'll need to retrieve the old vellums from where they're stored. Do remember to treat them with utmost care and put gloves on; we would not want to damage them in any way, now would we?”
“Of course not. Thank you so much”, Flayn said gratefully.
It was a strange feeling to be presented with something so old. The texts had been written some time after Flayn fell into her restorative sleep, and she had only heard these texts cited based on the tomes available to the public.
It soon became clear to her that she wouldn’t learn anything of interest. Rhea had done thorough work rewriting the whole history of Fódlan, at least as far as the humans were concerned. The truth about the origins of Nemesis, the Ten Elites, Crests, Heroes’ Relics… She could understand why Rhea had done it, but it still felt wrong. She wasn’t surprised that there was no mention of the true relationship between Seiros and Wilhelm, either. And not even a word about—
“If I may say so, you look rather… discontent”, Tomas noted.
“Ah, I… was perhaps… expecting something else.”
“How curious. Might I ask what exactly? Usually, the mere sight of the old vellums has scholars from all around Fódlan in awe.”
Flayn pondered for a moment.
Why not just ask him? He knows every nook and cranny in the library. If anyone apart from Rhea knows anything, it must be him.
“Agarthans”, she said then, and for the briefest moment, she thought she saw something in the old librarian’s eyes as she voiced the name of the bane of her kind. “Would you happen to know anything about them?”
“What a… peculiar name. Where have you heard that?”
Flayn hadn’t expected a counterquestion, and it threw her off momentarily. For some reason, she couldn’t help the strange feeling that something was off, and she wished she could have taken her words back.
“Um, I…”
“In any case, this is the first I’ve heard of it”, the man said then. “There might be an explanation for this, however.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“Shortly after your brother began working here beside Lady Rhea, he purged the library of everything he deemed… improper. Even if such a mention was written somewhere, it might have ended up among the banned literature, and to my knowledge, all of that material has been destroyed many years ago.”
“I… I see. Thank you for telling me, I… was not aware of this. E-excuse me, I… T-thank you for allowing me to—”
Flayn felt increasingly nervous, and as she stood up, so did Tomas. The shadows in the corners seemed to grow darker, and there was an odd look in the librarian’s eyes. She felt a shiver on her skin and glanced helplessly at the door that was behind his back.
This is ridiculous, Flayn. He has been here for ages, you are imagining things again.
Then she took a step, and so did the old man. She was ready to make a mad dash for the door when it suddenly opened, Golden Deer students bursting in and talking loudly to each other.
“Such great weather, and we’re collecting dust inside together with some musty books instead of doing weapons training”, Leonie complained to Raphael, who nodded along.
“The pen is mightier than the sword, haven’t you two heard?” Claude quipped at them while Hilda clung pathetically to Marianne’s arm.
“We’ll do the assignment together, right? Oh, and you should totally be the one who writes it, your handwriting is sooo much prettier than mine.”
“Um… Sure.”
Before they were even all inside, Flayn had already made herself scarce.
The young Nabatean had rarely felt such a strange mixture of emotions, all at the same time, as she finally closed the door to her room, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the lock. The strange, ominous feeling that had overcome her at the library, combined with the frustration she felt toward her father…
She sat on the edge of her bed, burying her face in her hands and gritting her teeth together, on the verge of bursting into tears.
At every turn, it seemed as if her father was somewhere in the background, holding her back, sabotaging her attempts to befriend people, and making it unnecessarily hard for her to learn about the world, current or past, seemingly micromanaging every aspect of her life.
And now this.
How could it not be deliberate that he had just happened to curate the entire selection in the library before bringing her here?
She heard a knock at her door and gasped sharply. Her first instinct was to just sit quietly on her bed and wait it out. Then she realized it might be about Edelgard. What would anyone suspicious gain by announcing their presence to her in the first place?
She swallowed nervously.
“W-who is it?”
“Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”
She recognized the voice immediately, even if she didn’t remember the name, and felt her anxiety ease a little.
“Just a moment!”
She hopped off her bed, made sure she was presentable, and opened the door. Behind it was the fair young woman with chestnut hair and kind, green eyes, whom she knew belonged to the Black Eagle house.
“Hello, Flayn. I’m so sorry. I’m interrupting something, aren’t I?”
“Not at all, um, Lady…?”
The woman giggled melodiously.
“Oh, excuse me, I’m just not used to… I’m not a noble like the rest of my class. I’m just… Dorothea.”
“I see. In what manner might I be of assistance?”
“You already have”, the woman said, smiling warmly at her. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you did for Edie. Professor Byleth said it was you who saved her life.”
“I merely did what any healer in my position would have done. Still, I am gladdened to have been of aid to her. Admittedly, I have only spoken with her briefly, yet she does appear to be a most kind-hearted soul.”
“She certainly is.”
“I… could not help but take note of the... affectionate appellation. It is most uncommon to hear one of common birth address a member of the royalty in such familiar terms. Might I presume, then, that the two of you share a particularly close bond?”
Dorothea giggled again.
“Please forgive me, Flayn, you are just so adorable. And yes, Edie—I mean, Lady Edelgard and I—are quite good friends, I’d say.” The brunette paused, growing more serious. “I… suppose there is still no news regarding Manuela?”
“I am afraid not. My brother did mention that the knights are presently searching for her, however. Let us pray that we shall receive news—good news—before long. Might I ask, are the two of you acquainted?”
The brunette nodded, the shine in her green eyes dimming.
“I have so many reasons to be thankful for her. It was all thanks to her that I got recruited to the Mittelfrank Opera Company and that I’m here now, really. I know she has some… issues, and I can’t help but fear the worst.”
“I am certain there is some logical… not at all nefarious explanation for her disappearance. You will see.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“So, you are a singer then, just like Manuela?”
“Why, yes. Have you ever been to an opera?”
Flayn felt they both welcomed the distraction as they began to discuss the subject, finding the easy and undemanding company of the charming human just what she needed at the moment.
Flayn knocked and opened the door, half expecting to see Hubert in the room, but there was no one except for her patient when she entered. She felt a bit silly, but she had a knight escort her to the infirmary, still shaken after her library visit, unsure if anything had even happened, yet feeling more comfortable not walking alone.
“Lady Edelgard. How are you feeling?”
The woman looked at her, giving her a brave half smile that didn’t quite mask her discomfort.
“Perhaps I’ll just be frank and admit I have been better. It feels like my entire body is aching and tingling all over.”
“Alas, such discomfort is to be expected while the bones are still in the process of mending. Yet I give you my word—you shall feel much improved before long.”
Flayn pulled a chair beside Edelgard’s bed.
“Oh! Your friend Dorothea came to visit me not long ago. She bade me convey her warmest regards to you. I must say, she strikes me as one of the most amiable individuals I have encountered.”
“Thea must be one of the nicest people I have met, as well”, Edelgard agreed fondly.
“I was most surprised to learn that she is a commoner, and moreover, bears no Crest. Not that I place much stock in matters of lineage or status, of course—but among Adrestians, such circumstances are most uncommon for one enrolling at the academy.”
Edelgard looked at her, and there was something that was hard to read in her expression.
“I suppose so. And regardless of my heritage… I wholly agree. People are more than their blood and Crests, and I feel fortunate to have such trusted friends as Dorothea.”
“Indeed. Well, then. Let us begin, shall we?”
“Y-yes, let’s, though…”
“Hmm?”
“Do I need to… do something? How does this work?”
Flayn tilted her head.
“Have you never been healed before?”
“Apart from what you did for me while I was unconscious… No. I haven’t.”
Oh merciful Goddess… To endure such torment visited upon her very flesh, and all without the balm of proper healing…
Flayn felt sick. Edelgard had to know she had seen it all while treating her, but she still had no right to pry, no matter how the questions about her abused body and the perpetrators burned in her mind.
“You only need to be at ease. Rest yourself, and permit your body to loosen its strain. I shall handle all else.”
“Very well.”
Edelgard relaxed on the bed, and a soft, white glow emerged around Flayn’s hands as she began channeling her healing magic. Soon, the Adrestian princess closed her eyes and let out a pleased hum.
“Mmh. I have no idea what I was expecting, but… that feels so nice.”
Compared to the first, desperate, and draining healing session, this was a much more pleasant experience, and clearly for both of them. Flayn could comfortably remain at the very surface level, feeling Edelgard’s strength emanate through the healing bond. It was intense and warm, and there was also something else, something interesting that echoed in her veins, but she couldn’t decipher the nature of it.
“There. We should be all done now”, Flayn said softly, finally withdrawing her hands. ”When you wake up, the magic will have run its course.”
“Thank you, Flayn”, Edelgard murmured, her eyes hazy and slowly closing. “Mmh. I’m… so…”
Soon, the woman was soundly asleep. Flayn watched her for a while, happy at how peaceful she looked. The next time the Adrestian princess would awaken, she should be the picture of health again.
The sound of the door suddenly creaking open startled her, but it was just a nurse.
“Oh, Her Highness is asleep already. I can take over for the night”, the nurse offered.
Flayn almost agreed, but then the strange encounter at the library was again fresh in her mind. Perhaps she shouldn’t leave Edelgard’s side tonight. First thing in the morning, she would go and discuss her worries with her father and Rhea.
“There is no need. I will stay with her.”
The nurse left, and Flayn was left alone with her calmly sleeping patient.
Her mind began wandering before long, and she became restless.
I ought to talk to my father right away and get this off my mind.
Carefully, she opened the door, not to disturb Edelgard, even though she seemed to be in deep sleep. As she was about to quietly close the door, her sensitive Nabatean hearing picked up something: a conversation spoken in hushed tones, coming from around the corner.
“...should soon be healed. Then it’s time.”
What?
The other voice was even quieter, and she could only hear some of their reply to the other speaker.
“...unfortunate timing. …nearly lost… the most valuable asset.”
Flayn couldn’t see them, only their long shadows cast on the floor of the hallway by the flickering night lights. She had no intention to linger longer outside the room, quickly slipping back inside and locking the infirmary door.
Perhaps it was nothing. Merely… guards talking.
Despite her reasoning, she double-checked the lock before returning to Edelgard’s bedside and decided the uncomfortable chair would be more than sufficient for her to spend the night sitting in. Even if the Adrestian princess was asleep, her presence felt comforting and filled her with a sense of safety.
Flayn listened carefully, but there didn't seem to be any commotion coming from the hallway. She concentrated on Edelgard’s steady breathing right next to her, instead. It was so calming that she soon found herself drifting off, even if she didn’t want to. She lamented not having brought anything to keep her busy with, and considered searching the shelves for any medical books to leaf through at least, when she heard a whine next to her.
“Lady Edelgard?”
The woman’s brow was creased, and her lip curved in a wince, and it immediately worried Flayn. She shouldn’t be in much pain anymore. Had she missed something when healing her?
Edelgard muttered something she couldn’t make sense of, and she was fisting and unfisting her hands, grabbing at the sheets.
“What is wrong? Are you in pain?”
“D-don’t… Nggh. No… P-please… She’s… just a baby…”
“Your Highness?”
She uttered more indecipherable words, growling them out as if she had indeed been in agony, her knuckles white as she squeezed the sheets she had balled inside her fists. Flayn touched Edelgard's shoulder, trying to soothe her, but the woman's body jerked violently in response, and her arm whipped from the other side of the bed to wrap around Flayn's forearm in a crushing grip.
“Ahh! P-please, calm down!”
Edelgard momentarily opened her eyes, but they were foggy, half-lidded, and not focused on anything. Flayn doubted she was actually awake. She breathed hard and erratically, but slowly, her grip relaxed. Flayn hissed, her forearm throbbing, but she stubbornly pushed the pain away from her mind and concentrated on the woman who was now squirming and sobbing on the bed, curling into a fetal position.
She muttered short words, and Flayn realized they were names.
Dear Goddess…
Regardless of the risk of further bruising herself, Flayn bravely took one of Edelgard’s trembling hands very carefully in her own. Again, the woman’s body jerked, but not as forcefully this time.
“Lady Edelgard”, she said softly. “Though it may feel most real to you, I assure you—it is but a nightmare. You are at Garreg Mach, and you are safe. I am here with you.”
Edelgard didn’t pull her hand away, so Flayn kept holding it loosely and gently, allowing the woman every opportunity to easily withdraw from the touch if it made her uncomfortable. Her skin felt cold and clammy, and her muscles still rippled with tension, but at least she seemed to be calming down.
To Flayn's surprise, when she tried to pull her hand away, Edelgard seemed to instinctively grip it tighter, unwilling to let go. The young Nabatean didn't mind, though —on the contrary, the physical contact with the strong human woman was comforting after the day's ordeals, and she was relieved that Edelgard's night terrors were finally subsiding, judging by her steady breathing.
Before she even knew it, she fell asleep as well.
Flayn awoke, having no idea how long she had been sleeping.
She immediately had the feeling that something was wrong. She looked at the bed and was shocked to find it empty, no trace of Edelgard anywhere.
She jumped off the chair and looked around the room. Perhaps she was dreaming? But it didn’t feel like a dream.
Compose yourself, Flayn. She ought to be feeling quite well by now. She has merely stepped out for a moment—to visit the facilities, or…
The irrational fear of being watched, of being hunted, washed over her again as she realized she was now all alone in the room.
The hour matters not; I shall go and speak with Father at once, let him know of my worries.
As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed that the night lights were still on, and it was quiet. She had probably only dozed off for a few hours. The dim hallway had never looked as intimidating as it did now, and she took a deep, calming breath before she closed the infirmary door and began to make her way toward her father’s chambers.
Her courage began faltering sooner than she had anticipated as her eyes darted around the hallway. She told herself she was just overthinking it all, seeing and hearing things that weren’t there. Surely that one shadow wasn't moving ominously around the corner. Surely she couldn't hear whispers in the—
“There she comes.”
Before she could scream, the world around her succumbed to pitch black darkness.
Chapter 3: What Dwells Within
Summary:
The line between friend and foe becomes even more blurred when Flayn awakens imprisoned.
Notes:
I also took the time to revise all Flayn dialogue from Chapter 1 to better match her unique manner of speaking.
Chapter Text
Flayn stirred.
Her first sensations were of coldness and dampness. She felt strange, and at first, she thought she was surrounded by total darkness. Then she realized that she was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, and despite this realization, her eyes simply refused to open, no matter how hard she tried to will them to do so.
Her anxiety grew as she kept failing to force herself awake. Memories from waking up to this new world began flooding into her mind. How confused and scared she had been, waking up all alone in Zanado. Her father had soon been by her side again, explaining everything to her, but the initial shock of being by her lonesome, not knowing how much time had passed or if anyone she knew was even alive anymore…
Had it happened again? Why? Why couldn’t she remember anything? Why was she lying on something hard and cold in this unpleasant place? Panic began to set inside her, and she choked back a sob, briefly overcome by helplessness and desperation.
No, Flayn. You must not allow yourself to waver, not after all you have overcome. Remain calm. So long as you yet draw breath, there is hope.
Her pulse felt nauseatingly slow, and she concluded that she must have been given something to force her into an artificial sleep. The thought was sickening. Such a ruthless act, and the perpetrator wasn’t even aware of the additional layers of their violation as she desperately tried to chase away the oppressive drowsiness that sought to smother her struggling consciousness.
Finally, Flayn managed to gain some control over her body and willed her eyes open, even if just barely and with great effort, relentlessly fighting the dreadful sleep that threatened to overcome her. She saw iron bars in front of her and torches lighting the wall outside her cell. She tried to flex her arms and realized she was tightly strapped onto the hard surface she was lying on, strange instruments obscured by the lack of light around her. It was all as if from a living nightmare—all the horrors she had seen in the War of Heroes combined, but now waiting to happen to her.
The room began to spin slowly before her eyes, and she feared she would faint at any moment, losing what little control she had as panic and nausea began to take over again.
N-no… Dear Goddess, no…
Her ears pricked up. She heard footsteps, and they were coming toward her. She forced herself to calm down and closed her eyes, pretending to be unconscious. If only she could fight off the effects of whatever she had been subjected to, at least long enough to learn more of her situation.
The heavy footsteps stopped abruptly in front of her cell, and she could also hear another person, whose step was much lighter.
“What is the purpose of this?” she heard a strangely distorted voice say, genuine indignation in it. “This was never discussed or agreed on.”
“Master Thales needs not to explain his every move to you, nor does he need your approval for anything. You only need to fulfill your part and not interfere with our operations. Besides, I’m certain you are smart enough to deduce what the purpose of this is. We will only extract some of her blood and—“
“You will extract nothing!” the distorted voice boomed. “Where is Thales? I demand to speak with him right now.”
”You have no right to demand anything”, the man replied, disgruntled.
”Is that so? All that effort, all those… resources you used in my creation, they tell me a different story.”
There was something deeply disgusted in the distorted voice, and it was clear that whoever these people were, their relationship was strained. Flayn also had to admit that in some strange way, the presence of the one with the metallic voice soothed her nerves, even if only a little. At least he didn’t seem intent on harming her.
She couldn’t help her curiosity anymore and lifted one of her eyelids very carefully in hopes of seeing what these men looked like. The other one was just outside her sight, but she could now see the one who appeared to be disagreeing with her abductors, whoever they were. The man was wearing full plate armor and a helmet, a red and white mask covering his face.
She remembered having heard talk of Professor Jeritza’s strange disappearance just recently, but she hadn’t paid much attention to the details of it due to Lady Edelgard’s situation and the much more urgent fact of Manuela’s unknown whereabouts. Could there be some connection between the two instructors?
For a second, she wondered if the masked knight could even be Jeritza, but… no. This individual had an entirely different air about him.
“Master Thales is not here right now”, the other man finally relented. ”Hasn’t been for days. He is currently busy with other commitments.”
”Then why involve the girl in this? Why the sudden interest in her? If Thales didn’t order this, then who did?”
”Master Solon”, the other man admitted after a short silence, and the masked knight scoffed.
”Thales did not give permission to do this. Your orders threaten his plans. Concede immediately and leave the girl alone, or suffer my wrath—and his, too.”
The other man fell silent for a moment.
”Master Solon… won’t be pleased.”
”Do you think the Archbishop and her right hand will be pleased? Why, it sounds to me as if Solon's ambitions and obsession with these cursed blood experiments are taking precedence over the mission. This distraction is unnecessary and draws attention where we don't need it.”
”Fine, fine”, the other man grunted. “Come. Let’s discuss the current plans at hand.”
Flayn heard the man outside her field of vision leave. The masked knight stayed where he stood for a moment, and, to her surprise, turned to look at her. She quickly closed her eye and hoped he didn’t notice. She thought she heard a soft, distorted sigh, and then he left, as well.
Soon, it was all quiet again, and it became significantly harder to struggle against the darkness threatening to engulf her with nothing specific to focus on. Unable to fight it much longer, she fell back into restless sleep, her last thoughts of the strange, faceless knight.
Flayn dreamt of Tailtean Plains. She dreamt of humans, Agarthans, and Nabateans fighting each other to the death, most of the latter in their true forms, rain of arrows and dragonfire making the very air as lethal as the ground that was swarming with troops armed to the teeth. The bodies kept piling faster than she could heal them, dying groans of the fatally wounded soldiers begging for the pain to stop.
She turned just in time to see her mother's head explode in a cloud of bloody mist as the Creator Sword extended through it, its wielder's attention already on another Nabatean before her body had even hit the ground.
Just another casualty of war, but to Flayn, it had felt like her whole world had ended at that very moment. Saint Cethleann was capable of many things, rivaling Saint Seiros herself with the miracles she performed, but humans were so much easier to restore. Bringing back a Nabatean after such complete destruction… impossible.
She could still remember the chilling, agonized cry of her father as he dashed to collect her mother’s lifeless body in his arms, and the way Nemesis’s eyes flashed as he turned around again, whipping his sword to finish the rest of her family. She had saved her father that day at the cost of nearly a millennium of recovering.
And despite everything, she would do it again.
“Flayn?”
“F-father…”
“Are you awake?”
“Fath—”
She blinked her eyes open and realized she had been moved to a different space from the operating room. Manuela was beside her, looking weak, both of them chained to a wall.
“Manuela? Are you—”
Then she screamed as all of a sudden the orange-glowing blade of the Sword of the Creator tore through the air.
A man near her, perhaps a jailer, judging by his keychain, barely dodged it. As he attempted to dash away, Edelgard stepped into view, sinking her battleaxe deep into the man’s back, killing him with a single, brutal blow that very likely severed his spine by the way the man went completely limp and dropped dead on the floor, his blood spraying on her armor. The woman pulled her axe out of him and crouched to collect his keychain while the rest of their mysterious captors were in disarray and fleeing as the Black Eagles cleaved their way through them.
Despite the gruesome sight, Flayn felt so relieved she could have cried as she watched Edelgard approach her. Somehow, she still managed to appear confident and graceful, even if she was out of breath, the battleaxe looking heavier than it should in her strong, gauntleted hands.
“Lady Edelgard! I am ever so relieved to see you. I was quite beside myself with worry when I could not find you”, she sniffled, tears clouding her vision.
The Adrestian princess smiled weakly at her as she unshackled her, not able to mask the trembling of her hands as she put the chains aside.
”Here I am. I’m sorry to have worried you.”
As soon as Flayn’s hands were free, she took Edelgard’s gauntleted ones in hers, looking into her eyes imploringly.
“Still, Your Highness, you truly ought to be at rest, that your recovery might be both swift and complete.”
Edelgard looked unsure how to react to her familiar gesture, first gingerly curling her fingers halfway between Flayn’s, then carefully withdrawing her hands altogether.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Besides, the others did most of the work.”
“It was impossible to leave her behind. And after everything you have done for her, it’s no wonder”, Byleth said as she walked forth, sheathing her sword and smiling. “It’s so good to see you’re unharmed. Your brother and Lady Rhea will be overjoyed.”
Edelgard fumbled with Manuela’s shackles, and Flayn glanced at her, concerned. The woman was so pale, sweat dripping down her cheek. She really should still be resting.
Manuela mustered a weak smirk at the Adrestian princess.
“While I may have been secretly hoping for a daring rescue by a handsome knight, I am so happy right now that I could kiss both you and Professor Byleth.”
Edelgard gave the woman a crooked, little smile.
“Is that so? I’m glad that we could also find you safe and sound, though… Linhardt? Would you take a look at that wound? It looks like it needs immediate attention.”
“Pray, how did you come to find us?” Flayn inquired, massaging her aching, chafed wrists as the rest of the Eagles gathered around them, Hubert already fussing around Edelgard.
”Well”, Byleth began, ”it’s actually all thanks to Edelgard, who—”
”Of course it would be her, so valiantly and bravely coming to our rescue. I’m so happy to see you again… Edel.”
They were all surprised by the voice coming from the shadows near them, and only now did Flayn notice the third woman chained on the wall.
“M-Monica?” Edelgard gasped, a strange look on her face.
”You know her?” Byleth asked, surprised.
Flayn knew her, too.
Monica von Ochs… The very same student who vanished under most mysterious circumstances the previous year.
It had been a long time since Flayn had seen her father smile as much and as openly as he did when he invited Professor Byleth and Edelgard into the Advisory Room to express his gratitude to them after their return from the underground tunnels.
While she was happy they had also been able to save poor Monica from the tunnels, she couldn’t help thinking about the implications of it all. Young Miss von Ochs had been missing for such a long time, and all this time she had been kept so near to the monastery. Even if the operations of the mysterious enemy had been disrupted and the knights had secured the tunnels, there was surprisingly little they had learned, and despite her long imprisonment, Monica didn’t appear to remember much. The experience had to be utterly traumatizing, though, so perhaps it was just a natural defense mechanism.
It was a known fact that there were many old tunnels beneath and in the vicinity of Garreg Mach, and the investigators agreed that the tunnels appeared to have been only recently claimed. It still didn’t explain what Monica had been used for and why the captors had taken the trouble to keep her alive for such a long time. Flayn kept her suspicions about Agarthans and even the old librarian to herself for the time being, but what else could it be about? After all, they had wanted her blood. What's more, judging by Jeritza's disappearance after stabbing Manuela, he was probably with them as well. How deep had they infiltrated, and for what purpose?
Had that masked knight not intervened in their wicked machinations, they would surely have extracted my Crest—for what dreadful purpose, I dare not imagine. Perhaps even…
The thought made Flayn shudder, and she quickly distracted herself with other thoughts.
But… who was he? If he is in league with them, why did he not condone their abhorrent experiments? And furthermore, who is this 'Solon' of whom he spoke?
It also meant that even if they didn’t know who Flayn was, they had enough suspicions about her origins to be bold enough to abduct her in the middle of the monastery.
Would they attempt it again?
”I suppose that is all, then. Just know I am forever indebted to you”, she heard her father say solemnly and realized she had missed most of the conversation between Byleth, Edelgard, Rhea, and her father as she had been buried in her thoughts.
“Pray, wait a moment!” Flayn called out, just as Byleth and Edelgard turned to depart. “There is, in truth, something I have long desired to ask. And seeing as the Professor is present as well, I believe now may be the most opportune time to do so.”
”And what might it be you want to ask us?” Rhea inquired, curiosity in her pale teal eyes.
”If it is at all permissible... I should very much like to join Professor Byleth's class.”
”Truly?”
”My class?”
”Absolutely not!”
”But… Why not, brother?” Flayn asked, frustrated despite having expected her father’s reaction.
”Especially in the light of what just happened… No. I… I was actually considering that… I already had a word regarding this with Lady Rhea, that perhaps we should just leave the monastery altogether, go somewhere—”
”Pardon? I most certainly am not going anywhere! Surely, you cannot be serious!”
”Flayn, please, let us have a private conversation about—”
”There shall be no need for such discussion, for I am well aware of what you intend to say. And I assure you—I speak in all seriousness. I am not leaving.”
”While I can understand why you would want to join the Academy”, Byleth said carefully, "the students do go on dangerous missions from time to time. There can never be any guarantees for anyone's safety. I'm afraid I have to side with your brother on this one. I'm sorry, Flayn.”
Flayn felt utterly deflated. Even Professor Byleth agreed with her father.
”As the house leader of the Black Eagles… May I also offer my opinion on Flayn’s request?”
Edelgard had been mostly silent during their meeting, but now she looked Seteth straight in the eye, unflinching and composed as ever.
”Very well, Lady Edelgard”, Seteth said after a pause, nodding stiffly.
”I understand your concern about her safety, but consider this: being part of our class might actually be the safest option for her right now. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Seteth looked a little surprised.
”Oh. I—”
”We still do not know who these mysterious people were and what their purpose is. If there’s anyone here whom you could trust Flayn to be safe around with, wouldn’t it be the one bestowed with the Sword of the Creator?”
Byleth and Seteth both looked at her, clearly appraising what they had just heard, and Edelgard continued.
“You said you feel indebted, but I also have a debt to pay. There is no doubt in my mind that without Flayn, I would be dead. Her aptitude for white magic far exceeds even that of Linhardt or Manuela, there is no denying it. What happened to me affected me deeply, even if it’s uncomfortable to admit it, but I also see a way for both of us to pay our debts.”
“And what might that be?”
Edelgard glanced at Flayn, and she immediately felt assured seeing the determination in her eyes.
“To be honest, I would feel much safer if you allowed Flayn to join the Black Eagle house and remain by my side. In exchange, I, Edelgard of Hresvelg, heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire, will personally take full responsibility for her safety. So, what do you say? We wouldn't have to compromise on anything, and we'd all get what we want.”
”An interesting proposal”, Rhea mused. ”Would you agree to this, Professor Byleth?”
”I think Lady Edelgard has made a valid argument that takes everyone's best interests into account. I think it's all up to you now, Seteth."
Flayn looked at her father pleadingly.
Pray, allow me at least this much.
Finally, Seteth sighed in resignation.
“I am most certain I will come to regret this.”
“Aww! Thank you so much, brother! I shall—”
“Not so fast, Flayn”, Seteth said quickly, his usual stern look back on his face. “On one condition.”
The fresh air felt good after the meeting, as did the thought of digging into something to eat. Flayn dreamed of a juicy, loaded sandwich with pickled fish, although she'd take almost anything at this point. Edelgard had joined her, intending to introduce her to her new classmates over dinner. Byleth, however, had excused herself, saying she had some business to discuss with Rhea and would join them later.
Flayn glanced at the taller, well-built young woman walking beside her, effortlessly carrying herself with her usual grace despite her recent troubles, and smiled. Just a short time ago, she had wondered if she would ever be able to walk around Garreg Mach and feel safe again, but in her presence, she felt like nothing that might still lurk in the shadows of the monastery could harm her.
“I feel I must extend my gratitude to you once more, Lady Edelgard, for what you did on my behalf. Had you not spoken in my favor, I have little doubt my brother would already have made arrangements to spirit us away to some place he deems safe—somewhere I… would be kept far from others.”
Edelgard looked at her sympathetically.
“I do not mean to pry, but… I cannot help but think that for him to be willing to resort to such drastic measures over your safety, even going against your wishes on how to live your life…” The Adrestian princess shook her head. “You told me your mother’s passing was deeply traumatizing for him. Am I wrong to assume this has something to do with that?”
“Our mother did not just… pass away. She was slain. The same assailant very nearly claimed my brother as well, but… I placed myself in his path and—” Flayn paused, swallowing hard. “My sincerest apologies. I would rather not speak of it further.”
She felt Edelgard’s hand on her shoulder. The touch was a little awkward, but it felt sincere and comforting.
“I’m so sorry that you have had to experience something like that, Flayn. And please, pardon my tactlessness; I shouldn’t have asked.”
Briefly, Flayn touched the warm, strong hand on her shoulder.
“Think nothing of it, Your Highness. It all transpired long ago, and though I dearly wish Mother were still with us, what is done cannot be undone. In time, my brother must come to accept that I cannot place my life in stasis forever for fear of what once occurred. I do understand—he wishes only to protect me, to act in my best interest. But at times, his protectiveness becomes quite overbearing. He treats me as though I were still a child, scolding me before others, intervening in my personal matters, making a spectacle of his concern… It is terribly stifling.”
“I have to admit, his... insistence that you not train together with the men of our class..."
"Oh dear Goddess... How dreadfully embarrassing that was!"
An amused smile played on Edelgard’s lips.
"Frankly, I would have loved to ask him which of our four illustrious noblemen unnerves him the most, since I dare say I know full well what drives each of them, but perhaps it is for the best that I didn’t. There is also another newcomer to our class who constantly fights the misconceptions people have about her because of her age, but then again, Lysithea is only 15, and… something tells me you are not quite as young as you look.”
Flayn wasn't sure how to respond to that observation. Even though the woman inspired confidence in her, she couldn't risk revealing too much. After all, this was not just about her. Fortunately, however, she didn't have to. Edelgard continued, this time with a certain uncertainty in her voice.
“I… feel a little silly voicing such idle, sentimental musings, but… I feel I must say something that’s weighing on me.”
Flayn glanced at Edelgard, but this time she didn’t meet her eyes.
“Oh? And what might it concern?”
“I can't help but think that this horrible kidnapping of yours could have been avoided if I had just woken you up before I left the room. I was just feeling restless, and I felt like I needed some fresh air. I began seeing flashbacks of what had happened, the immense weight of the beast crushing me beneath it, the lance… I needed to test my limits, to assure myself that after all that physical trauma, I was actually going to recover. That I could walk. Hold things in my hands. I didn't think about how you would react if you woke up in the middle of the night and suddenly found me gone from the sickbed.”
“You could not have foreseen that such a thing would occur”, Flayn said gently. “I am most grateful that you were at least able to pursue them and determine where they were taking me. Admittedly, your bodily response to my healing magic has truly surprised me, but I am still all the more relieved that you did not act alone to confront them.”
Edelgard smiled at her, and Flayn couldn't help but think how charming she looked when she let go of her reserve, even if only for a moment.
“Very well, then. I will—”
“Edel!”
They turned to look as Monica approached them.
“Are you going to the mess hall? Ohh, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse, haha! Ah, what was your name again? Faye? Flynn? Something like that, I’m sure.”
“Um, my name is Fl—”
“Right! That. Sorry, I have so much catching up to do! You don’t mind me coming along, do you?”
“Why, of course not”, Edelgard answered, polite as ever, but Flayn could feel a subtle shift in her mood, invisible walls rising around her again. “That is, in fact, all the better so I may introduce you both to your new classmates.”
Monica shot a look at Flayn.
“What? When did she join? I didn’t know the church folk could enroll, too. Well, the more the merrier, am I right!”
The three of them walked on toward the mess hall. Monica kept close to Edelgard, chattering cheerfully, while Flayn wondered what exactly they had done to the poor girl during her imprisonment. She didn’t know Monica that well, but she had spoken to her often enough before her disappearance to know that she would never forget a face or a name.
Chapter 4: The Unquenchable Flame
Summary:
The more Flayn gets to know Edelgard, the more confused she becomes about who she really is.
Chapter Text
Despite everything that had happened, Flayn felt more invigorated than she had in a very long time. Her new routines as a member of the Black Eagle house brought so much joy and structure into her days, and she was excited about absolutely everything—lectures, homework, group work, exams, training, lunch breaks, everything—keenly learning about the new Fódlan and enjoying being around people without her father breathing down her neck at every turn. Finally, she felt like she belonged somewhere and that she was not just a disjointed relic of the past that should be carefully stored out of reach.
Of course, her antiquated manners invited curiosity. Petra wondered about her archaic speech on more than a few occasions, and Byleth made a surprised comment about her handwriting that was much more elaborate than that of any of her other students. A student of another class entirely, Hilda, suggested that she could give some tips to her on how to dress. And that the only other person she had seen wear the type of clothes Flayn did was her great-grandmother. It didn’t bother Flayn, though, and she had also quickly noticed how each of the Black Eagles—their Professor included—seemed to have their own endearing quirks.
All the men in her class were very nice to her, even Hubert in his own terse way, although Flayn didn’t doubt that he would have acted differently toward her without the lance incident. They were all quite handsome, too—especially Ferdinand, whose impeccable, aristocratic manners reminded Flayn fondly of her past dealings with Adrestian nobility. Still, just as Edelgard had implied, she found it amusing to think how worried her father had been about her spending time with them. It seemed they all had something they were way more interested in than dalliances, not that she minded.
The most interested in her seemed to be Linhardt, but even his interest stemmed from her major Crest of Cethleann that he would have wanted to research, as he shared a minor version of the Crest with her. With Bernadetta and Lysithea, she didn't interact all that much, but that was mostly because she didn't see much of either of them outside of the classroom, just for different reasons. Monica, then, she was… Monica. Every day, Flayn was all the more certain that whoever she used to be before her kidnapping, that version of her didn’t exist anymore.
And then, of course, there were the two people she considered more than just her classmates: her dearest friends, Dorothea and Edelgard.
“Is there a specific reason you like to spend your time here?”
“The water… It calls to mind memories of my mother. We once dwelled by the sea, she, Father, and I”, Flayn answered Dorothea as they sat next to each other on the pier.
“Right. I remember you said you lived in Enbarr. Who knows, maybe we have even met without either of us knowing!”
“I… am not certain that is so, but I find the thought rather heartening.”
Dorothea was quiet for a moment.
“So… I suppose this means neither of your parents is around anymore, then?”
Flayn sighed.
“N-no. I lost my mother long ago. As for my father… That matter is rather difficult to explain.”
“I see. I’m sorry. I have a little… difficult relationship with my father as well, so I can understand. Or, well. We don’t really have any relationship to speak of”, she huffed. “As far as I’m concerned, he might as well be dead.”
Flayn glanced at the brunette, her usually warm green eyes cold.
“Might I inquire as to what transpired between the two of you?”
Dorothea looked at her, her features softening.
“It’s not a very nice story, but… sure. You see, my mother was a maid at a noble house, and she became pregnant by a nobleman. She never really told me anything about the circumstances, whether she was actually willing, or… A-anyway. I don’t ever remember having heard her speak lovingly of him. Then, when it turned out I hadn’t inherited his Crest, he threw us both on the streets. My mother, however, was already ill at the time, and she… didn’t last very long, doing what she could for us before she passed away. Then it was just me, trying to survive one day at a time until Manuela finally recruited me in the opera.”
“Oh my, how dreadful… To think one could be so unkind to their own child—it is simply beyond my comprehension.”
“Men. Nobles. Noblemen…” Dorothea scoffed. “They only want quick lays and Crested offspring from women, it’s all that matters. At least some of them are more than eager to compensate for—ugh. Sorry, Flayn. I…”
“Please, think nothing of it. I am simply glad that, in spite of all you have endured, you have made it this far. I cannot fathom what it must be like to be truly alone in this world. At the very least, I have always had my… brother, even if he can prove rather burdensome on occasion.”
“I can only imagine”, Dorothea mused quietly and chuckled. “Let’s… Let's talk about something a little lighter, shall we? So, uh, the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion is next week. And you have already been in our class for three weeks! How quickly time passes! Are you excited to be able to take part in the mock battle? Although you don’t seem like someone who’d enjoy battles all that much.”
“I shall admit, you are entirely correct, but I will gladly honor the tradition all the same. At the very least, it is a battle in which the intent is not to take lives, and my role is simply to remain at Lady Edelgard’s side whilst she dispatches our foes.”
“Are you and Edie training in the evening again?”
“Why yes, we are.”
Dorothea seemed to be in thought, then laughed to herself, which made Flayn curious.
“What do you find so amusing?”
The brunette smirked.
“Nothing, I just… couldn’t help thinking how serious you said your brother was about not training together with male students, but then it’s perfectly fine for him to let you train with me and Edie, and… it was just a funny thought.”
Flayn blinked and tilted her head.
“I do not mean to suggest that his concerns regarding the men are in any way justified, but pray, why would he harbor such worries when it comes to either of you?”
Dorothea giggled.
“Never mind, forget about that.”
“But—”
The brunette got up from the pier and winked at her.
“See you tomorrow in class!”
Flayn was walking back to her room, intending to do some homework before the training session she had agreed on with Edelgard. When she took a turn around the corner, walking near the Black Eagles’ dormitory, she almost tripped on her own feet as she saw Tomas walking ahead of her, and quickly hid behind the corner.
Even if she had decided she didn’t yet have any real evidence against the old librarian, she had avoided both him and the library ever since her strange experience. Up until now, it had been easy, for she had learned shortly after her kidnapping that Tomas had left for some business outside Garreg Mach and would be gone for a while, but apparently he was back now.
She peeked from around the corner and was surprised that he wasn’t headed to the library, but instead…
Her eyes widened as she watched him knock on Edelgard’s door.
What could he want with her, of all people?
After a moment, the door opened, and while Flayn couldn’t see Edelgard, the door blocking the view, her sensitive hearing allowed her to hear the short conversation that ensued.
”Greetings, Lady Edelgard. I have returned from Enbarr. I assume you know why I’m here.”
”Yes… I believe so.”
”Splendid. Might you have time to meet me in my quarters?”
There was a small pause.
”Of course.”
Their exchange sounded casual enough and could have been literally about anything, but Flayn still felt ill at ease as she continued on her way.
Flayn was already waiting for Edelgard at the training grounds when she arrived. She couldn’t help but notice how pale she was, not unlike when she had barely avoided death after the incident with the Demonic Beast.
“I’m sorry that I’m a little late”, Edelgard said apologetically. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for long.”
“Are… you quite certain you are fit to train? You appear rather unwell, if I may say so.”
She wasn’t surprised when the woman stubbornly shook her head.
“I’m fine, just a little tired. I was thinking, however, that we might do some lighter training today. Perhaps go through again what we already practiced on communication signaling. We have an opportunity to practice spatial coordination before the mock battle with our class, in any case, and it feels like our synergy is quite good already.”
“That does indeed sound most agreeable. I am of the same mind, Your Highness.”
She observed Edelgard’s body language and cues meant for her to pick up, reacting accordingly. When the human-shaped battering ram was about to perform a more daring attack, leaving her defenses open to opportunity strikes from secondary foes in her vicinity, Flayn prepared to pull her just out of range of enemy melee fighters after her attack. If Edelgard was merely baiting, she prepared to heal instead. The opponents were, of course, just training dummies, but Flayn knew perfectly well what the stakes were in real combat situations.
She had seen—or rather felt—it happen before, or she had at least imagined she had, but now she was convinced. There was an echo of a peculiarly familiar energy just before Edelgard did one of those attacks that tore the sturdy target dummies to shreds, and it was not unlike what Flayn had felt emanate from Professor Byleth. The same echo she had sensed the night when she had saved Edelgard’s life. If she didn’t know better, she’d have said they were the doing of a Crest, but these things weren’t characteristic of the minor Crest of Seiros the woman possessed.
Usually, the woman seemed to get even more energized after savaging a target during her curious strength boost, but something was clearly wrong now. After her practice axe decimated the training dummy, the wooden weapon splintering and breaking as well, she crashed against the floor together with the shreds of her inanimate target.
“Lady Edelgard!”
Flayn was on the ground with her in seconds, pulling the human’s heavy body until she could get her head comfortably on her lap.
Edelgard was gritting her teeth, pale and sweating, and Flayn noticed the woman was gripping her right elbow.
“Might I have a look?” she asked softly, gently prying Edelgard’s fingers from the crook of her arm. She assumed she had merely dislocated her joint, and was shocked to see a bloodied gauze instead when she pushed the sleeve of the gambeson out of the way.
“W-wait”, Edelgard grunted, attempting to pull her arm away, “it’s nothing serious, there is no need to—”
“Come now, allow me to tend the wound.”
Reluctantly, Edelgard let her continue.
She removed the gauze, all the more confused to find a dark purple bruise in the elbow pit, around what was clearly a crude, large puncture mark that had apparently torn several blood vessels.
“This… I did not expect. What could have possibly wrought a wound of this nature?”
“It was just a silly accident, I would rather not go into details. This is embarrassing enough.”
Suddenly, Edelgard’s pale visage and unusual exhaustion made a lot more sense.
“There is nothing at all silly about this, I do assure you. You appear to have lost a considerable amount of blood.”
“Please, Flayn.”
She sighed and relented. For now, at least. Edelgard let out a relieved whine as Flayn’s white magic began its work, closing her eyes and relaxing her tense body. Perhaps because of the woman’s fatigue, combined with the increasing familiarity between them, her inner defenses weren’t as alert as Flayn had expected them to be. She felt the odd source of strength inside the human again and concentrated on it, attempting to determine its nature, when a very old memory suddenly surfaced.
Or at least she thought it was her memory. Nothing visual, just a voice.
"How diminutive, how endearing! Such softness in her countenance... and that smile—radiant as dawn. She shall be far older when next our paths entwine. Very well. I shall grant this little Benevolent One a token befitting her gentleness. A parting gift, that while I slumber, she might soothe the world’s wounds in my stead."
Flayn shook her head.
How… very odd.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, and Edelgard did the same. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the human’s head still on her lap, and Flayn couldn’t help but think how natural and comfortable it all felt. Then Edelgard shifted, her eyes flitting away from hers. She got back to her feet, gallantly offering Flayn her hands and helping her up. The gesture felt… rather charming, and she liked how it felt when Edelgard’s warm, strong hands wrapped around her smaller ones.
Were she a man, I daresay it would be all too easy to imagine myself quite taken with her.
Something in that sudden thought bothered her, but she couldn't really determine what it was. Before she had time to think about it, Edelgard pulled her hands away, bringing her back to the moment.
“Thank you, Flayn. I feel much better now, though… We should probably call it a day. I’m sorry that my own blundering ruined the training session.”
“Think nothing of it. Merely promise me that, regardless of the circumstances, you will speak to me of your injuries. There is no need to suffer in silence.”
“I will try to keep that in mind. Are you hungry?”
Such an obvious diversion, and still…
“Famished, honestly.”
Edelgard smiled at her.
“I knew you’d be. For your size, you certainly have a healthy appetite. Join me for supper?”
“I would love to.”
As they walked toward the mess hall after changing out of their training gear, Flayn noticed Rhea and Byleth having tea outside. It was impossible not to notice how warmly they acted around each other, even the stoic Professor smiling so openly in her Aunt’s company.
She glanced at Edelgard, who was also looking at the two.
“Professor Byleth and Aunt Rhea do appear to enjoy one another’s company, do they not?”
Edelgard tore her eyes away from the sight.
“So it seems.”
The mock battle proved to be much more intensive than Flayn could have ever imagined—after all, she had seen decades of real war, healed hundreds upon hundreds of horribly injured soldiers, brought so many back to life from the brink of death. For an event with rules, blunt weapons, and magic dampeners, it was quite something, as every team strived to be the winning one. At least Flayn’s objective was very clear; keeping Edelgard in the game at any cost, since a fallen house leader meant instant loss.
Byleth had ascertained several times that Flayn was comfortable with the responsibility of her role, which was endearing, as was Edelgard’s insistence that she wanted Flayn, specifically, to assist her through the event.
The synergy between them was as palpable as the desperation in the eyes of their opponents as they tried to best Edelgard in vain. Flayn allowed her instincts to drive her, and while she thought it was perhaps a little unfair that she, Cethleann, was allowed to compete against humans in the first place, the notion was superseded by her need to make Adrestia, her homeland, proud. No… To make Lady Edelgard proud.
At the end, there were only the two of them and Dimitri left on the battlefield after Dedue and Byleth had dropped each other out of the match. The Crown Prince of Faerghus fought with frightening ferocity that matched that of Edelgard’s, his height and reach adding to the intimidating air about him.
As Flayn was still channeling a heal to Edelgard, Dimitri dodged an axe swing and lunged at her instead. Flayn hadn’t expected that, and already braced for a painful blow, but it never came. She felt a very specific pulse through the healing bond as Edelgard’s Crest activated. Exquisite and intricate, and yet… primordial. Just before Dimitri could reach her, the axe of the Adrestian princess smacked brutally against his side, the impact of the blow tossing his heavy body far away from Flayn.
The victor was announced, and the battle was over, Mercedes emerging from somewhere to heal Dimitri, who was groaning and holding onto his side with both hands. Flayn and Edelgard stared at each other, the Adrestian princess panting with exertion. Then she disappeared from sight as their classmates surrounded them and congratulated them both. Flayn could barely react to Caspar's excited, suffocating victory hug—her father yelling somewhere in the distance for the young Bergliez to lay his hands off of her already—as she still processed what she now knew to be true, no matter how impossible it seemed.
For reasons she couldn’t yet comprehend, Edelgard bore another Crest aside her Crest of Seiros. It was a major one, and—almost certainly—it was the same one Professor Byleth possessed.
The Crest of Flames.
In the evening, there was a banquet to conclude the event. Normally, such an occasion of merriment with more food than anyone could eat would have had Flayn over the moon, but now she found herself only distracted and oddly pensive.
“You seem like you’re not particularly enjoying yourself”, Linhardt stated bluntly as he seated himself next to her. “I mean, I am not, either, but I suppose that is more of a common occurrence than seeing you quite like this.”
Flayn sighed.
“If you intend to seize this moment as yet another chance to inquire about my Crest, I shall be most displeased—”
Linhardt shrugged and stood up.
“Believe it or not, I just wanted to ask you if everything is alright. Since I am clearly not needed here, however—”
“No, Linhardt, please—do wait,” Flayn said quickly, turning to face him fully. “My sincerest apologies; I did not intend to appear rude. Pray, be seated. In truth, I would rather appreciate the company.”
The man didn’t say anything right away, and for a while, Flayn thought he might just leave anyway.
“Fine. I suppose I’ll stay until your brother comes and shooes me away. That shouldn’t take long.”
Flayn groaned softly, but didn’t comment on it further. She’d rather not think about her father right now. Now that Linhardt was here, though…
“Since Crests are a subject of particular interest to you, might I trouble you with a question that is, perhaps, somewhat… peculiar?”
“Oh, and here I thought you specifically did not want to discuss them. That said, I’m most curious to hear what you’ve got on your mind.”
“Have you… ever heard of an individual who possessed two Crests? I wonder… could such a thing even be possible?”
Linhardt looked surprised.
“I have to wonder what made you think about such a thing, but I will have to say no regardless. I have never heard of anyone who’d have had more than one Crest, even when both parents bear a different one.”
Flayn chewed on her lower lip in thought.
“And you believe it could not be achieved under any circumstances whatsoever? Not even were one to marshal the fullest extent of available resources?”
“Hmm, it is an interesting question. With the current knowledge we possess of different fields of science, such as medical science, I doubt it would be possible, but I suppose, theoretically… Well, in fact, Professor Hanneman has been researching the possibility of implanting Crestless individuals with Crests, so perhaps an additional Crest would be possible to plant, as well. The legends do support the claim that Crests could be bestowed directly through blood, since otherwise Edelgard would be the descendant of Saint Seiros, and Saint Cethleann supposedly did not bear children, though… they are, of course, just legends.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“It would not exactly surprise me if the events of the past were somewhat embellished for the holy scriptures. Perhaps Saint Seiros and Great Emperor Wilhelm shared a little more than just camaraderie, and Seiros is, in fact, the forebear of Edelgard. Perhaps Saint Cethleann wasn’t as innocent and pure as the texts allow us to believe, instead spending her nights frolicking about with—”
“Excuse me? N-never!” Flayn gasped, feeling merciless heat spread on her face, up to the tips of her hidden ears.
Linhardt raised his eyebrows at her reaction, but carried on.
“In any case, even if a blood transfusion could somehow pass on a Crest, there would still be numerous factors to consider regarding the safety of the patient. The procedure would likely require extensive surgery, which could lead to fatal complications either during or after the operation, and there is no telling how the presence of two Crests within the same system might affect the carrier. Likely, not everyone would survive such an ordeal, and the fatality rate might prove unethical and make it hard to find candidates. Though I’d imagine Crestless noble children would turn into fodder for the experiments that instant.”
“I beg your pardon, but what precisely do you mean by that? Why would any parent willingly endanger their own child in a procedure so fraught with peril, and with no assurance whatsoever of their survival?”
“You… really are asking?” Linhardt sounded genuinely surprised. “What a delightfully naive perspective. I would ask if you believe in fairy tales, too, but I wouldn’t want to sound overly sardonic. You do know that if there was any way at all to turn a Crestless child into a Crested one, the noble families would happily walk over the corpses of the ones missing them?”
“I—”
Flayn didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t even feel offended, just sad and horrified. Was this truly the kind of world Allmother Sothis would have wanted to wake up to after her rest?
“Oh, well. With the restrictions the Church has imposed on scientific progress, I'm sure that won’t come to pass anytime soon.” He looked Flayn in the eye. “So, why do you ask?”
“Might I suggest that we… turn our conversation to a different topic, instead? Something… lighter, if that is all right with you.”
Linhardt was silent for a moment, then looked at her again.
“I believe I saw very small, intriguingly shaped sandwiches topped with pickled fish and chopped chives at the end of the buffet that might be of interest to you.”
Flayn stared at the man, then laughed. Despite his bluntness, his narrow interests, and his dry, often sarcastic humor, she liked Linhardt very much. His frankness was refreshing, and underneath it all, there seemed to be a kind, unproblematic soul who cared little for anyone's demands.
And when he smiles… he is rather adorable, is he not? There is a softness to him—a gentleness. Not too overtly masculine… and I find I quite like that.
“Perhaps I might try those little meat pies”, Linhardt mused. “I can bring you some strangely shaped fish sandwiches while at it.”
“Well… If you are certain it would not be a bother…”
“Not at all.”
Flayn watched as he left the table. She felt like someone was watching her, and instinctively, she looked to her left. Whatever budding feelings she might have had for her fellow healer, she forgot all about them when her eyes locked with Edelgard’s stormy, lilac ones, her heart skipping a beat. She was talking with a group of people, and Hubert glanced at her way as well when he noticed his liege’s attention was on something else. Monica was keeping herself close to Edelgard, as usual, and regardless of her cheery demeanor, something in the way she looked at her made chills run down her spine.
After she and Linhardt had finished their respective snacks and the man had wished her good night, Edelgard was still talking with Hubert, Ferdinand, and Claude. Monica was not participating much in the conversation, but she was not leaving, either. Some time earlier, Byleth and Rhea had disappeared somewhere, and apparently, her father had finally deemed it safe to leave since Linhardt wasn’t there anymore.
Perhaps I should take my leave as well and return to my quarters… This day has proven rather long and more draining than I had anticipated.
Flayn didn’t even know herself what specifically was bothering her, why she felt so anxious and frustrated. If only she could have exchanged a word with Edelgard, but she just didn’t have any strength left for Monica’s antics.
On her way to her room, she heard unusual noises coming from the infirmary, and her curiosity got the better of her as she noticed the door was ajar.
“Please, you’re so good at it. Never mind that little stab wound, it has healed already.”
It was Manuela, and… the other voice sounded familiar, as well.
“But… You only want me when you’ve been drinking. When you’re sober, you only have eyes for men.”
At this point, Flayn already knew she probably shouldn’t, but still, she peeked into the infirmary and left as quickly and quietly as she could, her cheeks still flaming when she closed the door to her room. The sight of Manuela pinning Dorothea against the wall as they kissed fiercely while the brunette's hands roamed all over the older woman's body... it was burned into her mind forever, whether she wanted it or not.
G-goodness… S-so even women may… share such intimacy with one another? And partake in… all of those activities… together?
Somehow, she hadn’t even considered something like that, and now she felt utterly silly and embarrassed about it.
Then she remembered something else.
Wait… What was it that Dorothea said, that one time? She made a jest—how it was perfectly acceptable for Father to permit me to train with her and Lady Edelgard, even though he would have me not train with… the men.
Flayn kept repeating and rewinding that moment and trying to remember the exact words.
Did… Did she mean to suggest that even Lady Edelgard might be… inclined toward such affections?
Maybe she had misunderstood something? She had to have misunderstood something. Then she paused. What did it matter even if it was so? Why would it matter to her even if it was so?
Flayn went to bed, and for once, there was no fear of deep sleep suddenly overtaking her as she stared at the ceiling all night.
Chapter 5: Between the Lines
Summary:
Flayn and Edelgard both make new discoveries, and while things around the monastery seem to have calmed down for the time being, darker tidings loom just around the corner.
Chapter Text
“For the last time, Flayn, the answer is no. I am not going there to pay respects at the cemetery, but to do battle!”
Flayn stared at her father, who stared back at her, neither of them willing to relent.
“And do you take me for a stranger to battle? I have fought for my life, and for the lives of others since I was but a child—there was simply no other choice! I have borne witness to horrors no one ought to, and yet, if fate demanded it of me again for what I believe is right, I would not hesitate to tread that path once more!”
“Flayn, please—”
“Do not ‘Flayn, please’ me! It is my mother’s burial site those ghouls dare to defile, and yet you would bar me from coming along? When, pray tell, will you cease treating me as though I were some helpless, incompetent whelp?”
Her father’s brow creased further, but as he was about to snap back, he appeared to notice someone and closed his mouth instead.
Flayn turned and immediately got goosebumps on her skin, not expecting to see Edelgard all of a sudden, Hubert standing quietly by her side as usual. All her restless thoughts from the night before returned with a vengeance, and what was worse, she could tell that the woman noticed her reaction.
“Flayn? Is everything alright?” Edelgard’s steady, concerned voice asked. After a few seconds, Flayn realized she should answer, not just stare at her, but her father beat her to it.
“Why yes, Lady Edelgard, everything is quite alright in here, indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave and—”
“Please… I implore you, allow me to accompany you”, Flayn pleaded.
“There is one more matter you are forgetting”, Seteth reminded her. “We will need to fly there, and your pegasus is still recovering.”
Flayn gritted her teeth at the tiniest hint of a victorious smirk spreading on her father’s lips.
“My wyvern is strong enough to carry us both”, Edelgard said resolutely, surprising them both as her commanding voice cut in. “Just tell me where we are going.”
“Lady Edelgard”, Hubert said in a low voice, “perhaps you should not involve yourself with this.”
“My thoughts exactly”, Seteth agreed.
“I vowed to keep Flayn safe when she joined the Black Eagle house, did I not? If this is something that is important to her, I will personally see her through it, and that’s the end of this discussion.”
Flayn couldn’t help the effect the determined words had on her, despite her recent confused feelings about… everything. How was it possible that every time she thought she couldn't be more charmed by this confident woman, she seemed to find new ways to get her pulse racing?
Edelgard and Seteth looked each other in the eye, neither of them wavering, and Flayn found herself holding her breath. Finally, it was her father who looked away, having no choice but to relent before the headstrong human.
“Very well, then”, he grunted, only partly able to mask his obvious annoyance. “I will get the knights ready, and I will expect you to be at the main gates shortly, fully equipped for battle, is that clear?”
Flayn smiled as her father stomped away, then turned to look at Edelgard, who smiled back at her.
“Thank you, Lady Edelgard, this truly means so much to me. Though… are you not the least bit curious as to what this concerns?”
“On the way here, I overheard the knights speak of an old, sacred site that is supposedly being targeted by the Western Church for its relics. The rest, you can tell me on the way there.”
Hubert sighed.
“I will be coming along.”
Even though Edelgard had clearly said that Flayn could ride on her wyvern, she somehow hadn’t registered what that actually meant.
“Are you uncomfortable? Nervous?”
The woman’s voice was so close to her ear, her arms surrounding her protectively as she held the reins of the wyvern, sitting right behind Flayn.
”I know you’re used to pegasi, but Labraunda is much more temperate and amiable than most wyverns. I promise there is no need for trepidation”, Edelgard said softly.
“You… named your wyvern after an axe?” Flayn asked, momentarily distracted. Then she paused and swallowed hard. “A-and it is not… That is to say… Th-thank you most kindly for your concern, Lady Edelgard, but I assure you, I am quite well.”
They took to the skies, following Seteth. After a while, Flayn finally allowed herself to relax, slightly leaning against the taller, brawny woman. Edelgard was wearing heavy armor, but still, Flayn could imagine the warmth emanating from her. Her closeness, her strong, armored arms around her… they made her feel butterflies in her stomach.
Father would never permit this were she a male. But… would I truly desire her to be so? She is considerate, compassionate, ever approachable, unfailingly respectful, and… truthfully, quite dashing, as well.
Flayn felt her cheeks flush at the thought, and was happy that no one could notice.
Even if she is… Oh, heavens. Whatever am I thinking?
Finally, they reached the Rhodos Coast. There indeed was strange activity on the beach, and their arrival provoked an immediate hostile reaction from individuals who bore the insignias of the Western Church. Flayn gasped as arrows were shot right at them, but Edelgard was quick to raise her shield and deflect them, already prepared.
”Are you ready, Flayn?”
”Yes.”
They dismounted and smoothly fell into their roles, Edelgard charging into battle together with the Knights of Seiros accompanying them. Hubert supported them from further back with his dark magic, while Flayn, along with the few other priests, stayed in range of their designated knights responsible for their safety.
The morale of their enemies dropped as quickly as their numbers, as the feared Knights of Seiros, along with Edelgard and her loyal retainer, cut them down efficiently and without mercy. Some managed to escape, but with little plunder, and the sacred site remained largely intact. However, it was decided that the artifacts would be moved to Garreg Mach so as not to tempt further transgressions.
“I must confess”, Seteth mused when they were finally ready to depart, “despite the situation, it was a pleasure to return here.”
Edelgard looked at him curiously.
“How so, if I may ask?”
“This coast has a certain sentimental significance to my sister and me.” He gestured at the memorial near them. “This stone monument is not merely here to commemorate Saint Cichol. It is also the grave of my wife.”
”Oh. I had no idea.”
“May you find peace again, Mother”, Flayn murmured fondly as she touched the memorial, realizing her mistake immediately as both Edelgard and Hubert perked up at her words.
“Your… mother is also buried here?” Edelgard asked, subtly raising an eyebrow.
How dreadfully careless of me… Surely, one so astute shall not let such a slip pass unnoticed. Forgive me, Father…
To her surprise, her father didn’t seem particularly upset with her. Perhaps it was this place and the warm memories of Flayn’s mother. Perhaps he simply found it comforting not having to pretend all the time, with everyone.
“I suppose there is no point in trying to deny it, now, but I beseech you—this must remain between us. Flayn is actually my daughter. My late wife and her mother are the same person.”
Edelgard looked at her long while her retainer asked the question they were both likely thinking of.
“Why the deception, though?” Hubert pondered. “What difference does it make whether she is seen as your sister or your daughter?”
Seteth's expression sobered, the familiar line between his eyebrows reappearing.
“I… cannot answer that. Just know that falsifying Flayn’s identity is necessary to keep her safe from certain individuals, and I would prefer it remains so, more so after everything that has recently happened. If someone has to know of this… at least it is the one whose swift actions saved her before any serious harm befell her.”
“Do not worry”, Edelgard assured him, finally breaking eye contact with Flayn and looking at her father instead. “We will not tell a soul.”
Flayn still felt as if she were floating as she walked through the monastery gardens. She couldn't help but think of the wyvern flight back to Garreg Mach, pressed against the strong woman riding behind her, or... well, at least pressed against the heavy plates she wore, enjoying the safety of Edelgard’s arms around her as she held the wyvern's reins.
She let out a long sigh. What had gotten into her? Was it just the long sleep and the long isolation from others? Was she that desperate for touch and validation?
The sun was slowly setting. Tomorrow would be a school day, and she should probably go to her room to rest. How quickly the day had passed, even with the long journeys.
She heard a familiar voice nearby and recognized it as Professor Byleth’s. She sounded unusually emotive and… happy.
”That tickles!” Flayn heard her exclaim and laugh, and it made her smile. She had never heard the stoic woman express herself in such a way before. ”What if someone sees us?”
Oh my... Might it be that Professor Byleth has taken a paramour? How exceedingly romantic!
Then she heard a second voice and blanched.
“And would it be such a terrible thing? But perhaps you are in the right. If it happened to be, say, your father, I am sure the poor man might be somewhat… scandalized.”
Flayn felt a strong sense of déjà vu as she peeked quickly from behind the hedgerow to make sure she wasn't only imagining it, and her breath hitched as she was greeted by the sight of Professor Byleth and Aunt Rhea holding each other, sharing an unhurried, affectionate kiss.
Gracious Goddess, not again…
It wasn’t just about her recent run-in with Dorothea and Manuela, but the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had walked in on Rhea being amorous with someone. She could still see flashes of her Aunt straddling Wilhelm as they were hastily removing each other’s armor between ravenous kisses. Had she remained staring at them even seconds longer, she was sure she had seen something she would have never been able to unsee.
The considerably more tender moment with her Professor evoked so many thoughts within her as she walked toward her room.
So even Aunt Rhea is not untouched by such affections. Might the Professor be the first woman to stir her heart in such a manner, or…? How… curious. Such inclinations are not solely the domain of humankind, then.
There were hardly any of them left, though, and they all seemed content keeping their secrets. She looked up to the sky, feeling a pang of sadness.
Oh, how I do wish you were here, Mother, so that I might confide in you and seek your wisdom on matters such as these.
She thought back to what she had just seen. On the other hand, she felt bad having intruded into such an intimate moment—even if unbeknownst to Byleth and Rhea—but even though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, she couldn't help but think that there was something about the dynamic between the two women that made her uneasy.
When Rhea had still gone under the name of Seiros, she had mercilessly manipulated Wilhelm through his attraction for her to get everything she wanted. While partly because of that, the last few of them were still alive, it had left the Great Emperor mentally wrecked and bitter until the day he had finally died in battle, weary and broken and overwhelmed, as if… he just wanted it all to end.
Flayn felt an unpleasant chill on her skin and tried to shake it off. It had all happened so long ago, and they had all been so torn and desperate back then. Rhea seemed to have mellowed since those days, and everyone deserved a second chance and a chance at happiness, didn’t they? Perhaps the calm and prudent former mercenary was just what was needed to keep the raging flames of the Immaculate One tempered.
It was hard to deny how happy they both had looked in each other's arms, and Flayn wondered if she would someday get to experience something like that herself—the touch of someone she loved and who loved her back.
Even though she knew it was a little foolish, for a moment, Flayn allowed herself to daydream a little. She thought about Edelgard and the moments when her smiles weren’t so reserved. She thought about how she made her feel safe, even in the heat of battle—real or practice—and how those same strong arms that wielded the deadly battleaxe had felt around her waist.
It still felt so new, so strange, but perhaps the things she had begun to feel weren't so unprecedented or preposterous after all.
Nearly two weeks had passed since the trip to the Rhodos Coast. The Black Eagles were having supper together, but the strenuous, training-oriented day—already the second in a row—had taken its toll on everyone. One by one, everyone excused themselves until only Flayn, Edelgard, and Hubert remained, and then even Hubert excused himself. He had been trying to discreetly rub his temples for some time now and looked as if he had a terrible headache.
Usually, the Adrestian princess was flanked at least by her loyal retainer if not also by Monica, but the girl was nowhere to be seen, and she hadn’t participated in the training, either. Not that she ever did, apparently having already completed all her combat-related studies. Monica was supposedly gifted in magic, but Flayn had yet to see her cast even one spell. If anything, the girl seemed more interested in playing with her dagger, which didn't help the uneasy feeling Flayn always had when she was around.
This moment right now, on the other hand, just her and Edelgard, was a rare occasion she treasured. The Adrestian princess always seemed much less guarded when others weren’t around, and her smiles had more warmth and emotion in them. She was present with her whole being, and Flayn found herself very captivated by it.
At this point, she could safely admit that she indeed had a crush on Edelgard, even if she tried to keep any evidence of it to herself. After all, she was still processing the fact that she, Cethleann, had feelings for another woman in the first place—even if she were as graceful, vigorous, and handsome as the Adrestian princess was.
I wonder… Is it even considered proper to describe a woman as “handsome”, or have I simply lost all sense of propriety?
Was this just some strange phase that would pass when she met the right man? Was Edelgard just an exception to the rule? Was it because of the opportunity, because Dorothea had implied Edelgard might be interested in women, as well?
Now that I truly consider it… I have not the faintest notion what it is that women even… do… together. Oh dear…
But what if it wasn’t a phase? Could she ever tell her father, and how would he respond?
Pushing those thoughts to the very back of her mind, she lightly discussed their combat training with the other woman until their talk turned to the Crests.
“I must say, I am most impressed by Dorothea’s talents. Though I am well aware she harbors little fondness for Crests, I cannot help but wonder how exceedingly powerful she might become were she to possess one. It is a curious thought, is it not?”
Edelgard appeared to consider her words for a while, then looked at her.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t voice such musings in the presence of anyone so dearly affiliated with the Church, but… Have you ever wondered, instead, what a world without Crests might be like?”
The simple question surprised Flayn completely, especially coming from the heir to the Adrestian throne who possessed not just a minor Crest of Seiros but had somehow obtained even an additional, major one that she kept hidden from the world.
In truth, however, Flayn had thought about it. The powers of Nabatean blood were never meant to be transferred between species. They were never meant to be weaponized, as Agarthans had done, by finding the most corrupted of humans and uplifting them to fight for them, since Crests were incompatible with their own physiology. After all, humans—unlike Agarthans—were also created by Sothis.
Flayn was the youngest of her kind, of the few who had survived, barely adult by their standards; that much was true. Still, she wasn’t as naive as her father often made her feel, even if she felt helpless when it came to matters of the heart. Of course, she understood that humans who possessed Crests had something Crestless ones didn’t, and that the whole shift in humanity’s inner power dynamics was caused by both her people and those of Agartha. Each side was building its own army, and the willing humans, drawn for power, welcomed their gifts of blood with open arms.
When she had first arrived at Garreg Mach after her slumber and learned that Rhea had implemented a caste system based on the Crests gifted to humans, she had been under the impression that it all worked to balance the relative strengths of the nations of Fódlan, discouraging warfare and encouraging the strong to protect their weak. The conversations with other students, however, had opened up her eyes to a much darker side of the system, and now, the future Emperor of Adrestia, twice a Crest-bearer herself, suggested imagining a world without them.
“I… cannot claim the thought has never crossed my mind. However, I find myself most curious as to why you would wish to imagine such a world. After all, were it not for your Crest, you would not stand to inherit the imperial throne, would you?"
”And should people like me be inheriting thrones?”
Somehow, Flayn felt like Edelgard had just asked her a very pivotal question, and she found herself wanting to take a moment to answer it.
”I… had half a mind to respond with, ‘then who should?’ Yet, I suspect that is precisely the point you were making.”
“Quite so. Sacred bloodlines… They have nothing to do with one's abilities or qualities. The Crest system would allow the most incompetent nobles to dictate the lives of thousands, and the most competent commoners to spend their entire life hauling rocks and shoveling manure until they are too old and weak to do so.”
“Now that you phrase it so, I do see your point. It is rather unjust, is it not? At the very least, both men and women possess equal rights to lead their lives, or even nations, er, provided they are of noble standing, of course.”
Edelgard gave her a somber smile.
“I’m afraid that for a land recognizing a female deity and being spiritually led by a woman, Fódlan is laden with patriarchy. I am sorry to phrase this in such a blunt manner, but the very structures the Church upholds encourage abuse and inequality.”
“How so?”
“To maintain the bloodlines, noble or royal blood alone is not enough. The nobility is obsessed with having offspring with Crests. Still, even if both parents have one, there is no guarantee that they will pass it on to their firstborn. Perhaps the second child won’t manifest one either. I had 10 siblings, two of whom had the Crest of Seiros. I think you can guess where I'm going with this, and what it means for women and their worth.”
Flayn swallowed. She honestly hadn’t thought about it like that. And how could she have, when she had been asleep for most of the time the Crest system had existed? After she awoke, she was confined to Garreg Mach. Her uncles, Indech and Macuil, had completely isolated themselves, her aunt was secretive and detached, and when her father wasn’t treating her condescendingly, he was scaring away anyone who dared approach her.
She felt a hand cover hers. It was rough, but the touch was gentle and made her skin tingle pleasantly. She realized she must have been lost in her thoughts longer than she had intended to and lifted her eyes to meet Edelgard’s lilac ones.
The woman looked apologetic.
“I’m terribly sorry, Flayn. I was being inconsiderate. I… I shouldn’t have inconvenienced you with my—”
“No, please, Lady Edelgard”, she said quickly. “It is, in fact, rather refreshing to hear your thoughts on these matters, and I will not mention any of this to my father or aunt, if that worries you. If anything, it is my own guilelessness that has me embarrassed, since I regret to admit I have lived rather… sheltered life. Learning about the world outside these walls is all I have wanted for so long, but…”
Flayn paused, then chuckled, flushing.
“Oh my, listen to me ramble to you like this, Your Highness. My apologies.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, I assure you”, Edelgard said with a gentle smile, and Flayn couldn’t help but smile back.
They shared the silence comfortably for a while, then Edelgard looked at her again. She was lightly biting her lip, and there was something in her eyes that made Flayn’s breath catch.
“Can I… ask you something?”
“Whatever might that be?”
Flayn wasn’t sure what she was expecting, and still, she was completely taken by surprise.
“Are you, in fact… Hmm. Let me phrase that again. Are you somehow… blood-tied to Saint Cethleann herself?”
“Pardon? And pray, why would I be?”
“There are… just some things that have made me wonder”, Edelgard said quietly.
Steady your breath. Remain composed, serene, and ever dignified.
“Surely, you understand that such a claim is most bold. There are no recorded mentions of Saint Cethleann ever bearing offspring.” She huffed, striving to appear indignant. “Now that Linhardt has at last ceased pestering me about my Crest, offering one outlandish theory after another, you would see fit to carry on in his stead?”
Edelgard sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes for a second.
“I’m sorry.” She looked at Flayn, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You and Linhardt… You seem to be getting along quite well, do you not? Despite these… unwelcome queries you spoke of.”
The sudden change of subject threw Flayn for a moment. She had hardly made sense of her new self-discoveries yet, and now Edelgard, of all people, was asking her something like this. Her pulse raced with nervousness, and her palms sweated, but perhaps voicing her musings aloud would help her organize her own entangled thoughts.
“Y-yes. I daresay Linhardt's presence is most restful—rather akin to a well-cushioned daybed, with a tome to suit the current fancy propped atop it.”
Edelgard laughed softly.
”That does sound like Linhardt.”
“But then… there exist furnishings of a more elaborate nature. Take, for instance… Dorothea. If Linhardt might be likened to a daybed—familiar, and comfortably subdued—then she is surely a chaise lounge, swathed in velvet and bathed in moonlight: captivating, decadent, and ever so slightly ostentatious. And… perhaps to such a degree that one would scarcely dare imagine oneself possessing such a thing. The… simple, conventional daybed is what… others would expect to find within their lodgings; the chaise, by contrast, exists in some other world entirely. The difference betwixt them, at once, scarcely perceptible… and yet immeasurably vast.”
”I… That is…”
Edelgard fell silent, letting her words trail off as their eyes met. Bravely, Flayn drew a deep, shuddering breath and spoke from her heart, concluding her analogy.
“Regardless, I have come to realize that I may appreciate both daybeds and moonlit chaise lounges. For entirely different reasons, and yet… in similar ways.”
“I believe I… understand. To be honest, I—”
Before Edelgard could finish what she was saying, Monica flopped down next to her, seemingly out of nowhere, startling them both.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she said, and carried on without waiting for an answer. “I’ve something to show you, Edel. You’re done now, right?”
“I… suppose I am.” Edelgard flashed Flayn an apologetic look and stood up, picking up her empty plate. “Good night then, Flayn. It was... really nice talking to you.”
Monica rolled her eyes and looked as if she wanted to say something, but remained silent, for which Flayn was grateful. She watched the Adrestian princess leave and sat in the quiet mess hall for a while, thinking about their conversation. Even though it had been interrupted rather abruptly, she felt much lighter and more assured, her inner turmoil quelled for now.
At the very least, I was able to speak of it—if only obliquely. Perhaps that is something. Perhaps it is… the first step.
As Flayn walked inside the main building, she saw both her father and Rhea speaking urgently with some recently arrived knights. She walked closer to them and gasped as she noticed they were carrying a stretcher, a man in bloody, ripped farmer’s clothes tied onto it with thick leather straps. He was gurgling and convulsing incoherently, pale as a ghost, veins bulging grotesquely through his skin.
Oh dear goddess, what affliction has befallen him?
Manuela arrived at the same moment, together with a knight who had clearly been sent to get her.
“Oh my! Now this is… L-let’s take him in straight away.”
They all quickly disappeared toward the infirmary, leaving Flayn, Seteth, and Rhea standing in the hall.
Flayn looked at her father, confused, but he just shook his head and sighed tiredly.
“I would… rather discuss this tomorrow.”
She wasn’t in the mood to argue and simply nodded at him, after which he just turned around and walked away.
“Please, forgive him”, Rhea said softly. “It has just been a very trying day. We will know more tomorrow, in any case.”
”Yes… It would seem so.”
“I will retreat to my quarters, as well. Good night, Flayn.”
The older woman turned and walked away, and Flayn watched her retreating back for a while.
“Aunt Rhea?”
She stopped and glanced at her over her shoulder.
“Yes, dear?”
“N-nothing. Good night.”
Chapter 6: What Does Not Kill
Summary:
Some nightmares are of the past, some of the very present.
Chapter Text
“He was found on the outskirts of Remire by knights returning here from another mission. He was… gnawing on a carcass of another villager.”
Even Seteth looked uncomfortable as she explained the situation to Flayn.
"How utterly dreadful! However could something like this come to pass?" she asked Manuela, her voice trembling with horror and revulsion.
“It’s got to be either a mixture of poisons or magic, and very dark magic at that”, Manuela said, shaking her head. “I've never seen anything like this before, but this is certainly not a natural phenomenon caused by a disease or anything like that, that much I can say.”
“So, at the very least, whatever affliction he suffers from is not contagious?”
“I very much doubt that.”
“The knights briefly visited the village of Remire before returning here, but the people there seemed unaware of the incident. One of the knights said that the... atmosphere in the village was somewhat strange, but otherwise everything seemed to be in order”, Seteth said. “I will send more knights to investigate.”
Dark magic… Such as that of—
“And please, no mention of this to anyone, and this anyone includes also Lady Edelgard and especially young von Hevring. Not until we have more information”, her father continued sternly. “We would not want any uneducated rumors spreading about the cause of this, now would we?”
“Certainly not”, Flayn said, feeling mildly affronted. “Whatever do you—”
She gritted her teeth together.
Must he always persist with such condescension?
She turned around and walked away.
“Flayn? Flayn! Where are you going?”
“If you will excuse me, I have a class awaiting me.”
“Is there some specific reason you are avoiding the library?” Linhardt asked as they were doing an assignment for which Professor Byleth had divided them all into pairs.
“I am most certainly not avoiding the library”, Flayn replied assuredly.
“Then why is everyone else there and we are here in the classroom?”
“Is it not more peaceful here?”
“We will need to add references, for which we need the texts in there.”
“Could you not simply go there later and insert them where appropriate?” Flayn asked, a note of helplessness in her voice.
“So you are avoiding the library.”
“Fine. I am avoiding the library”, she sighed.
“How curious. Care to enlighten me as to why?”
“I… I must confess, I find the librarian there to be rather unsettling.”
“Oh. Old Tomas?”
“Yes. I know it must sound—”
“Well, he is rather creepy, to be fair.”
“You think so too?” Flayn gasped.
Linhardt shrugged.
“Yes. I just don’t pay any attention to him. Besides, he is not even at Garreg Mach currently.”
“Oh? I was quite unaware of that. He does seem to be ever coming and going, does he not?”
The young man glanced around them and leaned a little closer to Flayn, speaking quietly.
“So, I believe I know now why you were asking those questions about whether it was possible to possess two Crests.”
Flayn looked at him, surprised.
“You do?”
“It concerns a certain white-haired classmate of ours, does it not?”
“She… spoke of it to you herself?”
The thought made Flayn feel a pang of strange jealousy that she instantly berated herself for.
You must not presume upon her kindness; she owes you nothing.
“She did, although I have to wonder why you would know about it since the two of you do not even interact all that much with each other. Does your major Crest of Cethleann allow you to sense Crests, perhaps? Now that would be an interesting thought.”
Flayn immediately realized she had mistaken whom Linhardt was speaking of and felt immensely relieved that she had picked that up before accidentally spilling any of Edelgard’s secrets.
Perhaps this was a chance to learn more.
“To speak plainly, I can discern little reason why Lysithea would divulge such a matter to you, either”, Flayn countered.
Linhardt shrugged and gave her a wry little smile.
”What can I say? I’m a researcher through and through. Never underestimate the power of a well-prepared, structured interview.”
Flayn gave him a look, knowing full well what his idea of a 'structured interview' was.
“And did she perchance divulge how she came to possess an additional Crest?”
“Not… explicitly.” Linhardt paused for a moment. “However, it became quite clear it was forcibly planted in her. By whom, she did not say, and… I doubt further queries about the matter would prove fruitful. Whatever happened, it seems to have been a very traumatic experience for her.”
Flayn couldn’t help seeing Edelgard’s bare, marred skin in her mind’s eye—how brutally scarred it was, how carelessly it had been stitched back together. To think she wasn’t even the only one, but that there were others like her.
“I cannot help but wonder what it is they hoped to achieve with all of this. To justify such vile experimentation… and to be permitted to carry it out in the first place! For what conceivable purpose would one require multiple Crests?”
“Perhaps… Hmm. I can only think of attempting to use their power for warfare. After all, one is enough to warrant societal status. Perhaps someone is experimenting to create some sort of elite soldiers?”
“Elite soldiers, you say?”
“It is just the most logical conclusion”, Linhardt mused. “You have seen it yourself. Despite being the youngest and smallest of stature, Lysithea is undoubtedly the strongest mage in the entire Academy. She tires fast, sure, but imagine the destruction if there were a whole unit of such mages. It would tip the scales fast if that firepower was directed strategically enough.”
Flayn considered it. In truth, it sounded exactly like what the Agarthans would do, and the thought of them committing all these atrocities was horrifying. What exactly were they planning?
But why Edelgard? Why the heir to the Adrestian throne? It made little sense to her. How could they have had access to the royal Adrestian family, so much so as to afford unfettered, undisturbed experimentation on the children of Emperor Ionius IX? Were there people within the court itself working with the Agarthans, and for what reason? More power? Power to… do what exactly?
Her mind drifted to the mysterious masked knight who had prevented the experiments they had planned on her during her abduction. He had implied that the Agarthans had somehow created him. Could it be that they actually wanted to create viable hybrid blood with the power of multiple Crests, and then use this harvested blood from surviving candidates to build their armies? After all, when it came to them, anything was possible.
“Flayn?”
“Oh, do forgive me. We… we ought to focus our attention on completing this assignment, should we not?”
“I suppose we should.”
Linhardt yawned, his motivation waning noticeably as he returned his attention to the empty paper before them.
“Well then, how much do you know about the evolution of siege engines?”
Flayn awoke to animalistic screams accompanied by a woman crying out, and dashed out of her room. She felt disoriented, having dozed off while reading, and it took her a moment to realize where the noise was coming from.
By the time she reached the infirmary, the screaming had stopped, and a pair of knights came out of the room. She went inside and saw Manuela pouring herself something from a flask, her hands shaking.
The bed on which the farmer had been tied was covered by a sheet, dark blood seeping through it. Flayn could see the man’s arm, dangling over the bed and peeking from beneath the sheet, a severed leather strap hanging from it.
”A-are you—”
Manuela downed the contents of her cup, then poured it full again.
”I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Flayn frowned when she saw bruises around the woman’s neck, and an ugly, bleeding, unattended gash on her arm. She walked beside her and put her hand over her torn skin. The wound closed, leaving only crusted blood behind.
”Manuela?”
”I’m fine”, she repeated and filled her cup again.
After leaving the infirmary, Flayn felt like she needed some fresh night air. She didn’t dare roam the monastery grounds as freely as she had before her abduction, especially after dark, so she had no choice but to ask for some night guards to accompany her. It felt awkward, but she’d rather feel awkward than uncomfortable or scared.
She took the stairs and walked past the dormitories when her sensitive hearing picked up something.
Heavens… What could that have been?
She considered pretending she hadn’t heard anything, but the whimpers got louder until they erupted into a muffled scream.
No… What if they are in need of aid?
She walked back and realized it was coming from Edelgard’s room. She dashed behind the door and almost attempted to open it, but stopped herself. Even if it wasn’t locked, she couldn’t barge into anyone’s room in the middle of the night just because she heard noises.
Then another, anguished sound came from the room, and Flayn couldn’t restrain herself anymore, knocking on the door urgently.
“Lady Edelgard? Is everything alright?”
The noises stopped. She was unsure what that meant and almost knocked again, but then the door opened.
“Flayn?”
It was a little strange to see Edelgard in only a nightgown, her long white hair disheveled, and her normally proud, powerful demeanor unusually deflated and drained. At least she seemed to be unharmed.
“My deepest apologies for troubling you at so late an hour, Your Highness. It is simply that I... ah, I wished to ascertain that all was well.”
“So you heard that”, she said quietly, looking awkward. “Please, come inside.”
Flayn had never been in Edelgard’s room, and despite everything, it felt exciting. Everything was as neat and tidy as she could have expected. The only thing that surprised her was an easel in the far corner of the room. Lady Edelgard painted? It was a charming if surprising thought that the fierce axe-wielder also had a gentler, more artistic side to her, and she would surely ask her more about it at a better time.
“I, um…”
Edelgard seemed to instinctively try to cover her forearms, which her nightgown left visible.
“You appear rather ill at ease, Your Highness. Perhaps I ought to take my leave and—”
“No, sorry, Flayn, it’s just…” She let out a deep, resigned sigh and finally met her eyes. “It always takes some time before I can shake off the… nightmares, and… I’m not used to showing this much of myself to others. Even if I know that… there is probably nothing on me you wouldn’t have already seen. In fact, I feel grateful that you have never once asked about any of it, even if I know you must have… questions.”
Perhaps it is too forward of me, yet… she need not answer if she feels it untoward.
“It would be untruthful of me to claim otherwise. However… now that you have brought it to light, might you wish to speak of it?”
Edelgard shifted awkwardly, but appeared to consider her question.
“Only if you swear not to tell a soul”, she finally answered. “Although… Of course you wouldn’t. After all, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of speaking of this to you if I didn’t… trust you.”
The small confession made Flayn feel warm.
“I swear on my mother’s grave.”
Edelgard nodded.
“Where to even begin… The truth is, however, that there never was any epidemic ravaging the court. The only epidemic was the boundless hunger for power that my family fell victim to. I was just a small, helpless child back then, not concerned with what my future might hold since I had so many older siblings who were supposed to inherit the throne, worry about marrying, and conceiving more heirs. Then, one by one, they were all sacrificed until I was the only one left. Just… me. The only one who somehow survived that torture as they cut us all open numerous times and performed their twisted surgeries on us.” The woman's lilac eyes were glassy, and she looked as if she had momentarily returned to where she had been held during that time. “Imagine, Flayn… imagine being only twelve years of age and praying for death.”
Flayn swallowed. Even if she had seen the evidence of it all on the woman’s body, it was different to hear of it.
“I gather, then, that these experiments pertained to Crests?”
“Quite so. The objective was to plant us with the power of a major Crest, but for one reason or another, I was the only one whose body didn’t completely reject the blood transfusions. My siblings weren’t even the only ones to die in these experiments; others were also wasted, all to create what you now see before you… The perfect Crested offspring.”
She said the last words with such disdain. While she still hadn’t named the perpetrators, there was no other choice but Agarthans being behind it, although Flayn still couldn’t understand what their actual goal was and how they could have infiltrated the royal family in the first place. If anything was abundantly clear now, however, it was why Edelgard had such a negative attitude towards the Crests.
“It is the very same Crest Professor Byleth possesses, is it not? The one they bestowed on you.”
Edelgard cocked an eyebrow at her.
“H-how did you know that?”
“I sense its echoes each time I heal your wounds. It is unlike any other Crest—far more potent. And… without its strength, I scarcely believe I could have…” Flayn swallowed.
“Resurrected me”, the Adrestian princess finished her sentence. “Because that is what happened, isn’t that right? I suppose it all makes sense now, although I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that the same Crest that almost killed me brought me back from the dead.”
“Yet it was not solely the power of the Crest that saw you through. Without your indomitable will to live, all attempts to revive you would surely have been in vain. You clung to life with such strength, and that, above all else, is what matters. I am truly overjoyed that I was able to help you, and even more so to have been granted the honor of calling you a friend.” She hesitated. “Or, well… I do hope you think of me as such.”
After all their heavy topics, she welcomed the warmth that flowed through her in response to the sincere smile she saw slowly spreading across Edelgard's lips.
“I most certainly do. Thank you, Flayn, once more.”
“These… nightmares of which you spoke—do they trouble you often?”
“There is scarcely a night they do not”, Edelgard admitted with a resigned sigh. “Honestly, they are nothing but worthless dreams of the past, and it frustrates me to no end that they still have such power over me. I cannot even remember the last time I slept without waking up to them. It may sound a little drastic, but… sometimes I just wish that… I didn’t need to sleep at all.”
“I believe I understand better than you might imagine. You see, in truth… I am afraid of sleep. Not due to nightmares, however, but rather because I harbor a fear that, once I close my eyes, I shall never awaken.”
Edelgard looked surprised.
“Truly? To be afraid of sleep itself… Goodness. Admittedly, that does sound terrifying, if only because we all—even me—still need our rest.”
“’Tis most inconvenient indeed. Were I to have someone present to rouse me each morn, I daresay my struggles would lessen. Just as you, in turn, might find solace in having another to soothe you back into peaceful slumber.”
Flayn wasn’t sure what exactly it was about her sincere and solution-focused suggestion, but suddenly her face felt warm, and there was a tinge of pink coloring the cheeks of the Adrestian princess, as well.
“Uhm. Yes, that… would solve our sleeping problems, wouldn’t it?” Edelgard said and cleared her throat. “Speaking of which, I uh… I believe we should probably try to get some rest before tomorrow.”
“But of course! Oh my, it has to be quite late already. I must apologize for having detained you so long.”
“Oh, please, no, Flayn; you have absolutely nothing to apologize for”, Edelgard said quickly. “Your visit was quite a pleasant, if unexpected surprise, and I believe the rest of my night will be much calmer.”
Flayn smiled.
“Then I shall bid you goodnight, Lady Edelgard. May your slumber be undisturbed and your dreams serene. I look forward to seeing you in class on the morrow.”
“Y-yes.”
The woman shifted ever so slightly. Was she anxious for some reason? Flayn tilted her head a little, attempting to figure out what it was she wanted to convey.
“I… don’t know if it would be… inappropriate—I mean, Dorothea does that all the time with so many people she’s close to, and she makes it look so… natural and effortless, somehow, but—”
Flayn decided to trust her instincts, and before she could second-guess herself, she hugged the taller woman, holding her tense, athletic body gently against her.
It is perfectly ordinary, is it not, for friends to express their affection for one another in this manner? There is no reason such gestures should mean… something else. Even if I do happen to feel a certain… fondness for her.
For once, Edelgard was not covered by thick, heavy plates or layers and layers of clothes. She felt warm and pleasant to touch as her hard muscles relaxed, and she returned the embrace, her strong arms holding her tenderly for a moment.
“Good night, Flayn.”
She felt her warm breath and soft, white hair against her cheek, and it made her shiver. Then, all too soon, it was over as the woman slipped back into her room.
Heavens above, what a ridiculous smile I must be wearing… Do recall the pleasant thoughts of friendship.
After all that, she felt too restless and far too awake to go to her room. Accompanied by two night guards, she went for a walk outside anyway, drawing her lungs full of cool, calming night air. While they strolled the monastery grounds, they ran into Manuela.
“You, too, are unable to sleep, are you not?” Flayn inquired, her voice laced with sympathy. “If there is ought I can do to be of assistance, you need only say the word.”
The woman looked like she hadn’t expected to run into anyone, but if so, she quickly masked it.
“Oh, why thank you, Flayn dear. There’s no need for you to worry, though. I believe a little physical activity will be enough to calm me. I’ll be in bed soon.”
Flayn watched as the woman left, but she couldn't help but feel that there was more to her nightly wanderings than just walking it out, especially since she wasn't even heading back to the main building where her quarters were.
Hm... It seems she is making her way toward—
“Pardon me, but might I trouble you to wait here a short while? I shall return presently.”
The night guards nodded, and Flayn hurried after Manuela, expecting to find her nearby. Her hunch proved correct as she watched her quietly knock on one of the dormitory doors where most of the Black Eagles resided.
She pricked up her ears as the door opened, but could only hear Manuela.
“Um, hi, I know it’s late, but… Oh, don’t worry about that, sweetie, just… a little incident with a patient. What? N-no, I’m not! I only had one or… maybe two drinks to… Please, c-can I… can I just come inside?”
The woman disappeared into the dorm room, and Flayn frowned, walking back to the night guards.
I suppose she was referring to Dorothea’s bed, then...
Flayn knew that students and faculty members were discouraged from fraternizing with each other, but it didn’t seem to be the real issue between the two. She could still clearly recall Dorothea’s hurt words when she had heard the two women in the infirmary.
Manuela appears... embarrassed. No… Ashamed. Is it truly so strange to harbor affection for another woman? Is it not far better that people express love for one another, regardless of gender, than to deny such warmth entirely? Why, then, should it be deemed improper? Even Aunt Rhea has concealed that she and Professor Byleth are romantically involved. Could it be... that there is something amiss within me, for feeling as I do toward Lady Edelgard, and that I, too, should forever repress or… at least hide such inclinations?
She tried her best not to let the thought get to her, but it still brought down her high spirits.
It was getting really late. Maybe she should just go back to her room. Maybe she just needed some rest.
“What the hell is going on in here?”
Flayn couldn’t have agreed more with Captain Jeralt’s disgusted and shocked words as she dismounted her pegasus and looked around her when they finally reached Remire village. The crazed villager who was brought to Garreg Mach four days ago and put down by the knights after attacking Manuela had not been an isolated case, it seemed—only one of the first among many.
“This is… I have never seen anything like this”, Byleth murmured, her hand on the hilt of the Creator Sword.
There were rotting, half-eaten carcasses of both human and animal origin around the village and past the modest gates. The putrid smell of death hung heavily in the air.
Flayn glanced at Edelgard, who stood beside her, her lilac eyes blazing. Even though she was wearing her usual heavy armor, she still looked incredibly tense, the muscles in her jaw twitching.
“This is horrific”, she uttered, almost growling the words out. “Even more revolting… than I could have imagined.”
“How grievously these poor souls have suffered… What unspeakable horrors they must have endured, attacked by their own family and friends. We must do all we can to save those who yet remain.”
“Yes. It is the least we can do”, Edelgard agreed solemnly, clenching her fist around the shaft of her battleaxe.
With Byleth and Jeralt leading them, the Black Eagles entered the village grounds, alert and weapons ready.
“Over here! Please, help!”
There was a manor house, more sturdily built than the other buildings. The remaining unafflicted villagers had managed to fortify themselves inside, the ones turned feral surrounding them, snarling and hissing as they attempted to claw their way inside through the palisade.
“Flayn? Do you see that?”
It was Linhardt, and he was pointing to the back of the village.
Flayn gasped.
“Oh dear Goddess.”
Byleth, Jeralt, and Edelgard had noticed them as well—a group of dark mages the crazed villagers had left completely unbothered, among them a very familiar face.
“Tomas”, Jeralt roared, catching his attention. “You better have a damn good explanation for all this.”
The old man smiled morbidly at them upon noticing them, and then his body began to twist and morph, until someone else entirely stood in his place. He might have looked a little different from what they looked during the War of Heroes, but there was no doubt about it anymore. And what was even more horrifying…
They can… shapeshift now?
“Unfortunately, poor Tomas isn’t here to answer you. Hasn’t been for years.”
“Who are you?” Byleth demanded, baring her teeth and lifting her sword.
“My name is Solon, the savior of all”, he proclaimed proudly, and to Flayn’s horror, he looked her straight in the eye. “I see you brought the little girl whom you so nauseatingly valiantly deprived me of before her blood could be harvested. Such pointless meddling. No matter, with a generous contribution to the cause from an unnamed donor, even if not quite ideal… our goal will yet be realized. Fortunately, I have worked with diluted muck before.”
“The only thing realized will be the process of my axe cleaving your chest open”, Edelgard snarled. “Let us expose the muck you are filled with.”
“Take the rest of my students and go save the villagers”, Byleth quickly instructed her father. “I will dispatch these mages with Edelgard. You’ll have Linhardt for cleric duty, we’ll take Flayn because Edelgard is used to working with her.”
“Alright, kid. Let’s make haste then.”
The fight began, and despite the chaos around them, Flayn did her best to concentrate on the powerhouses attacking the mages. The two women made for an extremely deadly combination, which was no surprise since they both were fueled by their respective Crests of Flames, but the mages fought back hard and shielded themselves against their blows.
The Agarthan who called himself Solon had projected a defensive shield around him, as well, and seemed to be preparing to cast. Flayn noticed it and managed to counter his spell just at the right moment, much to the annoyance of the dark mage.
”You must think yourself clever, little beast. Do not get too confident only because you evoked the sympathy of the Flame Emperor.”
“Flame-who now?” Jeralt grunted.
He can only be speaking of the masked knight!
As if their hands hadn’t been full with the feral villagers and Solon’s dark mages, the Death Knight also made his appearance, suddenly galloping forth and waving his lance menacingly.
“The weak will die.”
“Great, now we've got him to worry about as well. I’m not gonna lie, this is not looking good anymore.”
“You were craving to face worthy opponents, weren’t you?” Byleth asked the man, whose red eyes immediately seemed to burn brighter. Then she glanced at Solon. “Why don’t we settle this with a duel? Just me and him, to the death. It seems you have some power over the afflicted villagers. Make them and your mages stop their attacks. If I lose, then carry on as you will, but if I win, leave this place at once. We will find some way to treat these poor people and undo your vile magic.”
Solon looked surprised, then smirked.
“What an interesting proposal. Fine. Go on then, Fell Star. Show us what you can do.”
The Death Knight chuckled hollowly.
“A worthy opponent. Yes. Which one will slay the other?”
“A-are you sure about this, kid? We could just—”
“We have to stop this senseless slaughter any way we can”, Byleth replied calmly to her father.
Somehow, Solon pacified the feral villagers, the change in them somewhat jarring, as they suddenly just stood around looking lost, the Black Eagles making sure to herd them away from the village centre to give Byleth and the Death Knight enough space.
Flayn observed the volatile situation with worry, considering contingency plans. The Death Knight was a fearsome opponent. What if he managed to best Byleth? Could she be able to bring her back? Her father was always telling her how she shouldn’t use her true powers, but this wasn’t just anyone; this was the only person alive who could wield the Sword of the Creator, someone loved by everyone—someone loved by Rhea.
I dearly hope it shall not come to that…
She briefly wondered where Edelgard was. Wasn’t she just near her a while ago? Then she winced as she heard the weapons of the duelists clashing together violently, both of them intent on killing each other. There was nothing that she could do but watch helplessly, not trusting the Agarthans to honor the duel in the least as her eyes flitted nervously between Byleth and the dark mages.
It happened quicker than Flayn had even anticipated—as soon as Byleth had gained the upper hand with her immensely powerful relic weapon. She noticed one of the mages flick their wrist, and suddenly, there was a bright flash of light. Byleth grunted, blinded in the middle of her counterattack, and the Death Knight’s lance sent the Creator Sword flying away from her hands.
No!
He swung his weapon again, sweeping Byleth’s feet from under her, and pressed his boot square against her chest, chuckling as he raised his lance.
“From Ashen Demon… to just ashes.”
A commanding voice rang clearly from somewhere.
“Death Knight. Stop this at once.”
Flayn could hardly believe her eyes. It was the mysterious, masked knight who had helped save her after her abduction.
“Flame Emperor…”
“There is no honor in this kill.” The man turned to face Solon. “This is enough.”
”Why did you come here? Why these people?” Byleth demanded, already back on her feet with the Creator Sword in her hands, the Death Knight obediently backing away and mounting his armored horse.
”I could have used any test subjects; this pathetic little village was merely convenient”, Solon answered. “And now that I have what I came for… I must bid you farewell. But before that…”
He did a strange gesture with his hand, wisps of dark magic pulsing around it, then raised and fisted it. Immediately after that, the heads of the pacified, feral villagers exploded, sending brain matter flying everywhere, their bodies collapsing where they stood.
“Do enjoy the fruits of your endeavors. I’m sure my colleague is happy to answer any questions you may still have.”
”You vile bastard! You‘re not going anywhere!” Jeralt roared angrily and lunged at him, but Solon just flashed him a conceited smirk and disappeared into thin air, together with the rest of the remaining mages.
”Where did he go? Can… mages do something like that?” Byleth wondered aloud.
”Flame Emperor, huh?” Jeralt growled at the masked knight, pointing his lance at him. “Isn’t that a fancy title you have taken for yourself. So you’re the one responsible for the destruction of this village. Tell me one reason not to skewer you where you stand.”
”Do not get the wrong idea”, the Flame Emperor answered. “I may be working with Solon, but our objectives are not the same. Had I known they planned to do this, I would have stopped it. You have my word.”
“Now take a good, hard look around you, pal. You can say what you want, but the truth is that you should have considered your choice of company a little better.”
Flayn listened to their exchange in silence, surprised that the masked knight who called himself the Flame Emperor would even suggest an alliance, implying that together they might be able to keep the dark mages in check, but not surprised that Byleth rejected his offer.
He didn’t look at Flayn even once and disappeared as soon as he had their professor’s answer, obviously having access to the same, strange spatial magic Solon and his mages had used.
“What a mess”, Jeralt sighed as he looked around them. “We have to stay and help them clear this nightmare before we return to the monastery.”
“Agreed.”
Byleth and Jeralt quickly organized the restoration efforts, assigning everyone to tasks that best suited their skills. Soon, Flayn spotted Edelgard again, carrying a young, unconscious boy, his leg horribly mutilated. There was so much to do: tend to the wounded, dispose of the animal carcasses, bury the dead, repair the most critical structures... and even if Flayn felt a little guilty thinking like that... it all felt like a welcome distraction.
At some point before sunrise, Flayn decided she had stared at the ceiling of the inn for long enough. On her way out, she stopped behind the door leading to the room assigned to Edelgard. It was all quiet inside, and she hoped that the strenuous day had exhausted the young woman so that not even nightmares would wake her tonight. The Adrestian princess had been unusually quiet after the situation had calmed down, and they hadn't really had a chance to talk about much.
A few of the knights who had accompanied them to the Remire village were patrolling outside, and Flayn offered them a tired smile, turning down the offer of an escort. It didn’t seem likely that there would be further transgressions after everything that had happened.
What a truly horrendous day.
Her mind raced restlessly, in need of some deliverance from the terrors gnawing at her soul. The grief of the survivors was so palpable and raw. They had even found small children, killed and partially eaten in their cribs, likely by their own family members.
Flayn shivered, trying her best not to think about the gruesome sights. They had done what they could, and there was no way to turn back time and undo it all.
Perhaps she should go to the old, overgrown pasture nearby that had now been turned into a cemetery for the victims of the calamity and offer them her prayers. Not the kind of prayers that had been reinvented for the use of the Church of Seiros, but the ones from that version of Fódlan that didn’t exist anymore; the ones her mother had taught her when she was still a child. Perhaps reciting her favorite ones to honor the victims might ease her unrest.
As she reached the cemetery, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was someone standing by the graves. A… mourning relative? Flayn gasped as the figure turned, the bright moonlight filtering through the trees illuminating its features.
It was one of the feral villagers, perhaps having wandered into the woods much earlier, now attracted by the smell of death lingering in the air.
Flayn knew some offensive spells, but she hadn’t thought of preparing any. The villager let out an animalistic screech and attacked her. Before he could reach her, however, someone grabbed her by the waist and moved her out of the way, bashing their shield at the lunging villager so hard that Flayn thought she could hear bones crack. Then the arm around her let go of her and decapitated her attacker with their axe, and it was all over in seconds.
For a moment, Flayn had been sure it was Edelgard.
It wasn’t.
Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed, finally getting words out of her mouth.
“F-Flame Emperor?”
The masked knight looked at her, putting his axe away.
“Flayn. You should not be wandering by yourself”, the distorted voice admonished her. “As you can see, it is not safe.”
“Y-you are acquainted with my name?”
“Of course I am.”
The man looked at the body on the ground and crouched by it. Flayn couldn’t see properly what he did to it, but when he stood up, he hid something in his clothes, and it looked like a syringe.
“Pray, what grim business had you with that poor soul?”
“I merely need to ascertain something. I had been prepared to open a grave, so I welcome this small convenience.”
She took a step closer to the man.
“Is it… perchance due to what that mage proclaimed regarding diluted blood?”
The Flame Emperor shifted.
“What do you mean?”
“When I was abducted, I overheard you speaking with one of them beyond the door of my cell. You forbade them from extracting my blood, but they took yours in my stead, did they not? And now, you wonder if it was used to bring all of this about. Am I wrong?”
The masked knight sighed.
“We must not be seen together. I must go.”
He attempted to walk past her, but Flayn stepped in front of him, blocking his path and grabbing his gauntleted hands.
“Please”, the man implored. ”Do not make this any more difficult.”
“I… simply cannot comprehend it. You are one of their many victims. They forcibly implanted you, too, with additional Crests, did they not? You have witnessed their disregard for life firsthand. Why would you ever choose to serve them?”
He was silent for a moment, looking down at the slender fingers wrapped around his gauntlets.
”Because I have no choice”, his distorted voice answered quietly.
“Each of us has been granted the freedom to choose.”
The Flame Emperor pulled his hands free.
“No. We have not. I wish you no harm, but that sentiment alone does not make me your friend. There may even come a time when you wish I had never walked out of their experiments alive. I wish it did not have to be so, but I cannot afford straying from my path now.”
“But… I do not understand,” Flayn said helplessly. “If you are so unwavering in this… mission of yours, whatever dire business it might be, that naught else holds meaning… then why defy their wishes at all? Why risk anything? Why… bother saving me?”
“Because…”
He paused for a moment and sighed softly. Then he surprised her by touching her face, tentatively brushing his cold, gauntleted thumb over her cheek.
“It… matters little.”
He stepped back, poised and calm, and fixed her with one more look.
“Farewell, Flayn.”
Then he disappeared, swallowed by a purple column of light.
Chapter 7: One Night in Ethereal Moon
Summary:
In the wake of new revelations and old expectations, Flayn finds herself caught between loyalty, longing, and looming danger.
Chapter Text
“You look like you’re enjoying the show. Is there something you find… particularly captivating?”
Flayn realized Dorothea was talking to her and glanced at her, blushing at the all-too-knowing wry smile on her face.
She had never expected to see Edelgard in such a feminine and figure-hugging outfit as she was wearing now. She still didn't show any skin, wearing tight, white, form-fitting clothes under the dancer's outfit, but it seemed to accentuate the contours of her well-built body even more than the lack of additional clothing over her skin would have done.
Edelgard had been more distant than usual for several days after they had returned from the Remire village, and for a moment, Flayn had feared that the change in her was permanent. Soon things returned to normal between them, however, and now Flayn was here, admiring the woman’s performance against the competitors of the other houses. She had hugged Edelgard for luck, and the Adrestian had held her tightly, if briefly, in return.
“Oh, it is simply that… I had not the faintest notion that Lady Edelgard would prove herself so graceful upon the dance floor. To speak truthfully, I rather expected you to be chosen as the Black Eagle house's representative for this contest.”
They were sitting away from the others as they watched the White Heron Cup contestants showing off their dancing skills.
“Is it really so surprising? Dancing requires athleticism, after all, and even if Edie is a little more heavily built than dancers usually are, you have seen for yourself how she moves on the battlefield.”
“I suppose you are right”, Flayn mused. “Dancing is a matter of grace, and truly, I should be most surprised were she to possess even a single ungraceful bone in her entire body.”
The brunette giggled good-naturedly.
“That’s so cute.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?” Flayn muttered, feeling her blush renew.
“I think you know what I mean.”
“Is it… truly so plain to see?”
“Don’t worry, I doubt anyone else has noticed if that worries you”, the brunette assured her, smirking.
Flayn gnawed lightly on her lower lip.
“And… should it worry me if someone did?”
Dorothea's smirk disappeared from her face as she turned her head to look at her.
“Uhm, what? I didn’t… What do you mean?”
“It is something shameful, is it not? To harbor these kinds of feelings? Why else would so many go to such lengths to keep inclinations of this nature concealed?”
“Who’s everyone?” Dorothea asked, perplexed. “I haven’t exactly been hiding the fact that I’m attracted to both men and women.”
“Perhaps so, then. Yet I must say, Manuela appears most conflicted about whatever may exist between the two of you. And despite that—or rather, perhaps because of it—she has lately taken to speaking of potential suitors with increasing frequency. Is she attempting to convince others... or herself?”
”So, you know about that, then”, Dorothea murmured and was quiet for a while. ”It’s… a little more complicated than just a matter of us both being women. As long as I’m attending the Officers’ Academy, it’s an inescapable fact that I’m a student and she’s a teacher, and… I’m not sure if our history makes it any better. After all, I was barely in my teens, and she was already an adult when we met each other, and she recruited me into the opera. I… know she has her flaws. She’s a whole lot less self-confident than she would want anyone to know, and she copes with alcohol and such affairs that often last for but a night, but… regardless of all that or our little age difference, I care for her deeply.”
Flayn found it a little hard to put human years into proper context—decade here or there, did it even matter?—but she nodded and voiced something that she didn’t quite understand.
”She does not have any children, though, am I right?”
Dorothea looked surprised.
”She doesn’t. Why do you ask?”
“I was merely pondering how it might be possible for a woman to, erm, engage in intimacy so oft, yet avoid the natural consequence of conception.”
”Oh, dear Flayn… There are ways to prevent the woman from getting pregnant, and there are also some... ways of doing it that don't lead to pregnancy in the first place.” The brunette gave her a sympathetic smile. “You really are a church gal inside out, aren’t you? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though, since your brother hasn’t probably explained much past ‘lie back and think of Fódlan’.”
She giggled, then immediately looked at Flayn apologetically and touched her shoulder warmly.
“Sorry, really—I shouldn’t tease you like that.”
It was close enough to the truth, however, and Flayn knew Dorothea didn’t mean anything malicious with what she said.
“Think nothing of it. Even so, I would very much like to hear how the two of you came to find yourselves in such a situation.”
“Right”, Dorothea sighed. “When I came here, to be honest, I was just trying to find someone to marry while my looks and reputation as a diva could still outweigh the lack of a Crest. I used to have a huge crush on Manuela, and when I saw her again, here… I couldn’t help it, but the thought of suitors and their grubby hands on me wasn’t so tempting anymore. Then, one night, I comforted her after one more of her break-ups, and… one thing led to another. It is true, however, that she has some difficulties accepting this side of her, and sometimes it’s just so… harrowing.”
“I confess I do not quite grasp why she should find it so distressing, if there is naught amiss with such feelings to begin with?”
Dorothea shrugged.
“Maybe our age difference plays a role in it, but the world changes, if slowly. When she was my age, Adrestia still considered same-sex attraction a mental disorder—and Faerghus still does—although there wasn't really any systemic discrimination against people like us, and there were even some places to meet others. Perhaps we still can’t marry, but I have a feeling that once Edie is crowned the new Emperor, it will be the dawn of a new age, and not just for Adrestia but all of Fódlan.”
People like us… We.
They were simple words, but the meaning behind them made Flayn pause. It was as if a whole new world, previously hidden, had been revealed to her—a world in which she could redefine herself without preconceptions and presumptions.
There are others—others like Dorothea… And perhaps I am one of them. And if I am, there is nothing amiss with me, and I am not alone.
She turned her attention back to the dance competition, which was nearing its end. When Edelgard finished her performance and the Black Eagle house was voted as the winner, her eyes sought Flayn in the audience. She smiled, and Flayn knew that unguarded smile was meant for her alone.
It made her chest swell with warmth.
Reflecting upon it… I daresay I already know my answer.
It was finally the night of the grand ball, and Flayn felt miserable. The last time she had attended such a festive event was during the War of Heroes, when she had been invited to Lycaon I's wedding. It was literally a lifetime ago—a dozen human lifetimes ago—and she had wanted to at least look nice for the rare occasion. It had resulted in a fight between her and her father, and she decided not to go at all.
Dorothea, however, somehow managed to convince her to come despite her somber mood, so she relented and begrudgingly wore the dress her father had insisted that she wear. It covered her completely and not so flatteringly, and made her look like a child. Fortunately, Dorothea had some suggestions for a few modifications to the dress to make it look more like something an adult attending a ball would wear, using some tricks she said she learned from the costumers in the opera.
She had seen her surprised father first thing when she entered the hall, and they had not exchanged a word as Flayn pushed past him.
At least the students seemed to be having fun. Flayn was surprised to see Linhardt and Lysithea dancing together, and that despite their height difference and Linhardt’s aversion to physical activities, it looked a lot less awkward than she might have assumed.
Well now, Linhardt did claim to possess theoretical knowledge of the art of dance...
”That experience was more invigorating than I initially anticipated, and you proved to be quite the passable partner, as well. Would you be interested in going again?”
“Passable?”
Flayn was sure everyone could see Lysithea’s eyes blazing across the room.
“And here I almost thought you were tolerable when you are not raving about Crests. I should just... uggh. But, um, maybe... just one more dance. Then I absolutely must concentrate on my studies instead of these frivolities.”
She noticed Professor Byleth and Rhea standing next to each other, talking. After she had witnessed their kiss in the garden, they had been much more careful around each other, so much so that sometimes Flayn wondered if she had just imagined or dreamed all that she had seen. However, as she looked at them now, there was no doubt about it—the air between them could have been cut with the very Creator Sword Byleth wielded.
All the house leaders seemed to be popular on the dance floor. She watched as Edelgard danced with one male after another, with Hubert seemingly always an arm's length away. Flayn wouldn't exactly call the stern man her friend, nor did she believe he trusted her completely, but his absolute, fierce devotion and loyalty to his liege had certainly made an impression on her.
She watched as yet another young man asked Edelgard to dance with him, and then someone approached her, too, and another. Politely, she declined every time. Dorothea was on the floor with Ferdinand. She could see the man talk her ear off while the brunette seemed to be merely nodding at him absent-mindedly, casting the occasional glance at Manuela, who seemed to be having a good time with some knight.
Flayn couldn’t really fault the men interested in Edelgard’s company. She would soon become the ruler of Adrestia, had not yet announced being betrothed to anyone, possessed a Crest, and would need to produce heirs to secure the throne for the Hresvelg bloodline. In the courting market of nobles, she was as high-class as they came.
In fact... the more Flayn thought about it, the sillier she felt about her romantic feelings for one of the most powerful humans on Fódlan. It would be different if one of them were a man, but even if Edelgard was critical of the Crest system and attracted to women, the world was what it was. She wouldn't be able to reproduce with her, and she would still have to marry a man to have legal offspring entitled to the throne. And who knew how many offspring she needed to have in order to produce one with the Crest of Seiros?
She watched as the man the Adrestian princess was dancing with pressed even closer to her, his grip on her waist tightening.
Ere this foolish fancy grows yet more unwieldy... I must let it go. If there is aught to be gleaned from these fluttering feelings, it is the insight I have gained into mine own heart. All else, I fear, is naught but wistful delusion.
With a heavy, sober heart, Flayn turned down one more young man and walked away. Before she could slip out of the hall, however, her father caught up with her.
“Flayn, I must ask, what have you done with the dress?”
“Pray, spare me this reproach—I have not the heart for it. And was it not you who did insist I don this, should I desire to attend?”
“We are here to represent the Church of Seiros and present ourselves with due tact and decorum! This”, he gestured at her modified outfit, “is way too provocative! Why, it is no wonder that I have seen men flocking to you all evening, which is exactly the opposite of what—”
Flayn felt a hand on her arm. Of all the possible times during her stay at the event, someone seemed to think that now, in the middle of their argument, was a good time to approach her. She did her best to hide her annoyance as she turned to reject another man as politely as she could, only to freeze completely when she realized it was Edelgard, smiling at her.
“I’m sorry, is this a bad moment?”
“N-not at all, Lady Edelgard”, Seteth said, his jaw tight as he attempted to appear the picture of dignity.
“Excellent. In that case, Flayn, would you care to dance with me?”
She wasn’t sure if she even managed to utter any meaningful words in response as she took the offered hand gingerly in hers and let Edelgard lead her to the dance floor.
“E-excuse me… what was that you just said?”
It was a small wonder she didn’t trip over her own feet, given how hyperaware her body was of the Adrestian princess’s proximity, one of the woman’s hands on her waist while the other held hers.
Edelgard smiled at her.
“I just said how nice it is to have a moment with you after all those suitors I just turned down.”
“O-oh… Did none among them strike your fancy?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Flayn noticed some other young man hanging around them, clearly attempting to draw Edelgard’s attention to him, but she seemed as though she didn’t even notice him, and as the song changed, she kept holding onto Flayn.
“I like your dress.”
Flayn felt her ears grow warm and was, once again, grateful that no one could see them.
“U-um… Th-thank you. It is not quite of the latest fashion, I fear. My tastes do oft lean toward the antiquated.”
“Regardless, it looks beautiful on you.”
“Y-you, um… Y-you appear most handsome as well, if I may be so bold.”
Edelgard let out a soft, throaty chuckle.
“You flatter me.”
Flayn felt lightheaded, and her dancing partner seemed to notice it, a subtle, worried crease emerging between her brows.
“Is everything alright?”
“I, um…”
“Perhaps some fresh air might be in order. It is quite crowded here.”
“That… may well be a most prudent idea, in truth.”
“Very well. I’ll let your father know, so that he won’t worry needlessly”, Edelgard said quietly, and Flayn nodded. She saw him cast a look at her when the Adrestian woman had a word with him, but if anything, he appeared relieved at her choice of company.
Were he to know… But no, it is of little consequence now. In time, I shall find the courage to speak of it—when the hour proves right and I am ready.
Edelgard walked back to her, and together they left the commotion of the ball behind them.
They walked around the monastery grounds with no hurry, no destination in mind, just enjoying each other's company and the peace and quiet.
“There must be so many students there right now”, Edelgard murmured, looking up at the Goddess Tower. “That place is all I have heard so many of them talk about during the past days.”
“Truly, I cannot fault them. The stories I have heard weave such a dreamy tapestry of what may await those who venture to the tower on the last night of the Ethereal Moon... It is little wonder so many are drawn to it.”
“Yes… Would you believe it if I said my mother and father met there?”
“Oh my, they did? How romantic!”
“Father, of course, had and still has many consorts, but I choose to believe in the story that it was the first time either of them had truly been in love.”
“That is so lovely. And who told you that story?”
Edelgard smiled.
“My father did.”
It was still unclear to Flayn exactly who had ordered the Crest experiments Edelgard and her siblings had been subjected to and why. Judging by the warm tone in the woman's voice when she spoke of her father, it was clear that Ionius IX at least had nothing to do with it, and that brought her some amount of relief.
They arrived at the bridge and stood there silently, looking at the starry night sky.
“It was here that I stood when they brought you in that night,” Flayn murmured, almost without realizing.
“Oh. You must mean… that night”, Edelgard said quietly.
“At the time, I beheld only a figure cloaked beneath a blood-soaked blanket, with not the faintest notion as to whom it might be. The nurses were stricken with horror the moment they discerned the extent of your injuries, and with no trace of Manuela to be found...”
Flayn let out a shuddering sigh and closed her eyes for a moment. Soon, she felt a comforting arm around her.
“I am simply so relieved that I could bring you back... and grateful that I was granted the chance to know you.”
Edelgard was quiet for a moment.
“I could say the same. I would be lying if I said that our initial bond wasn't borne out of the immense gratitude I feel for you, but... it has since grown beyond that, even though I often feel that you're... a much better person than I deserve to be around.”
Flayn turned to face Edelgard, scrunching her brow. Why would she say such a thing?
“Your Highness, I…”
She paused, realizing how close to each other they suddenly were. Edelgard’s arm was still around her waist. No… both her arms were.
They stood there in silence, looking each other in the eye, and neither made even the slightest move to pull away.
Flayn had no idea where the sudden urge to seize the moment had come from, but before she could think about it, she wrapped her arms around Edelgard's neck, leaned in, and planted a soft, tentative kiss on the taller woman's lips. Immediately realizing that she might have just made the biggest mistake of her life since waking up in this world, she was about to back away and apologize profusely for her impudence, but to her surprise, Edelgard wouldn't let her.
“Flayn…”
The Adrestian princess held her even tighter against her, the lilac eyes that briefly searched hers full of warmth. Then, tenderly, she claimed Flayn’s lips for another kiss.
Oh, d-dear Goddess… I must be dreaming. This cannot be—
“Edel, what are you doing?”
Flushed and surprised, they jumped apart from each other.
“Monica”, Edelgard uttered, “I—”
The redhead snorted, sneering at them.
“So you really are sweet on each other, I can’t believe it. Don’t you have a duty to fulfill? Don’t you understand anything? What are you even trying to do here?”
“I’m… s-sorry, Flayn”, Edelgard said hoarsely, not looking at her. “Monica is right. This was… a mistake.”
Then she left without another word, Monica trailing after her.
“So, you know that I know that something’s wrong, right?”
Flayn lifted her gaze from her untouched lunch and looked at Dorothea dejectedly.
“Both you and Edie have been acting weird today. Did something happen at the ball?”
“Um, yes. I… Oh my. I... kissed her.”
Dorothea’s eyebrows shot up.
“Really? And uh, what happened after that? How did she respond?”
“I feared I had erred most grievously. Yet, when I moved to offer my sincerest apologies, she… returned the kiss. And truly, it was every bit as wondrous as I had dared to imagine.”
“Uhhuh. Wow. Um, so, what’s the problem?”
Flayn sighed and pushed her plate away.
“Truthfully, I am not entirely certain. Everything appeared to be fine, then, quite without warning, Monica was suddenly there and—”
Dorothea huffed and rolled her eyes.
“And what did she want?”
“It matters not. Lady Edelgard claimed that what transpired between us was... a mistake. And then, without so much as another word, she departed.”
“Edie would say something like that?” Dorothea asked, perplexed. “To you? I need to have a talk with her.”
“Pray, n-no—I believe I comprehend the sentiment that underlies her words. It is not—”
Their conversation was interrupted by Caspar bursting into the mess hall.
”There you are! Gear up! There’s a bunch of Demonic Beasts inside the walls!”
Despite the awkwardness between them, Flayn fell fluidly into her role as Edelgard’s personal healer. There was no room for emotion or doubt in battle.
Byleth and Edelgard led the attack, keeping the beasts' focus on them. After the first felled Demonic Beast, it dawned on them that they were actually transformed students, their bestial forms dissipating upon death. It was immediately clear to Flayn what it all meant and who was behind it. The Agarthans were masters at demoralizing their enemies, and spreading fear and uncertainty within the walls of Garreg Mach was exactly what they would do, forcing them to kill their own.
There were still three beasts left, one of them charging away to attack Linhardt, who was hard at work supporting Byleth. There was a massive magical eruption, and large chunks of flesh rained all around them. Lysithea would have to remove herself from the fight due to her exhaustion, but it was more than a good trade-off for dropping the number of the remaining Demonic Beasts to two, and soon they were dealt with as well, Edelgard’s battleaxe and the Creator Sword doing most of the work.
“There isn’t a trace of evidence to be found in the chapel”, Jeralt stated as he and some knights walked back outside, where Flayn and Linhardt were healing the surviving students, while the others were collecting the corpses of those whom they were forced to kill.
“They somehow transformed with these, there is one on each body”, Byleth said, turning a round stone in her hands. “These look like Crest Stones. That must mean they can be weaponized even when they’re not assigned to relic weapons.”
”This has to be the doing of that dark mage we encountered in the Remire village. It is unfortunate none of the students seem to remember anything of what happened to them”, Ferdinand mused.
If only they comprehended the true nature of those accursed stones... How my heart aches to behold the desecrated remnants of my people, reduced to mere idle curiosities and instruments of war.
Flayn noticed Monica skulking about, even if she hadn’t participated in the battle.
Hmm. For what purpose is she here and now?
All this time, she had defended the young woman and her odd personality shift—she was a victim of the Agarthans, after all—even if she, herself, avoided her. She could tell Edelgard and Hubert were the only people in her class who tolerated her, and even they seemed frustrated with her more often than not. Flayn couldn’t fault Monica for intervening in her and Edelgard’s intimate moment, either; she was in the right with what she had implied, after all, no matter how heartbroken it made Flayn feel that there could be no future for her and the soon-to-be-Emperor.
Now, however, she had the feeling that something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but as she watched the young woman approach Jeralt, everything about her body language and movements seemed off.
Then it clicked.
Oh dear Goddess!
As quickly as she could, she alerted Professor Byleth.
By the time the former mercenary dashed to reach her father and Monica—everyone else around them confused about what was happening—the latter had already drawn her dagger.
The blade of the Creator Sword extended toward its target with deadly accuracy, but never reached it in time.
Manuela looked around the deathly quiet Black Eagle classroom.
"So, uh, I'll be substituting for Professor Byleth—"
Flayn jumped as Dorothea abruptly stood up right next to her, the sound of her chair screeching against the floor cutting through the silence. She strode away from the room and slammed the door shut behind her.
“—f-for a few courses, where needed.”
Soon, there was a short break. Fortunately, Flayn didn't have to look far to find Dorothea sitting on a bench.
Quietly, she sat down next to her, but was unsure what to say.
“I’m sorry”, the brunette finally said, rubbing her temples slowly. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. It’s just… It's just that so many horrible things have happened in such a short time. The villagers, the students, poor Bylie’s dad… There are terrifying people who can wear the likeness of others and who murder innocents, and… then even the ones close to you…”
Dorothea bit back a sob, and Flayn wrapped her fingers around the mage’s fisted hand, brushing her thumb soothingly over her knuckles.
”So… Manuela and you…”
“I knew she and Jeralt were close, and that his passing hit her hard, so I… went to see her last night, to see if I could do anything for her.” She grimaced. “Turned out she was doing Alois already.”
“Er, would that… be a euphemism for…”
“It would.” Dorothea gave her a small, wry smile, then sighed and shook her head. “I refuse to do this to myself anymore, no matter how much I love her. I can’t change people. I can only change myself, so… no more. I may be just a worthless Crestless orphan, but I’m no one’s dirty secret or consolation prize. Enough is enough.”
“That is most disheartening to hear... Yet, perhaps it is for the best. One ought not persist in pursuits where sorrow eclipses joy.”
“What about you and Edie?”
“We… have not spoken since that night.”
Dorothea unfisted her hand and turned it around, interlacing her fingers with Flayn’s and squeezing warmly.
”I’m so sorry.”
”So am I.”
They sat in silence until they saw the others heading back to the classroom, and stood up unhurriedly. The atmosphere was heavy, everyone—even Caspar—unusually quiet and lethargic.
There was a cold breeze that felt chilling on her skin, and Flayn glanced at the sky as it suddenly darkened. The steel-gray clouds hanging over Garreg Mach promised it would rain soon.
The atmosphere continued to be sullen, and rumors of the strange, dark mages spread fear and anxiety among the students. No one seemed to question, at least aloud, why Byleth spent a lot of her time recovering in Rhea’s quarters, but the mental breakdown of the stolid former mercenary was a cause for concern and debate. Flayn had noticed that even Edelgard, the picture of calm and dignity, seemed to be more and more on the edge with each passing day. It was as if a storm had been brewing at the very heart of the monastery, and finally, it discharged.
After Byleth had been absent from her duties for a week, Flayn, accompanied by Linhardt and Lysithea, happened upon their professor and house leader arguing loudly. It was so strange to see either of them express themselves in such an emotional way, the sight stopping all three of them dead in their tracks.
“So what, are you just going to curl up on Lady Rhea's lap and allow your grief to suffocate you?”
“Please, Edelgard, at least she has been there for me.”
“Doing what exactly? Putting a breast to your mouth to keep you pacified, then lulling and tucking you to sleep?”
“Don’t talk about her like that!” Byleth growled hotly, her blue eyes flashing. “She’s the Archbishop, show at least some respect!”
“Finally, some resemblance of a fight in you. At least you care about her dignity, if not your own. You’re a warrior, my teacher, not a baby to be coddled. You’re so blinded by grief that you can’t even see what’s going on right in front of you!”
“They murdered my dad right in front of me!”
Edelgard’s expression darkened.
“Do you think you’re the only one who has lost someone? The only one who has been brutalized by these people?” Her eyes narrowed. “What would you say if I told you I know where Solon is, right now, and that this so very dear Archbishop of yours is already intending to launch an attack on them behind your back?”
Byleth stared at her in disbelief.
“W-what? That… that can’t be.” She stubbornly shook her head. “No. Lady Rhea trusts me. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”
“Because she’s so afraid you’ll run off and get yourself killed in your thirst for revenge. That, if you were wondering, is how much she trusts you.”
Edelgard glanced at Flayn and her companions. It was the first time in over a week the Adrestian princess had made eye contact with her, and even now it only lasted for half a second before she turned her focus back on Byleth, pinning their Professor with her resolute gaze.
“Now that you know, will you give us the order?”
“I…”
“No, I will not allow it!”
Suddenly, Rhea and her father were there, and another heated debate began. Against Flayn’s expectations, Edelgard managed to convince her aunt to send Byleth and the Black Eagles instead of her knights, and despite everything that had happened, she couldn't help but admire the indomitable young human. She had now witnessed Edelgard overturn the decisions of both her father and her aunt, which was no small feat.
She saw her father look at her imploringly, but Flayn merely shook her head at him. Whether she and Edelgard would ever talk to each other again or not, she would follow the scion of Great Emperor Wilhelm into battle against the ancient enemies who had slaughtered her people and killed her mother.
Before they departed to gear themselves, Rhea took Byleth’s hands in hers.
“You have the protection of the Goddess on your side, dear Professor. Whatever happens, you shall overcome.”
Rhea always acted so sweetly toward Byleth. Why was it that their interactions made Flayn feel uneasy? Perhaps it was unfair, to both of them. It was still good to see the Professor more like her former self. It gave her hope that the rest of the unresolved matters would also unfold when the time was right.
As they prepared to leave, she pondered what they would be up against in the Sealed Forest.
How curious it would be, were the day to come when Lady Edelgard must needs pit her strength against the Flame Emperor... What might come to pass, I wonder, were those two paths ever to cross?
Chapter 8: Gods and Monsters
Summary:
Flayn learns some uncomfortable truths.
Chapter Text
It was obvious from the first moment it was a trap, but then again, Flayn supposed they were never expecting it not to be, the Agarthans again boldly operating so close to the monastery. As the Black Eagles entered the glade, they soon found themselves surrounded by Demonic Beasts, and whoever Monica really was, stood in the middle of a stone platform.
“Welcome to the forest of death!”
The maniacal, cackling Agarthan removed her disguise, revealing her pale face and the strange outfit she wore, complete with dangerous-looking appendages, everything about her whole being sharp and lethal.
“Tell me who you really are so I’ll know how to refer to your corpse”, Byleth growled at the Agarthan assassin, the Sword of the Creator glowing orange in her hands.
“My name is Kronya, and it’ll be you who’ll be doing the dying here, vermin.”
“We will take out the Demonic Beasts. Lysithea can drop one on her own. Just promise to be careful with that woman, and do not let her goad you into doing anything reckless”, Edelgard said to their Professor, genuine worry in her voice.
“Don’t worry, Edelgard. I have no intention of dying today.”
The Adrestian princess nodded at her, then turned to look at Flayn.
“It will be harder this time, without the Professor's help, but Kronya cannot be left unattended. I will do my best, but be prepared for anything and look out for yourself.”
Flayn wasn’t used to receiving such guarded looks from Edelgard. It felt strange and made her heart ache. Still, her words conveyed sincere concern, so at least there was that much.
“I will, Your Highness.”
This dreadful awkwardness that lingers between us... If only I could find it within myself to say, at this very moment, that I am wholly amenable to a friendship at the very least. That I do comprehend why we may not tread any further along… the other path.
Their many brushes with death and serious injury were too close for comfort, but one by one, the Black Eagles dropped the Demonic Beasts. This was the third time they were fighting these creatures, and despite knowing how immensely dangerous they were, the novelty was clearly wearing off. Even Bernadetta was rather confidently pincushioning the beasts with her deadly accurate arrows.
Edelgard pulled her axe from the skull of the last beast just after Flayn had stopped to wonder what was happening with Byleth and Kronya.
”What is going on in there?” Edelgard asked anxiously. ”What is Solon doing?”
“I dearly wish I could provide you with an answer. Quite suddenly, he ensnared both the Professor and that dreadful Agarthan woman within that… miasma.”
”Agarthan? Is… that what they are called?”
Flayn didn’t have time to ponder Edelgard’s question or what she should answer. They all gasped as Solon suddenly used his dark magic to lift Kronya in the air, tearing her heart out of her chest and tossing the still twitching, dead body aside.
”Those crazy bastards kill even their own!” Caspar exclaimed.
“Professor!”
Edelgard ran to the ominous-looking magical wall, but hesitated to pass through it.
“Your Highness, please, do not put yourself at risk”, Hubert pleaded. “We do not know the nature of that spell.”
They watched helplessly as Byleth was enveloped in a vortex of thick, dark mist. As it dissipated, she was gone.
“What have you done to her? Where is she?” Edelgard demanded.
“She will be wandering in the nothingness for eternity, never to return to this world”, the mage declared pompously. “A shame we also lost the Sword of the Creator, but that is an acceptable sacrifice.”
“Wandering? So she’s not dead.”
“There are things worse than—”
Solon was interrupted by the familiar, orange-glowing blade of the Creator Sword abruptly cutting through the very fabric of time and space.
“Impossible!”
The wound grew until it was large enough for a human to pass through.
Byleth’s form appeared and slumped unceremoniously out of the hole and onto the ground. She was breathing heavily and groaning as if in great pain. Leaning on her sword, she pushed herself to her feet.
A strange, green mist swirled around her, and Flayn gasped as she realized their professor’s hair had somehow turned a very specific shade of light teal. Slowly, Byleth opened her eyes, also their color now matching that of her hair.
“Professor?” Edelgard asked, uncertainty in her voice.
Solon took a step back. Flayn could hardly believe it, but there was undeniable fear in his eyes.
“I am... Sothis. She who died… and then returned”, Byleth answered sluggishly, but the voice wasn’t hers.
Flayn could only stare at the woman claiming to be the progenitor god in shock, not understanding anything that was currently happening.
Byleth turned to look at Solon, her eyes hazy.
“Memories… come flooding in. As did... Despair, once upon a time.” Her expression slowly darkened. “Did I not already drown your treacherous kind?”
“N-no… The blood of Fell Star… It was a mistake to—”
The mist around Byleth turned brighter. Pulsed. She lifted her sword and lunged at Solon, roaring, then unexpectedly disappearing into thin air. The terrified mage quickly projected a protective shield in front of him, but Byleth re-emerged behind him, and her sword went right through him, cutting through the shocked dark mage swiftly and mercilessly, as if he were nothing.
“You will… all… pay for your… hurgh.”
Byleth grunted and fell to her knees, wrapping her trembling hands around her head and curling up, the Creator Sword dropping onto the ground next to her.
Edelgard gripped her battleaxe tightly as she walked to check up on Solon while the others carefully approached their Professor. A pool of dark blood was forming around the Agarthan mage, his body cut in half, but somehow, a part of him still fought against his imminent death.
“What is the meaning of this? What exactly did you do to her?”
“This is… all… your fault. For your… unnecessary meddling”, Flayn could barely hear Solon utter to the Adrestian princess. “Pray that you… have not ruined… everything… by denying us the blood… of the lesser… beast. You… sentimental… f—”
“That’s quite enough of your blathering”, Edelgard huffed, silencing him by swiftly severing his head with her axe, blood spurting on her sabatons.
Flayn grimaced at the gruesome sight, then noticed the strange, torn look on Edelgard’s pale face as she stared at the dead man at her feet. She couldn’t help thinking that something in the way Solon had addressed the future Emperor sounded peculiar. Oddly… personal. Perhaps he had been one of her tormentors during the Crest surgeries?
“Bylie? Are you alright?” Dorothea asked their Professor, carefully touching her shoulder as the green mist dissipated.
“W-what happened?” the woman asked thickly, her eyes slowly focusing on the corpse of the Agarthan mage lying on the ground in three pieces. “D-did I… do that?”
“Mostly, yes”, Linhardt confirmed. “You do not have any recollection of it?”
Byleth shook her head. She looked uncharacteristically lost, and her voice was small when she answered.
“N-no. There was only… darkness.”
Flayn shared a nervous glance with her father. Rhea had been smiling, crying, and reciting old Nabatean prayers for quite some time now.
“This does not… worry you in the slightest?” her father finally asked.
Rhea looked at them, smiling disquietingly serenely.
“What cause would I have to worry, when we have been blessed with such wonderful news? I only wish I could have been there myself, witnessing the very first moments of Mother’s reawakening with my very own eyes.”
“Professor Byleth, believing to be… the progenitor god… is wonderful news? Why yes, she possesses the Crest of Flames and is the only one who can use the Sword of the Creator, even without the Crest Stone at that, but—”
“The Crest Stone is inside her”, Rhea stated then, as simply as if she had been discussing the weather, and Flayn’s blood immediately ran cold.
”What have you done, Rhea?”
She hadn’t intended to say it out loud—not like that, anyway and both of the older Nabateans turned to look at her sharply.
”All that I have done”, Rhea answered, her voice clipped, “is that I saved the life of a newborn child. The rest… is the will of the Goddess.”
“I have had my suspicions of certain things for quite some time, to be honest”, Seteth admitted. “Most of us who are left are present in this room. Is it not an appropriate moment for you to disclose to us the mystery of this young human you seem to be better acquainted with than we even could have imagined?”
“I… suppose the time has come”, Rhea agreed. “And perhaps I shall begin by correcting something you just said, dear Seteth, for Professor Byleth is… not exactly a human. Not entirely, in any case.”
“Ex…cuse me?”
Flayn listened in horror as Rhea calmly recounted her attempts to use her own blood to create a vessel to house the progenitor god's conscience, and how she had disposed of them one by one as they proved sickly and unfit, until she had finally created Sitri and allowed her to live despite the conscience of Sothis not manifesting in her, either. Then she had helped deliver Byleth into this world, saved her life at the cost of Sitri’s, and now they were…
An unpleasant chill ran through Flayn’s spine.
How might Aunt Rhea justify any of this to herself? Has she merely grown so inured to death and suffering, and to... everything, after all that has come to pass?
“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, Aunt Rhea, but I must inquire—if the restoration of Sothis is the task you have dedicated yourself to, then what of your... relationship with Professor Byleth?”
"Flayn, you cannot make such implications so carelessly!" her father reprimanded hotly. “To even suggest that… that Rhea would… partake in such an… incongruous, unconventional—”
Rhea effectively silenced him by raising her hand, her palm out.
“I… am most surprised that young Flayn would be so perceptive, but… yes, it is true. Professor Byleth has a very special place in my heart, and… it does pose a problem I had not foreseen or been prepared for. However… I believe there might be a solution.”
Seteth looked surprised and shocked.
“Is… that so? And what might this solution be?”
“Truly, this all is happening as if prophesied, for seven nights from this one, Sirius will shine the brightest, its glow reaching the throne in the Holy Tomb. I am hoping to enact a ritual that might help balance this dissonance of two souls sharing one form.”
“Pardon, but… a-are you saying that both the Allmother and your… paramour would inhabit a single vessel?”
“Yes.”
Flayn blinked, utterly perplexed, and glanced at her father, who appeared equally unsettled.
“But would it not be—” she began, then hesitated, finding the word disturbing too crude. “—um, somewhat selcouth, to have them share the same likeness?”
“I do not see a problem with it”, Rhea simply answered. “As it is, it cannot be helped that Professor Byleth’s body is the only body that has ever manifested the conscience of Sothis, and if possible, I would prefer to keep them both.”
“I would assume there is a high chance the progenitor god will completely take over her new… vessel”, Seteth mused.
Rhea nodded, a flash of sadness crossing her face.
“It is entirely possible, but if it is the will of the Goddess, I will embrace it. The restoration of Sothis takes precedence over all else. I am sure Professor Byleth would understand and agree.”
Much later in the night, Flayn was still staring at the ceiling of her room, lying on her bed fully clothed and not able to silence the cacophony in her head now that she was alone with her thoughts. Despite the slew of unpleasant things to choose from, there was one thought specifically that she kept coming back to, not giving her rest.
After all the dreadful accounts Aunt Rhea did so calmly recount… the only matter grievous enough to stir Father to speech was the notion of two women united thus. At the very least… I now know where his heart lies in regard to such affections.
Flayn sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. Without bothering to change into her nightgown, she rolled over onto her side and hugged her pillow as tightly as she could.
Byleth looked at her students, all gathered in the Black Eagle classroom.
“I want to begin by sincerely thanking all of you for helping me bring down the individuals responsible for not only the death of my father, but the deaths of countless innocent people. I'm proud of you. But I also want to... apologize to you. My father was the most important person in my life. He has always been there for me, as long as I can remember, and losing him made me lose sight of everything. I should've been a better example for you, even in my time of grief.
“For setting me straight, I'd like to extend a special thank you to Edelgard. Time and time again, you have shown exceptional leadership and determination, ever unfazed regardless of the hardships along the way. Please know that I am honored to be a part of the Black Eagle House, working with such talented and dedicated individuals and a house leader.”
"Thank you, my teacher. Such praise," Edelgard said bashfully, a hint of blush on her face. “However, even I am not an island. It is thanks to the capable—”, she glanced at Flayn, “—exceptional people around me that help me thrive.”
The unexpected acknowledgement made Flayn feel all warm inside. Perhaps they could still salvage their friendship, at least, even if there could be nothing more.
“Well said”, Byleth agreed and smiled. “Before we move on to matters regarding the next classes and weapons training, there was one other thing. At the end of the week, we’re all invited to the Holy Tomb for a very special ceremony.”
Flayn noticed Edelgard visibly react to this information.
“E-excuse me, did you say… the Holy Tomb?”
“Yes, that’s correct. How so?”
“I, um, I am just astounded that we would be allowed into such a sacred place that is notoriously sealed off even from most members of the clergy.”
“Lady Rhea believes that my strange condition may be of a mystical nature. A... sign from the Goddess. She said that Saint Seiros once received a divine revelation in this very tomb, and that she, too, had her loyal warriors by her side when it happened, so this would be a reenactment of a very ancient ritual. I’m not so sure as to what to think about the cause of… all this, myself, but I am still glad that I get to share that special occasion with you.”
“Yes… It is an honor.”
Flayn found it curious that Edelgard, of all people, would be so excited at the prospect of being invited to a religious site, but it was true enough that many people, regardless of the depth of their faith, were apparently intrigued by the mystique associated with the place few had ever seen. Though… perhaps excitement wasn’t exactly the word she would use to describe the young woman right now. If anything, she looked apprehensive.
“So. We will discuss the details of that later, but now on to the subject of the day, which is..." Byleth flipped through her notes, "...the use of ambush tactics in large-scale battles. Before I continue, can anyone name some of the most famous ambushes? Edelgard, why not go first?”
Flayn was studying in her room later that evening, writing notes with her elaborate handwriting, when she heard a knock at the door.
I wonder who that might be?
She got up from her desk and opened the door, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Edelgard standing in front of her.
“Your Highness?”
“Flayn… I…”
“Is something the matter?” she asked, worried. “Please, come inside.”
Edelgard looked hesitant, then finally stepped into the room, casting a quick, darting glance around the small space.
“Pray, what brings you here? This is rather unexpected, as we have not… truly spoken at length since… Uhm, since that moment.”
Edelgard swallowed.
“R-right. I was just… There is… something I must do, and… I was wondering… if…”
Flayn drew a breath, the weight of her guilt palpable.
“Please, before you say more, I must beg your forgiveness. I am deeply, deeply sorry. I ought not to have… I should have known better, exercised greater restraint—”
Without so much as another word, Edelgard stepped forward, cupped Flayn’s cheek, and kissed her. Not a hesitant brush, nor a trembling apology—but a kiss full of heat and intention, as though trying to desperately seize something fleeting. Flayn froze, but only for a moment before her eyes fluttered shut and she surrendered to the moment, returning the kiss with equal passion.
She whimpered blissfully as Edelgard held her tighter and the kiss deepened, a strong hand gripping her slim waist tenderly. Instinctively, Flayn pressed herself closer to Edelgard, her arms around the taller woman’s neck. How intimate and exciting the new, wonderful sensations felt, and this time, there was no one to interrupt them.
Eventually, they had to pull apart for air, but they were still holding each other. Edelgard stroked her hair gently, and everything felt so wonderful. Flayn smiled and opened her eyes, only then noticing that the other woman's eyes were shimmering with unshed tears.
“Lady Edelgard?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. She shook her head and sniffled, then quickly left the room, and Flayn could only wonder what had just happened.
Flayn had hoped to catch Edelgard before the lecture and have a talk with her, but there was no sign of her.
Could it be that she is running late? How very unlike her. And given that Hubert, too, is nowhere to be seen... Most curious indeed.
After the lecture, Flayn lingered until the others had left the classroom, then approached Byleth, who was still scribbling some notes.
“Excuse me, but might you perchance know where Lady Edelgard has gone?”
The woman turned to look at her with her light teal eyes and tilted her head ever so slightly.
“I have to say that I’m surprised you ask. I’d have thought that if anyone knows, it would be you.”
Flayn felt deflated.
“I see.”
Byleth looked at her thoughtfully.
"She didn't say where she and Hubert were going, but she did say that they would be back for the ceremony at the Holy Tomb. Given the number of days of leave she so suddenly requested, I suspect she may have received some urgent news from Enbarr. After all, it’s no secret that Ionius IX's health has been in decline for some time."
“Yes… You may be correct. She did come to see me last eve, and…” Flayn felt her cheeks flush, unable not to briefly visit the fervent kiss they had shared. “A-and, er, she appeared rather perturbed about something. In any event, I dearly hope it is naught of grave concern.”
“I hope so, too.”
It was the day of the ceremony, and still there was no sign of Edelgard.
Flayn felt anxious. She had hoped that the Adrestian princess would be with them in the Holy Tomb—that her unwavering presence would somehow make everything better and calm her nerves, as she had no idea what this mysterious ritual of Rhea's actually consisted of, or what she expected to happen. She had considered telling Byleth about the conversation with her aunt and father several times, but the truth was that she was afraid to go against Rhea. How would she even begin to tell the professor about all… that? Where would she begin?
As she was walking to where they had all agreed to meet before proceeding to the Holy Tomb together, she saw someone wearing Adrestian colors approaching her. Judging by his light, comfortable armor suitable for long travels and the weather-beaten leather bag he carried, he was a messenger.
“Excuse me, but you must be Lady Flayn; is that correct?” the young man asked.
“Yes, though… Might I inquire whether this is a matter of urgency? I am soon expected elsewhere.”
“I'm afraid this cannot wait, for I bring important news from Emperor Edelgard herself. She would like to have a word with you, privately, before attending the ceremony. She requests your presence in her room.”
E-emperor? Goodness gracious! Then… the Professor did indeed guess aright, and that must mean…
“I shall make my way there without delay.”
Flayn hurried to the main building and took the stairs to the corridor where Edelgard's quarters were. Noticing that the door was ajar, she entered the room, her heart pounding with the thought of seeing her again, wondering feverishly what the newly minted Emperor would have to say to her.
To her disappointment, there was no one in the room, however. Perhaps Edelgard was still on her way there?
Nervously, Flayn glanced around the space as she waited, noticing the painting equipment again. The easel in the corner was haphazardly covered, supporting a canvas stretched over a wooden frame.
She bit her lower lip lightly as she approached it.
Perhaps… just a peek?
She pushed the cover aside a little at first. Then her breath caught in her throat, and she promptly pulled the piece of cloth off completely.
Oh dear Goddess…
It was her. But not. Wings rose from her back like a heron’s, vast and pure-white, each feather tipped with soft light, creating a stark contrast against the stormy, smoky background. She floated above a broken landscape, destroyed religious symbols ablaze beneath her, and a bloody, gauntleted hand in the foreground reaching for her in vain.
It was lavishly detailed and painted with rich colors, and it was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Feather-lightly, her fingers traced the wings in the painting. Was it just a coincidence, or—
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her. Flayn gasped and whipped around, but no one else had entered the room. Instead, she heard a click and retreating footsteps, and realized she had been locked inside.
“No, no no no!”
She dashed at the door and attempted to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.
"What is the meaning of this? Please, let me out!" she cried, pounding the heavy door with her fist, dread welling up within her. The timing was as bad as it could have been—at this time of day, the dormitories were empty of both other students and guards, and the heavy structures of the main building effectively drowned out noise.
“N-no…”
She felt so frustrated and distressed that she wanted to cry, but she stubbornly fought against her tears.
“Do not dare to weep now, like some pitiable whelp”, Flayn muttered through clenched teeth. "Compose yourself.”
She took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.
Just focus. Focus.
She continued taking deep, calming breaths.
A moment passed, and then she heard a faint scratching sound. She turned her attention toward the door, noticing the envelope that had been slipped inside the room beneath it.
Flayn got off the bed and picked it up. With shaking hands, she turned it around, immediately recognizing the wax seal. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a while. Carefully, she opened the envelope and pulled the letter out.
She stared and stared at it until it finally fell from her trembling hands to the floor. Feeling dizzy and nauseous, she staggered backwards until she hit the frame of the bed and grabbed the bedpost to steady herself.
D-deep breaths, Flayn. Calm down. Deep… breaths…
There was a swirling chaos in her head, but she forced herself to focus on the one clear thought, barely afloat above the suffocating despair she felt.
I must get out of here. At once.
Chapter 9: This Path, Part 1 & Part 2
Summary:
Do you dare to walk it?
Notes:
I apologize that it took some time to offer an update on the story, but I do offer you double the usual content! The rest of the chapters may take a little longer than usual to post, as well, just so that you know.
Oh, and apparently, some subbers didn’t receive email notifications the last time around, so if you missed the last chapter completely, it's best to start with that one. :D
Chapter Text
Dear Flayn,
If you are reading this, then I have failed to find the courage or the time to speak with you directly. For that, I offer you my sincerest apologies. You deserve honesty from me, and yet I leave you with only these words in my stead.
So much has happened since I arrived at Garreg Mach. Not that my life would have been exactly uneventful before that, although much of it is stained by darkness, as you already know. You’ve seen parts of my past—enough to glimpse the shape of what drives me. I do not write now to lament it. There is no merit in self-pity. There is only what must be done.
Still, one moment remains seared in my mind—the day you saved my life. I should have died then. And yet, I did not. The pain was not in the dying, but in the realization that even I, with all my preparation and conviction, could fall prey to the world’s chaos. My ideals, everything I have built my future upon… only to have my flame snuffed out by a mere bandit. It was humbling, to say the least.
I live because of you, and I remain grateful beyond measure. But that life you returned to me—I've had no choice but to dedicate it wholly to my cause. I am the last of my line, and the weight of the Empire now rests entirely upon my shoulders.
You know I oppose the Crest system. Its foundation—the very structure that keeps it in place—is inseparable from the Church of Seiros. An institution unwilling to question its dogma, to amend the injustices it perpetuates. To ignore this is to condone it.
Upon ascending the throne, I received knowledge passed down since the days of Wilhelm I. Among that knowledge were truths about the saints and Rhea… and by implication, about you. You really are a descendant of Saint Cethleann, are you not? I suspected—perhaps even knew. I will not lie and claim it caused me no hesitation. Yet I cannot afford hesitation.
As you read this, I am preparing to confront Archbishop Rhea in the Holy Tomb. My goal is to compel her surrender. Ideally, it will be bloodless. But should it come to battle, I am prepared. I must be.
I know that you cannot forgive me for this—that you may hate me for this. Perhaps you already do. But I could not bear the thought of you being caught in what must come next. That is why I’ve kept you away—for your safety, and to shield you from a choice no one should be forced to make.
Just know that whether you are human, or something more... it changes nothing. Not to me. You have never been anything but kind. Compassionate. Human, in all the ways that matter.
And… Sorry.
I am so very sorry.
With all my resolve,
Edelgard von Hresvelg, Emperor of Adrestia
Be calm... Be calm. Think!
Flayn walked around the room nervously, trying to come up with anything at all she could use to break herself out, as it became clear that shouting at the door and pounding on it only helped her situation so much while she was trapped along the empty corridor.
These are Lady Edelgard’s quarters. Think. What might she—
She suddenly remembered that the young human had once shamefully admitted that her night terrors and insomnia also caused her paranoia, and that she always slept with a weapon handy because it made her feel safer. Quickly, Flayn began inspecting the bed, and her eyes widened as her hands actually found something under the pillow.
A sheathed dagger.
Feeling more confident, now that she had at least some kind of a tool at hand, she went back to the door.
Perhaps it could be used to pry the lock open?
As she soon noticed, however, the blade was too wide to fit properly into the keyhole. After fumbling with the tip of the weapon long enough with no luck and accidentally cutting herself on her finger, she threw the dagger away, frustrated, and slumped onto the floor next to the bed.
Then she huffed, annoyed with herself. She would get out of this room, one way or another. Maybe… maybe she could use the dagger to—
As she leaned her weight on her arm, about to get up from the floor, her fingers brushed against something peeking from under the bed. She pushed her hand further and wrapped her fingers around something that was surprisingly heavy to drag out.
What in the name of the—
It was a battleaxe. Never mind the dagger under the pillow; Edelgard von Hresvelg had a whole battleaxe hidden under her bed.
With renewed determination, Flayn approached the door, the weapon clenched tightly in her hands. She filled her lungs with air and swung, the axe biting lightly into the door, but only leaving a small dent behind. She would need more force behind her blows.
Not giving up, she continued to attack the wooden obstacle between her and her freedom. She soon realized that she shouldn't spend her energy blindly hacking at the center of the sturdy oak door, but rather choose a weak point—either the lock or the hinges.
She chose the latter.
If it hadn't been obvious before, it was now painfully clear that Edelgard's muscles weren't just for show. What was a weapon of mass destruction in the hands of the athletic, twin-Crested young woman could barely crack a dormitory door in hers.
Finally, the first hinge broke. By the time the second did, she was drenched in sweat and her hands and arms ached, barely able to lift the heavy weapon anymore. She used the axe to lever the door, still attached to the frame by the lock, until the gap was large enough for her to fit through.
Her first instinct was to call for help. After all, Edelgard had chosen this moment because she knew Rhea was without her knights and bodyguards. Then she considered again. Adding the knights, Catherine, and Shamir into it all would likely make the situation even more volatile, and it wasn’t as if Rhea weren’t deadly all by herself. Then there was Byleth, who was somewhat of a wildcard with ties to both Edelgard and Rhea, with the additional consciousness inside her adding an extra layer of unpredictability.
No... I ought to go alone. Perhaps I might succeed in reasoning with them.
She wasn't sure what she could actually do to stop any of the immensely powerful women, but it didn't matter. All she knew was that she had to get into the Holy Tomb as soon as possible.
Since her own room wasn’t far, Flayn made a quick detour through it to fetch her mother’s Caduceus Staff, which they had retrieved from the Rhodos Coast. She had wanted to hold onto it rather than have it stashed away in the treasury, and her father had let her keep it. Until now, it hadn’t seen any use, and of course, Flayn hoped it still wouldn’t need to be used for anything. Still, she felt better having it with her, hoping her mother’s spirit would protect and guide her in whatever she was walking into.
When she finally arrived at her destination through the concealed entrance, she could hardly believe her eyes. Nothing outside the Holy Tomb indicated that enemy troops had invaded Garreg Mach. Where had they all come from? Agarthans had their strange teleportation magic, but if these were Edelgard’s troops…
No. Wait.
She quietly edged closer to the scene opening up below her, trying to discern what was happening.
The enemy soldiers didn’t bear any insignia, but they were heavily armed. Flayn noticed the caskets holding her people’s Crest Stones had been opened and looted, but the invaders were currently standing still on the other side of the room, their arms raised—on the other side stood the Black Eagles, their weapons drawn.
At the very least, it appears no one has come to harm...
She noticed Byleth sitting on the throne, unsure of what was happening with her. She seemed to be tethered to it with wisps of green pulsing around her, only barely conscious. Her father hovered near her, a look of worry on his face. Rhea was standing in the middle of it all, proud and tall. Then she moved, revealing someone who was on the ground on their knees, and Flayn’s hand flew to her mouth in shock.
The Flame Emperor!
At the same time, an uncomfortable realization hit her.
The Flame… Emperor.
She swallowed. Something he had said to her in Remire—after swooping in to defend her with an axe and shield—made a whole lot more sense now.
“I wish you no harm, but that sentiment alone does not make me your friend. There may even come a time when you wish I had never walked out of their experiments alive. I wish it did not have to be so, but I cannot afford straying from my path now.”
Now that she thought about it, it… sounded a lot like a certain letter she had just read.
“Now then, let us see the face of the vile heretic who would dare defile this holy place with their unworthy presence before I remove the head from their shoulders”, she then heard Rhea’s voice cut coldly and clearly through the vast space of the tomb, her serpentine sword pressed against the throat of the Flame Emperor as she pulled their helmet off.
The Black Eagles gasped audibly. Rhea seemed shocked as well. Flayn could only bite back tears.
“Edelgard?” Rhea’s utter confusion contorted to anger. “To think that a descendant of House Hresvelg would dare betray the holy church…”
Flayn could barely hear her aunt over the noise in her head, as everything she had learned over the past few months blended and collided together, and still, she was left with more questions than she had before the revelation of the Flame Emperor’s true identity.
“...you are a danger to all of Fódlan. Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to keep beating…”
In Remire, Flayn had asked him… her, why she would serve the people who had tortured her.
”Because I have no choice.”
“Each of us has been granted the freedom to choose.”
“No. We have not.”
But Flayn had seen inside Edelgard when she had been at her most vulnerable, all her last remaining strength desperately attempting to keep her spirit from deserting her dying body. While Flayn couldn’t peer into anything specific as she mended those severed ties, one thing was certain—there wasn’t a speck of darkness inside the human. Not… that kind of darkness, at least.
“...I will execute you myself.”
Look into your heart, Flayn. Think of everything Edelgard has ever said and done... All of the Black Eagles have always believed in her. Even Dorothea, who bears such disdain for the nobility, holds her in esteem.
The words of the woman’s Flame Emperor persona echoed in her head.
“I may be working with Solon, but our objectives are not the same. Had I known they planned to do this, I would have stopped it. You have my word.”
Rhea lifted her sword, her green eyes darkening.
“You… are a disgrace to your bloodline.”
If Lady Edelgard is truly collaborating with… them… after everything they have done to her and her family, her mind still unbroken…
Edelgard looked Rhea defiantly in the eye, her chin raised proudly as the Archbishop was about to bring her sword down.
…Then she has to have her reasons.
Rhea’s sword swished through the air, and a surprised murmur echoed through the tomb.
Edelgard gasped, her face pale as she glanced at Flayn, a bewildered look in her lilac eyes as she tried to comprehend that the young Nabatean’s Rescue had brought her to safety at the very last moment.
“F-Flayn?” Her father’s wavering voice carried through the space. “P-please, Flayn, w-what are you—”
“Of all people, now even you would have the gall to turn against… Is this why you were absent? To scheme behind my back with this… treacherous girl? Explain yourself! At once ”, Rhea seethed.
Flayn swallowed thickly. Edelgard’s troops had lifted their weapons again, but the confident woman, already recovered, motioned them to be at ease.
"I beg of you, Aunt Rhea, Father, Lady Edelgard—pray, heed my words. This path need not end in bloodshed."
“Does it not? Truly?” Rhea sneered. “Then why is she here, defiling this most holy place with her henchmen armed to the teeth? Raiding the Crest Stones? She does not even know what they are!”
"Please, Rhea. You were prepared to execute her with your own hand, without a judge or jury. Can you truly claim the moral high ground?"
The Archbishop’s eyes flashed, and she scoffed.
“What is she to you? Have you turned your back on your own kin for a pitiful human?”
“I do not care what you think of me, I only ask you to consider what she has to say.”
“The audacity! I will not negotiate with thieves! Have you no respect at all? So easily seduced by that—”
“Lady Edelgard does not yet understand the true nature of those stones”, Flayn interrupted her tirade. “But she will return them to their rightful rest, once all is resolved. Will you not?” She turned to the woman beside her, her gaze imploring. Edelgard gave a nod—tentative, yet resolute—then looked at Rhea.
“Fine. I’ll return each and every one of those stones, should we come to an agreement. But are you willing to listen, Lady Rhea?”
“Oh, I am most eager to learn what compels you to consider yourself entitled to such insolence, which you have seen fit to bestow upon me thus far, you impudent Hresvelg girl. Not that I would not already know what this is all about, no matter how you decorate it. It is always about power.”
“You’re not wrong, Lady Rhea. It is always about power”, Edelgard admitted. “However, I do not seek power for myself or the aristocracy, but for the common people of Fódlan.”
Rhea looked at her suspiciously, clearly not having expected such an answer.
“And what might you mean by that?”
“The caste system defines people’s worth in a way that forces those not bearing Crests into roles of servitude and reduces women to breeding mares. The entire idea of these so-called sacred bloodlines is a relic of the past, left untouched since its invention a thousand years back because the Church of Seiros has deemed itself above critique, refusing to embrace the changing times and values of modern Fódlan.”
“Speak plainly. You came here with armed forces. What do you want if not to make an enemy of Goddess herself?”
“I am not here to make an enemy of the faith. But the Church? That is entirely in your hands”, Edelgard said gravely, her brow scrunched, and she took a step forward. “For Flayn’s sake, and for the sake of everyone who finds comfort in the Goddess, I am willing to negotiate with you and offer the Church of Seiros a secure place in the free Fódlan I have envisioned, but only on two conditions. First, the Crest system needs to be dismantled. Second, the Church will be demilitarized and removed from direct political power; however, in exchange, it will be under the protection of the Adrestian Empire and have a seat in the Imperial Council, ensuring its voice remains heard. These are my terms.”
“Dismantled? Demilitarized?” Rhea huffed. “Preposterous!”
“Protected. Heard”, Flayn emphasized with gentle conviction, her eyes pleading as they met her aunt’s. “Please, Rhea, I implore you—what is so grievous in that which Emperor Edelgard proposes? Why should it be deemed so dreadful? The Church would remain, would it not? And the faithful would yet retain every means by which to venerate the Goddess.”
“Emperor? Is that so?” The Archbishop turned to look at the human standing next to her, her eyes narrowed. “And where was the church official to bestow the blessing of the Saints on your crowning? As far as the Church of Seiros is concerned, you are nothing but a—”
Flayn's heart pounded and her hands shook as she took a deep breath and spoke in a clear, loud voice, cutting her aunt off.
“I, Saint Cethleann, do hereby bestow my blessing upon her. Before the eyes of those who came before, and those yet to be born, I offer this sacred benediction. Long live Edelgard von Hresvelg—Flame of the Empire, rightful Emperor of Adrestia. May your reign be long, just, and resplendent in prosperity.”
In so many ways... this was it. She could see it in Rhea's cold eyes, and in the deep lines on her father's face, but also in the approving little grin on Linhardt's lips, and the smile and nod Dorothea gave her. Most importantly, she could feel it in the surprised but accepting and protective presence of the Adrestian Emperor beside her, and it calmed and anchored her.
This was something she hadn’t prepared for, something that would have consequences. She and Edelgard had so much to discuss. But regrets?
None she couldn’t live with.
She saw the initial shock slowly disappear from her father’s face as he cast an imploring glance at Rhea.
“What… Her Majesty suggests... is not entirely unreasonable”, he allowed cautiously. Defeatedly. Despite her resolve, Flayn couldn't help but feel it sting.
Forgive me, Father.
Rhea was quiet for a long while, digesting all that she had learned.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath until she finally shook her head gently and sighed, her features softening as she looked at the two women standing fearlessly before the Imperial troops.
“I see. I—”
An agonized scream cut through the tomb, and everyone’s attention turned to Byleth, who had risen from the throne of stone, now leaning heavily onto it, angry wisps of green crackling around her. She breathed raggedly and let go of the throne, taking a few staggering steps forward.
“Professor! Is everything alright?” Rhea asked worriedly, but the woman didn’t answer. One step at a time, she descended the stairs from the throne, her messy, light teal hair hanging over her face, obscuring it. She was grunting with discomfort, her movements sluggish and stiff.
“Byleth?” Rhea asked more softly, then almost reverently, hopefully: “Sothis…?”
“T - T r a i t o r s . . .”
Flayn felt her blood run cold in her veins as the woman had finally descended the stairs and straightened her posture, her green eyes shining with a harsh, inhuman light.
“How low you all have stooped… in my absence. Even you… Benevolent One. Can you not… smell their stench on her? There shall be… no negotiations with… traitors.”
“Please, I beg you, it is not so simple as it appears! There is more to—”
“SILENCE, WHELP!”
The Creator Sword whipped out faster than anyone could react, its outstretched blade tearing a deep gash in the expanse of stone floor between them, the tip of the sword landing inches from Flayn's feet.
“I will… not rest… until… the world order has been… restor—”
Byleth howled again in agony and staggered, the green mist flickering around her. She dropped to all fours on the stone floor, as if suddenly drained of all energy.
She grunted, sweat running down her pale face, and spared Flayn and Edelgard a pained, desperate glance.
“P-please… R-run…”
“We will have to retreat!” Edelgard ordered her troops quickly with her firm, commanding voice. “Mages, move us out!”
“Wait!”
Dorothea ran to them.
“I’ll come with you!”
“Oh no, you’re not leaving me out of this—I’ll come, too!” Caspar yelled and joined them, followed by the rest of the Black Eagles.
Edelgard smiled, then looked Flayn in the eye, serious and concerned as she spoke in a quiet voice.
“Are you sure about this?”
She couldn’t even say anything, too emotional after everything that had just happened, merely nodding vehemently and briefly grabbing Edelgard’s gauntleted hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.
She looked at her father, now standing next to Rhea and Byleth, and he looked back at her, face unreadable, while the Archbishop’s threatening words echoed clearly in the tomb.
“You will be sorry for betraying me. Do not expect mercy or forgiveness from me, you ungrateful child.”
She saw Byleth rise from the floor, enveloped in green mist once again. She grabbed her sword with cold determination at the same time as Rhea—much to the shock of the Imperial forces—turned into her true form.
“You are not going anywhere!” she bellowed and spat a beam of dragonfire at them, but Flayn managed to project a shield in front of the troops at the last moment. It was destroyed the instant the death beam made contact with it, but before the Immaculate One managed to attack again, the spell took them away.
Flayn was sitting at the edge of her cot in the provisional camp they had been teleported to, deep in her thoughts. They had barely escaped, and while she preferred to be unharmed, she couldn’t help feeling conflicted that it was all thanks to Agarthan magic. A group of their mages was staying in the camp together with the Imperial soldiers. Flayn had seen the looks they had sent her way, and they made her skin crawl.
Even if she could understand the shock of the soldiers who had been in the Holy Tomb, it also felt uncomfortable listening to them speak of monsters and beasts when it came to Rhea’s transformation, as if her people were mere animals or some kind of unnatural, hideous creatures. She could still remember the time when there had been so many of them, all with their own unique true forms. How beautiful her mother had been—how Flayn had wished so dearly that she could one day take a form even half that gorgeous, but… perhaps it was better the way it was, in this new world.
Her ear twitched at a tiny sound, and she sensed a familiar presence enter the small room.
“Hey”, Edelgard said to her softly. “How are you holding up?”
Flayn pondered the question for a while.
“I would be lying if I claimed not to harbor some doubts about the decision I have made. Yet… it is chiefly because of the company you keep. Were I unaware of your history with them, I dare say I would not be here now.”
Edelgard hummed.
“I believe we are long overdue for… a talk.” She looked over her shoulder. “But not here. Please, come.”
They entered a space Edelgard referred to as the war room, the most secure place in the camp.
“Hubert has meticulously ensured that no information discussed within this room reaches unwelcome ears. We have utilized this space even prior to our arrival at Garreg Mach.”
Flayn looked around the room, unable to quite shake her dejected mood.
“So this is where you have been—quietly devising a means to oppose Aunt Rhea and seize control of the monastery all along.”
Edelgard sighed.
“There is no point in denying it, I suppose.”
She gazed carefully at Flayn.
“Why did you come to the Holy Tomb? Why did you choose to help me? I never asked you to. I would have understood.”
Flayn looked the Emperor in the eye.
“Because you are a good person. For all your methods, it is clear you hold great concern—for the people, for this world. To you, power is but a means to uplift those bereft of it. That is… exceedingly admirable.”
She was silent for a moment.
“As difficult as it is to admit, it has become increasingly clear to me that… Aunt Rhea is not of as sound a mind as I once believed. Her relentless pursuit to reclaim what was lost has wholly consumed her, and… all else appears but a secondary concern.”
“What has Rhea done to Professor Byleth?” Edelgard asked quietly.
“It is a tale that begins long before the Professor’s birth. I fear I must begin at the very beginning… from the moment Nemesis slayed the Allmother, Sothis herself, and bade the Sword of the Creator be wrought from her very bones.”
Edelgard’s lilac eyes widened.
“The Goddess is… dead? And… and the sword… P-please, Flayn... If you’d be willing to speak of it, I’d very much like to know.”
“About… what, exactly?”
“About everything.”
And so Flayn shared everything she knew with the human she trusted. The truth about Nemesis, the Ten Elites, the relic weapons, the Crests, and the Crest Stones. If Edelgard was set on walking the path she had chosen, she might as well walk it with full knowledge, or at least with as much as Flayn knew, since she had little idea what had happened while she was recovering.
“And so, the conscience of the progenitor god stirs at long last, just as Aunt Rhea so dearly wished—even if it came at the cost of the Professor’s own self. And… I fear she has returned to us not quite as she once was.”
Edelgard closed her eyes and shook her head.
“So they were lovers. Despite their odd… blood relation. How can Rhea… Ugh. How… utterly vile. And now we are to challenge the Goddess herself, bound in our dear Professor’s flesh. Could we not… separate them, somehow?”
“Given that the stone was set within her chest because her own heart was too frail to sustain her life… I cannot say. Yet when it comes to confronting the progenitor god… You alone possess the power. You bear her Crest, and her sacred blood flows through your very veins.”
”But you are one of their people. You say Rhea has immense powers when she turns into the Immaculate One. I heard you being called… the Benevolent One. Does that mean you can… shapeshift too?”
Flayn shook her head.
“My father said he lost the ability long since, and I have never been able to. Uncles Macuil and Indech… they are the opposite, unable to turn into their human forms anymore.” A sudden dread washed over her. “N-now that you know about them… about us…”
Edelgard placed her hands gently on Flayn’s shoulders.
“I have nothing against your people only because they’re different from mine. I have no reason to hunt anyone who simply wishes to live their lives in peace. As for Rhea, my intention is still to force her to surrender, if possible, but…” She sighed. “We’ll see. And then there is your father, of course.”
“Yes… I would like to believe that he does not share Rhea’s views, yet… it is most difficult to discern his true thoughts. Since Mother passed, he has grown increasingly withdrawn, emotionally speaking. I must confess… I already dread the moment of our next encounter. How deeply disappointed in me he must surely be. What if… he chooses to engage in battle? W-what if—”
Edelgard tightened her hold on her shoulders, looking her intently in the eye.
“The time has come for you to forge your own path, but that doesn’t mean it has to go over his grave. There is still much we don’t know, but we’ll have to proceed with our best judgment. My offer still stands, however. You can still go back. Perhaps… you could try to convince your father that you both should go into hiding until this is all over, and—”
“Then, pray allow me to ask you something, Lady Edelgard”, Flayn interjected at once. “And I would ask that you answer me with utmost honesty. Would you prefer that I remain by your side… or that I depart?”
Edelgard looked surprised, then something pained crept into her expression.
“I… have no right to affect that kind of a decision.”
“Please… I beg of you—do me the courtesy of an answer.”
The taller woman looked deep into her eyes, then brought her other hand carefully to her face, brushing her thumb over her cheekbone, then lightly caressing her hair.
“If I could choose… if I didn’t have to worry about anything else… I would never have you leave my side.”
“Then there is my answer”, Flayn said softly. How pleasant Edelgard’s tender touch felt.
“I have to… confess something.”
“What is it you wish to say?”
“The night I woke up in the infirmary… I was surprised to find your hand in mine, but it felt so… comforting, that I just kept selfishly holding onto it.”
"Ah, yes. You were beset by night terrors, and I endeavored to soothe you. Even in unconsciousness, you would not relinquish my hand, so I remained at your side. I did not mind in the slightest—not then, nor now. Is… that the matter you wished to confess?"
“No.” Her hand moved slightly, gently stroking her hair where it covered her ear. “Your hair was a little… disheveled while you were sleeping, and… I reached out to touch it and smooth it out without thinking. I thought I felt something a little curious… peeking through.”
“O-oh.”
The woman gave her a warm, wistful smile.
“I wish you didn’t need to hide them.”
Flayn didn’t know what to say, feeling her heart flutter and warmth spread across her cheeks, while Edelgard chuckled softly.
“I can hardly believe I am standing in front of someone who has actually seen Adrestia being founded, who has fought alongside Great Emperor Wilhelm..." Her expression turned more serious. “You’ve been fighting for so long already… lost so much. If only I could spare you from more bloodshed.
A question that had been bothering Flayn since she arrived at the Holy Tomb, learning of Edelgard’s alter ego, could no longer be ignored.
“I am willing to fight, provided the cause be righteous. But tell me… what of the Agarthans?”
“We are allies only by necessity, each using the other to advance our own ends—and we both know that. We become threats to each other the moment our mutual goal is accomplished, and a contest of elimination will begin. That, too, we both know. But make no mistake… Thales will answer for every atrocity he’s committed.” Edelgard's voice dropped, her expression darkening as a shadow passed over her features.
Flayn nodded, then chewed on her lower lip.
“And… us?”
“There is no avoiding the truth of what my actions at the Holy Tomb signify. The Empire is now at war with the Church of Seiros, and there is much to prepare. All available forces will converge here within two weeks. If all proceeds as planned, we can seize Garreg Mach with a single, decisive strike. Of course, war rarely adheres to our designs, and… I suspect you understand that all too well. I apologize in advance if… I sometimes struggle to fully understand that you have been here since before the War of Heroes.”
“War... War remains ever unchanging, does it not?” Flayn said quietly, and Edelgard nodded.
“I suppose it will always be what it is. All the more reason to carefully prepare ourselves. There can be no hesitation. No distractions, not until our victory is certain,” she murmured, taking Flayn’s hands in hers. “And yet… I would be lying if I said your presence by my side brings me no comfort. On the contrary, it compels me to strive—to become someone worthy of your regard. A leader deserving of your kindness.”
She paused, voice softening.
“When this is all over… I would like to spend what time my duties allow with you. If… suggesting something like that is not too presumptuous of me.”
Flayn couldn’t help smiling at the adorably blushing human in front of her.
“It is not presumptuous at all, Lady Edelgard.”
“And… Flayn? When it’s just the two of us… It would make me happy if you called me El.”
“‘El’? What a charmingly endearing sobriquet. I shall endeavor to remember it.”
They smiled at each other and finally let go of each other’s hands as Hubert announced his presence.
It was time to begin planning for something she could have never in her life anticipated she would be part of—something even the thought of felt like a wild fever dream.
Taking over the Garreg Mach Monastery.
The coming days were full of organizing and training. Flayn was in charge of the white magic users along with Linhardt, who had, of course, been more than enthusiastic about the revelation of Flayn’s true identity. Lysithea had even appeared a little jealous of Linhardt’s interest in her, and it didn’t exactly help when the young Crest researcher pondered aloud what kind of qualities his and Flayn’s theoretical offspring might possess.
”Should I assume, then, that this is your usual friendly talk with women? Imagining what kind of babies you would have with them?”
”Come now, Lysithea; would you not be interested in knowing what—”
”No.”
”Well. In any case, this is all purely hypothetical, especially considering who Flayn is involved with.” His expression brightened. “Though, should Edelgard revise the Marriage Act and an heir be required, kindly consider my candidacy.”
“Linhardt!” Flayn gasped, her cheeks flushed crimson as Lysithea raised an eyebrow at them. “We are scarcely even courting, and yet you speak of such things! Furthermore, I confided in you and Dorothea alone, and you vowed not to speak a word of this to—”
“Oh, please”, the white-haired mage snorted, rolling her eyes. “Do you think me simple? I knew that something was going on between you and Her Majesty before he even told me.”
Flayn groaned, frustrated.
”I do not even understand why the interest in these hypothetical offspring with someone who possesses the major version of the same Crest you bear.”
”You are not just any bearer, though—you are the very originator of the Crest.”
“I cannot even assume my true form as Aunt Rhea can! For all intents and purposes, I am but a human who happens to live an inordinately long life. Would it not be far more fascinating a thought what might transpire when both parents possess multiple potential Crests to pass on to their children? Or whether an implanted Crest might be inherited?”
”Oh. Hmm, now there’s a thought… Lysithea, what do you—”
Linhardt turned to face the young woman and fell silent. Lysithea looked as if she was about to explode, scowling with her face red, but instead, she simply turned sharply and walked away. Flayn was quite sure she could hear her sniffle before she disappeared.
“Was it something I said?” Linhardt asked, perplexed.
“I believe it was largely due to what I said... How utterly foolish of me. Given Lysithea’s circumstances... I fear that such a light discussion on matters she may never experience was hardly uplifting. I ought to have held my tongue—”
“I will talk to her.”
Linhardt stood up and hurried after their mage friend, and despite it all, it made Flayn smile a little.
Suddenly, she felt like she was being watched. Then she noticed an old monk lingering nearby, carefully approaching her. She recognized him as one of the late arrivals to the ranks of the healers.
“Lady Flayn. May I… speak with you?”
“Certainly. How may I help you?”
“My nephew… he was one of the soldiers invading the Holy Tomb. Not a very… pious man, that one. However, what he saw in there… affected him deeply. Changed him.”
“Indeed? Might I inquire as to what he shared with you, then?”
“He told me that the old order has turned against man, but that a new age is coming—that Saint Cethleann herself has been reborn to guide and protect us from the vengeful beasts that seek to cleanse these lands, that she has given our Emperor her divine blessing to act as her blade in her crusade. Rumor has it that she has already performed miracles, not unlike Saint Seiros in the legends of old, even bringing our Emperor back from the dead.”
Flayn winced.
“U-um, is that truly what you have heard? Oh my.”
“You need not be so modest, Lady Flayn—and I know a thing or two about self-deprecation. After all, my great-grandfather was a bishop in the Southern Church before he was exiled and the church was dissolved by the ruling Emperor of the time. When I was younger, I was deeply angry at the way he had been treated and how our family was shamed after what happened with Victoria von Hrym. I was also saddened as Adrestia kept drifting further away from the light of the Goddess, but... perhaps it was all part of the grand plan.”
“The… grand plan?”
“I will admit: it troubled my brothers, sisters, and me greatly when we first learned of Her Majesty's plans to follow the path of those before her, even going so far as to invade Garreg Mach Monastery. But I was told what she said in the Holy Tomb, and I now see what she truly means—to unite Fódlan under one church, not to take away our faith. You are the Second Coming of Saint Cethleann, the Benevolent. Why else would our Emperor see fit to challenge the Church of Seiros with you by her side, if not to destroy the old, corrupt order and bring in a new age for the faithful?”
“I—”
Flayn was unsure what to say, and went completely speechless as the old monk dropped to his knees in front of her.
“O gentle Saint Cethleann, I beseech you: grant this old man your blessing for these trying times to come.”
Flayn had seen Saint Seiros give her blessing to those who asked for it, for she was the symbol of war and strength, her touch sought by warriors who wished to destroy their enemies and live to fight again. To have someone approach her like this, though... It felt strange, since this religion was entirely Rhea's creation and had little to do with the Nabataeans' own traditions. But if it would make the old monk happy, why would she deny him this favor?
She was silent for a moment, thinking about how to reply. Then she gently touched the man’s shoulder and spoke in her ancient language:
“I, who once walked among the wounded and the weary, now bestow my blessing upon thee. May thy heart remain steadfast and thy purpose ever just. Let not despair take root, lest it compel thee to yield—my light shall guide thy path, nourish thee, and serve as thy shield.”
“Thank you, Lady Flayn”, the monk said, his voice wavering with emotion. ”Or… perhaps I should call you—”
“P-please, there is no need for that—‘Flayn’ is quite sufficient. That aside, I do not believe I have had the pleasure of learning your name?”
“It is of little importance, but… Arnulf is what they call me.”
She watched the grateful monk leave before heading to her quarters. She noticed Hubert watching her, but before she could say anything to him, he had already vanished into the shadows.
Flayn felt increasingly nervous as the walls of Garreg Mach drew closer. Despite the army marching behind her, she felt exposed and defenseless, worried about what lay ahead. Unlike the others, she had seen the mass destruction Rhea was capable of firsthand.
“Are you still sure about this?” Edelgard asked quietly. “Unlike me, you can still walk away.”
Flayn shook her head.
“No… I cannot. I chose this path too. I shall remain by your side, come what may.”
Edelgard smiled at her, and it brought her some comfort. If anyone could challenge Rhea, it was her. If only Byleth weren’t such an unpredictable and dangerous variable, but it couldn’t be helped. At least Edelgard had the most powerful Ministers on her side, and some of the most feared war heroes of Adrestia on the frontlines of the mighty army at her disposal. It had to be enough.
They had issued a demand for surrender before the attack, not because Edelgard believed Rhea would actually accept it, but to give the civilians of Garreg Mach a fair chance to evacuate. At least they didn’t need to worry about other students, as the Academy itself had been temporarily closed after the events in the Holy Tomb. The Imperial soldiers also had strict orders not to harm any remaining civilians; their main goal was to eliminate and suppress armed resistance and to force the Archbishop’s surrender.
Edelgard and Flayn, along with most of the other Black Eagles and a small support unit, were advancing straight to the main gate to lure Rhea and her elite forces on them, while the main army would attack and conquer other parts of Garreg Mach.
As expected, her Aunt couldn’t resist confronting them personally. She had Catherine, Shamir, Byleth, and Seteth by her side, along with elite knights and priests.
“Despicable rebels! Kill them all!” Rhea commanded, and the two forces engaged in battle.
There was so much happening all at once—at least Rhea stayed back for the time being, so that Edelgard, as their strongest fighter, could keep the Sothis-possessed Byleth busy. Flayn kept the two in her peripheral vision at all times, staying in Edelgard’s range while methodically supporting the others.
She noticed Dorothea had started casting. From the looks of it, she planned to cast Meteor or another spell with a bit more firepower, momentarily leaving herself exposed as she recited the complex incantation, conjuring arcane energy between her palms.
Flayn looked to her right and saw Shamir, unattended, with her bow aimed at the mage. She was standing near a small group of clerics, likely guarding them while picking out easy targets to snipe.
”Dorothea! Stop casting! Move!”
Her shout was too late. The brunette reacted too late.
The Dagdan never missed.
Flayn didn’t want to watch, but at the same time, she couldn’t look away.
Dorothea grunted with pain as the arrow made contact with her head, then continued its way as it swished by, having sliced a deep gash on her cheek. Flayn heard Shamir growl something indignantly, realizing it was Manuela who had tackled her to the ground mid-shot. The older woman said something to the Dagdan that Flayn couldn’t hear, then suddenly Catherine was there, her sword drawn.
“Adrestian traitor!” the fearsome knight boomed, and Manuela didn’t even try to escape her death sentence, appearing accepting of her fate.
Flayn held tighter onto her staff and moved a little closer, Rescuing the confused songstress right next to her, away from Rhea’s bodyguards and the reach of Thunderbrand.
“F-Flayn? B-but—”
“We shall speak later. For now, I implore you—go and assist Dorothea and the others. You do not need to die here today”, Flayn urged, and Manuela nodded, still looking shaken.
Byleth’s sword was tirelessly tearing their surroundings apart and keeping Edelgard busy, not a shred of her own personality present. Lysithea and Hubert kept the knights in check, together with the Agarthan mages, while Ferdinand, Petra, and Caspar pressured Catherine. Bernadetta winced every time she dropped an enemy cleric or Pegasus Knight, but stayed focused on her grim task, keeping an eye on the Dagdan sniper as well, limiting her actions where she could.
Flayn turned her attention to the fight against Rhea’s personal bodyguards and cast a quick heal on Ferdinand, who had just pulled one of Shamir’s arrows out of his thigh. Invigorated by this, he managed to disarm Catherine as he thrust his lance under her pauldron, impaling her shoulder and making her drop Thunderbrand. Both Petra and Caspar pounced on her that instant, wrestling the strong woman to the ground.
”You cursed… heretics!” Catherine snarled. “Is nothing sacred to you?”
Petra straddled her back determinedly and used her other hand to pin the knight’s healthy arm against the ground, and used the other to push a dagger against her throat, looking menacingly at Shamir.
“Throw away your weapons or I will be slitting her throat open like the belly of a fish.”
“Don’t do it, Shamir”, Catherine grunted. ”My life is meaningless anyway if I can't even protect Lady Rhea.”
Her partner let out a frustrated sigh, then threw away her bow and dagger. Nearly all of the Church’s forces at the main gates, apart from Rhea and Byleth, had been killed or captured.
“Congratulations, kids”, she said sourly. “Seems to me that you have w—”
Suddenly, the very ground shook as two huge golems appeared from somewhere. Unfortunately, Edelgard was still locked in a fight with Byleth, and what’s more, beginning to show signs of fatigue.
Dorothea, Manuela, Hubert, and Lysithea, with the remaining Imperial soldiers and Agarthan mages, prepared to take on the strange stone golems. Flayn had never thought she’d actually feel relieved to see the intimidating form of the Death Knight riding forth from somewhere, but now that she knew the man answered directly to Edelgard, the sight of him was a welcome one. They would still need everyone on their enormous, dangerous adversaries.
“We need to go help them”, Petra said worriedly. “But what do we do with—”
They noticed Shamir was already gone.
“Catherine cannot fight with that arm”, Flayn said. “We should just leave her and go help the others.”
Without further debate, the rest of the Eagles joined the fight against the raging golems.
Flayn was about to rush to their aid, too, when her father suddenly landed right in front of her with her wyvern. Her cleric unit stopped near her, eyeing Seteth suspiciously, Arnulf among them.
“Pray, go on ahead. I shall join you anon”, Flayn instructed the old monk, and he nodded, moving to help the fighters with the golems.
“Flayn! Please stop this madness and return home”, her father pleaded.
“Return? And to what end? You are well aware that Aunt Rhea would see me slain.”
“What? N-no. We… we both know she can be temperamental and harsh in her words, but she would not kill her own kind. She would not kill… my daughter.”
“Open your eyes, Father! All she has ever pursued is the return of Sothis, heedless of the cost! Professor Byleth was our kin as well! She cherished Aunt Rhea, and now, she has been supplanted by… by whatever malevolent entity now inhabits her form!”
“Flayn—”
“Besides, she already turned her blade against us within the Holy Tomb—have you so soon forgotten?”
“Us… As in… you and the Imperial troops.” Seteth shook his head, a helpless look in his eyes. “So you have truly aligned yourself with the Empire? Why?”
“Because… I believe in Emperor Edelgard and in the new world she seeks to create. The time for change is upon us, and I wish to be part of it.” Flayn looked at her father with pleading eyes. “Please, Father… What if—might you not come with me?”
Seteth looked shocked.
“Are you quite serious? You would ask me to turn against Rhea, after everything she has done for us?”
“And what has she truly done for us? We were merely convenient, present by happenstance. Do you see Uncle Indech or Uncle Macuil among us? They may harbor little affection for humans, yet unlike Rhea, they do not seek to rule over them either. There are but five of us who yet remain—six, should one include whatever it is that Professor Byleth has become. It is a sorrowful truth, but this world has changed. It belongs to humans now.”
Seteth narrowed his eyes.
“I wonder which humans you refer to. I was truly astonished when I observed Agarthan mages among the Imperial army. What actions has Emperor Edelgard taken to influence your beliefs, leading you to consider your current actions justified? To think that my own daughter would ally herself with the merciless demons who have slaughtered and hunted us endlessly, who transformed us into their instruments, and murdered my wife. Your mother, Flayn! Perhaps it is for the best that she is not with us anymore—at least now she does not have to witness this!” he huffed.
Flayn swallowed, biting back tears.
”H-how dare you say… s-something like that.”
“Flayn… I… I ap—”
His wyvern suddenly took flight, leaping into the air as several Imperial arrows hit the ground.
She and her father stared at each other until the pressure of the archers forced him to retreat. Flayn drew a shuddering breath, then turned around. She could grieve later—now, she needed to get back into the fight.
The other golem was still operational, but the other stood unmoving, looking macabre as its humanoid form was twisted into a blackened, burning skeleton with the mages’ fire magic.
“STAND BACK!” she heard someone shout as Lysithea’s nuke tore the still-moving golem in half. The young woman was so overexerted that she fainted straight after casting, Linhardt catching her and standing protectively next to her unconscious form while healing the others.
A mighty bellow sounded, the ground shaking as Rhea assumed the form of the Immaculate One, her sudden transformation surprising the Imperial troops who had likely forgotten all about her as they were busy surviving the enormous golems.
“RETREAT! IT’S THAT MONSTER FROM THE HOLY TOMB! IT BREATHES FIRE!”
Immediately, Rhea attacked them with her breath just as anticipated. Flayn projected a large magical shield in front of their troops, giving her everything to maintain it despite the beam of dragonfire trying to burn through it. In the Holy Tomb, she could barely keep it up for a few seconds, but this time, she wouldn’t relent. The other clerics joined her, lending her their strength as the Immaculate One’s relentless fire kept weakening the shield.
Rhea was so incomprehensibly strong. It hurt so much. It felt like her every nerve was on fire, but she stubbornly refused to give in. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Edelgard had finally gotten an opening, sending Byleth flying through the air, the possessed woman landing ungracefully on her back. She seemed to be in pain, too, screaming with agony as the green mist around her flickered.
Soon, keeping the shield up became unbearable. Flayn felt delirious with pain, black spots appearing in her vision, but she had to protect her comrades and friends. Why did it all hurt so much? She heard a strange commotion around her, as if the people around her were suddenly anxious or… confused or… terrified of something. The dragonfire finally ceased, and Flayn collapsed onto the ground, breathing hard.
She tried to focus on what was happening and saw Byleth stagger back onto her feet. The possessed woman let out another agonized scream, whipped out the blade of her sword blindly in her rage, then crashed to the ground. Rhea remained in her true form, but her attention was now solely on Byleth, and she collected her slumped form carefully in her claws before flying away.
Through her muddled thoughts, with all the sounds, smells, and images blending together, Flayn realized that the Creator Sword had gone through someone who was now lying on the ground next to her. Byleth had likely tried to kill her but missed and mortally wounded the person standing beside her.
What a horrible thought, someone dying because of her.
Blindly, she fumbled with her hand until she found a gaping wound in the chest of the poor soul, slick and slimy with blood. She pushed her hand against the pulpy hole and gritted her teeth together, willing the threads of life to come together again despite the vertigo and pain that had her whole body convulsing. She was on the verge of passing out when she felt the human next to her jerk. Hopefully, she had done enough.
She struggled to open her eyes to understand what was happening. Her blurry gaze fixed on something strange in front of her: a clawed hand covered in fine, white scales. She furrowed her brow and instinctively reached out to touch the hand, but she couldn’t because it moved at the same time as hers did.
Another spike of searing pain went right through her, and she finally passed out.
Chapter 10: No Turning Back
Summary:
Flayn wakes up to a new reality.
Notes:
My brother's family visited me and stayed longer than they initially planned, so instead of working on this chapter for Flayn's birthday, I spent time at amusement parks with my 7-year-old niece and helped her build her own park in Planet Coaster. :D Anyway, here we go again...
Also added +1 to the chapter count because I decided to split something up.
Chapter Text
Flayn opened her eyes. It was dim, and it took her a while to figure out where she was or what had happened.
She turned her head and squinted. It didn’t look like her quarters in the war camp, but it still looked somewhat familiar.
Am I at the… infirmary? In…
She drew in a sharp breath, panicked, and crashed onto the floor from the bed as she whipped around. She was wearing a short-sleeved gown, and her panic grew as she looked at her hands and arms. Her skin was covered in fine, silver-and-white scales on the outer side, and on the inner side, it seemed rather lizard-like than normal human skin. She could see the same phenomenon on her legs, now with larger, bestial feet, and all her nails had been replaced by thick claws.
Her whole body shook with the horror she was feeling, her breathing quickening. Her lower body felt strange, like there was something that shouldn’t be there, and she reached behind her with a trembling arm, finding something protruding from where her spine ended.
Flayn grabbed the bed, pulling herself up from the floor, her movements abrupt and disoriented. Frantically, she tore the gown from her body, her claws ripping the fabric in her haste to see her torso. Her front looked normal, at least, which was a small relief, but her arms and legs were all scaled. She touched her face, then remembered through her panicked haze that there was a mirror in the room. She moved toward it, feeling dizzy and nauseous in anticipation of what she would see.
Tears clouded her vision as soon as she saw her reflection. Her body was neither fully human nor Nabatean, but something in between, caught in a state of transition with her tail, claws, and scaled limbs and back. At least her face and hair seemed normal, though her features, curiously—both her face and body—looked more mature, better reflecting her age. Then she noticed the sleek horns pushing through her hair, and a wave of despair swept over her. Even if she could hide her arms and legs, she had no idea how to conceal the several-foot-long tail or the horns. It all felt like a cruel joke after the horrified cries on the battlefield about Rhea’s true form. How could she ever show herself to anyone again?
The door opened, and she stared at the person entering the room, frozen with panic.
Edelgard stared back at her, blushing as her lilac eyes roved over the naked body of the Nabatean.
Flayn couldn’t say anything at all. All she could do, even if she didn’t want to, was break down in tears, hiding her face in her hands.
She recoiled and jumped back when she felt a hand on her arm—her freaky, scaly arm—causing a table full of medical instruments to topple over, with everything on it crashing loudly to the floor as she violently pulled away. She whimpered as her back hit the wall, and she curled pitifully against it, slumping down onto the floor while she sobbed uncontrollably, her vision blurred with streaming tears.
“Flayn”, she heard Edelgard say softly, and she wanted to tell her to go away, not to look at her, not to touch her, but she couldn’t stop crying enough to form any words. Instead, she soon felt strong arms wrap around her as the young Emperor crouched and effortlessly deadlifted her. She held Flayn against her for a moment, then carried her to the infirmary bed.
The Nabatean found herself with no energy to push the human woman away and was surprised when, after Edelgard laid her on the bed, the mattress dipped with her weight as she lay down beside her. She took her clawed hand in hers without hesitation as she patiently allowed her to calm down, tenderly brushing her thumb over the scaled skin on the back of her hand.
She didn’t know how long they had been lying there before she finally felt confident enough to open her eyes, meeting Edelgard’s gentle, worried gaze.
“I'm sorry you had to wake up alone. I've done all I can to stay by your side, but ever since we… captured Garreg Mach, my presence has been required across countless fronts.”
“H-how much time has passed?”
“This is only the third day since the battle. I can’t begin to express my relief that you awakened so soon. I’ll admit I feared that… what if…” Edelgard didn’t finish the sentence, and she didn’t need to.
Carefully, Flayn interlaced their fingers, and they spent a moment in silence.
Someone knocked on the door and opened it.
“Your Majes—”
Hubert fell silent, quickly closed the door, and turned his back to the women.
“I… see you have awakened, Lady Flayn”, the man noted, admirably hiding his awkwardness and making Flayn realize she was still stark naked—a fact she had completely forgotten in Edelgard’s safe, comfortable presence. ”I will give you some privacy. We can discuss when you are… presentable.”
”Thank you, Hubert”, Edelgard said, and the man left the room.
They got out of bed, and the young Emperor pulled a priest's robe from the cabinet in the back.
”Your clothes were badly torn, so please accept this for the time being.”
”It shall suffice. At the very least, it covers most of my body”, Flayn murmured apathetically.
”Flayn, I—”
“I appear hideous, do I not?” she said abruptly. Edelgard hadn’t made one comment about her looks—she was always so polite and composed, of course, she wouldn’t—and Flayn needed to hear it. How she looked like a beast. A monster, like the soldiers had called the beautiful true form of her Aunt. “In this… twisted, wretched form I bear—neither wholly of your kind nor of mine.”
Edelgard regarded her, and despite Flayn’s despondence, the smoldering look in the human’s intense eyes as she let her gaze wander openly on her bare body… it sparked a strange sense of excitement in her.
No one had ever looked at her quite like that, and while it made her feel oddly vulnerable, it was… in a good way.
”It was certainly unexpected what happened to you, to say the least. While this must be even more bewildering to you than it is to us, no matter what you look like… you saved a lot of people out there. Despite the initial scare your sudden transformation gave to the troops, your actions speak louder.”
“Lady Ed—I mean… El… What if I am never able to return to my former self? What if the change continues, and I become something else entirely?”
"Your appearance changes nothing. The kind and caring person I've come to know in this very room is what I see most clearly. And while I cannot speak for the world… to me, you are beautiful, just as you are."
Flayn sniffled and surprised the woman by embracing her tightly, burying her face in the crook of her neck. She held her in her strong arms, gently caressing her bare back.
“Your scales feel so warm and smooth”, Edelgard said in a low voice. Carefully, she slid her other hand lower, onto her waist, gripping it gently but firmly. Flayn instinctively pressed closer to the human and felt the thumb on her waist slowly massaging circles against her. She couldn’t help but let out a small whimper, perhaps a little more dreamily than she intended, but the woman’s familiar scent and touch felt utterly intoxicating, and the intimacy made her head spin.
All too soon, however, Edelgard reluctantly pulled away from her.
“We… should get ready and hear what Hubert has to say. There are also some other… developments you should be aware of, but… it’s better for you to see for yourself. In fact, we should begin with the latter.”
It felt strange walking through the monastery grounds, now occupied by Imperial forces, with no sign of the Knights or Priests of Seiros anywhere. Still, she had only spent less than two years of her long life in Garreg Mach after awakening from her restorative sleep and being introduced to the Fódlan Rhea had shaped.
She kept feeling nervous about her appearance, having pulled the hood of her priest’s robe over her head to hide her horns, but it was difficult to keep her sizable tail fully hidden under the robe as she moved. She found herself missing the days when her ears were her only problem, as she often wished she could just pull her hair up, especially on hot summer days.
“There’s no need for such anxiety”, Edelgard said gently as they walked. “Many here witnessed your transformation firsthand, and everyone who didn’t has heard of it multiple times by now.”
Flayn sighed.
“I suppose you are right, yet I have concealed my true self for so long that I find it difficult to do otherwise. May I ask, where are we headed? To the cathedral?”
“Yes… There is someone there who’d very much like to meet you.”
As they walked inside, Flayn was surprised to see all the priests and clerics present, some of whom she recognized as having been servants of the Church of Seiros. Before she had time to ask about it, she saw someone familiar walking toward her.
“Arnulf?”
“In fact”, Edelgard corrected, “he’s… Bishop Arnulf now.”
Flayn blinked.
“Bishop? Of…”
“Oh, Most Revered Saint Cethleann, you have awoken”, the old man said reverently.
Flayn stared at him, stunned, as he walked in front of her, bowed, took her hand—her clawed, strange lizard hand, albeit hidden inside a glove—and kissed it. Everyone in the room bowed.
“W-what—”
“Do you not remember what happened? Before you fell unconscious?” Edelgard asked.
“I… I was shielding the Imperial army from the Immaculate One’s flames. It took all of my strength. And then…” She tried to summon the blurry memory. “Then… someone… Professor Byleth struck them down, right beside me. I reached out to save them, but…” Her voice faltered. “After that, I remember nothing.”
“It was Arnulf”, the Emperor said, nodding toward the grateful man before them. “He took the blow from the Sword of the Creator meant to end your life, sacrificing himself so that you might survive. And yet, he lives once more—his resurrection witnessed by many who would now follow you to the ends of the earth.”
“Living saint of the Church of Cethleann, Benevolent One herself reborn, we are honored to bask in your light”, said a priest standing near them. “Allow us to help you in healing this world of the pain and greed plaguing it.”
Church of Cethleann…
Flayn felt dizzy, not sure what to say, then felt Arnulf take both her hands in his, squeezing them assuringly.
“Emperor Edelgard has conveyed to us that you share a vision of a unified and liberated Fódlan, where everyone has the opportunity to pursue their aspirations irrespective of their lineage. You envision lifting the long-standing bans imposed by the Church of Seiros to usher in a new era of innovation and knowledge, with the Church of Cethleann open to everyone in need of healing, whether of spirit or the flesh. Throughout my life, I have been conditioned to fear change, but now, I truly hope to live long enough to witness this new Fódlan of yours.”
“But… you have seen the truth of my form. Why would you place your faith in one who is not even truly human?”
”Are we not all creations of the Progenitor God?”
”Y-yes, but—”
”Then our hearts are the same”, Arnulf said.
Flayn almost responded that they actually weren’t, but then she realized he, of course, didn’t mean it literally. She understood his sentiment, and in that sense, the old man was right. Sothis had created both their species, after all. Even if they had vast differences between them, since humans couldn’t assume a true form, were less gifted in magic, and lived much shorter lives, they had many similarities, as well. Both humans and Nabateans loved and hated, laughed and cried, had hopes and dreams, and wanted to survive even when facing impossible odds. Nabatean blood was compatible with human blood. They could build meaningful friendships. They could join their forces to fight against common foes.
Flayn swallowed and looked at the handsome, white-haired woman by her side.
They might even… fall in love with each other.
“I must confess, I am most surprised. I did not expect such an idea to come from you”, Flayn admitted as they walked toward the main building, feeling apprehensive regarding the recent developments.
“Then I suppose you will be even more surprised to hear that it was Hubert’s idea.”
Flayn glanced at Edelgard as if to ascertain she was serious.
“Truly?”
“While we both have been disillusioned by faith, we understand the significance faith holds for many. Though Adrestia has gradually moved away from the Church, religion still offers comfort and fulfillment to countless citizens. In Faerghus and even parts of Leicester, its roots run deep. To forcibly remove places of worship or limit practices related to faith would only invite unnecessary hostility amidst all the other changes we must pursue. It is better to replace the old traditions with our own, modernizing them to better fit the future Fódlan.”
“And thrust me into the forefront of this grand transformation?”
It came out more sharply than she had intended, and it caused Edelgard to come to a complete stop, a guilty look crossing her face.
“Flayn... I should have consulted you first, and I know I owe you an apology for not doing so. However, time is not a luxury we possess. With no certainty as to when you would awaken, we decided to make the decision to sanction what was already in motion. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“I am well aware that you are not the sort to act without a most compelling reason, and that choosing you would not be without consequence. And yet I fear… I have yet to truly grasp what any of this means.”
”So you are upset with me.”
“If I am to be honest, I believe I am simply… a touch overwhelmed.”
Edelgard nodded.
“I can understand that. However, the reality is that, after all that transpired during the battle, the people have come to see you as their savior, regardless of whether you are formally canonized as the founding saint of this new branch of the Sothisian faith. At the very least, this time, the church would not escape the scrutiny of the state, and after what Arnulf’s family has gone through in the Southern Church debacle, I believe he is very motivated to keep cooperating with me and the Imperial council.”
Flayn couldn’t disagree with the woman—not that she wanted to, either.
“I, too, believe that to be true. He strikes me as a man of virtue. And… truly, there is nothing to forgive. Whatever may come, there is no turning back for me—not since the moment I chose to follow you in the Holy Tomb. If anything, I should be thankful to you… for accepting me as I am.”
“And I could say the same to you.”
They smiled at each other and continued walking toward their destination in the main building, where Hubert was waiting for them. With the steady woman beside her, Flayn didn't find the curious looks she was getting nearly as uncomfortable anymore.
“Can I touch it?”
Flayn glanced at Lysithea, who rolled her eyes but nodded over the table at the mess hall, their meals already finished.
“You may touch it.”
Linhardt crouched next to her and ran his hand over her tail, fascinated as he examined the texture of the warm scales. Flayn didn’t think much of it until he reached the thinner part and neared the tip of the tail. She flushed red as she felt her friend’s firm grip around her strange, new appendage, and to her embarrassment, a soft little groan escaped her throat.
“Oh, I see. So this part is erogenous? How fascinating. When I move my hand back here—”, Flayn gasped, “—could you tell me, on a scale of one to ten—”
He let out a pained yelp as Lysithea smacked him on the back of the head.
“I apologize”, Linhardt muttered as he let go of the tail and sat down again.
Soon, Flayn saw Dorothea arrive at the mess hall, quickly grabbing her dinner and heading toward her.
“Flayn! I heard you had awoken. It’s so nice to see you’re back with us again!” the brunette gushed as she walked to their table, Linhardt and Lysithea excusing themselves to give the two a chance to catch up.
Dorothea appeared completely unfazed by her transformation, her eyes immediately seeking hers instead of the horns, the clawed, lizard-skinned hands, or the tail reaching the floor as she sat opposite her. It made Flayn remember once again why she was so fond of this radiant, heartfelt human.
“It brings me joy to see you, as well, whole and unharmed.” Her gaze lingered on the deep scar marring the woman’s cheek. “For a moment, I feared the very worst out there.”
“It took me until the next day to finally process everything and realize how close I came to not being here anymore.” Dorothea opened her mouth, then closed it and sighed. “I can’t believe that after... all we had been through, Manuela risked her life so brazenly, just to save mine.”
“Her courage was most admirable. Might I inquire—how do things stand between you and her?”
A small smirk spread on Dorothea’s lips.
“We are… better.”
“I am most gladdened to hear it. I heard from Linhardt that Professor Hanneman has also pledged himself to Her Majesty’s cause following the battle. And what of… Alois?”
“He… vanished after the battle. Some suspected he was dead, but his body wasn’t among the fallen knights. Just yesterday, Manuela received a message from him, apologizing for… everything that happened after Jeralt’s death. He has returned to his wife and daughter, and—” Dorothea paused and swallowed. “And he wishes Manuela and me all the best. There was a… terribly corny but kind of sweet pun at the end.”
“He knew about you two?”
“He figured things out after I walked in on them and stormed off. Apparently, they had a long talk about it all. We’ll take it one day at a time, but… everything’s definitely much better now. But hey, enough about me—tell me about you and Edie! You should have seen her; she was so worried about you. And what does all this Church of Cethleann business mean? Are you the new… Archbishop now?”
Before Flayn could say anything, she noticed a strange man enter the mess hall. He was clearly an important noble, judging by the way he was dressed and how he carried himself. He had a curt discussion with the cook, then took something placed on a tray and walked straight to Flayn’s table. Dorothea didn’t say anything, but reluctantly moved a little as the man pushed into their table, seating himself opposite Flayn.
He stared at her openly, his lip curved into a sneer, then ripped a wing off the fried whole chicken he had on his plate. Flayn could hear bones crunching as he devoured the entire wing, then repeated the process with the other wing, his eyes never leaving hers.
“I have to wonder… what is it she sees in you?”
Flayn was too taken aback to respond and flinched as the nobleman tore the chicken’s leg off next, eating until he had a clean leg bone in his hand. From the corner of her eye, she could see Dorothea’s green eyes blazing.
The man rolled the bone between his fingers, examined it, and held it up as he looked back at Flayn.
”If it were up to me, you would be serving this war in a very different capacity.”
Flayn’s eyes widened. The next thing she knew, something hit the side of her face, and she realized the man had flicked the bone at her.
“Ты грязная тварь”, he uttered with palpable disgust in his voice, then gasped in surprise as Dorothea slapped her open palm across his cheek with a loud clap.
“Now, I don’t know what your problem is, but they obviously didn’t teach you any table manners in whatever fancy, entitled house you come from, so I guess it’s too much to expect any other manners, either”, the mage said angrily and stood up. ”If I were you, I’d haul that bony ass out of here before it gets fried as crispy as that food you’re playing with like the arrogant jerk you are.”
The man growled in annoyance and stood up as well, shedding his human disguise while towering menacingly over Dorothea.
“You worthless, Crestless worm.”
“Oh, you’re one of them—I should’ve guessed”, the brunette snorted fearlessly, wisps of magic swirling around her clenched fists. “I don’t need a Crest to blow you through the back wall.”
The man grimaced.
“How ironic that The Beast Which Drowned the World in Despair created you from spare parts as servants for its lizards, and even after all that you have witnessed, you are still willingly filling this role.”
“I’m no one’s servant. Flayn’s my friend, and where I come from, we stand up for our friends.”
“We’ll see about th—”
“Thales! That’s enough!” Edelgard’s commanding voice echoed through the mess hall as she walked briskly toward them. “These women are your allies!”
The Agarthan grunted and cast a cold, appraising look at Dorothea.
“I hope you’re ready to die for your cause, then”, he snarled and teleported away.
“I’m terribly sorry about that. Are you alright?” Edelgard asked, casting a concerned look at both of them, and placing her hand comfortingly on Flayn’s shoulder.
“Edie, this likeness he wore… It looked like someone I should know. Who was he?”
“The regent of the Adrestian Empire, Lord Arundel.”
”Wait, doesn’t that mean he is… was… your uncle?”
Edelgard’s jaw tightened, and her lilac eyes darkened.
”Once he was that, too, but that was a long time ago.”
When Flayn finally retreated to her quiet room, some of her earlier anxiety returned as her thoughts kept circling back to everything she had learned.
Rhea had sought asylum from Faerghus, and Edelgard and Hubert had hurried to assemble a war council with the other nations to negotiate terms to end the ongoing conflict and to prevent the Archbishop from doing more damage. They had now received responses from both the Holy Kingdom and the Alliance, and the council would be held at a war camp on more neutral ground.
Although it was unlikely Rhea or her father would attend, she still dreaded the meeting, as she was expected to go there to represent the new church that was now recognized by the Adrestian Empire as the only legal religious institution. She would meet her old school friends as enemies, as someone who sided with the Emperor who declared war on the Church of Seiros and challenged the current world order of Fódlan. Finally, she also had an explanation for how the Agarthans had managed to extend their influence so deeply into Fódlan’s power structures and why they had access to late Ionius IX’s children and other prominent heirs, such as Lysithea.
She thought back to the confrontation with the one called Thales, who had so openly expressed his disgust for her species at her. While it was true they had been here first, they still welcomed Sothis among them, and for a long time, Nabateans and Agarthans coexisted peacefully. She couldn’t help wondering where it all went wrong, but those times were buried by time and dust, as all of it happened long before even Rhea was born.
She looked at her clawed, scaly hands as she sat on the edge of her bed, carefully examining them, fisting and unfisting them.
Perhaps all her time in her human form had made her forget who she really was. For such a long time, she had been forced to hide her identity, almost as if she should be ashamed of herself and her ancestry. And perhaps not all Nabateans were perfect. Perhaps she, her remaining family, or even Allmother herself were not perfect. Not Agarthans, not humans, not even Edelgard. Perhaps nothing and no one was.
She walked to the mirror at the back of her room, took off her hood, and looked at herself.
She was not human, nor would she ever be. She also wasn't responsible for her own kin's actions or indebted to them, not even to her father, no matter how much it hurt that he had chosen Rhea over her. Still, she had to let go of that. She was her own person, had chosen her own path, and had the right to all that while still being a Nabatean.
No more shame. No more hiding.
Chapter 11: Faith-Forged Fire
Summary:
As tensions rise across Fódlan, alliances are tested and convictions laid bare.
Notes:
Aww, I drew Hybrid Flayn and all to show my vision of her, but somehow I can't get the picture linked here properly. Might try it again later then...
EDIT. Okay, there she is. :D I'm not [insert the name of a famous artist here], but creating is fun, so it is what it is, and yes, I took liberties with the staff. Unfortunately tail not shown in the pic.
Chapter Text
Flayn was getting herself ready in front of a mirror when she heard a knock at her door.
“It’s me, Edelgard. May I come in?”
“Please, do.”
The door opened, and whatever the woman was about to say stopped as abruptly as her stride when her eyes landed on the Nabatean.
“Well, how do I appear?”
She had styled her hair in a high ponytail and braided it loosely, fully revealing her pointed ears. Some loose, wavy strands fell onto her chest. She also wore a white robe reminiscent of what Saint Seiros of legend had worn, but with fewer bronze details and a more modest design that revealed her shoulders covered in silver-and-white scales. The back of the robe had a slit up to the backs of her knees to accommodate her tail.
Edelgard seemed to recover soon, carefully walking closer as her eyes curiously drank in all the details of her new look.
“It is a most traditional Nabatean ensemble”, Flayn explained, gesturing at her robe. “I must say, I was rather surprised at how swiftly the tailor managed to complete it.”
Edelgard stopped in front of her, eyeing her ears and hair. In spite of the sudden maturation of her appearance, the human was still at least two inches taller than her, and in some odd way, Flayn preferred it so—especially as she had never had an issue with her height.
“I… have wished to wear it like this for some time. It grows rather unbearable in the summer heat, and… well, I thought perhaps…”
The young woman still hadn’t said anything, and it was making Flayn nervous.
”Please, El… Say something.”
Edelgard brought her left hand gently to Flayn’s face, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her sensitive ear, and smiled at her.
“Forgive me, Flayn. You look… radiant. Exquisite. Like a vision from a forgotten age. If this was your intention, you've succeeded beyond imagining.”
It was Flayn’s turn to be speechless. She felt the heat on her ears and realized there was a downside to revealing them. Still, even if Edelgard clearly noticed, a playful look crossing her eyes, she chose not to comment on it.
“Join me for breakfast?”
“I would love to. When are we leaving?”
“Before noon.”
The atmosphere in the war room was thick enough to cut with a knife as the attendees walked in, the representatives of each nation having arrived at the site with a symbolic defensive force of 200 soldiers. Each representative could also bring two aides to accompany them into the negotiation, ensuring informed decisions.
Edelgard was skilled at hiding her emotions, but Flayn still sensed her complete surprise as they entered the room. Instead of the regent of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, Rufus Thierry Blaiddyd, and the leader of the Leicester Alliance, Duke Oswald, she was greeted by Dimitri and Claude. The former had Gilbert and Rodrigue by his side; the latter was flanked by Holst and Judith. Edelgard had brought Hubert and Ferdinand, and Flayn was accompanied by Arnulf.
“I have to say, I hadn’t expected to see you two here.”
“Well, to be fair, I doubt anyone expected you to go to war as soon as you became the new Emperor, either, but hey, here we are”, Claude quipped. “Oh, and Duke Oswald sends his regards. Unfortunately, he’s not in a condition to travel, so you’ll just have to settle for me.”
Dimitri stared at Edelgard coldly, dark shadows in his eyes.
“I was on my way back to Fhirdiad for my crowning after the Academy was closed, but my trip was delayed. However, Rufus deemed it important that as a soon-to-be king, I should be the one attending this meeting, especially since… some other disturbing news has come to light.”
“Is that so? And might you enlighten me as to what this news is?”
“Dimitri, please”, Rodrigue said quietly, touching the man’s shoulder. “I advise keeping that matter out of this meeting. We cannot offer much to back those claims quite yet.”
“But—Fine”, the Crown Prince grunted. “Then let us hear what the Emperor of Adrestia wants so dearly that she deems it necessary to declare war on the Church of Seiros fresh out of her coronation.”
“Quite simply, I want the Church of Seiros and the Crest system dismantled.”
“You wish to… dismantle the Crest system?” Rodrigue asked, surprise in his voice. ”If you weren't a Crest-bearer yourself, this would make more sense, but why would you go to such lengths when you already have indisputable, supreme rule over Adrestia?”
“Because this is not about me”, Edelgard said firmly. “This is about the abuse of inherited power, inequality, and the rights of the commoners who cannot fight for their own rights. The religious system is enforced by its own military, and the Archbishop intervenes with politics only to stall progress on every front. You can call the actions I have taken against the Church of Seiros whatever you want, but the truth is Fódlan desperately needs to be freed from the ancient caste system hindering its development and oppressing its all but few select bloodlines. It needs to move forward and reform, and yes—that includes freedom of religion.”
“Quite the compelling speech”, Claude drawled, “though I worry you might have the wrong idea about freedom of religion if you only intend to replace the existing fairytales with your own. I don’t know how you did it and how you managed to get Flayn, of all people, to your side, but we all know that the Church of Cethleann is just one more convenient tool at your disposal.”
“How could you, Flayn?” Dimitri asked, looking straight at her with such disappointment in his eyes. “How could you betray your own family? Betray Lady Rhea? What has that wretched, devious woman done to make you—”
Again, Rodrigue grabbed the Crown Prince by his shoulder in an attempt to calm him, casting an imploring glance at him.
“I assure you, I am here of my own volition,” Flayn said, finally mustering the courage to meet the eyes of all present. “And I would have you all know that I stand fully in agreement with Her Majesty—even if her methods are, at times, most direct.”
She noticed Dimitri shift again anxiously.
“You have all been most respectful, saying nothing of my altered appearance, though I have caught a few lingering gazes,” she continued, voice steady but soft. “I do not begrudge you that. No doubt you have heard the tales—how the Archbishop's true form is that of the Immaculate One, the being spoken of in legend. And in truth, those legends are not without merit. She has indeed toiled for centuries to protect this world.”
Her gaze drifted for a moment, then returned with quiet resolve.
“I have known her longer than any mortal ever could. What may be difficult to comprehend—within the confines of human understanding—is what time means to us. Rhea has lived far longer than most can fathom simply by counting the numbers. She bore witness to ages of war and sorrow even before she founded the Church of Seiros, in pursuit of what she believed to be a righteous path.
“But even she is not without limit. Something within her has fractured. Centuries of loss… of bloodshed… have worn her down. They have left her weary, desensitized. Jaded. I had held hope—foolishly, perhaps—that Professor Byleth might bring her healing. That she might reclaim the light she once held.”
Flayn’s voice faltered for the first time.
“But it seems… I misjudged Byleth’s strength. Or perhaps I underestimated the depth of Rhea’s suffering. Either way… it appears the Professor is lost to us now.”
Everyone was quiet, glancing at each other and pondering Flayn’s words.
“The account I heard of her… transformation was that she was two dozen wyverns in size, with several horns crowning her head, and she was breathing a barrage of flames intense enough to liquefy stone and armor”, Judith said. “The terrified soldiers called her a ‘monster’. Is she? A monster?”
“No,” Flayn responded at once, shaking her head. “We are not monsters. She is not a monster. Nor is she evil. She is merely... unfit to lead. The Church of Seiros—its original purpose—was not to serve mankind's yearning for guidance, but rather to bring solace to her, in the wake of Seiros the warrior no longer being needed. It was, in truth, a labor of love—a place into which she poured her devotion and her grief. To the people of Fódlan, Garreg Mach Monastery is the heart of a cherished faith passed down through generations. To me... it is naught but the remnants of a culture long since dead.”
“I must ask: this Church of Cethleann… How would it operate, then?” Holst asked. “Would you be the new Archbishop?”
“That title… carries with it far too many presumptions rooted in the past. If I were to choose one myself… then perhaps Guardian Saint would be more fitting.”
“The Church of Cethleann does not govern”, Edelgard clarified. “It does not command armies, write laws, or claim divine sanction over mortal lives. That era is over. What it does—what I have permitted it to do—is serve. Under Lady Flayn’s guidance, it offers healing, education, and shelter to those in need. It does not preach obedience. It offers comfort. It does not hoard knowledge. It shares it.”
Gilbert scrunched his brow.
“This sounds more like a state-run social service than a sacred place meant to honor the Goddess and her teachings.”
“We do not need gods to tell us what is right”, Edelgard said solemnly. “But for those who find solace in the Goddess, I will not stand in the way. Let it be known: the Church of Cethleann is not a pillar of power, but it is a light in the dark, for those who need one.”
Flayn observed cautious interest from the Alliance’s side, while the representatives from the Holy Kingdom appeared unconvinced, although it was to be expected.
“So”, Claude said finally. “The facts are that you are at war with the Church of Seiros and that you wish to dismantle the said institution along with the Crest system. You even have your very own Church under your secular rule to let it take over where the other one left off. I’m a very curious man, so please, tell us—what, exactly, do you want to achieve with this meeting?”
“Prolonged war benefits none of us, but that said, I am willing to fight for the reformation of this continent”, Edelgard said decisively. “However, I will cease any military activity the instant Faerghus releases Lady Rhea into the Empire’s custody.”
“What? You would just boldly ask us to hand her over to you?” Dimitri exclaimed. “It was you who attacked her and the Church! What did you—you could have at least tried talking to her first!”
“Tried talking to her? To the Archbishop? That I wish to strip her of the power she holds over Fódlan? Are you even listening to me? Are you listening to yourself?” Edelgard huffed incredulously. “And how do you expect that would have turned out? Would you just hand over anything valuable to you if someone were to ask you kindly? In that case, Your Highness, I will ask you one more time to make my intentions and myself perfectly clear—kindly, give me Lady Rhea. She will not be harmed. As soon as I have her, I will demobilize my troops and continue this discussion elsewhere.”
“Claude, are you hearing this?” Dimitri asked. “There are many pious nobles in Leicester. Surely, you do not agree with any of this.”
The man grinned.
“There sure are many pious nobles there, and I’ll have to admit that I’m pretty intrigued about this freedom of religion aspect here.”
“What?”
Claude winked at Edelgard.
“But I suppose you came here knowing that, since you attempted to organize a private meeting with me first.” Not paying attention to Dimitri, who was seething at that point, he continued: “Let’s presume I might be swayed to stay neutral in this conflict with proper incentive and support your reformations when the time comes. What would you be willing to offer me?”
Edelgard nodded at Ferdinand.
“I will let my Prime Minister answer that.”
“What the Adrestian Empire offers you is a guarantee of sovereignty, a non-aggression pact, and religious autonomy. I have all the details here. As a gesture of goodwill, we've also included a proposal for significant tariff reductions.”
“How generous of you”, Claude smirked, his eyes sparkling as he produced a book from somewhere and placed it on the table.
“What’s that?” Edelgard asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"I came across this old diary that once belonged to one Jeralt Eisner, the first entries of which date back to... well, they're pretty old, suffice it to say. The thing is, I have a lot of questions now, and I believe there is a certain someone in here who might be able to provide me with the answers."
Edelgard glanced at Flayn, who nodded.
“If that is your cost… I shall tell you everything you wish to know.”
“Oh, I will most certainly take the rest of what was offered, too, but hey, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
They all jumped as Dimitri slammed both of his large hands against the table, glaring at them all angrily.
"Anyone who sets one foot over the Kingdom's borders”, he growled, “will be met with lethal force. This meeting ends here.”
“Prince Dimitri—”
“Shut up, Edelgard!” he spat angrily, both Rodrigue and Gilbert holding him back while Hubert and Ferdinand stepped forward, ready to defend their Emperor. “Just… stop talking. Perhaps everyone else here falls for your savior of the common man act, but I know what you are and what you are capable of. Your hands are red with blood!”
“What are you on about?”
“What do you think, Flame Emperor? The Tragedy of Duscur.”
Flayn wasn’t following, but obviously Edelgard wasn’t either, judging by the utterly astonished look on her face.
“Excuse me? What… exactly are you implying? The Tragedy of… Are you being quite serious? You do realize I was only 13 years old back then?”
“You’re only 18 now, and you’ve already conquered Garreg Mach. The kind of evil that dwells within people like you isn’t born overnight," Dimitri snarled and tried to pull his arms free, but Rodrigue and Gilbert held him tighter. “They call Lady Rhea a monster when true monsters hide in our midst, pretending to act for the good of mankind.”
“Believe what you will”, Edelgard huffed. “I have had enough of this interaction.”
“Just like you had enough of your own mother? Was she in the way of your plans, as well?”
The young Emperor froze and could only stare at Dimitri with wide lilac eyes.
“Or perhaps you thought I didn’t know my stepmother used to be your father’s consort. Won’t you even say anything? Murderer”, the man snarled and tried to force himself free, Gilbert and Rodrigue visibly struggling to hold on to the tall, strong man.
Without a second thought, Flayn quickly put herself between the Crown Prince and still stunned Edelgard, despite the fact that Hubert and Ferdinand were also ready to intervene.
Suddenly, Dimitri was inches from her. Physically, the small, slender Nabatean would have no chance against the large human, but still she refused to move, even if her pulse raced nauseatingly and her hands shook. Ice-cold, narrowed blue eyes stared into hers.
”I cannot understand”, Dimitri said in a low voice. ”Why would you go out of your way to protect her?”
There were many reasons Flayn could have offered, but she supposed none of them would have changed anything. The man had already decided what to believe.
”Because I am an Adrestian and she is my Emperor.”
Dimitri grunted, his glazed blue eyes staring at her in a manner that made her uncomfortable.
“So be it. I hope you find this woman's ambitions worth dying for.”
With that, the Crown Prince stormed out of the room, Gilbert and Rodrigue following after him.
Flayn sat on the edge of the pier, her bestial feet and the tip of her tail submerged in the water. She spread her toes and realized for the first time that they were webbed. She had a sudden urge to go swimming, but of course, she wouldn’t—not here, not now, in this small pond within Garreg Mach’s walls. It would be improper.
She wondered if Edelgard liked swimming. Perhaps, after the war was over, they could…
What am I thinking? Such musings must wait—there are more pressing matters at hand.
She stood up and noticed an Imperial guard walking toward her.
“Her Majesty requests your presence; she is in her chamber.”
Immediately upon their return to Garreg Mach, Edelgard sought to speak with the intimidating Agarthan, Thales. The woman had been quiet on their way back, and Flayn decided it was better to give her space, no matter how much she had wanted to offer her at least some sort of consolation. Flayn didn’t believe for a second that Edelgard had done what Dimitri claimed, but it still must have been shocking news, even without the accusation itself.
Finally, she reached Edelgard’s quarters and knocked softly. There was no answer, but she noticed the door was slightly ajar, so she opened it. As she did so, she realized she hadn’t been in the room since she had broken out of it. It felt like it had been so long ago, but in reality, only weeks had passed since that fateful day.
Edelgard was standing in front of her easel with her back to Flayn, and her usually perfect posture was slouched enough for her to notice.
She walked next to the taller woman and looked at the canvas. It was a sketch of a family portrait; father, mother, and children—eleven of them—all of their faces smudged over with black charcoal save for one young girl.
They stood in silence until Edelgard finally spoke.
"Each time I think I’ve reached the limit of how much I can loathe myself for having them as my allies, they find some new depth to surprise me. They call me the pinnacle of their work, a Godkiller, and as a reward, they’ve taken everything from me. My siblings. My father. My mother. My pride. Even… the brother I never knew I had, they have turned against me. I’ve asked myself over and over: why? Why would they go to such lengths? Why orchestrate all of this? And now, I finally understand that they simply want us all to turn against and destroy each other, making their work that much easier.”
Flayn felt helpless and at a loss for words, her heart aching for the human she cared for so deeply.
“I… am so sorry, El. I truly am.”
“At least… I could save you. Thales never counted on you joining me, and it irks him to no end that you’re proving to be a valuable asset to him. I suppose that’s part of why he gifted me with… this. As a mockery of our bond.”
Edelgard walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room, and only now did Flayn notice that there was a peculiar battleaxe leaning against it. The human woman picked it up almost reverently, as if it had been alive, and… in some sad way, Flayn supposed, it still was.
“Thales called this axe Aymr. He insisted that I take it, and honestly… just holding it, I can feel a surge of power inside me as it resonates with my cursed Twin-Crests. If our paths had never crossed like they have, I would have accepted this weapon without a second thought, but now knowing where these come from… what they’re made of…”
Flayn observed the weapon, then reached out to touch it, but stopped before her fingers made contact with the fierce-looking axe, the blade of bone subtly heaving as if breathing. Based on its size and shape, it appeared to be made from a scapula and the teeth of a young Nabatean, carved to resemble the gaping maw of a bloodthirsty predator. She couldn’t help but compare her clawed hand to the spikes on the axe, feeling uneasy.
Exactly how many Nabatean bodies did they have stored in their facilities?
“I appreciate it most sincerely that you have taken my feelings on these morbid weapons into account. They possess immense power, yet their creation demanded a grievous price. I recall when Rhea once told Father and me that she had resolved to adopt the Crests and Relic Weapons for her own use, assigning them new meaning to obscure their terrible origins. I could scarcely believe it... To think she would offer the remains of our brethren to unsuspecting humans, wholly unaware of what they held in their hands.
“And yet, I believe I understand her reasoning better now, even if I do not wholly agree with her… methods and priorities. I hope that I might live to see the day our kin are laid to rest with proper dignity, but until such a time… let us allow their remnants to aid in bringing this long war to its conclusion—even if it is from beyond the grave.”
At last, Flayn laid a gentle hand upon the bone-crafted blade, her fingers trailing softly along its smooth, oddly warm surface.
“Whoever they once were… I pray they might find solace in knowing they did not perish in vain. Sooner or later, we shall be forced to confront Aunt Rhea and whatever Byleth and Sothis have now become. No ordinary weapon can hope to oppose the Progenitor God, not even in her weakest hour. Fire must be met with fire; is that not how the saying goes? So worry not, El. You may wield Aymr—with my blessing.”
Edelgard nodded, but there was still a conflicted look on her face.
"Thank you, Flayn. I... I cannot say I know for certain, but I may have some insight into what led to Byleth’s condition. It’s something Thales said during... the conversation we had.”
“Oh?”
“According to him, the supply of Sothis’s blood was exhausted long ago. What they transfused into me and my siblings was all that remained, the last vestige containing even a trace of her essence. The—"
“The blood of Nemesis!” Flayn gasped.
“Yes…”
“But... however does this pertain to Professor Byleth?”
“Solon required pure Nabatean blood for the ritual intended to sever the Professor from this world. He sought yours, but when I intervened, he all but drained me of mine for punishment. Thales didn’t know this before, and he suspected this substitution might have had unforeseen consequences. Perhaps it was Sothis’s self-preservation instinct that guided them back and allowed her to assume control of the Professor’s body, yet… the way you’ve described me your memories of her… it’s clear she did not return unchanged. Still, it’s all mere speculation, of course. With Solon dead and Professor Byleth out of our reach… we might never learn the truth.”
Flayn felt discouraged just thinking about facing her family again. It was hard to see any peaceful solutions, even if Edelgard preferred capturing them all alive. Subduing Rhea was one thing, but how could one subdue a crazed god? And then, of course… there was her father.
An unpleasant shiver ran down her spine as she silently watched Edelgard put Aymr away.
“I… suppose I should—”
She was surprised as Edelgard took her hands, squeezing them tightly as she looked intently into her eyes.
“Stay here”, she said, and it sounded almost like a plea, something vulnerable in her voice.
Flayn stared at the woman with wide eyes.
Did… did she just ask me to…
“I beg your pardon…? I fear I may have misheard you.”
The woman blushed ever so slightly and averted her eyes.
“I apologize, perhaps that was a little too forw—”
“You… wish for me to remain with you? F-for the night?”
The lilac eyes flitted back to hers.
“Yes. N-nothing… improper, just… sharing the b… I mean, sleeping tog—t-that is—”
“I should be most delighted to”, Flayn replied with a soft smile, gently returning the squeeze to Edelgard’s hands, the tips of her ears growing warm. “But… you are the Emperor. Would it truly be proper for you to share your bed with me? E-even if we were to refrain from… um… such intimacies…?”
“Throughout history, Adrestian Emperors have taken multiple consorts—some of whom were not of the opposite sex. It may not appear in every chronicle, but the precedent exists. And should anyone take issue with how exactly we spend time together... I assure you, their opinion holds no weight with me. The only thing that matters to me is how you feel… what you want.”
Edelgard’s gaze was so intense and warm, and Flayn swallowed, actively aware of the human’s touch and her familiar, intoxicating scent.
Tomorrow, the Imperial army would already begin its march toward Faerghus. The more days they wasted, the more powerful Rhea’s influence would grow, giving her time to organize a coordinated counterattack with her remaining knights and the backup provided by the Holy Kingdom, which would prolong the war unnecessarily. The only smart choice was to advance into the enemy territory as soon as possible. The troop morale was high, as well, and it was largely due to Flayn’s actions during the Battle of Garreg Mach, which had minimized losses and injuries and created a strong following for the Church of Cethleann after the much more distant, untouchable Church of Seiros.
Perhaps a new dawn for Fódlan was really on the horizon, but there was still a lot to do, and anything could happen despite the best of plans.
Flayn felt her pulse quicken as she bit her lower lip, mesmerized by the human’s inviting lilac eyes.
Would it truly be so selfish to have at least this?
“I shall… just fetch my nightgown, then.”
~Ingrid~
“Lady Ingrid! Urgent news!”
The woman in question turned around and saw a messenger running toward her.
“It is—” The messenger stopped in his tracks. Troops were preparing; pegasi and horses were being saddled and armored, rations were passed around and packed in saddlebags. Ingrid herself was wearing full armor, holding Lúin tightly in her hand. “Did… did you get the news already? B-but… I came here as fast as I could!”
“What news? Please speak clearly and be quick; as you can surely see, I’m very busy.”
“R-right! Crown Prince Dimitri, authorized by the Regent himself, calls on all noble houses and capable soldiers of Faerghus to deploy immediately and position themselves at the border. The Imperial army is expected to be on our soil early tomorrow morning!”
“Excuse me, what?” Ingrid exclaimed, her brows knitting together. “He is rushing to meet the Imperial army at the border headlong, giving us literally no time to prepare our forces? To agree upon a strategy? What is he thinking?”
The messenger looked around him, visibly confused.
“What are these preparations for, then?”
“I’ll have you know there happens to be a sizable army stationed right at the border we share with Leicester.”
The messenger’s face paled.
“Really? B-but Leicester was supposed to stay neutral!”
“I have no idea what Claude is thinking, but I won’t let that opportunist invade Faerghus through Galatea as long as I’m still standing. Charon is also threatened, and the Count’s general is already on his way to meet me. Maybe he can spare some troops to help Dimitri, but we’re already busy with the threat at the border we share with Daphnel, Alliance’s wyverns boldly scouting above us. I have to stay here. There is no other choice.”
Ingrid watched as the messenger departed and finally let out a deep sigh, feeling more torn than she would allow to slip through in anyone’s presence. She was certain Sylvain and Felix would be there, as well, and she would have preferred nothing more than to fight alongside her dear friends, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She was the only one who could wield Lúin, and she knew that alone gave Galatea’s troops the confidence to stand their ground against their unpredictable enemy.
Regardless of how dire everything seemed right now, she hoped to the Goddess she would yet see all three of them again, get to scold Dimitri for his rashness, and—
And please, just please, Felix… and especially you, Sylvain… don’t do anything stupid out there.
~Sylvain and Felix~
Sylvain sat on his horse and watched silently as the Adrestian banners emerged from beyond the horizon. He sensed rather than saw Felix walking beside him.
“Who would’ve thought Edelgard had all that in her? It feels like it was just yesterday when our biggest worry in the world was which one of us could catch Lady Flayn’s eye during breaks.”
“Except there never was such competition. Be serious for once”, Felix grumbled.
Sylvain was quiet for a moment.
“Don’t you think that… Dimitri hasn’t been quite himself lately? This all seems a little hastily put together, too. I mean, look at that army coming at us. Look at ours. And where’s Ingrid and her pegasus knights? Where are Rodrigue and the reinforcements from Arianrhod? Are we even supposed to win this?”
The dark-haired man snorted.
“Whether the Boar Prince is more or less out of it than usual, I don’t care. I’m here to kill every soldier wearing Adrestian colors that steps in my way, and that’s all I need to know.”
Sylvain hummed absent-mindedly as they watched the Imperial army marching ever closer.
”Did you read Edelgard’s manifesto?”
Felix looked surprised.
”What? No. Why would I have? I haven’t even seen it myself.” He paused. ”Have you read it?”
”I happened to find one crumpled near the wood for the fireplace. I thought it might be some juicy love letter and gave it a read.”
“What did it say then? Not that I’m interested. In fact, don’t bother. Just a bunch of Imperialist propaganda sugarcoated with socialist crap, what else can it be?”
“Yeah… Pretty much so.”
As soon as the Imperial troops crossed the border, arrows began raining down on them.
Felix glanced up at Sylvain.
“Ready?”
The man took a deep breath through his nose, squared his shoulders, and tightened his grip on the reins of his horse.
“Guess this is it then…”
The men moved toward the enemy forces, staying close to their assigned unit and keeping their eyes open for opportunities.
“Look... Dorothea’s there”, Felix noted. “She seems to be in charge of that mage unit. They’re poorly positioned and slightly off the main bulk of the army. Let’s take her out. It’ll give our more heavily armored soldiers room to breathe if we throw them into disarray before they can reposition.”
“Yeah, sure.”
The men broke off from their unit, quickly circling toward the mages as their attention was elsewhere. Felix leapt, but before he could reach the brunette, she noticed him. A bolt of lightning crashed against his sword, which made him hiss in pain and drop it, but he instantly drew another from his back while landing on his feet like a cat. Before Dorothea could prepare another spell or draw her own sword, Felix had grabbed her from behind, pushing his sword against her throat, effectively freezing everyone to their places.
“Felix! Please, stop!” Manuela pleaded.
“Don’t expect any mercy from me”, he grunted, keenly aware of the mages surrounding him. “You all made your choice when you decided to follow Emperor Edelgard.”
“Harm her, and I will make you regret it!”
“And what are you going to do, woman? Heal me to death?”
He pushed his blade tighter against Dorothea’s throat, blood trickling down her skin.
“Time to—w-wait, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Sylvain had dismounted his horse and walked into the midst of the mages, his lance in his hands. The atmosphere was charged, all eyes on him. Then he stopped, looked at the Imperials around him, and smiled.
“I heard that Emperor Edelgard spares everyone who surrenders willingly. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is”, Dorothea uttered fearlessly despite the sharp blade at her bare throat.
He dropped his lance onto the ground, then unbuckled his weapon belt and let it drop too, getting down on his knees.
“Sylvain! What in the blazes is this?” Felix demanded, horrified and frustrated. “Get up this instant and pick up your weapon!”
“Like I said, I read the serious red lady’s little manifesto, and I have to admit that this society without Crests sounds pretty good to me. Of course, I doubt neither of us will ever get to see it if you off poor Dorothea there.”
“B-but… I… I can’t believe you’d just—” Felix roared with frustration and pushed the brunette off him, throwing his blade angrily onto the ground, and the instant he did, the Imperials didn’t waste a moment to chain them both.
“Um… thank you, Sylvain”, Dorothea said, her face pale and voice subtly shaking as Manuela appeared by her side.
“No worries, sweet rose of Enbarr”, the man said flirtatiously and winked. “I can treat you to dinner, too, when… ever that’ll be possible.”
“I’m afraid she’s off the market”, Manuela said firmly, and Sylvain chuckled.
“First Edelgard and Flayn, and now also you two? Aww. Is no one interested in men anymore?”
“Just. Shut. Up. Already”, Felix snarled as two heavily armed Imperial soldiers escorted them away.
~Mercedes and Annette~
“H-how is he?” Annette asked, peeking over Mercedes’ shoulder.
“He has already… passed.”
“I heard Lady Flayn can resurrect the dead. That she has resurrected Emperor Edelgard.”
“They also say that she’s more than a human… as is Lady Rhea, at least judging by the stories.”
”The former has certainly left an impact on the Imperial troops already. I heard them chant her name! I never thought I'd see Imperials fight with such zeal.”
Mercedes was quiet.
“Mercie? Are you… alright?”
“It’s just… I never thought we would have to—”
Suddenly, a massive explosion erupted near them, accompanied by agonized screams, and the blast wave violently threw them both several feet away from where they were standing.
“Annie?”
Mercedes scrambled to her feet, eyes frantic as she looked around. Her panic grew as she saw badly torn Kingdom soldiers scattered everywhere, most of them dead or dying, and not all in one piece.
“Annie!”
The battle roared mercilessly around her, but she could only hear her own hammering heartbeat as she searched and searched, finally seeing something familiar beneath the body of some unlucky young man. She pushed the dead soldier aside, her anxiety increasing as she knelt down on the ground.
At first, it seemed that the blood on Annette was only from the deceased man, but then she noticed something protruding just below her chest—the tip of a lance, broken off from its shaft.
“Oh dear Goddess, no!”
Blood was flowing freely out of the wound, the young mage ashen and unresponsive. Mercedes could hardly see through the tears blurring her eyes.
“N-no…”
With trembling hands slick with blood, she pulled the sharp object from Annette's body and tried to heal the wound, but she had already lost so much blood. Judging by the wet rattle of her erratic, shallow breathing, her lung was punctured, as well.
She heard ominous, heavy hoofbeats of an armored warhorse approaching from behind, closing in on them, but she felt completely powerless and too numb with grief to react. The rider dismounted, and Mercedes was already expecting an Imperial blade to strike her down. To her surprise, she heard an unexpected, friendly voice.
“Let me see if there is anything I might do for her.”
Then she saw Flayn kneel next to her and Annette's limp body, and barely suppressed a surprised gasp. The woman had truly transformed to resemble the Immaculate One she had seen in Garreg Mach’s murals, with the Death Knight himself accompanying her. Except…
“E-Emile?”
The intimidating, black-armored knight had removed his horned helmet.
“Sister...”
Shaking her utter confusion for now and postponing the more important questions, Mercedes swallowed hard and watched intently as Flayn skillfully used her clawed hands to cut open the young mage’s clothes, revealing her torso and the damage it had sustained. She then closed her eyes, placing her hand over the bruised, bloodied wound that Mercedes had managed to close with her healing magic.
Flayn looked tired and worn, and sweat dripped down her temple as she concentrated, her eyes squeezing shut tighter. Her lip curled up as if she were in pain, briefly revealing a sharp fang.
Slowly, Annette’s skin healed, and color visibly returned to her face.
“S-She… she should survive”, Flayn panted, “though she will yet require time to heal properly. I must apologize, but I fear I can do no more for the moment. It seems I may have… overestimated my own vigor.”
“Thank you, Lady Flayn”, Mercedes murmured, reaching to touch the scaled hand of her friend’s savior, squeezing it tightly. “T-thank you… s-so much.”
Flayn smiled at her warmly despite how endlessly tired she looked.
“Pray, think nothing of it.”
Mercedes wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Emile, who was watching her intently. Then she cast one last look at the lands of the Holy Kingdom.
Please forgive me, Prince Dimitri.
~Dedue~
“I will not let you lay a finger on His Highness.”
Hubert and Edelgard stood facing the towering man wielding a shield nearly as tall as the Emperor was, a battleaxe menacingly pointed toward them. Somewhere behind him, Dimitri was unaware of their confrontation, fighting off four Imperial soldiers by himself.
“While your loyalty will not save either of you, it is a trait I can appreciate”, Hubert drawled. ”That said, you will not be laying a finger on Her Majesty, either.”
“And what is loyalty to you? Were you scheming together with your mistress? To bring about the Tragedy of Duscur?”
“Neither of us had any part in it. And I assure you, this is the last time I will entertain such a deluded notion”, Edelgard said, her tone cold and resolute. “Have you no mind of your own? Must you accept every fantastical claim that fool of a prince whispers in your ear, without so much as questioning the weight—or the consequence—of his words?”
“I am his weapon. Weapons do not think, they act as an extension of the hand that wields them.”
“If that is truly the case, then I pity you. I may not always agree with Hubert, but I value his discernment. He questions me when he deems it necessary, rather than following orders without thought or conviction.”
”Enough talk. Come at me.”
Hubert smirked, having had time to prepare a spell while the large man was distracted by Edelgard, surprising him by casting something on him.
”Why not try coming at us instead?”
“You… hurgh… devious…”
Dedue propelled his formidable body into motion, moving faster than his heavy build would imply, but the wisps of whispering purple miasma at his feet wrapped around him like ravenous hands of the dead eager to drag him into their grave. He grunted and powerfully pushed forward despite the spell slowing him down, finally forced to stop only a few feet from the dark mage.
Edelgard and Hubert exchanged a glance. Then the former nodded slightly and hurried away.
Dedue fought against the spell binding him down with all his strength, roaring with frustration.
“Why not just… kill me?”
“We do not need any more martyrs than is absolutely necessary”, Hubert simply said, his eyes fondly following the retreating figure of his liege until it disappeared into the chaos of the battle.
~Dimitri~
Dimitri’s lance plunged hungrily into one more Imperial soldier, several dead bodies surrounding him.
“Anyone else out there who dares to challenge me?” Dimitri called out loudly, causing the nearby Adrestian soldiers to hesitate and step back. ”I will put down each and every Imperial cur following that evil witch of an Emperor.”
“I will challenge you”, Edelgard answered, and the Crown Prince turned to face her, his eyes gleaming.
“I was wondering when you would show up. Your conquering and killing ends here. I will separate that sick head of yours from your shoulders and put it on a pike for the crows to feast on.”
“I am the sick one here, now am I? Listen. You still have a choice. Withdraw your troops and surrender Lady Rhea. I have no quarrel with your lands or your people—only with her.”
“I will do no such thing! Do you actually think I believe anything you say? You have attacked the Church of Seiros unprovoked, taken Garreg Mach for yourself, and driven Lady Rhea into exile. After all that, as a final insult, you turn her own niece against her and take her as your lover? Who knows what else you have schemed after killing Patricia and my father and bringing Duscur to its knees! The only comfort in all this is that you are only my step-sister and none of your black, venomous blood runs in my veins!”
“Are you quite finished? If so, let our blades speak in our stead.”
“Gladly”, Dimitri grunted, and the two began slowly circling each other, Areadbhar and Aymr drawn.
~Ashe~
The young archer was riding as fast as he could. He had already changed to a fresh horse twice to keep up the pace, and his body was aching all over.
Finally, the battlefield unfolded before his eyes, and he saw that the troops from both sides had stopped fighting, with the remaining Kingdom forces fleeing and carrying their wounded. He rode into the center of it all and paused when he saw Dimitri lying on the ground, his head a few feet away from his body. Emperor Edelgard stood nearby, holding a menacing, bloodstained battleaxe that looked like a Relic Weapon. Her gaze was fixed on the fallen prince, a somber expression on her face.
Ashe grabbed his bow and quickly fired an arrow, too fast for the distracted Edelgard to dodge, aiming directly at her. He saw the Emperor's lilac eyes widen, but the arrow just narrowly missed her head and sank into the eye of a Kingdom soldier behind her, who was about to strike, dropping down with a pained grunt.
Both the unlucky assassin with an arrow in his eye and Ashe were immediately surrounded by Imperial soldiers, who pointed their weapons at them, and he quickly raised his arms, still astride his horse.
“Please, I am not here to fight. Chain me if you must, but I need to speak with Emperor Edelgard.”
He was allowed to dismount, soldiers already closing in to restrain him when Edelgard finally found her voice, steady and commanding despite her apparent exhaustion.
“There’s no need for alarm. If he had intended to kill me, he would have done so already.” Her gaze drifted briefly over Dimitri’s body, and then she turned, nodding over her shoulder. “Come with me, Ashe Ubert. Let us talk elsewhere. I need a change of scenery.”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”
Ashe followed the Emperor, leaving the suspicious soldiers behind, and matched her pace. If he had claimed he wasn't nervous walking next to maybe the most powerful woman on Fódlan, fully armored and armed at that, he would have been lying. Despite Edelgard being shorter than him, she still appeared to tower over him somehow. Yet, all Ashe could do was gather his courage and speak.
“I'm sure you’re likely already needed elsewhere, so I’ll try to keep it brief”, he said, quickly thinking where to begin. “I… was in Gaspard when we received a message to urgently gather all available forces and join Prince Dimitri’s army near the border. However, many were reluctant to do so because the conflict was about the Archbishop’s presence in Faerghus, and Lonato’s death had soured many hearts toward the Church. I still wanted to help in some way, and I heard Rodrigue was in Arianrhod gathering troops, so I decided to go there and join him. And this… is where it gets really bad and weird.”
“How so?”
“I was on my way to the room where they said Rodrigue was staying, when a maid ran out of there screaming she had just found a dead man. Poisoned! She didn’t get to say much more because suddenly Lady Cornelia was there and she… she just killed her, only realizing after that I was there, too! I still don’t know how I managed to get away, but I didn’t look back once. I stole a horse and got through the gates, and I could only think of coming here with this information.”
Edelgard stopped in her tracks, a thoughtful look on her face.
"You are of Faerghus. Why bring this information to me? Upon learning of Prince Dimitri’s fate, you could have turned back with the others and delivered it to the Regent."
“I can’t go back after what I saw in Arianrhod—I’m just a commoner. No one would bat an eye if I suddenly turned up dead for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, I have a feeling the Regent might already know about this, since he seems close with Lady Cornelia, and we both know what Dimitri’s death means for him”, Ashe said with a heavy heart. “On my way here, I also saw a Blaiddyd messenger watch the battle and leave, but he wasn’t alone—Lady Rhea was there, too. Why, I have no idea, but she looked pretty exhausted and distracted, and she rode away with the messenger. Honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore, and after what the Church did to Lonato and Christophe..." Ashe shook his head wearily. “I’d rather just surrender to the Imperial forces than end up where my adopted family did for all they gave to Faerghus.”
Unexpectedly, the Emperor placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder and looked him straight in the eye.
"Thank you for entrusting me with this information, and… for what you did upon your arrival. I am in your debt, truly. Now, please—seek out the clerics. You look as though you might collapse at any moment."
The young archer looked into the intense, lilac eyes for a moment, then swallowed hard and nodded.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“It seems Cleobulus and Rufus have been working in concert, succeeding in eliminating Dimitri from power”, Edelgard murmured, her tone low and steady as she slipped into her nightgown. “At this point, Rhea’s most prudent course is to ensure that Rufus has sufficient incentive to shield her and what's left of her forces.”
The woman had turned her back to Flayn with quiet dignity, her strong shoulders and defined back tensing with each movement, not unnoticed by the Nabatean. The Adrestian forces were moving further into the Kingdom's territory, and the two shared a tent. It was convenient beyond their close relationship, for the nights were getting colder, and the mere thought of shared body heat was most welcome. Not that she minded—
Focus, Flayn.
“Y-yes… It would certainly appear so—Aunt Rhea wielding her influence to see the Regent crowned as the new king of Faerghus. In turn, his support enables her to begin anew. I must admit, I do find it curious that Aunt Rhea chose not to take part in the battle. The Kingdom's misfortunes serve her little, after all, and further unrest within the very nation charged with her protection could hardly be desirable. If anything, I should think she would have preferred to see His Highness Dimitri ascend the throne.”
"It does seem peculiar. Still, there must be a reason. The border defense was thrown together rather hastily, and Ashe did mention that Rhea seemed unwell. Perhaps she's conserving her strength for a more decisive confrontation. Do those transformations exact a significant toll, or is the process more... nuanced?"
"During the War of Heroes, Aunt Rhea was able to shift freely between her human guise and her true form. However... when I first arrived at Garreg Mach, she did remark upon how dearly she misses becoming the Immaculate One. It is well known that Nabateans who seldom shift between their forms may gradually lose the ability to do so, as occurred with many members of my family. Perhaps the battle at Garreg Mach proved more taxing upon her than she had foreseen."
"I loathe to admit it, but something about this all feels… off. Cleobulus and Thales have no stake in who sits upon the Kingdom’s throne, but they would not stand idle while Rhea regains her strength. They’re plotting something. It unsettles me… and Hubert shares the sentiment. Also... I find myself wondering what might have become of Professor Byleth, since she was not with Rhea."
She exhaled, weariness creeping into her voice.
"As much as I despise this uncertainty, we’ll have our answers soon enough—once we reach Fhirdiad, if not before."
“Fhirdiad? I am most certain we are to do battle well before reaching the capital”, Flayn said simply. Edelgard turned to look at her as she braided her hair, preparing to join the Nabatean in bed.
“What exactly are you implying? Even if that were true, how can you be certain?”
“We shall arrive at the Tailtean Plains on the morrow. To Aunt Rhea, you are naught but the second coming of Nemesis. Knowing her, she would not forgo such an opportunity for nostalgia.”
Edelgard hummed thoughtfully.
“You know her better than anyone. I’ll speak with Hubert about this tomorrow”, she said as she pulled back the covers and lay beside Flayn on their modest bed, pressing lightly against her back.
The Nabatean sighed contentedly as a thick, muscled arm wrapped gently around her. The physical contact felt as good as it always did between them, but for some reason, Flayn found herself feeling unusually restless. Her tail kept twitching—like a cat’s, she imagined—and her body squirming ever so subtly. Her scales itched.
Mildly frustrated with herself, she pushed her back tighter against the human—her human—in hopes of grounding herself.
”Is… everything alright?” Edelgard asked, her warm breath tickling Flayn’s neck.
“Y-yes… It is merely that I cannot help but dwell upon what the morrow might bring.”
“It will be dangerous, no matter the size of our army or the skill of our allies”, she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from Flayn’s cheek. "But I’ll protect you. I always will."
“I know that you will”, Flayn replied, turning to face her fully. “Yet even you cannot promise that we shall both survive… or that either of us shall, for that matter.”
Edelgard’s jaw tensed. “That’s true”, she said, reluctantly.
Flayn reached up, the dull edges of her claws brushing gently along the curve of Edelgard’s cheek, then her collarbone. “Then… perhaps it would be unwise to squander this night.”
A silence settled between them—charged, intimate.
“I have never…” Flayn began, her cheeks coloring, even in the dim light. “I always believed there would be time. But now… I am no longer certain of it.”
Edelgard’s hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Flayn… I don’t wish to rush you.”
“You are not”, she said, her voice firm despite the flush on her cheeks. “I desire this. I desire you. And if there is even the faintest chance that the morrow may steal one of us from the other, then I would not see this night pass us by.”
Edelgard studied her face, her smoldering lilac eyes searching for hesitation, but Flayn felt none. Only the quiet resolve that had been growing stronger inside of her with every step they had taken together.
“Then allow me to show you how deeply you are loved… Cethleann.”
Hearing her true name uttered so softly, almost reverently by Edelgard, had never had such an impact on her as it did now, with goosebumps spreading all over her skin as she was pulled into an affectionate kiss that made her forget about the daunting, unpredictable world outside.
“El…”
Their hands began to explore what words could not express, kisses gradually trailing lower as they familiarized themselves with each other’s bodies in a way they had never done before.
The flame of the lantern flickered until the tent was shrouded in darkness, the shared warmth of the two souls keeping the cold, looming shadow of war at bay—at least for the night.
Chapter 12: Legacy of Saint Cethleann
Chapter by Berzerker
Summary:
Flayn, Seteth, and Rhea return to the Tailtean Plains. As do the descendants of those whom they once fought, both with and against.
Notes:
I apologize for the longer wait this time. Here we go again, for the second-to-last time!
Chapter Text
Fatal
Subconscious control
Threshold of pain unfolds
Transfixed martyr saving race
Who am I to judge thy grace
Slayer “Divine Intervention” (1994)
Byleth had always known she was different.
It was rare for a father to raise his child alone, and even rarer when said father happened to be a mercenary. As soon as Byleth could lift up a sword, she began using it, having already trained hard with a wooden practice one. She was always on the move with the mercenary band, never getting attached to places or people beyond the group she traveled with. She learned how to kill another human, and she soon realized she was good at it.
When there was time to spare, she enjoyed spending it fishing with her father or reading, especially if they were staying near a town with a library. She was one of the few literate ones in the mercenary band, thanks to her father, and she used every opportunity to exercise that skill. She didn’t mind the supervised access to the writings and the nervous glances she received from the librarians who urged her to leave her weapons outside the reading hall—she just wanted to learn.
Perhaps her unusual upbringing, the rugged company she spent her days with, her occupation, and her fearsome reputation as the Ashen Demon all contributed to the sense that she did not truly belong anywhere. While it didn’t exactly bother her, she still acknowledged it.
Or… perhaps it was the being inside her. The girl with the green hair. Sometimes, Byleth visited the girl in her own mind, but she was always sleeping, sometimes muttering incomprehensible things during her sleep. It was fascinating. For the longest time, Byleth believed everyone had such a companion inside their heads, but she quickly stopped speaking about it as she got strange, worried looks and was told it was definitely not normal.
Then she arrived at the Garreg Mach Monastery, and so many things happened all at once. The girl inside her had finally awakened, and together they marvelled at the world and the newly blossoming sensations that seemed to awaken together with the entity in her. Byleth found a liking for teaching and helping others, beyond just killing for them, and emotions and motivations new to her began to take shape.
From the moment she first locked eyes with Rhea, she fell in love with her. Finally, she understood why the men around her had never sparked any excitement. They were rough, loud, and smelled of stale sweat and musty leather. Rhea was soft, sweet, and compelling. Exquisite. When she realized the older woman reciprocated her feelings, it felt like the best moment in her entire life. When they kissed, were intimate, or simply looked each other in the eye, Byleth always felt like she was Rhea’s entire world. Despite her father and the girl inside her head being wary of the subject of her adoration, she couldn’t imagine being happier.
Then everything was suddenly and violently ripped away from her as the odd mage inhabiting the likeness of Tomas sent her into that pitch-black darkness. She could taste sour blood in her mouth as she was caught in the spell that sent her between dimensions, and the girl inside her screamed. Suddenly, Byleth was exposed to horrors that were completely foreign to her, and she did not merely see them happen—it was as if they had been done to her.
She woke up to an excruciating pain, a large man sneering down at her, his blade through her chest. She slashed her claws across his face, but before she managed to transform completely, sluggish from her abrupt awakening, she was completely dismembered limb by limb as the enraged man produced an axe and kept blindly and brutally hacking at her. The axe finally came at her throat, and the world suddenly spun before her eyes, then went completely dark.
From that moment on, everything changed. She became trapped in her own mind, rarely having the opportunity or the energy to break through the darkness that surrounded her. When she wasn't unconscious, she saw horrible, agonizing dreams of being slaughtered again and again, but never truly dying. Sometimes she was lying in pieces in a cold place under an unnatural bright light, feeling like her spine was being ripped out of her body—unable to scream or move, endless torment slowly consuming her sanity.
“B-Byleth? Is that… truly you?”
It was Rhea’s voice. How small and fragile she sounded. Byleth felt cold sweat on her skin as she forced her eyes open. Only the thought of seeing Rhea again helped her push through the barrier she hadn’t been able to cross in days, and even now it felt too much. Still, as soon as her eyes found the weary but warm pale teal ones, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Rhea… I… A-are you crying?”
“F-forgive me… Please, forgive me… If I c-could, I would—”
“Could you just… hold me?”
“O-of course, dear. Anything you wish.”
She felt the older woman gently envelope her in a warm embrace, and for a moment, Byleth felt at peace again. However, all too soon, she began slipping away again, unable to resist the overwhelming presence pushing her back into the darkness.
“...”
“Byleth?”
"What… are you doing?”
“Oh. It is… you.”
“Do not… clutch at me… like some mewling whelp, Immaculate One. Stand tall. We have… work yet to finish."
“Yes, Mother.”
"But before that… a little more of your life force… is required."
The world outside their tent seemed to brighten, and Flayn sighed softly. Soon, they would set out again, and she couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling gnawing at her.
She had stayed awake all night, but it didn’t matter. To her, sleep wasn’t as crucial as it was for humans, and all that mattered was that the human lying next to her had been sleeping peacefully for hours, gathering her strength for the day ahead. Edelgard was lying on her side, facing Flayn, and for once, she didn’t look tense or alert. The Nabatean gently placed her hand on the young woman’s bare shoulder, the thick muscles underneath the scarred skin twitching slightly at the touch before relaxing again.
She observed the peaceful expression on her face, then her eyes drifted lower to Edelgard’s uncovered torso, the blanket resting at the woman’s waist. Flayn had first seen her naked several months ago, already, when she was desperately trying to save the life of the dying Imperial princess. Of that time, of course, she could mostly remember just the gaping wound on her chest and the Agarthan handiwork evident on her body. Now that she looked at her, she barely paid attention to the scars anymore, seeing only a beautiful woman with boundless charisma and confidence before her. While a muscular physique was unusual among noblewomen, seen as peasantly and unaesthetic, Flayn found it very appealing. Maybe it was partly because it demonstrated the woman’s refusal to conform to social norms—walking her own path even when it came to her appearance, unafraid to be associated with the commoners.
What Edelgard lacked in feminine body fat, she compensated for with the fullness and roundness of her muscles. Her breasts were small—much smaller than Flayn’s after her transformation—but firm and perky, fitting perfectly in her small hands. During their night together, Edelgard had also made sure not to leave any doubt about how she appreciated every curve, swell, and curious characteristic of the Nabatean’s transhuman figure.
Flayn shifted restlessly. The sweet, passionate memories of their lovemaking made her pulse quicken and the tip of her tail twitch, but no matter how much she wanted to stay in bed next to the woman and… perhaps continue where they left off… the time for that wasn’t now.
Some time earlier, Galatea frontlines
Ingrid watched as a rider approached from across the border, heading straight toward her. She tensed on her pegasus, and the soldiers nearby readied their weapons. The rider stopped at a respectful distance.
“I’m bringing a private message to Lady Ingrid”, the man on his pinto horse said in a loud voice.
“You are not coming one hoofbeat closer”, Ingrid replied sternly. “Whatever it is you need to say, you can say in front of these men and women.”
“As you wish, milady. Lord Claude von Riegan wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience.”
“Then tell him to meet me at our forward camp”, Ingrid grunted. “I’m most curious to hear what he has to say for himself.”
She didn’t have to wait long before Claude arrived on his wyvern, smiling as easily as ever. Ingrid had expected him to come with a delegation, personal guards, and a small defensive force overseeing the meeting, and she could hardly believe her eyes when she saw that the man arrived alone.
How bold.
It also made her all the more suspicious.
Ingrid greeted the man stiffly and motioned for him to follow her into the command tent.
“You seem to have everything under control here”, Claude said, smirking, and his nonchalance irritated Ingrid to no end. “Not that I would have expected any less from you, of course. This region is quite poor, and the winters are harsh—it must be inconvenient how valuable your Crest makes you both as someone to be married off and someone with the strength and capability to wield that nasty skewer of yours and command armies. I believe we both know which one you prefer.”
She didn’t have patience for this.
“Instead of making assumptions about me, explain at once what your forces are doing outside Galatea’s borders. What are you and Emperor Edelgard plotting? I can guarantee you that once Dimitri takes the throne, the Alliance will face serious consequences for this.”
Claude’s expression grew more serious, if only for a moment.
“Yeah, well, your buddy Dimitri… the thing is, he kinda preferred that Edelgard take his head instead of the pope she was after.”
Ingrid tried to hide her shock, but the news came as such a surprise.
“W-what? That can’t be true! It just—” She took a moment to clear her head. “If you’re lying to me—”
“And what reason would I have to lie to you about something like this? I sent my messenger here as soon as the Alliance scout delivered the news.”
Ingrid gritted her teeth together, refusing to tear up.
”I should’ve been there, fighting by his side. Protecting him. My friend, my future king… Instead, I was tied here… because of you. Because you decided to—”
”You do realize if you’d been there, you’d be dead now? I have a feeling that no matter how unlikely your victory would’ve been, you wouldn’t have just surrendered. Honor and chivalry and all that, and a glorious death in battle, am I right? That fight, however, was doomed from the beginning, and all by design.”
“Surrendered? ” Ingrid scoffed. “To Imperial scum? Never. I assure you I’d have rather—”
She paused, then looked at Claude sharply, suddenly realizing something.
“Wait. Did you… keep me here on purpose? What are you playing at? Whose side are you even on?” Ingrid growled impatiently, taking a step toward the man, her fist tightening around Lúin. “I swear, your next words will decide whether we keep talking or not, so choose them carefully or get out of my sight while you still can.”
“Then take it easy with that pointy thing and listen, alright?”
Claude waited until Ingrid grunted and took a step back, relaxing her tense shoulders and lance arm ever so slightly.
“Talk.”
“Firstly, there is more going on here than just retrieving the Archbishop. You should know that Edelgard is working with the very people who experimented on and killed most of the villagers in Remire.”
Ingrid grimaced with disgust.
“Truly? Not that I’d be surprised even if that was true. It’s the Empire. I know bandits more honorable than those shameless curs. Regardless, I’m still not sure why you are telling me this. You’re supposed to be Edelgard’s ally, yet here you are spilling her secrets. If she shouldn’t trust you, why should I?”
“Fair enough, but I still believe you’d probably be interested in knowing Emperor Edelgard’s accomplices have also infiltrated some key positions in Faerghus, and are currently busy at work destroying your nation from within to make it easier for the Imperial forces to cripple it for good.”
“Is that so? Name even one such person.”
“Cornelia Arnim.”
Ingrid was quiet for a moment as she stared at Claude in disbelief.
“Lady Cornelia? Are you serious? Do you expect me to just take your tall tales and wild conspiracy theories at face value? Exactly how stupid do you think I am? This is nothing but a distraction, and not even a very clever one.”
"I'm here specifically because I don't think you're stupid. I’ve done some digging in Leicester, and I can safely say these people are a threat to all of Fódlan. They can steal the likenesses of others, and they have tech and magic that is much more advanced than ours. If you need proof, there’s an unmarked grave just outside Arianrhod, and a witness who has gone into hiding many years ago. She’s ready to tell you everything in exchange for protection.”
Ingrid stared at Claude, her green eyes blazing.
“Guards! Chain this man!”
“Hey, whoa!” Claude exclaimed as knights rushed into the command tent and surrounded him, roughly shackling him.
"Keep your eyes on him at all times, and inform the Alliance troops that his visit has been extended indefinitely. Any hostility from their side will result in his immediate execution. I’ll decide what to do with him once I return.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, tell me where I can find this so-called witness of yours. If the only thing I uncover is that this is just a ruse to delay me from defending the Regent, I’ll behead you myself.”
The moment the Tailtean Plains came into view, Flayn felt as if her memories transported her a thousand years into the past. Even if the surroundings had changed since the War of Heroes, she could still feel the same unmistakable chill in her spine, the same sense of acrid dread and bitter finality in the air.
Her mother had died here. She and her father had nearly died here. The presence of her strong human comforted her, at least, but she still felt anxious, her palms sweating and scales itching.
“I can sense them”, Flayn murmured, and Edelgard’s attention was immediately on her. “My kind. They are not far.”
The soldiers prepared themselves, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Edelgard unstrapped her shield and Aymr, and cast a look at Flayn.
“Whatever comes to pass today…” She fell silent and exhaled softly. “Just know that you mean the world to me.”
“As do you to me,” Flayn said quietly, and then their moment was over, the Kingdom’s army appearing in view.
For once, Edelgard had taken Hubert’s advice and wasn’t positioned at the front of the army, instead staying in the center-rear for now near Leopold, who was Edelgard’s second in command. Other shield infantry and pikemen were at the center-front, and heavy and light cavalry with their lances and bows at their flanks, the heavy knight units at the front of the more lightly armored ones. Mages and clerics were naturally at the back, and would be joined by the archers for more protection once they retreated from the very front, initiating the battle with a barrage of arrows and crossbow bolts.
When Flayn had last been here, she had stood by Rhea’s side—little else had changed. She still had the Adrestian army and the Emperor to protect, and Agarthans were still there plotting and using humans to advance their goals. Only this time, some of them were fighting on her side, the mere thought making her skin crawl. At least, Edelgard had made sure they weren’t positioned anywhere near Flayn, not that they would have wanted to be anywhere near her either, visibly disgusted by her. On top of that, she could feel the eyes of their spiteful leader, Thales, on her back even without looking behind her.
I wonder… Shall we at last succeed in breaking free of this cycle, or are we fated to see history repeat itself once more?
Then it began.
The archers released their arrows, and Flayn met the enemy barrage by casting her magical shield in front of the troops. The soldiers cheered and chanted her name, and although it still felt awkward, she hoped it at least boosted their fighting spirit.
“No sign of Rhea or the Professor yet”, Edelgard observed, her eyes fixed on the advancing Kingdom forces. “Rufus must be positioned farther to the rear as well. Though in truth, I would not be surprised if that opportunist has no intention of raising his weapon at all.”
Flayn could sense the woman’s impatience to join the battle and fight beside her countrymen, and also the resolve it took to stay her axe hand for the time being. It wasn’t all she could sense, however. Before long, she finally saw what they had been waiting for—an opponent only Edelgard had the strength to face.
“There... The Allmother... Professor Byleth... or rather, what remains of them both. Her blood is guiding her to you. She...” Flayn faltered, swallowing hard. “I can feel it. She is far stronger now than when last you met. Perhaps… we are already too late.”
A group of soldiers not wearing Kingdom colors split from the main body of Rufus’ army. Byleth’s form, swathed in tendrils of thick green mist, walked ahead of the remaining Knights of Seiros, Gilbert and Rhea leading them behind her.
A unit of Imperial soldiers closest to Byleth brazenly prepared to face her, the air around the imposing woman crackling violently. As the soldiers charged, she swung the Creator Sword at them with two diagonal strikes, and the blade tore through bone and metal like a hot knife cutting butter. Large chunks of body parts toppled lifelessly onto the bloodied ground, the woman’s burning green eyes on Edelgard.
“Leopold, I’m now entrusting the troops to your command. Do everything in your power to keep the fighting away from us, even if I doubt many would willingly place themselves in the path of the Sword of the Creator.”
“I‘ll do my best. Good luck, Your Majesty,” Count Berliez wished and turned his horse to give new orders to the nearby general.
Edelgard and Flayn shared one more look before the Emperor walked off toward Sothis.
"There is no salvation for pitiful weaklings who lap up the traitors’ foul gifts, wrought from the desecrated bodies of my children. For such blasphemy… I shall tear the beating heart from your chest."
“I dare you to try”, Edelgard said in a low voice, lifting her shield and Aymr, her gaze full of steel and certainty even in the face of the waking goddess whose presence made the very air around them electrically charged.
Without flair, Sothis attacked Edelgard, who blocked the Creator Sword with her large shield proudly bearing the golden, two-headed Adrestian eagle. Confusion flickered across her face as the shield didn’t disintegrate when the glowing, extended sword struck it with a thunderous clap.
"I see. How pitiful that the Benevolent One squanders the gifts I once bestowed upon her, wasting them upon a vile, rebellious soul such as yours. No matter. Whether cloaked in her blessings or carrying a fragment of my blood, you are naught but human. And humans… always tire. Come then, let us see how long your frail defiance can endure."
Flayn watched helplessly as the two engaged each other. She had done all she could for now, so she stayed observing from a safe distance. If Sothis managed to hit Edelgard even once with her sword, it would be all over. The human wouldn’t survive another resurrection, and moreover, there likely wouldn’t be much left to bring back. She hoped the woman knew how much she loved her and that it would give her the extra push to see this all through.
Rhea’s cold eyes met hers from a distance. She looked worn, but determined as she addressed her knights.
“Our first and most important objective is to put an end to their false church with its false prophets. Let us cut the very head of the snake and dispose of that heretic girl.”
As Rhea and the knights were about to charge at her, they were suddenly swarmed by Imperial soldiers who hit their flank with overwhelming power, forcing them to concentrate on them.
“For Adrestia! For Saint Cethleann!”
Flayn felt cold sweat on her skin as she sensed another unpleasant confrontation nearing, while Rhea’s attention had been diverted to the Imperial forces, and Edelgard was locked in combat with the vessel of the progenitor god.
That presence…
She inhaled deeply to steady herself as a shadow crossed her, and a familiar wyvern landed near her.
“Father…”
He looked as serious as ever as he dismounted, although there was curiosity in his eyes, as well, as he observed her.
“So it is true what they said… I find it most surprising that these humans still accept you, but perhaps your actions speak louder than your appearance.” His brow creased even further. “Actions you have taken against us, if I may be specific. Your own kin.”
“By my kin, do you refer to the uncles who spurn this world entirely, the aunt who would impose her mother’s essence upon her unwilling beloved, and the father who would choose that same aunt above his own daughter?”
“Flayn, please, listen to me”, Seteth pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice. “I cannot just… Without Rhea, we would not even be here to have this conversation! She has sacrificed so much and fought so hard so that the few of us might still live on with our lives. I know full well she is not without flaw, but which of us is? Come back to us. You are still young and trying to find your place in this world. I… I will talk to Rhea. In time, she may yet forgive you.”
"So you would still cast me as naught but a wayward child, even after more than a thousand years, simply for daring to think for myself. We have each chosen our own path. There is nothing further to be said."
Seteth’s mouth formed a firm line, and the crease between his eyebrows deepened.
Somewhere in the background, Rhea was yelling at him angrily while fighting off heavily armored knights.
”It seems… all other choices have been exhausted, then”, Seteth said, regret and shame palpable as he drew his halberd.
Flayn stood her ground defiantly, even if it all felt horribly wrong. The spell she felt tingling her fingers to the tips of her claws would choke the life out of her father, but she couldn’t afford to be stopped here, not now. She could only pray she would one day come to terms with the guilt she already felt coursing through her, consuming her.
Mother… please, forgive me.
Her father came at her, Spear of Assal raised, and Flayn clenched her teeth, ready to unleash one of the few effective offensive spells she had learned for her self-defense. And yet, despite everything, her resolve just wasn’t enough. At the last moment, her determination wavered, and her father grabbed her by her wrist. He swung her around and pressed her back against him, his other arm tightly around her upper chest, the other holding his halberd to her throat.
“Father…”
His voice sounded so pained as he spoke.
“Dear Flayn… C-Cethleann… I—”
Then Seteth let out a pained grunt and loosened the grip around his weapon, an arrow suddenly jutting from his shoulder. Flayn saw a flash of Bernadetta in the distance before she disappeared within the roaring battle in the distance, and two Imperial soldiers emerged, wrestling him away from her.
“Hands off her, scum of Seiros!”
Before Flayn could recover, Rhea bolted at her from nowhere, covered in blood that didn’t seem to be her own. The other soldier who was holding down Seteth released him immediately and threw himself in Rhea’s way, fearlessly raising his shield and axe, and was joined by two more soldiers, making Rhea pause momentarily.
“Get out of my way”, she growled, annoyed.
“You’ll go to Lady Flayn only over our dead bodies”, the large man holding the shield informed her.
“That can be arranged”, Rhea said in a low voice and killed all three of them in seconds, then leaped at Flayn and knocked her to the ground. The impact forced the air out of her lungs, the woman’s weight on her heavy and suffocating.
”I knew he could not take responsibility for his own wretched spawn, the sentimental fool”, the older Nabatean snarled, her serpentine sword drawn. ”I will erase you myself.”
She lifted her weapon and thrust it down at Flayn’s throat. Blood sprayed on the young, helpless Nabatean, but there was no pain, and the agonized sound didn’t come from her. She blinked her eyes open in confusion and saw Rhea slump off from her, curling onto the ground as she held her wildly bleeding wrist, groaning with pain. Her sword and the hand that had been holding it were both lying on the ground.
Flayn looked up and saw her father. He was breathing hard, crimson blood gleaming on the blades of the halberd he was holding in his shaking hand despite his injured shoulder.
“F-father?”
They looked at each other for what felt like an eternity, a myriad of emotions storming behind her father’s green eyes. Finally, he spoke in a small voice.
"Words cannot express how much my heart has ached since what happened in the Holy Tomb. How it aches now. My dear daughter… To see complete strangers ready to lay down their lives for you, while your own flesh and blood—”
He took a shuddering breath, shaking his head.
“And how… frightening it must have been, to suddenly undergo those changes in your body, none of us there to support you, to answer all the questions you must have had. This… is too much. No more.”
Flayn stared at him as he extended his hand to her to help her up.
“Cethleann, I hope… I hope it is not too late. Let us finish what you have begun… together.”
She choked back a sob, her eyes misting over as an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“It is never too late.”
As if on cue, the ground trembled, and her father quickly pulled her protectively next to him. An unearthly bellow sliced through the air, drawing everyone’s attention to its source. Even Rhea scrambled back to her feet, awe and admiration replacing her pained expression even as she continued to press her wrist with her remaining hand.
The blindingly bright true form spreading its wings and rising to tower over the armies was several times the size of the Immaculate One.
“Please, Father, tell me that is not—”
“Mother… ”
Edelgard knew she couldn’t keep going forever. She could feel Flayn’s enchantments weakening each time the Creator Sword made contact, and her exhausted muscles burned as if on fire, causing her to make more mistakes. The entity inhabiting Byleth’s body, however, performed almost perfectly and showed no signs of fatigue.
"Despair in your limitations, frail human clinging to borrowed power. You have sown this fate—now reap it."
Of course, she had known all along that unless she could convince Byleth to join her cause, she would risk her becoming her most intimidating adversary on the battlefield—even without a literal god taking over her body.
When they first met, she had admittedly crushed on the mysterious mercenary known as the Ashen Demon; perhaps even hoped that something might spark between them. However, as it soon became clear during an afternoon tea, even if Byleth appeared to be open to courting women… her romantic interests lay elsewhere than with Edelgard.
”Oh, so you prefer the… fairer sex, then?”
“Yes… It’s actually quite a recent realization, since I haven’t really given much thought to the matters of the heart before coming here, but… Yes.”
“I see. If… I may be so bold, might I assume someone at the Officers Academy has piqued your interest?”
“Hmm? A student? No, Goddess, no—she, um, she works for the Monastery. As an instructor, I shouldn’t get involved with the students anyway, even if I’m not that much older than any of you. It would be unprofessional.”
“Oh. Y-yes, absolutely. A… woman of faith, then? How surprising.”
“You could say that. Not that I’m expecting anything to happen between the two of us. She’s… a much better person than a former mercenary with countless lives on her conscience, but… it’s still nice to spend time with her when I can. She… makes me smile. It’s enough for me.”
It was all perfectly fine, of course—sometimes these things just didn’t work out. She still respected Byleth and valued their friendship. It was just both ironic and terribly inconvenient that it turned out to be Rhea, specifically, who had caught the Professor’s eye.
"Hold still, and I shall end you swiftly with but a single strike. It is a mercy far beyond what you deserve."
“Perhaps I should, since you seem incapable of striking down even a single human you so readily deem inferior.”
“You insolent—”
Sothis lashed at her with her sword once more, and Edelgard put all her remaining strength behind the bone axe in her hands, dropping her shield. She spun around, only barely avoiding the fully extended Creator Sword, yet all on purpose. The retracting, linked blade twisted around the bestial form of her axe, and the momentum built during the second full spin forced the sword out of Sothis’s hand, the weapon flying far out of her reach.
Edelgard lunged toward the surprised entity, but she had to stop and regain her balance when the ground suddenly began to shake beneath her feet. Sothis let out an inhuman bellow and began glowing brightly, her form rapidly growing and changing into something else entirely.
“N-no… Not this!”
The form kept growing far past the size of the Immaculate One, gigantic wings spreading and darkening the sky. Several colossal horns grew from the head, a massive maw opening and beginning to generate ominous, glowing energy.
Edelgard watched with a sinking feeling as the form kept growing. It felt surreal, as if she was in one of her macabre nightmares, and yet, she knew she was wide awake, standing here on the Tailtean Plains—the plains that would soon serve as a mass grave for them all. How small did the troubles of mankind seem now, standing in the presence of the creator who wished to unmake them all.
How can we ever hope to fight… or even lay a hand on something like that?
The bright light gradually gave way to the familiar green mist surrounding the colossal dragon, slowly revealing its features. Then the mist began crackling, and Sothis screeched and reeled, her enormous body falling over and threatening to crush everything beneath it. Soldiers shouted and fled, but just before crashing into them, the form began to dissipate.
Edelgard breathed hard, tightening her grip on the sturdy shaft of Aymr. Sothis was in Byleth’s form again, slumped on the ground. As the young Emperor slowly approached, her axe ready, Sothis opened her hazy green eyes that finally focused on her.
“E-Edelgard…”
She swallowed hard as she cautiously walked next to the woman.
“Professor? B-Byleth? Is that… you?”
“I must… apologize for her. She isn’t… herself”, Byleth rasped.
“It isn’t your fault”, Edelgard said quietly, crouching next to the pale woman. “Solon sent you somewhere in the Sealed Forest, and you came back different. What happened?”
“I could taste... foul blood in my mouth. Since then, I’ve seen nightmares of how I’m killed… and processed… all over again. They must be her memories. Everything is constant pain. We used to… keep each other company, and… she always protected me. Cared... for me. Now she’s… out of my reach. I fear she… feels this pain, too.”
Edelgard drew a shuddering breath.
“We will… find some way to fix this. P-perhaps—”
“No”, Byleth said quietly, reaching with her trembling hand to touch Edelgard’s gauntleted one. “I can already sense her… stirring again. You know… what to do.”
“B-but… M-my teacher, surely you don’t mean—”
“You will… achieve great things in this life. I knew you would… the moment I met you. But you should know… even if things were different… we would be in this same situation. Because I still… would have chosen Rhea.”
Edelgard could only stare at the woman.
“But… After all she has done… Why?”
Byleth gave her a pained, weary smile.
“Because... I love her.”
“I—”
The former mercenary winced again with pain, then looked at her pleadingly, squeezing her hand harder.
“We’re running… out of time. Please, Edelgard… You’re the only one… I can trust with this task.”
Edelgard nodded shakily. She kneeled behind Byleth and pulled her against her, holding her tightly as she unsheathed her dagger and pressed it against her throat.
“May you find peace, my teacher”, Edelgard whispered thickly and felt Byleth squeeze her arm reassuringly. She closed her eyes, and a single hot tear rolled down her cheek as she hesitated for only a second more, then slit the woman’s throat with a firm, decisive stroke. Byleth let out a wet gurgle and jerked against her—once, twice—then went completely slack.
Edelgard breathed hard into the soft, teal hair, the dagger dropping from her shaking hand.
“NOOOO!”
She blinked away the tears from her eyes as she watched Rhea rush towards them. The shocked Nabatean dropped to her knees beside them and pulled Byleth into her arms, holding her tightly as sobs wracked her body.
Edelgard stood up and winced, briefly paying attention to Rhea’s missing hand as she held the dead woman tighter against her. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her, even if she was uncertain which one of her losses the grief-stricken former Archbishop was mourning. She chose to believe it was both of them.
She picked up Aymr from the ground and looked around her, heaving out a tired sigh. The Archbishop was technically secured, appearing no threat in her current state. The Kingdom army was in disarray, and at first, Edelgard didn’t think much of it. Then she realized something strange was also happening in the ranks of the Adrestian army. Hubert ran to her, and Edelgard immediately knew that something was terribly wrong. The dark mage paused only for a second to glance at Rhea and Byleth, then refocused his attention on her.
“Your Majesty! It is… the Agarthans. It seems our co-operation has just come to an end.”
Flayn hurried to Edelgard with her father and gasped as she saw the bloodied scene and Rhea holding Byleth’s body in her arms, her head buried in the crook of the mercenary’s neck as she swayed slowly, not reacting to anything around her.
”What happened here?”
“The Professor managed to seize control of her body one final time, and asked that I grant her this mercy”, Edelgard murmured. “But now, another problem presents itself. Leopold is currently leading the attack against the Agarthans, who were supposed to be our allies, but that is only half of the problem. According to Hubert, some of our wyvern riders spotted Cornelia—or rather, Cleobulus—standing over Rufus’s corpse, directing the infiltrators among the Kingdom’s soldiers.”
“So the Agarthans are striking from within both armies’ ranks, now that neither the Sword of the Creator nor Aunt Rhea remains to stand in their way. Indeed, this must be the moment—and the outcome—for which they had been patiently waiting all along.”
“Yes… Establishing an organized front will be challenging. I will admit, they have played their hand with precision.”
“Riders… coming our way”, Hubert noticed. “As if we needed any more problems.”
Flayn squinted as she looked at the bright sky, silently preparing to protect Edelgard. There were both pegasus and wyvern riders, heavily armed, and none of the incoming troops wore Adrestian colors.
Hubert readied a spell, as well, purple miasma gathering around him.
“Wait”, Edelgard uttered, touching her retainer’s arm. “That’s… Claude, and…”
The riders landed, and they finally recognized the woman on a showwhite pegasus.
“Ingrid?” Edelgard said unbelievingly, looking warily between her and Claude.
“Let’s start by making something abundantly clear to avoid any confusion, Your Majesty”, Ingrid said, not even trying to hide the disdain in her voice. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but a war criminal. That said, I have learned there are people even more vile and dangerous than you, and I’d rather survive them to fight you another day than allow them to thrust the entire continent into chaos.”
Edelgard eyed the woman’s relic weapon.
“I have secured what I came for. If you, bearer of Lúin, can rally your comrades and return them to the fight against our common enemy, then once they are defeated, I will withdraw my troops from the Kingdom's soil without delay. You have my word.”
The green eyes of the pegasus knight flashed and narrowed.
”What is your word even worth? You killed Prince Dimitri”, she said through clenched teeth. “I should run my lance through you instead of negotiating with you.”
“Had Dimitri chosen differently, I would not have needed to seize what I sought by force. In any case, discussing such nuances can wait for another time. What you must know is this—our wyvern riders report that Rufus has fallen, which is only adding to the chaos. I realize it may be difficult to hear from me, but all signs suggest he was struck down by his own advisor, who—”
“Oh, don’t you worry, Edelgard”, Ingrid swore, cutting her off. “If I die today, I’ll make sure to take whoever that snake pretending to be Lady Cornelia is with me.”
With that, she and her pegasus knights took off.
Edelgard glanced at Claude, raising a questioning eyebrow at him, but the man just smirked and shrugged.
“Let’s kill some creepy mages then, right? I brought some familiar faces with me, too. You know, a… ‘thank you’ might be in order?”
“I will save my gratitude for when the battle is won”, Edelgard said coolly, her voice even. “Knowing you, this was not arranged purely out of goodwill.”
“You wound me! But… fair enough.”
As Claude left with his troops, Edelgard turned to look at Flayn and her father, her lilac eyes settling on the latter.
“We have much to discuss, but that will have to wait until Thales and Cleobulus are taken care of. Still… I have to say how truly glad I am that you have finally decided to choose her.”
“Do not misunderstand me”, Seteth said sternly. “This does not mean that I would approve of any of your actions since the Holy Tomb. However, it appears that none of the options significantly surpasses the others; therefore, I would prefer to select the one that permits me to be with my daughter.”
Edelgard simply nodded.
“Come, ride with me, Flayn”, her father suggested. “I can protect you while you heal the troops.”
Despite knowing how private a person Edelgard was, it was just her father and Hubert in the immediate vicinity. On a whim, Flayn quickly embraced the Emperor and gave her a light kiss on her lips.
“Stay safe”, she murmured, and Edelgard smiled softly at her while her father and Hubert glanced at each other awkwardly.
“You too, Flayn.”
“So it is true?” Seteth asked as they walked to his wyvern. “You and Lady Edelgard are… romantically involved?”
“Yes”, Flayn confirmed after a pause.
“I never knew you… That is, I always thought…”
“I wished to tell you sooner, yet I was certain you would not look kindly upon my feelings for Lady Edelgard.”
“Honestly, I do not, and I would have said the same before any of… this. Those kinds of relationships are doomed from the beginning.”
“So it is as I feared! But what is so wrong with it? Is it only because she is a woman—”
“What? Whether she is male or female is inconsequential. In fact, it is better that she's a woman. At least then there is no risk of—”
“Then whatever do you mean, Father?” Flayn asked, confused.
“The fact that she’s… human.”
“Ah, I see…” Flayn fell silent for a moment. “But… why should that be a problem? Is it that their lives are so much shorter?”
“They do not just live shorter lives; they live a fraction of our lifespan. Each passing year is merciless for them, and they are easily crippled by terrible diseases. I have seen it myself—how only decades-long love stories can turn into centuries of heartbreak.”
That does sound rather personal… I cannot help but wonder if…
Flayn decided that now wasn’t the right time to explore her father’s words further, especially given the sentiment they carried.
“You mean to say that I should never share such a bond with another? That, being unable to take a mate of my own kind, I am to resign myself to solitude?”
Her father helped her up onto the mount, then let out an exasperated sigh.
“Of course, I cannot ask you to abstain from such things; it would be… Please, forgive me, Cethleann. I promise to try and do better. You will always be my dear daughter, but… You are no longer a little girl. And… while I disapprove of Her Majesty’s methods… I believe I understand why her idealism would appeal to you. Let us just… win this battle for now.”
“Thank you, Father”, Flayn said quietly and squeezed his hand affectionately, receiving a gentle squeeze in return.
“I cannot help but think of how this all reminds me of what took place a thousand years back”, Seteth said contemplatively as his wyvern took wing. “Only it seems the roles are reversed, this time, and you are rather playing the part of Wilhelm, and Edelgard that of Seiros.”
“That is… a most bewildering analogy.”
”Is it, truly? Is she not the force sweeping across these lands, shaping them to her liking, and you the enamored accomplice, providing her with the means she needs to succeed?”
Flayn winced in distaste as they flew over the two armies, clashing against their ancient enemies.
“Lady Edelgard would never treat me like Aunt Rhea treated Wilhelm.”
“For her sake, I certainly hope so.”
Aymr cut mercilessly through Agarthan mages, although not as quickly as Edelgard would have preferred. One of the biggest challenges was that their opponents were using similar magical shields that Flayn projected. Exhausting the mages who maintained them slowed the battle considerably, which had caused the Imperial army to suffer significant losses during the initial surprise attack. At least Leopold had managed to quickly get the situation under control, and the Kingdom soldiers and the remaining Knights of Seiros weren’t attacking them anymore. Edelgard hoped that the latter meant Ingrid had succeeded in rallying the opposing troops and organizing a counterattack against Cleobulus’s henchmen, because she was painfully aware of the increasing fatigue among her soldiers.
“This doesn’t look good, does it?” she heard Caspar say to her. He was covered in sweat and blood, panting from exertion. “If only we still had any of the shield infantry—”
They both gasped as warm light spread around them, and suddenly, the fresh corpses of their countrymen at their feet stirred. Even the Agarthans paused their attacks, everyone watching in deep awe as several soldiers on the frontline, just as shaken as everyone else, rose back to their feet. They glanced warily around them, haunted looks in their eyes, then quickly picked up their weapons again as they realized they had been granted a second chance.
“Sweet Seiros!” Caspar exclaimed as the troops began chanting Flayn’s name again, full of renewed determination. “Your girlfriend’s something else, isn’t she?”
“Yes… Though I worry she may push herself too far”, Edelgard muttered apprehensively, looking up and briefly spotting Seteth’s wyvern in the sky. Flayn was clearly much more powerful in her hybrid form than she had been during the battle for Garreg Mach, or even at the battle at the border, but there had to be limits to her powers. Simply maintaining the shield against the Immaculate One’s death beam and reviving one man had rendered her unconscious for days. Now, she was raising dozens of dead soldiers.
The shield mages at the front finally combined their efforts, concentrating their strength on holding one large barrier around them. Edelgard hacked at it with all her strength, but she was tired and her muscles ached after the confrontation with Sothis. She felt relieved when Flayn’s familiar magic enveloped her, energizing her again, and finally, her relic weapon shattered the barrier. The Imperial soldiers poured at the Agarthans as Flayn appeared beside her, clearly worn by her efforts, but looking determined, followed by her father. Hubert and the rest of the Black Eagles gathered around her as well.
“Thales is there”, Edelgard said, nodding to their far left. “As expected, he lingers at the rear, issuing commands while avoiding any risk himself, his elite guards around him. That false sense of security will not protect him for long. This ends here.”
“We will not let you down, Your Majesty”, Hubert assured her.
They started moving toward the formidable leader of the Agarthan offensive, who was already expecting them. Heavily armored dark knights and mages, with the advantage of starting the fight rested, stared at them silently, spread in front of Thales.
“Do you really think you are any match for us? That I haven’t prepared for this?”
Edelgard clenched her teeth and lunged at the Agarthans, but suddenly found herself unable to move, as not just she, but their entire group, was tied to the ground with purple tendrils curling around their feet and shins. She had seen Hubert use a spell like this before, but only on a single target. Now, the ground beneath all of them was covered with purple tethers unwilling to let their prey loose.
“Oh great, they also silenced us”, Linhardt muttered.
There were three mages behind the knights, who were preparing to cast something. One at a time, they raised and spread their arms, a dark force intensifying between the hands of each mage.
“What is happening?” Dorothea asked nervously.
“You have seen that enormous magical strike I do, right?” Lysithea said. “Just imagine it is three of me right there. And perhaps pray that Flayn can counter even one of those. We have never tested that, and for a reason.”
“But, um, a-aren’t we silenced?”
“Her kind is immune to that”, the younger mage replied, and they all watched with bated breath as Flayn cast a shield over them.
Edelgard felt cold sweat on her skin as the first mage launched their spell. She could see Flayn on her right side, and her pained grimace as she kept the shield over them for the duration of the first magical strike.
“I have to wonder how it is possible you know that spell”, Thales mused, the slightest hint of curiosity in his voice. “Would someone of our kind have truly strayed so far from our mission as to teach our secrets to a filthy little beast? No matter. You will die soon enough.”
Flayn was already panting and drenched in sweat after the first attack. She took a break that was over all too soon, as she had to brace for the second magical artillery strike and project the shield over them again. This time, she let out an agonized cry, barely able to keep the shield up, its surface webbing like thick glass about to break.
Edelgard desperately tried to move her legs, but to no avail. Flayn appeared on the verge of collapse from overexertion, only the shadowy tendrils holding her in place preventing it. The expressions of her comrades reflected something between defiance and quiet acceptance.
This cannot be it. To come so far, only to…
Edelgard shook the bitter thoughts from her mind, refusing to show fear or desperation. Not in front of that man. If she had to die, she would die proudly with her weapon in her hands. Gritting her teeth, she stared at Thales and focused her frustration on her axe instead, gripping the shaft so tightly that it was a small miracle it didn't break under the pressure.
“It was a pleasure working with you”, the Agarthan drawled, a conceited little smirk on his face. “Or not, really. Goodbye.”
The third of the magical artillery strikes was unleashed. Stubbornly, Flayn attempted to cast the shield over them again, but it flickered already at the very first contact with the devastating force of the spell.
A deafening bellow echoed through the air.
For a moment, Edelgard thought it was the sound of it all ending, then that it was the Immaculate One. She quickly turned to look at Flayn, and whatever else was happening around her was momentarily all swept away as she stared at the young Nabatean’s changing, growing form, enraptured.
All the while stubbornly holding up the shield, Flayn’s silver-and-white scales grew larger before Edelgard’s eyes, along with her body and tail, until she was roughly half of the Immaculate One’s size. Her limbs turned into beastlike, clawed front legs, while the feet on her hind legs grew slightly larger and became webbed. Her sleek, toned form was clearly built for swimming, which was further emphasized by the fact that instead of wings, she had a fin on her back that decreased in size toward her long tail. She still had her horns, but her birdlike head was something Edelgard hadn’t expected. It reminded her of the birds she knew inhabited the small islands north of Adrestia—the ones with stocky builds, short wings, and brightly colored, large parrot-like beaks, skillfully catching fish by diving underwater. Only Flayn’s beak was white, except for the brightly glowing green motif covering the bill, which Edelgard recognized as the Crest of Cethleann.
So this is her… true form, as they call it.
The peculiar, aquatic form of Flayn’s stood firmly on her four feet, effortlessly keeping up the shield until the magical barrage was over. The shadowy tendrils had finally disappeared, as well, and the Black Eagles charged at the Agarthans again.
“Stubborn pests”, Thales growled angrily.
Edelgard watched Flayn cast a mass heal in her new form, a soothing warmth spreading through her sore muscles and invigorating her again.
Such incredible power.
Thales shielded his right side as Bernadetta fired several arrows consecutively at him, while Dorothea simultaneously sent a bolt of lightning magic his way. Out of the corner of her eye, Edelgard saw Seteth on his wyvern, taking the chance to boldly dive at the distracted Agarthan on his mount, halberd raised.
The shadows shifted.
Wait.
“Seteth! Don’t—”
Myson suddenly appeared next to Thales out of nowhere and shot a beam of dark magic straight at the Nabatean. The spell tore through the wyvern that let out an ear-splitting, wailing cry. Then the man flung another spell at him, and the power of it sent both the mount and Seteth flying through the air.
In the midst of everything, another distressed cry pierced the chaos, but despite how it tore at her heart, Edelgard was already locked in combat with two heavy knights, and there was nothing else she could do but defend herself.
”Father!”
Flayn hurried to the slumped, unmoving form on the ground. Her pulse raced frantically as she saw the poor wyvern, its torso and wings torn to shreds, intestines hanging from the open belly. Realizing her new physical limitations but also the advantages, she took the dead wyvern gently into her beak and placed it aside, finding her father under it.
“C-Cethleann”, he rasped, his voice barely audible.
“Cichol…”
With some effort, he managed to smile a little.
“At least… I got to see… your true self. You are so beautiful… as always. Never… forget that.”
“F-Father, please! You are terrifying me… I beg of you, cease such dreadful words! I… I will restore you back to health, you will see. Pray, do not vanish from me yet!” Flayn pleaded, but her father had already gone silent.
“N-no… I will not… allow this.”
Very carefully, Flayn placed the other of her clawed front feet over the older Nabatean and began channeling her magic, searching for the spirit parting from the bonds of flesh. Finally, she found it, already almost out of her reach, and she desperately clung to the last few wisps of it, attempting to repair what was broken. But this was no human she was bringing back, and the connections were so complex, sophisticated, and elusive.
T-there… I almost—
“FLAYN! THE SKY! LOOK AT THE SKY!”
She tore herself back to the present, disoriented after severing the link to her father so abruptly, but there was such unusual urgency in Edelgard’s uncharacteristically shrill voice that she had to react.
Almost immediately, she noticed the enormous object coming straight at them—bright as if made of pure light, reminding her of a lance. She glanced behind her. Both armies were retreating from the enormous phenomenon approaching them slowly but with horrifying certainty, and she saw Thales’ corpse in the middle of an ominously glowing magical rune. Apparently, the fight was over, and this was his final revenge on them all.
“All… for nothing.”
Flayn was startled when she suddenly saw Rhea beside her.
“Aunt Rhea…”
The former Archbishop’s eyes were glassy and haunted as she stared at the sky, her hair and white clothes covered in crusted blood.
“It… was not supposed to be like this”, she said in a hollow voice. “Everything has gone… so horribly wrong. Please, do forgive me; I… have not been… myself. But perhaps… there is still something I can do.”
With some struggle, the weary Nabatean transformed, and even as the Immaculate One, she looked endlessly tired and battleworn, standing on three legs as she held up her wounded right front leg.
“I... have nothing left in here.”
She spread her wings, spending what remaining strength she still possessed to soar into the sky once more, straight at the bright lance that was rapidly coming closer.
Despite everything that had happened, Flayn felt a lump form in her throat as she watched the Immaculate One open her jaws wide and breathe a fire beam at the strange, terrifying Agarthan weapon. A massive, deafening explosion ensued, decimating every shred of the Immaculate One’s being in seconds. Whether it was self-imposed punishment, the final apology, or simply the will to cease existing, in a way, it also marked the end of an era.
Regardless of the sudden, deep grief washing over her, Flayn cast a wide shield in front of her, protecting her father’s body and the retreating humans from the blast wave. Before she could lower the shield, she realized with a sinking feeling that the first gigantic lance of light was closely followed by two more.
The first impact wasn’t quite enough to break her shield, but the second one burned through it almost immediately, searing her scales and filling her mouth with the taste of iron and ash. Somewhere beyond the roar, she could hear Edelgard’s voice. While she couldn’t make out the words over everything that was happening, she understood the emotion behind them and treasured it in her heart.
What wonderful memories she had managed to create in such a short time since her awakening. She had forged friendships, known love, and perhaps… she had even made a difference.
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EnricoDandolo on Chapter 1 Wed 16 Apr 2025 12:14PM UTC
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