The clacking of wood against wood. The scraping of heels against stone. The labored breaths of a harried student versus the steady and near non-existent respiration of a beyond composed instructor. These sounds fill the void of silence within Garreg Mach's training grounds.
It takes every ounce of Edelgard's attention to block her professor's onslaught of attacks. The thought of setting up a counterattack, she realizes, is wishful thinking best left for another time. She grits her teeth as she defends a particularly nasty blow targeting her temple. The training sword she wields knocks against her head and she is sent tumbling to the cold stone floor. She lays there on her side, hurting, attempting to regain her breath.
"You've gotten better." Byleth stands before her student looking none the worse for wear. With the waxing moon at her back and her shadow cast over the defeated Edelgard, she strikes an imposing figure.
Edelgard scoffs, her eyes turning away from the unreadable visage of Byleth. "Hardly. I've yet to land a single blow against you in all these months."
Byleth says nothing for a time, instead standing and watching her student as she recuperates from their vigorous training session. Edelgard regards the older woman from the corner of her eyes, watching her watch her.
"That last strike was meant to hit you," Byleth says simply. And after a second of contemplation she adds, "...Directly."
Still on the floor, Edelgard shakes her head. "You were holding back."
"Of course I was," Byleth responds curtly.
Exasperation shows plainly on Edelgard's face. She decides to drop the conversation where it is and goes about about picking herself up. Only she can't. When she puts weight on her left leg, she yelps and falls again. Almost immediately Byleth is at her side.
"Where are you hurt?"
The sudden closeness of her instructor leaves Edelgard's mind addled. Byleth kneels beside her with a hand bracing her back and her large bust pushed so very close to the girl's face. Even as Edelgard turns her face away, her nose is assailed by the professor's mild yet heady natural fragrance. She answers with rouge steadily spreading across her face. "My ankle. I think I twisted it when I fell."
Worry finds its way to Byleth's face. "I'm sorry."
Before Edelgard can disregard her instructor's apology, Byleth lets go of her and walks off with their training weapons in hand. She returns a moment later, empty-handed, and kneels once more. Her arms past beneath the younger girl and she hefts her up to carry her bridal style.
"What do you think you're doing?! P-put me down this instant!" Edelgard sputters as she is picked up, her face now positively glowing. She unconsciously wraps her arms around her instructor's neck to steady herself as Byleth walks out the training grounds. She chances a glance at Byleth's face and finds her usual passive look adorning it.
"We need to get your ankle treated. Letting you walk on it will only exacerbate the injury."
"I suppose you have a point." The blush on her face remains, but Edelgard ceases to admonish her well-meaning instructor. Seeing no one else out she relaxes in the older woman's embrace, taking note of how toned her arms are, how warm she is, and inadvertently inhaling more of her extremely pleasant scent.
"Wait," Edelgard exclaims. She pushes away from Byleth, taking a good look at their surroundings. "This isn't the way to the infirmary. Where are you taking me?"
"It's not," Byleth responds. "I saw Professor Manuela carrying two bottles of wine to her room earlier. I don't think she'll be of any use right now. I have a few medical supplies in my room."
"I... I see." Edelgard goes quiet after that, opting to instead view the side profile of her instructor. She watches Byleth intently as they traverse the monastery grounds to her quarters. The blush upon her cheeks begins to recede, but her eyes grow fonder still. A silly idea makes itself known to her, and as she seeks to dismiss it, Byleth notices her gaze.
Byleth stops in her tracks, just a few steps shy of her door. "Edelgard, is something wrong?"
Their eyes meet, and Byleth's stare is as dispassionate as always; she thinks nothing of the way her student looks at her. Edelgard can feel this, the fact her instructor is incapable of comprehending or identifying the vibes being sent her way, and yet the silly idea she had been prepared to quash makes itself more pronounced within her mind.
"Edelgard?"
The girl tightens the hold she has on her teacher's neck. Edelgard pulls Byleth's face closer to her own while simultaneously closing her eyes. Their lips touch. She holds this position for but a few seconds before moving away, her tongue darting out to lick the other's lips as she does so.
When she opens her eyes again, Edelgard is treated to the sight of Byleth's still stoic face, her own once again burning a bright red. She sighs dejectedly and begins to apologize, but before even the first word can leave her mouth, she stops.
Slowly but surely red ekes out across Byleth's face. Her lips press together into a thin line and her whole body trembles so slightly.
"Wha... wha..." The normally impassive Byleth has been left utterly speechless. Edelgard takes the opportunity to follow through.
"I daresay I've fallen for you, my teacher."
Owlishly Byleth blinks. Her face has become entirely scarlet even up to her ears. She looks down and away from Edelgard. Very quietly she says, "I see."
"Do you like me as well?" Edelgard asks, her question milquetoast in nature so as to prevent an unfavorable answer.
"Like? Um..." Byleth's eyes flit between her feet and Edelgard's face. She has her. "...Yes, I do like you."
"I'm glad."
Edelgard uncouples an arm from around Byleth's neck and gently grasps her by the chin. She lifts her head back toward her own. She smiles at her and moves in for yet another kiss. Her lips move against her instructor's, parting them to allow an opening for her tongue. Byleth's eyes remain popped open and her tongue flaccid, while Edelgard's eyes have shut casually and her tongue encircles and deftly plays against her teacher's. The shuddery breaths escaping Byleth's nostrils titillate her student to no end.
Edelgard breaks the kiss with a sigh of satisfaction, the pad of her gloved thumb caressing the cheek of her still trembling Byleth.
The cacophony of war permeates the walls of the Adrestian throne room. Amidst a constant barrage of shouting and the clanging of steel, an explosion is both felt and heard. The twin doors barring the room from the chaos outside reverberate ominously from the impact. The battle draws nearer. The soldiers inhabiting the room brace themselves for the inevitable moment the doors come crashing down.
Edelgard, too, awaits this moment, all too sure of exactly who will be leading the charge. She sits on her throne, her fingers gripping the fine upholstery of the arms hard enough to rend them. She gnashes her teeth and bats her eyes wearily as exhaustion assails her along with the steady strumming of pain inside her head. In an effort to mitigate the pain, she lifts a hand to massage her temples but stops short when she experiences a sudden pressure on her ribs. She jolts in her seat and barely stifles a gasp. Once, twice, thrice more are her ribs assaulted and she very nearly cries out. When the movement in her belly has died down, finally does her hand reach her head.
A bolt of light hits the floor of the throne room, and in that previously unoccupied space now stands the enlightened one herself. Her entrance being so abrupt leaves the soldiers surrounding her no time to react before she raises her sword and utters the words, "Sublime Heaven."
By the time Edelgard herself notices the invader's presence, half the room's combatants are already felled. The floor below her is already consumed by the turbulent energy and twirling blades of the creator sword. Screams of agony pierce her ears as she watches her soldiers be effortlessly shredded apart by the dozen. In the blade's last revolution, the tip passes just shy of her face in a long arc to the head of the one demonic beast held within the room. With one swipe, the helmet protecting the beast's crest stone is smashed, and with the next, so too is the stone itself. In a matter of seconds, the occupancy of the room has fallen from upward of one hundred to simply two.
The segments of the creator sword snap back into place, and its wielder rests the destructive weapon over her shoulder as her eyes scan the multitude of lifeless bodies and parts strewn across the floor for any sign of movement. Eventually they come to rest on Edelgard, and in them she sees nothing. The seafoam eyes glowing so vibrantly reveal a hollow heart, and inwardly she thanks their owner for that. She steels herself. She tries to.
Descending the stairs before her throne, Edelgard puts on a brave face. With her Aymr clutched firmly in her hand, she averts her eyes from the carnage surrounding her foe. "Professor... I suppose you think you can defeat me. Is that right? But I will never give up. Even if my arms and legs failed me, I would still find a way to move forward." She can hear it, and she is positive the professor can too, how her words acknowledge her probable defeat. She knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that she will not succeed here. The invasion had blindsided her. While she had expected an attack of some kind to spring forth from the resistance army, she had not expected this level of coordination, the aide of Almyra through Claude, nor for it to happen so soon. She thinks to herself, if she could have just prolonged the war for a few more months perhaps this moment would have played out differently.
"I will smash that false goddess and her minion into the ground! I will fight to free this world from her vile grasp!" Her declaration as bombastic as it is serves to fire her up, and as she reaches the ground floor she feels that familiar tingle in her veins that signals the activation of her crests. It is all for naught, however, as she is forced to her knees not even five seconds into the engagement. When they crossed weapons, she could see the confusion pass over Byleth's face, confounded by her frailty. When they parted, she was dealt a backhand across her face that more than sufficed to keel her over.
Aymr is rendered unusable, its crest stone shattered at some point during their exchange. Her cheek stings and blood trickles into her mouth and out her nose. She laughs. The one blow and she's already defeated, on the ground clutching her - Edelgard hastily removes her hand from her midsection, where it had gone instinctively in her fall. Glancing upward, she makes note of how intently Byleth watches her, the questioning look still persistent on her face.
She's hesitant, but her guard remains raised. Byleth's stoicism and resolve, like that of an edifice immobile, bears upon it a very fine fault capable of seeing to her downfall. Although she must, she does not wish to kill Edelgard. Two, maybe five words are all she needs for Edelgard to exploit this opening, but she refuses to speak them. She realizes that to prevail over Byleth would be a pointless endeavor. Her empire is in shambles. The opposing army is just outside her doors and prone to burst through any moment now. She knows the best course of action.
"It looks as though my path will end here..." Edelgard bows her head in defeat. Her grip on her relic goes slack as fatigue overtakes the brief rush of adrenaline she had experienced. "My teacher... claim your victory." She hears Byleth inhale but nothing comes after. "Strike me down! You must!"
"Even now, across this land people are killing each other. If you do not act now, this conflict will go on forever." Edelgard realizes just how silly she must sound making this assertion, she being the primary instigator of said conflict, but if anymore of a push is needed to see to her end she'll give it. "Your path... lies across my grave. It is time for you to find the courage to walk it."
Something crashes against the throne room doors followed by the dying wail of what must be a terrified soldier. A chorus of shouting and spell incantations pour into the room as the last of the castle defenders die off one after another. Dipping her head even lower to the ground, Edelgard mouths a silent prayer for her fallen. "If I must fall, let it be by your hand."
Finally, Edelgard hears Byleth moving toward her, sees her boots come close enough to be covered by her shadow. She wants to say nothing more, to just hang her head quietly and let the deed be done, but in her grief Edelgard cannot help but look up and utter a few final pathetic words. "I wanted... to walk with you..." And before her she sees not the resolute visage of her executioner nor the impending fall of a blade meant to spell her end. Byleth stands before Edelgard with her sword held limply in her hands and her eyes bloodshot, leaking, hollow and vacantly staring through the girl.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Byleth barely manages before she sinks to her knees. She discards her sword as her quiet crying gradually becomes a sobbing mess. She wipes at her face and her chest heaves and the sight leaves Edelgard more than dumbfounded. "Why didn't you tell me about the baby? I... I..."
The doors to the throne room burst open before Byleth can continue, before Edelgard can even ask how she knew.