"Blaise Eisner! Don't you walk away from me!"
Blaise winced at Manuela's tone. She'd done her best to bolt as soon as they were dismissed, but, clearly, she hadn't been fast enough. She blamed Seteth for blocking the doorway a second too long.
She had no choice but to pause, feigning an extensive interest in clipping her pendant around her neck so she didn't have to directly face Manuela's ire.
The others caught up, Balen considering her as he passed but, apparently, not quite desiring to come between her and Manuela. He Signed instead.
See you in the dining hall?
The dining hall …
Right. She'd have to brave it sooner or later.
Blaise nodded, waving him off.
Manuela was before her by then, arms crossed and tapping her foot as she glowered. "Take it easy, I said. Did I not say that, Blaise? Or was something in your brain not wired together properly where throwing yourself in a battle is considered a leisure?" she ranted.
I'm fine.
Her father had stopped several feet away, and she knew he had a few choice words for her as well.
But one upset adult at a time.
"If I had a gold coin for every time I heard that ..."
"Manuela, spare your colleague the dramatics. You said it yourself, she is healing remarkably. No doubt a side effect of her Major Crest of Chevalier, truly fascinating don't you think?" Professor Hanneman mused, placing a hand upon Manuela's shoulder.
Blaise fought not to grimace. She liked Hanneman for the most part, but sometimes the way he worded things...
… Made her feel like less than a person.
And she didn't need any help with that right now.
Manuela shrugged him off. "Hanneman, you old geezer, this conversation doesn't concern you," she snapped.
The Crest Scholar fiddled with his monocle as he sighed. "Then perhaps you might consider a more private location-"
"Or you could leave me to my lecture as intended," she returned.
Blaise glanced between the two and had half a mind to try her luck at slipping away. She probably would have if it wasn't for her father watching.
I want in the battle.
She sighed. It wasn't even a life or death battle, just a matter of wounded pride if she screwed up. At least as far as any of them would be aware. For her there was a little more involved but still nothing life or death.
Manuela spun on her. "And don't you think for even a second I don't know why!" Blaise felt her breath catch for just a moment before Manuela's glare shifted to Hanneman. A pause and the Black Eagles professor grabbed Blaise by the arm and began dragging her away.
Blaise certainly wasn't in the mood to fight her, not with that glare that reminded her of an angry lion on Manuela's face, and it did put more distance between herself and her father so she refrained from digging her heels in the ground. She was slightly more concerned when Manuela stomped right past the corridor that led to the infirmary.
To safety.
Blaise looked longingly as she was pulled by it.
Where are we going?
"The classroom. You say you're fine for a battle, you're going to prove it to me."
Prove it?
Blaise's stomach did nasty flips. She didn't know what this was, hadn't thought her plan through very well at this point, but still she was sure this wasn't what she'd had in mind. What was Manuela thinking? She wasn't ready to fight right this second… The Battle of the Eagle and Lion was like a month away.
"If you are going to make such ridiculous requests, at least have the decency to run them by me first. Honestly, you wouldn't even leave the infirmary and now you want to participate in battle?!" Manuela continued to complain all the way until she kicked the door open and Blaise found herself in the middle of the classroom.
And it wasn't empty.
Which was utterly bizarre because it was evening and classes were over for the day.
Blaise cast a glance over her shoulder just to be sure she wasn't crazy, but, no, it was definitely dark outside.
Yet six of her eight Black Eagle students were currently staring at her with as much surprise as she was sure was on her own face.
It was like a rabid monkey had been set loose when Caspar recovered.
"We've got Blaise back!" Caspar yelled, jumping from his seat and barreling toward her with an enthusiasm she had forgotten.
She vaguely thought she should move, but couldn't for the life of her get herself to do more than stare blankly at the charging boy.
Manuela, graciously, grabbed him by the collar as he sped by her, jerking him to an abrupt halt. "No roughhousing for her for at least another week," she ordered as she gave Caspar another shake for good measure before letting him go again.
The blue–haired boy spluttered unintelligibly, but his eyes still shone. He closed the distance with a few barely restrained bounds, stopping only when he was practically nose to nose with Blaise. If he was a puppy, he'd be wagging his tail.
Blaise just blinked, otherwise unmoving with every muscle taut and ready... for what she wasn't quite sure.
And then there was silence.
She swore she heard a quill drop from somewhere.
Still Caspar continued to grin as if thoroughly oblivious to the tension. Waiting, waiting...
She risked a glance at Manuela, noting a calculating look that Blaise only recalled seeing on her features when she was testing the Black Eagles over something she wasn't sure they understood or not.
Blaise realized she was the one being tested this time.
To prove she was fine.
Because, duh, she couldn't participate in the battle if she couldn't function with her class.
She sucked in a breath, mentally cursing Edelgard again, and her hand twitched in some semblance of shaky Sign.
Hello, Caspar.
She didn't know Caspar could grin much wider, but she swore it grew and... it was kind of a relief. She felt some of her tension dissolve from her shoulders.
"I've been practicing. Watch this," Caspar exclaimed. He raised his hand, forehead knitting with concentration as he forced his fingers in a more intricate pattern than she was used to seeing from him.
It was… incorrect in a lot of ways but legible nevertheless.
Welcome back. The Black Eagles missed you.
Blaise felt her lips twitch into a smile, a feat she didn't realize would feel as odd as it did. She looked over his shoulder and Ferdinand was standing beside his desk with that ever cheerful smile of his, Dorothea was a few steps closer looking as if she was about to cry, Petra stood in her chair like a panther ready to pounce across the room, Linhardt was still in his chair, but he was awake, and Bernadetta was creeping closer with every blink of Blaise's eyes.
Her heart thumped in her chest so hard she thought it might burst.
I missed the Black Eagles.
It wasn't so much a realization. She knew she had missed them.
She just didn't expect it to feel so much like when she'd seen Balen and her father after so long… In fact, it didn't feel different at all. Was that odd?
It wasn't a question she entertained.
Blaise vaulted forward, throwing her arms around Caspar's neck much as she had with Balen in Remire. Caspar, with all his enthusiasm, laughed with no restraint and twirled her around, and it was like a bunch of rabid monkeys were set loose then as the rest of the students decided a group hug was necessary.
If Dorothea hadn't been crying before, she definitely was now as Blaise found herself pulled slightly from Caspar and toward her. Dorothea couldn't even say anything intelligible, and it only made Blaise start crying as well but in the best way possible. Still holding her hand, Blaise swung around to Ferdinand who luckily caught her before she fell over as Petra squeezed herself between Blaise and Dorothea.
"Your return lifts my spirits more than I can describe. It is like the sun has risen after weeks of night," Ferdinand admitted.
"So dramatically poetic, Ferdinand," Linhardt stated. The healer remained standing a respectable distance from the chaos, but he did nod to her. "It is, however, nice to see you in fine health, Blaise," he offered.
Blaise had now released Dorothea's hand in favor of grabbing Bernadetta's and dragging the young archer, sputtering and flailing into her.
Yes, it wasn't everyone but with Ferdinand and Petra on either side of her, Dorothea behind, Bernadetta in front and suffering a massive bear hug from Caspar, and Manuela watching from across the room with a satisfied smile…
The Black Eagles, as they were, was certainly something she'd been missing.
It was probably fifteen minutes later before Manuela managed to pry all six students from Blaise and insist they take a seat. Apparently, they were here for an actual reason and not just hanging out in the classroom.
Manuela gave them a brief rundown of the meeting they had come from which Blaise mostly tuned out, having heard it already. Something about a White Heron Cup and the ball and, of course, the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. It all seemed to make sense to the students who grinned and hung onto Manuela's words with rapport attention. They were particularly excited to hear Edelgard and Hubert would be attending the Battle of the Eagle and Lion even if they weren't allowed to participate.
"That will be alright! With Blaise's return our victory is assured. Edelgard and Hubert will be pleased to witness the strength of the Black Eagle House," Ferdinand exclaimed followed by a "Yeah, the other Houses don't stand a chance!" from Caspar and a high-five between the two enthusiastic boys.
"Do neither of you remember the way the mock battle went down? Don't underestimate the others," Linhardt cautioned.
Petra jumped to her feet. "I am believing in us. Ferdinand is speaking true, our spirits are highest."
"Now, Kids, settle down. We have a lot of catching up to do before we are ready to go against the other houses," Manuela interrupted before the excitement could get out of hand once again. Blaise did notice the Black Eagles professor wasn't exactly hiding her wide smile.
Dorothea's hand shot in the air. "Professor?"
"Yes, my songbird?" Manuela prompted.
Dorothea's smile wavered as she glanced to Blaise and back to Manuela. "Blaise is going to be in the battle then?" she asked and the class seemed to utterly freeze.
Blaise didn't answer. She looked to Manuela as did the rest of the class, now silent and hanging on for her reply. She wondered if she made a pleading face if Manuela would give in.
As it was, she hadn't managed it before Manuela huffed, raising a hand to massage her head. "Blaise will be taking charge of the Black Eagles' participation in the White Heron Cup while I plan the event itself..." the professor faced Blaise directly, "... should you regain your strength by the time the battle takes place, you may fight for the Black Eagles," she allowed.
Blaise grinned at her victory, however passive. Victory was victory after all.
All that stood between her and her goal was training and some White Heron Cup?
Piece of cake. She could totally handle that.
Right?
First things first though… what was this White Heron Cup?
~FE~
A dance.
"You have never heard of the White Heron Cup?" Ferdinand exclaimed, jaw open as if she'd told him she'd learned to fly in her time away.
She refrained from sighing.
No, Ferdinand. Why would she have heard of some random event at a prestigious academy she had never attended?
"Why, Blaise, it is an esteemed competition. One student from each House will perform a dance and the superior performance will attain a prize for the entire house!" Ferdinand continued.
And bragging rights which she supposed went without saying.
"It is a one of a kind experience. I would be happy to represent the Black Eagles. Would you like me to demonstrate the legendary footwork of House Aegir?"
"Now wait, Ferdie. I simply adore dancing and I'm quite good at it. I danced frequently on the stage when I was with the opera company, you know," Dorothea argued.
Caspar practically jumped out of his chair again, hand waving in the air. "I'm a great dancer too, Blaise! I volunteer!"
"I am having uncertainty of the style of dancing in Fodlan, but in Brigid I have much skill," Petra admitted.
Blaise just blinked as she realized this was going to be harder than she thought. Of course they would all want to volunteer.
Sans Bernadetta who was hiding again and Linhardt who'd finally succumbed to the sleep he so desperately desired.
Okay, dance competition, Blaise.
She dragged the blackboard over, rolling chalk in her hand.
Who knows how to dance? Legitimately?
Everyone but the unconscious Linhardt raised their hand, even Bernadetta although her hand barely topped the desk. Blaise couldn't contain some measure of surprise at the shy girl.
You know how to dance?
"My father … not very good..." Bernadetta squeaked before she ducked completely under her desk with a cry of, "I don't want to!"
Fair enough.
"All children of the noble houses are taught to dance," Ferdinand explained.
Go figure she would have the house full of nobles with the only exception being an opera star.
Blaise clapped her hands. Okay, she was just going to have to decide who was the best dancer of the class. She'd seen dancing before, done a little herself. It shouldn't be too hard.
She dismissed them, telling them to practice before the next evening if they wanted to be the representative for the Black Eagles. They left, speaking among themselves in an excited chatter once they'd successfully woken Linhardt.
She turned around as the room quieted to face Manuela who had taken a seat at the teacher's desk, enjoying the show that was Blaise floundering no doubt.
So?
Approve or not?
Manuela's lips twitched. "You must want in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion terribly," she mused. Her smile faded however into concern as she leaned forward, considering Blaise with a thoughtful expression. "The real question is whether there's something to prove or someone to impress?"
Blaise ignored her tone which she didn't quite know what to make of.
Sounds the same.
But it wasn't.
And it was more like both.
"To some," Manuela hummed and then sighed. "You needn't try so hard, dear. Having a goal is great, but it's okay to feel a little lost. Healing takes time and anyone who expects otherwise can jump off a cliff."
Was Manuela allowed to condone jumping off cliffs?
Blaise shoved the errant question away.
I'm fine.
A deeper frown graced the professor's features. "Contrary to popular belief, Blaise, saying something enough doesn't make it true," Manuela stated.
Blaise's fingers were sharper this time as she Signed the words again.
I'm fine.
Manuela took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, she rose to her feet. "Okay, you're fine. You can sleep in your own dorm tonight if you want. Come find me if you need me," she offered, an edge to her voice. She paused at Blaise's side, whatever ire she felt dissipating as quickly as it came. Her hand hovered over Blaise's shoulder before gently squeezing it. "If you're not feeling up to it in the morning, stay in and rest. You can join us in the afternoon," she added on the way out. She gave a final wave and Blaise was abruptly left in the empty classroom.
She stood there, seeing nothing once Manuela's form retreated out into the night.
Great job, Blaise. Way to be antagonistic.
She could have smacked herself over the head, especially now she'd successfully gotten herself left on her own. Her breath caught in her throat in a completely different way than when Caspar had charged upon her.
It was an unwelcome catch and entirely her own fault.
But she was fine, wasn't she? She could do this, right?
It was only a dance and then a ball and finally a battle. It was only the Black Eagles and Manuela… and Edelgard. And it was all going to work out. For everyone.
Yeah.
She winced as the classroom's remaining lantern flickered, threatening to surround her with darkness. Her adrenalin picked up, a part of her wanting to leave for the safety of... somewhere. Maybe someone.
But that room was empty, that someone out of reach.
Instead, Blaise lowered herself in one of the desks, watching the flame as it's light danced and cast shadows around her. If she thought hard enough she could almost imagine a campfire, a notebook in her hand, a presence beside her.
She could see the flames reflect upon silver hair.
She could almost feel the pressure in her hand, the soft touch of fingers intertwined with her own.
She marveled the memory and how it felt so long ago and how... empty it left her now. How had it slipped so cruelly from her fingers? Why? What had she done? Had she imagined the promises beneath the words?
Blaise knew Edelgard wasn't straightforward. In fact, she was downright complicated but still...
How had she gotten it all so wrong?
She shoved the lantern off the desk, relishing for just that moment at the sound of glass shattering. She stomped out what little flame it had held with a fervency that kind of scared her even as it satisfied whatever combination of emotions initiated the outburst. Glass crunched under her foot once, twice, three times before her energy seemed to suck straight out of her body.
And she slid to the ground, limbs decidedly limp, to sit in the dark.
Blaise dropped her head in her hands, fingers catching on her hair as she attempted to massage some sense of security into her being.
She was such an idiot, she realized.
Deluding herself in this way...
Rhea and Seteth had never offered her a job worth doing. She had always been an afterthought. If what her father said was true, Rhea had never shown interest in her as she had Balen. Balen was the reason her father left the Knights of Seiros, Balen was the reason they moved around, Balen was who the Agarthans had wanted.
Blaise was an accident and one they threw out even now because she just wasn't... good enough.
So why did she think Edelgard would feel any different about her?
Why in Fodlan's name had she possibly entertained the thought that a well-respected crown princess of the Empire would want anything more than a temporary working relationship with a mercenary who couldn't even speak on her own behalf.
Of course she'd ditched her once she'd realized Blaise wasn't capable of performing to expectations.
Blaise squeezed her eyes shut as if her surroundings could get any darker.
She'd let Myson get the better of her. She'd allowed herself to be a victim.
And this was what it had cost her.
There was nothing left but a shattered dream and an empty hand yearning for a touch that wasn't there.
She let one hand drop into her lap, palm up and fingers splayed. The shadow of Chevalier's Crest filled the empty space and, for once, it didn't bring her any comfort. She kept it tight around her despite the number of Crests calling to her. It felt foreign, needlessly disconnected as it was. Violent as it fought against her restrictions, but she had grown somewhat used to that by now.
And she was in control and she didn't want anything to do with Crests. Nothing good would come from it.
She told herself that.
She reminded herself of painful visions and the way it had nearly ripped her apart when Balen first touched the Sword of the Creator. She reminded herself it was what they had wanted of her. She steadfastly ignored the memory of Chevalier's smile, the one that made her feel like she was the only one in the world. She pushed away the freedom she found in Resonance in it's most pure form when she had no fear of Crest weapons and beasts.
She preferred a pounding headache, the itch of denial, the draining of energy.
Blaise felt she deserved it and more.
And yet…
She needed to embrace it.
How else would she prove anything of worth within her? How else could she ever be anything more than she was? Someone respected and capable?
Valuable. Desired. Adored. Loved.
Was it too much to ask just to feel wanted?
A shadow in the edge of her vision moved.
Blaise wasn't so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice. Her back snapped straight though she remained sitting, eyes scouring the classroom. She briefly lamented the destruction of the lantern but, instead of dwelling, allowed the Crest of Chevalier to be replaced with fire bright enough to light the corners of the room.
She nearly jumped upon finding a student mere feet from her. She supposed she was a student anyway considering the Black Eagles uniform though Blaise did not recognize her.
And she thought she would remember this young woman with her deep red hair and eyes.
The student smiled and it did nothing to set Blaise at ease but reminded her of a feral cat. Bared teeth and sharp eyes.
Blaise instinctively stood lest she become the mouse.
The student cocked her head. "So you are the professor who went missing..." she mused, sounding as disgusted as she was curious.
How odd.
Blaise hadn't brought a notebook so opted not to respond.
"I'd have thought someone of Chevalier's line to be less… Fodlan," the student sneered before the antagonism disappeared in another unnerving smile, "... No matter. Monica von Ochs. Edel has told me so much about you."
Edel?
Blaise's lip curled at the pet name.
Who did this Monica think she was suggesting she had such familiarity with Edelgard?
She resisted the urge to ignore her completely, offering a stiff bow that was little more than polite before she set about cleaning up the broken lantern pieces.
A hand grabbed her wrist tight enough she winced despite her brace.
What the Hell?
Blaise knew her glare could have frozen water in that moment yet Monica's smile didn't so much as waver.
"Let me see it," Monica whispered, tone bordering on threatening as she slowly twisted Blaise's wrist just enough to be uncomfortable. Monica moved way too close, her lips at Blaise's ear before she knew it. "Let me see Névé."
The breath at her ear sent shivers down her spine, something cold freezing her in it's grip.
Her wrist twisted a little more until it hurt and, though it wasn't much pain, Blaise felt as if she was being threatened with a thunder spell. She ground her teeth, staring at the floor but seeing nothing.
She complied.
Chevalier's Crest once again a light in the darkness.
They were still.
Blaise didn't dare move to see what Monica was doing, what she was thinking. She had a sudden desperation to leave and get as far away as she possibly could.
But she couldn't get herself to move.
It felt like hours before Monica released her wrist, but the relief was minimal when she did not step back. Feather-light touches along her arm, her shoulders, her neck as Monica shifted around in front of her only sent her mind whirling with wishes to flee.
And disgust.
Oh how easy it was for her to submit.
"How was Shambhala? Did you enjoy your visit home?" Monica giggled and it was an odd sound.
They were about the same height, Blaise realized. It was hard not to notice actually with mere inches separating the two of them. Her hair was done up in a well-maintained noblesque style, she smelled of perfume. Too much perfume as Blaise couldn't decipher any individual scent.
But it was her eyes that bothered her the most.
There was a ring of yellow that she swore hadn't been there before and, tinged with the purple shadow of Chevalier, further took Blaise somewhere she did not wish to be.
It was instinctual when she shoved the "student" away.
She needed room to breathe, needed space to think.
It wasn't intentional to push Monica into a desk though she couldn't say the act bothered her per se.
It did, however, bother Monica and Blaise simply hadn't fled fast enough as she suddenly felt a dagger against her neck.
She froze.
"Now, Névé," Monica purred, the jagged edge of the athame grazing Blaise's throat. "Your skills and cooperation are expected. Do not tempt me or I might just..." she trailed off, Blaise hissing as Monica jerked her hand so the blade broke skin. "... slip. I find it so difficult to stop," she admitted.
Blaise swallowed back the bitter taste of bile, but otherwise made no effort to move or respond.
"So quiet …" Monica hummed approvingly before she, finally, shoved Blaise away so hard she nearly fell flat on the floor.
For her part, Blaise didn't so much as glance back but bolted out of the classroom. Her room wasn't far. She turned for the stairwell that would take her past the Audience Chamber, deciding it was closer, and safer, than running across the monastery to reach her room from the dormitory side.
Perhaps she should have taken that chance though as she very nearly collided with the Archbishop at the bottom of the stairs. Blaise jumped back as if she'd been struck, banging her head into the wall behind her.
"Good evening, Blaise. It warms my heart to see you on the monastery grounds. Did you make time to visit with the Black Eagles?" Rhea asked, all smiles as if she had no idea Blaise was in any way flustered.
Blaise barely heard Rhea over the pounding of her own heart, but she managed a nod.
"Wonderful. I take it you were retiring for the night. Might I convince you into indulging me with a short walk before?" Rhea inquired.
No.
Her head practically screamed the response, yet her body nodded of it's own volition.
Blaise wasn't sure it was real but Rhea beamed at her agreement, and then Blaise, with little alternative she was willing to express, found herself treading alongside the Archbishop, flipping the collar of the Flame Emperor's cloak up to cover Monica's slip. She huddled deep inside the cloak, side-eyeing Rhea who seemed to have her gaze trained straight ahead.
She was going to ask questions, wasn't she?
She was… taking her to the cathedral.
Her sense of foreboding grew exponentially and she wanted to scream. Goddess, she felt surrounded. A violent Agarthan and a judgmental Archbishop everywhere she turned.
Bright side, though she hesitated to call it such, was that if she answered whatever Rhea wanted to know she'd probably be satisfied and go back to fawning over Balen and Blaise could get the hell away from her.
Rhea hummed as they crossed the bridge, stars twinkling down upon them in a way not completely unlike the bridge in Zanado.
Once Blaise really looked at it, the architecture wasn't that different from the ruinous city she adored so much. It was almost comforting despite her present company.
"Jeralt told me he informed you of your mother and her place here."
Rhea's statement surprised her. Of all the things to bring up... and she wasn't so sure he had shared much of anything. What had he said? Her mother had been a nun?
"Sitri's fragility meant we could not walk together often, but I cherished every time." Rhea glanced out over the expanse beyond the bridge. "She was difficult for many to understand in her own way, but she loved the fresh air and would sit and watch the stars as long as we would let her. Longer than she should have often times," Rhea admitted. She chuckled softly under her breath. "Sitri had that way of passing time. In the blink of an eye, dawn would be gracing the horizon." Her smile, which Blaise thought may have been genuinely soft, faded. Her forehead crinkled. "I have long lamented her life was much the same. Gone much too quickly," she whispered.
Rhea was quick to turn away, to continue leading the way down the bridge with Blaise stumbling in her wake to keep up with the taller woman.
Despite herself, her mother was a topic of immense interest. Even from Rhea. Even as it was becoming apparent there had been a relationship between Rhea and Sitri.
The knowledge didn't put her at ease. In fact, it only fed her trepidation. But it was knowledge she would not find anywhere else, and she'd be damned before she let it slip through her fingers.
Their footsteps echoed in the massive, empty cathedral. Moonlight spilled through stained glass windows, casting odd shadows about the room. Statues of the Goddess, of the Saints, of the most honorable of knights stared down upon them.
Blaise scanned the memorials, wondering if it was possible Chevalier was among them somewhere.
Rhea turned to Blaise then, green eyes examining the former mercenary.
Blaise snapped her gaze straight in front of her, her heart hammering in her chest as if Rhea could read exactly who she'd been looking for.
Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.
Yet, while Rhea's eyes penetrated deep within her, she got the feeling the Archbishop was not looking at her. Instinctively, she glanced over her shoulder.
But nothing was there.
Nothing but statues adding their judgement upon her.
Blaise shivered, barely refraining from recoiling as the Archbishop's fingers were quite suddenly caressing her hair.
She should leave. She did not belong in the church of the Goddess.
This was all very wrong.
"I wonder…" Rhea's whisper sounded loud in the silence, drawing Blaise back into green eyes.
Green eyes that were haunted and dark.
Was it possible to see herself reflected in another's eyes? … Because surely Rhea wasn't frightened.
She was calculating. She was trying to get something from Blaise. She was... plotting.
She had to be.
But her eyes... they were so distant and Blaise couldn't help but wonder if Rhea even realized who stood in front of her.
After all, the Rhea she knew didn't look at her so softly, much less caress her hair. Chevalier was the only one to have done so the same way.
"I thought of her as a daughter…"
Only a fool would have to ask who Rhea spoke of.
And Blaise was a lot of things, but she didn't think of herself as a fool. Not really.
Her heart sank in her chest as she added one more person to the ever-growing number of people her existence disappointed.
~FE~
She was fine. She was fine. She was fine.
Blaise repeated it like a mantra from where she sat tucked in the corner of her room with the Flame Emporer's cloak thrown over her like a blanket.
She hated this new monastery. This one with one of them and no Edelgard. This one where the statues accused her, and her mother had adored Rhea as much as Rhea had adored her. This one where even her room added to her anxiety because it was where everything had first gone wrong.
She spent a restless night with her lantern needlessly burning oil, eyes fixated across the room at the very point Jeritza had incapacitated her... the first of many consecutive failures that haunted her. She didn't sleep but dragged herself out the very second she felt she could get away with it not being suspicious.
Blaise eased her worries in the greenhouse, mindlessly digging holes and planting bulbs in the soft soil. She left only when classes were due to start.
She'd meant to go to class. She really had. The Black Eagles made her feel so much better. So much more like her.
But Monica had been there.
Blaise heard her from outside the door asking Ferdinand about Enbarr.
She'd turned around and walked off.
She considered going back to the greenhouse, but the garden keeper would probably be there now. She considered the dining hall since she'd now skipped the two meals that had passed since she was allowed to leave the infirmary, but she felt quite nauseous. She absolutely was not allowed on the training grounds, and she sure as hell wasn't going back to the cathedral.
Where else was there?
Her feet took her to the pond. It wasn't like a river, a stream, or the ocean where the water moved and filled the air with soothing sounds, but she still found it peaceful.
It was a bit chilly out on the dock, or rather, very chilly.
But quiet, her brain finally shutting down it's ruminations. Her mind fell blessedly silent if only for this moment.
Monica, as it turned out, wasn't actually in the class with her six students, making it easier for Blaise to join in for the afternoon session like she had intended. At first, Blaise really hadn't thought much about the whole dancing/ White Heron Cup deal, but it quickly became apparent Manuela knew exactly what she was doing when she put Blaise in charge of the Black Eagles representation.
Dancing was hard.
It was exhausting and elegant and precise… the complete opposite of the kind of dancing Blaise had been exposed to with their mercenary troupe. It was almost akin to fighting without a sword which suddenly made a lot more sense as to why she was doing this.
It was easy enough in those first few days to narrow her options down to Dorothea and Ferdinand. She figured whoever could lead her through the motions with the least mistakes probably knew what they were doing.
While Caspar twirled her around with enough exuberance that Blaise couldn't deny was contagious and fun, they did trip over each other frequently, and she felt a bit like a ragdoll being dragged around. Petra was a beautiful dancer in her own right with smooth transitions and a speed that left even Dorothea gaping, but she wasn't familiar with Fodlan's style. If Blaise had gotten to choose the song, she'd have chosen Petra in a heartbeat to spice things up, but, alas, each student performed to the same song chosen by Rhea and it was painfully traditional.
So it went, she spent the next few evenings circling and spinning with Dorothea and Ferdinand, attempting to decipher what made the best dancer while forcing her body through song after song that left her passing out the second her head hit the pillow of her bed at night. Truly, a blessing in it's own right.
The Dining Hall once again became her least favorite place within the monastery. Monica frequented the Black Eagles table, her Black Eagles, that had Blaise thoroughly avoiding the area. At least until Balen walked in as she was attempting to sneak back out and insisted she join him.
And the Golden Deer as it turned out.
Which was awkward in and of itself, but then, also, she swore Monica watched her for reasons she didn't quite understand.
It was always a quiet dinner on her end despite Balen's best attempts to engage her. She appreciated the thought as her brother brought her pastry after pastry that weren't even on the menu, and she suspected he personally baked with one of his students prior to the meal.
Lysithea, if Blaise were to guess based on the girl's borderline unnerving stare.
She really did wish she could enjoy them. They were soft, flaky, sweet, everything Blaise had always liked.
But fancy bread was still bread and two bites in found the flavor seemingly doing a 180 into something hard and stale.
It never failed Balen would eventually get distracted by his boisterous students and Blaise had little else to do but sit there since no one else knew enough Sign to have a conversation until she could safely slip away.
She wasn't sure what was wrong with her.
Interestingly, it was Sylvain who brought it up one evening as she was ditching the Golden Deer. Her one-track mind did her no favors as she passed the Blue Lion student without even realizing he was there until he'd reached a hand out to grab the edge of her cloak.
She jumped about a foot in the air, an act that Sylvain at least had the decency to look apologetic for though he made no comment on it, but smiled that exaggerated grin that he was so good at. "Long time, no see, Blaise. We should have dinner. On me," he offered with a wink.
Blaise crossed her arms. Surely he didn't miss the fact she was leaving the Dining hall.
"Now, I know what you're thinking..."
Did he now?
"... you were just eating with Golden Deer..."
Lucky guess.
"... but I know you didn't touch the food so come on. My treat. We can eat out here, under the stars, no one else. Hell, we can skip dinner and go straight to dessert. Tonight's sorbet is nothing short of divine. What do you say?"
No.
She shook her head and walked away... only for Sylvain to fall in step beside her. She only took a few steps before stopping and digging in her cloak pocket for her notebook. Blaise sighed. She'd taken to pretending she didn't have it on her just for the excuse to avoid conversation, but sometimes the universe seemed completely against her.
What do you want?
Really.
Because she wasn't in the mood for games.
Sylvain's smile was slightly more forced as he glanced back behind him. "Not a fan of the new girl, huh?" he asked.
Monica. He was looking at Monica.
She didn't bother to look herself and her face must have said it all since he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, she's a looker for sure but her personality is... interesting, circumstances considered. Seriously, though, if she bothers you, why don't you come hang out with us? Dimitri is a mother hen and Felix is a grump but, aside from those losers…" he said that with affection, "... we're cool."
That … was kind of nice of him and certainly preferable to the Golden Deer. It made her wonder when she had stopped desiring to be alongside Balen.
… Probably when she realized it would never be the same as their mercenary days. Just one more thing to add to her ever-growing list of lamentations.
Sylvain's smile faltered at the lack of response. "Look, no pressure, okay? Just think about it. I don't think I can take much more of your lonely wanderings."
Lonely wanderings…
Sylvain backed away, offering a wave. "See ya' around sometime."
Blaise scoffed in the back of her mind. She wandered because it helped her think and it built stamina. And how could she be lonely, surrounded as she was? She turned her feet toward the courtyards of which would certainly be empty this late.
Certainly she wished Edelgard was still around. She would take the Flame Emperor in a heartbeat even.
She wished for Chevalier too though for different reasons. She hoped she was okay. She'd neither seen nor heard from the Nabatean awake or in dreams in…so long it seemed.
Blaise recalled the clasp of a shackle upon Chevalier's wrist.
Chevalier couldn't really be a captive though, could she? She was like the goddess or something, and she'd always somehow appeared wherever Blaise was. How could some dark-dwelling mortals truly contain her?
She stopped walking because she knew the answer to that too.
They could because of Blaise.
Because she hadn't heeded Chevalier's warning all those months ago and had become a pawn in their game.
Because she'd thrown her lot in with the Flame Emperor and they hadn't been able to, or hadn't desired to, protect her when it came down to it and now this Monica girl was close enough to take her back the second Chevalier attempted otherwise.
"Kid."
Blaise didn't jump this time, but her fists clenched, if only briefly. She was slow to face her father, only barely twisting her head to look over her shoulder, since she couldn't deny she'd been going out of her way to avoid him. She knew he knew it too.
But what could she say? He was her father which meant he had that uncanny ability to know things about her she didn't want anyone to know.
She turned the conversation on him before he had a chance.
Do you know Chevalier?
It was a question that had long plagued her. Chevalier claimed she had personally returned Blaise when she was a toddler, and she couldn't imagine she had simply dropped her off and left without ensuring Jeralt claimed her.
Jeralt knew Blaise had dreamed of a green-haired woman, and it had always left him oddly concerned, shaken even, in hindsight. Considering his rather strained relationship with Rhea, she'd kind of assumed he thought it was her.
But what if it had been someone else?
Her father's armor ground as he shifted and she could practically feel the tension radiating between them. "The knight of old?"
Blaise refrained from scoffing. Chevalier was much more than a knight no matter her loyalty.
And her father was lying. He had never been good at the act, preferring direct honesty, so she didn't know why he was trying.
She was so tired of lies.
He must have read her disbelief and frustration on her face since he sighed and scratched his chin. "Why don't we go sit down?" he suggested.
But Blaise didn't move except to turn her whole body to face him.
Do you know Chevalier?
This time his sigh was so deep she swore it echoed in the emptiness around them. "I met her once many years ago," he admitted.
When she returned me?
His face hardened, something Blaise did not quite expect. "Yes."
Blaise waited but he said nothing more. She tilted her head.
What did she say?
"Not much. Nothing memorable at any rate. I remember she was holding you and looked ready to flee at any moment. I barely got her name out of her. I hardly believed at the time she could have been the culprit. Didn't until I learned more of your Crest."
He thought Chevalier was to blame. Logically, she couldn't blame him for coming to that conclusion yet, still, she bristled.
I love her.
She did not care how his eyes widened at the admission.
She's like my mother.
She had never quite said those words before, but they felt true.
Chevalier treated her as she had imagined her mother would have though she, admittedly, had little to go on.
"… Kid." Jeralt shook his head, looking away from her and far out at nothing she could identify.
Surprised, hurt, disappointed.
She bristled further, her first instinct to lash out a reply not to tell her how she should feel. It was his fault her mother was such an enigma to begin with. But she felt bad because ... goddess was she messed up or what?
Silence stretched between them, and it was anything but comfortable.
"Sitri is buried here if you wanted to..." he trailed off.
Blaise really didn't. What difference would it make now? Sitri was dead and Blaise had long since been forced to accept that reality, had long since come to terms with knowing nothing of her.
Yet, she couldn't deny a much deeper longing within her.
She wanted her mother.
Even if it meant bearing her shame for her mother to see, accepting the disgust and disappointment that would be in her eyes. She couldn't possibly entertain the thought Sitri would want her to disturb whatever peace she had found in death.
Was it fair of Blaise to make herself feel better by doing so?
She didn't think so, but she followed her father anyway. Sitri … was closer than Chevalier.
…But not for much longer.
Blaise flexed her fingers. She'd be allowed on the training grounds in but a few more days.
Then it was only a matter of an Agarthan, a princess, and a little more time.
A /N:
I've been holding onto this for weeks so sorry about that. Got some stuff going on that I'm trying to figure out what to do so check out my profile if a couple weeks happens and you haven't seen an update.
This chapter I wanted to touch on what family means to Blaise in some capacity cause obviously that's an important factor in upcoming decisions.
Next chapter, whenever that will be, should have the White Heron Cup, maybe the beginning of the ball, definitely Edelgard's return.