Blaise decided none of this was real.

Despite how real it felt with the rain and the hurt and the smell of peat… Despite how one hand remained clenched until her nails cut into her palm. Despite the fucking body at her feet that stared back at her…

No.

Balen must have won the fight against her in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. He must have knocked her out, and she was lost in a nightmare.

Or maybe this entire day wasn't real and she'd yet to wake from the night before.

Or the week before... or a month? Two?

Maybe she was still lost in Shambhala... and Chevalier had never killed that beast, and she was back in front of it. The Agarthans were dark magic users. They could probably replicate landscape and people and… and…

They were probably having a right laugh watching her now.

She swore she could hear them behind the mirage, and her distress escalated far past what she knew to be possible.

Movement out of the corner of her eye made her jump and whirl around, dropping into a stance to defend herself. Or maybe to fight. She wasn't quite sure.

And, of course, there was one of them. The name Thales drifted through her mind from somewhere before it went blessedly blank again.

He held no reservations approaching her. Probably because he stood at least a head over her, forcing her to tilt her head up just to maintain eye contact.

And somehow she did maintain eye contact.

Dark yellow eyes scrutinized her and his smile was like that of a predator, but her survival instinct must have been as numb as the rest of her as she just stood there.

"Congratulations, Névé." His voice was smooth as honey but dripped of poison and mockery. He took one more deliberate step until he was way too close for comfort, and she heard a crunch beneath his weight. The Crest stone, now nothing more than dust. "You may yet be useful."

Blaise watched his eyes flicker just briefly to her feet. She glanced down too. Down at the empty eyes of the body.

"Tell me, would you like to see my niece?"

Her head snapped back up. His niece?

His smile bared a little bit more. "Why, Edelgard, of course. Surely she has mentioned me. No?" He wasn't surprised. Only amused by her still silence. It irked her somewhere deep down. "No matter. What do you say? Think of it as a... reward for your contribution."

Another glance down of which Blaise didn't need to follow to know he was talking about the former beast.

She watched as he offered his hand. It was almost otherworldly pale.

And she wasn't quite sure what to do. The very thought of seeing Edelgard was desperately appealing. When was the last time she had seen her? Had it been months or mere hours? Did she care? Her hand twitched at her side.

But she took a step back, a step away.

Because, regardless of what was going on right now, he was the reason she had been taken to begin with. He was the reason she'd sat cold and hurting in the dark for so long.

If she really was on Gronder Field, she could find Edelgard on her own. If she wasn't … it wasn't going to do Edelgard any good to see her, and it was definitely best not to give this Thales an excuse to get any closer to her. That's if his offer was even legitimate.

Blaise backed up a second step, Thales' amused grin growing.

"Are you sure, Névé? The Fell Star grows closer," he warned.

Fell Star? Why did that name send shivers up her spine?

I'm fine.

Did he know Sign? Was hers even legible? She didn't care. Her mind practically screamed for her to run. It pounded like a drum in her ears. So much so she thought it didn't matter where she ran. Just somewhere. Anywhere. Isolated and alone. It would be safer.

It happened in a moment she couldn't quite explain.

A familiar weapon cut through the air in front of her, and it was such a surprise she had no time to prepare herself. The sharpened edges gleamed red as they bore slightly away from her and toward Thales only to crack like thunder against a protective barrier.

In a blink, Thales was gone, and the Sword of the Creator careened toward her, knocked off course by said barrier.

And it was like one of her nightmares with the weapon threatening to pierce her heart.

It was too close for her to scramble a defense. Frankly, she was surprised she was even able to realize the danger she was in. She didn't have time to worry, and she supposed that was as much a blessing as could be expected. She watched it close in.

The sword never hit her.

Lights flashed and a weight sent her sprawling into the mud, Blaise vaguely wondering for one brief moment if she was seeing visions again. But, no, it was quite apparent she remained in the same spot of Gronder field, if a foot or so to the right.

She caught a glimpse of a great axe clashing with the Sword of the Creator in another thunder-like explosion. A Crest of Flames lit the sky, but Blaise was hardly looking to see from who it manifested. Her gaze was inexplicably locked on the red and white mask of the Flame Emperor.

Initially relieved to see her, masked or no, Blaise's jumble of emotions soured with a snap that was the Sword of the Creator.

Blaise jerked her head around to see Balen with the Holy weapon held before him in an obvious challenge, the sword's glow illuminating features as grave as stone. "Stay away from her," he warned, his words cold and the underlying threat clear.

Goddess. The Flame Emperor needed to leave now.

But she didn't, notably stepping in the direction away from Blaise in the beginnings of a circle, her axe aloft in such a way Blaise knew if Balen made a move, she would meet him. A scoff warbled through the mask. "How interesting your concern when I believe I just saved her from the very weapon you hold in your hand."

"I would have stopped it."

So certain he was, it gave the Flame Emperor pause. Blaise could practically hear the raised eyebrow in her voice. "So confident. You'll forgive me if I doubt such prowess."

Balen ignored the taunt, their slow circling now drawing him close to Blaise. One hand left his weapon just briefly to pull out a sword from around his waist. It was hers. He must have found it, and he now tossed it in the mud beside her. "Blaise, get back to the others and tell Rhea I'm bringing the Flame Emperor in for judgement," he ordered.

He'd only ever ordered her to do anything once before. It was to return to Edelgard's side. Now it would lead to judgement of the Flame Emperor. Judgement of Her.

He didn't wait for her to comprehend his order much less respond. He didn't wait for Blaise to scramble to her feet. Balen had launched himself across the small space that separated him from the Flame Emperor, axe and sword colliding with no restraint.

Remarkably, the Flame Emperor met Balen's might without bowing, her axe grinding the Sword of the Creator to a halt well before it was a true threat. Even moreso, though it was clear the voice behind the mask was strained, she still managed to speak through the stalemate. "There is nothing your false goddess can do that I have not already endured. Why not stand down and get out of my way?" She spun, the Flame Emperor's axe dislodging from the Holy Relic and cutting the air between them.

Balen said nothing, only stepping back for the axe to speed by before leaping back upon her.

Thunderous clap after thunderous clap, they traded blows, Balen, interestingly, relying more on speed to wear the Flame Emperor down.

That was a mistake.

Because, while he was more successful at landing the occasional hit, the Flame Emperor's armor held strong. And Blaise had always been faster than Balen, and Edelgard was no stranger to sparring with her. She might take a hit every now and then, but she could keep up.

And she was certainly keeping up with Balen, her axe flurrying with a speed that would make any other axe-user in Fodlan jealous.

But what was she doing fighting instead of leaving? She was going to get herself captured or killed or, at the very least, beat up. She was good, but she wasn't so good that Blaise thought she could maintain the momentum necessary to out-perform Balen.

Blaise's eyes flickered to Jeralt's body, and she suddenly felt hollow.

This was another fault of hers.

The Flame Emperor came to help her. Her presence literally gave Blaise a free pass because the Flame Emperor was the known enemy and Blaise a supposed victim. And now Jeralt was a supposed victim, as well.

It sure as hell looked better than Blaise standing alone over him, fumbling some sort of excuse.

She pushed the ongoing fight out of her mind for just one moment longer. One moment where she dragged her feet and knelt beside her father, cradling his hand in hers as she fought a sudden and nearly overwhelming desire to get him out of the rain. The Knights of Seiros would do so she imagined and with far more accolades than she could bestow.

Still, she wished she could give him more.

She wished she had more time.

She wished for a lot of impossible things, but she was already laying his hand across his chest, reaching out to close his eyes for the final time.

She had failed him, but she wouldn't fail her. Not this time.

Her fingers closed around the hilt of her sword and Blaise refocused on the skirmish before her.

It had escalated.

Blaise could smell the tell-tale aroma of scorched grass on the wind, could feel the latent tingle of magic, could see the Flame Emperor loose a wave of fire and effortlessly bring her axe back behind it.

And Blaise felt a bit of pride, knowing she had encouraged Edelgard all those months ago to pursue such skill.

It was gone as fast as it had come as Balen finally landed a hit that knocked her off-balance. He gave no chance for recovery, the Sword of the Creator smashing into heavy armor once, twice, three times until the Flame Emperor stumbled and dropped to her knees.

At his mercy.

Blaise lifted her sword, the irony of Balen returning it not lost on her. She rushed forward, sliding in the mud to plant her feet in front of the Flame Emperor. She caught the downward cut of the Sword of the Creator with her own, the intensity of the hit reverberating through her very core.

But she held.

At least long enough for Balen to realize it was her before him and withdraw his attack.

His brow creased, evidence of his confusion as the Holy Relic tipped down at his side. Blaise lowered her sword, as well. Just enough to not be threatening but high enough to remain ready.

"What are you doing?"

Blaise tried not to wince at the note of legitimate confusion in his tone.

He didn't get it.

Stop.

His eyes flickered over her shoulder, no doubt to the Flame Emperor behind her. She saw the barest hardening of his eyes before they fell back on her. "Why? He tricked you. He took you." Another flicker of his eyes, this time to their father and his jaw clenched. "And Father. This is because of him."

No.

He didn't understand.

I killed him.

So much she could Sign… She hadn't meant for this to happen, he was a Crest beast, death was better than an eternity enslaved, she'd tried.

But she Signed nothing more.

She doubted Balen would care, doubted he would believe her. He hadn't listened when it came to his weapon and the Crest stones or the Church or the Goddess. Why would this time be any different?

He wouldn't- couldn't – understand.

So Blaise raised her sword.

Her brother didn't move. His expression didn't change. Was he still processing? Had he caught what she'd Signed at all?

Her hand was antsy on the pommel of her sword by the time he responded, his voice flat and cold. "I told him to burn it."

She tilted her head.

"The letter from the Flame Emperor…" Balen answered her unspoken question, Blaise's eyes widening at the realization he'd actually known something. And said nothing. Like her. "... Claude found it in your desk. I should have taken it to Rhea."

Her lips drew into a thin line as she tried not to react to the sting in her chest at the implication he should have turned her over to be executed. Yet she couldn't fault him. She wasn't so delusional she thought she should expect otherwise.

And maybe he should have. Maybe she should have come straight from Shambhala and put down.

The thought still hurt.

"I wanted you to come home but I guess you didn't."

You're wrong.

Her fingers snapped her reply before she'd even thought through it. But of course she'd wanted to come home. No one in their right mind would want to sit in that hole, waiting indefinitely to be fed or dragged away or just die. How dare he even presume otherwise when he had no idea.

Maybe your idea of home is just different from mine.

"You'd rather be with the Flame Emperor?"

It may have been the first time she'd ever heard actual venom in his voice, the first time she'd ever heard him judge her.

Blaise grit her teeth.

I'd rather fight for those your Goddess only condemns.

Balen's expression hardened. His sword glowed red, the pulse amplifying and setting Blaise on edge so she jerked her sword up before her. The Sword of the Creator and steel clanged together but remained in a defensive lock.

"Stand down."

Another order.

She didn't know why he bothered. Didn't he know she had never taken orders well?

Her answer was to shove him back a step. She ignored how her blade gave, spinning it around to catch the hero's relic as it once again fell upon her in a swing that threatened her sword arm. Blaise felt it crack this time, but it still held even as Balen pushed his blade harder and more deliberately against hers.

"Stand. Down," he repeated.

It was a warning, a threat. Her sword couldn't hold him off. She'd lost before she'd ever started, and he knew it as well as she did.

But to stand down? When he wanted to cart the Flame Emperor off to Rhea? No. Absolutely not.

If he wanted the Flame Emperor, he was going to have to take her from her.

Blaise shifted her stance, feeling the mud squelch beneath her feet until she found enough purchase to feint another forward shove. Balen fell for it, shoving back except she abandoned her sword so he stumbled by. Blaise sidestepped him with a thoron spell crackling in her hand. She released it at his back, Balen only just managing to twist and use the Sword of the Creator as a kind of shield.

He still dropped the weapon. The rain in conjunction with the close proximity was enough to ensure he was at least burned by the spell.

Blinding white light cut short any thoughts over the small victory, Blaise forced to release another thoron whilst trying to maintain a visual of her brother.

The two spells collided in the space between them, the air suddenly explosive with the mix of magic.

Blaise was thrown off her feet for what felt like the tenth time that day. She didn't dare allow herself a moment to recuperate, Balen certainly wasn't going to grace her with such, and she forced her body into roll that landed her back on her feet. She nearly fell over, her head still reeling and spots from the light obscuring her vision.

Predictably, Balen was on his feet albeit farther away than when they'd started. He rushed toward her, pausing only to grab the Sword of the Creator off the ground. The weapon expanded with a flick of his wrist, Blaise still trying to blink spots from her sight so she could determine which way to dodge.

But the weapon fell far too short, an axe cutting off it's trajectory with a swing that imbedded a middle section of it in the ground below.

Balen responded with a tug that whipped the Sword of the Creator into the air with enough force the Flame Emperor retreated from the whiplash. Mud splayed out in every direction, dotting all of them in the thick substance as the sword snapped back together.

And Blaise saw it as if in slow motion. She saw the nearly imperceptible glance her brother shot at the Flame Emperor, she saw the way his body shifted to alter his trajectory, she saw his arm pull back.

She simultaneously reached out and in, the Flame Emperor's Crest of Flames suddenly flaring and bombarding her in pulses more akin to waves that ran uninhibited from head to toe and arm to arm. It burned, tempered only by the Crest of Chevalier as it wound a tight embrace on the foreign Crest. The air prickled with static that grew exponentially, its pressure bearing and all-consuming as more and more pulses whipped in the air around her.

Her hand snapped out, Chevalier and the Crest of Flames rocketing through her system as surely as any spell of magic. Not just one but both Crests lit the sky like lightning in a storm. Across from her, the Sword of the Creator dimmed, Blaise forcibly taking the Crest back.

And the Holy Relic stopped mid swing, Balen's features twisting with the effort she could literally feel through the Crests as he tugged and tugged against her.

His eyes met hers in that moment and it was like dropping into ice.

They hated her.

But there was no time to contemplate the thought.

Blaise already felt her hold wilt, felt the power of the Crests slip through her fingers and fizzle. She realized she couldn't incapacitate him for long. Her strength seemed to ebb away alongside the Crests, her hand clenching as she tried desperately to keep it together. To keep Balen from winning.

"Névé, let go!"

Let go, the Flame Emperor said...

So she did.

Her arm fell to her side, Crests of all kinds ricocheting off in every direction now they were no longer drawn to her. Balen's struck out upon her, furious and deafening and the air grew noticeably stagnant. She could feel the flames upon her skin, an inferno she had not encountered since that accursed day in the Holy Mausoleum.

In a panic, she pushed the Crests away.

An armored gauntlet closed on her wrist, and then she was pulled. Gronder Field disappeared in a flash of lights, Blaise blinking a moment later to the dark walls of a tent. Her desperate evasion of the Crests left her in a silence akin to going deaf. It was as much a relief as it was terrifying, and she stumbled from the disorientation.

She realized she felt disconnected.

She could hear the steady pitter patter of rain, but she couldn't feel it like she had moments before. A part of her knew that made sense, knew the Flame Emperor had warped them under cover, but another part of her couldn't comprehend it.

She was soaked, a taste of salt telling her it was a mix of water and sweat.

She was simultaneously freezing and burning.

Her body trembled, her muscles twitched, her head felt like it wanted to explode then and there.

The brush of a Crest against her unconscious had her recoiling so violently she may as well have been punched. Only an arm catching her around the back kept her from slamming into the side of the tent that surely would have brought the haven down upon them.

Blaise struggled, her fingers curling into a fist only for it to be caught mid-punch.

The gauntlet was back around her wrist, the other held stationary above her captured hand. A Crest of Seiros filled the space between them, but it flickered and dissipated as she snapped her own tight against her. And she pulled and pulled at the hold on her wrist, temporarily putting up enough of a fight her opponent was forced to use both hands to keep her steady. But, it too, was not something she could maintain, and her struggle became little more than a tug that was more of a plea to just let her go. The gauntlet was back over her hand, a Crest of Flames between them.

Blaise stopped, familiarity and comfort coaxing her into loosening her grip on the Crest of Chevalier. She hesitated as her wayward Crest brushed the other, but she didn't recoil. And Chevalier weaved through the mess that was within her to intertwine with the Crest of Flames.

She shivered.

And she watched as if in a trance as the second gauntlet released her and very slowly uncurled her fingers from their fist. The distance between their hands closed, the physical manifestations of the Crests disappearing, but filling Blaise with a subtle warmth as their fingers interlocked.

"You're safe."

She heard the words distantly whispered to her. The warmth told her they were true.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

Her legs grew weak at the thought as she finally, finally, succumbed to the rest they screamed for. Her head spun, but she felt the steady ground beneath her knees and, of course, the firm grip of the Flame Emperor's hand.

Safe.

The feeling was as foreign as the word.

Blaise gripped the Flame Emperor's hand tighter, afraid if she were to let go that feeling would leave with it. Afraid she would realize it wasn't real. That she was once again on her knees in the dark alone and yearning for a touch that wasn't there. A lump had grown in her throat that was difficult to breath around, and she stared down at the ground though it had quickly lost focus.

She was safe.

Or was she? For how long?

Was it even... enough?

Armor shifted and the Flame Emperor's presence drew closer. Blaise didn't look up.

"We should leave. You require a healer and the longer we wait the more time we give others to find us."

And to realize what had happened went without saying.

A flare of anger coursed through her and Blaise snapped her head up to glare at her companion. The emptiness of the mask staring back at her only fueled it.

You shouldn't have shown yourself.

"You were losing."

Even through the mask Blaise could hear the deadpan in her voice. It made her huff a humorless laugh.

So were you.

"I was expecting you would think rationally and listen when your brother told you to run. I had no intentions of winning, only keeping him at bay long enough to recharge the warp."

Blaise stared, hoping her disbelief was written as plainly on her face as she felt it was. She expected her to think rationally? After Balen and Crest beasts, and Agarthans and… Crest stones? No. Expecting any rational thought after she had... done what she'd done was ridiculous.

She didn't Sign that specifically but she made sure her fingers' movements were sharp to convey her contention.

I apologize for not being privy to your plan.

The Flame Emperor visibly sighed as she placed her free hand against the head of her mask. "Blaise…"

Blaise didn't respond except to stare back down at the ground. She could be mad at the Flame Emperor's expectations all she wanted, but she was still the one who screwed up the plan.

Of course, she was.

"Are you really going to hold me coming to your aid against me?"

Blaise hated the question. How could she not see the problem was Blaise all along? She risked looking back up into the emotionless mask.

I don't know why you did.

She didn't know why she ever did.

Edelgard had nearly lost her life the day they'd met due to Blaise's own shortcomings. She'd given her hell in Zanado not a few weeks later. She'd have done Goddess-Knows-What to Catherine if it hadn't been for Edelgard's intervention.

And those were just a few examples of the disaster it was to be around her.

Silence followed. Perhaps thirty seconds or more where the only acknowledgement Blaise had Signed anything was the barest tilting of the red and white mask. When the Flame Emperor did speak, it was soft, barely more than a whisper.

"I thought that would have been painfully obvious by now."

Obvious. She always thought it was obvious, but it wasn't. Blaise was only left confused.

There was another shift, the Flame Emperor's fingers curling in a tighter embrace around Blaise's. An action that inevitably drew Blaise's attention to the black gauntlet intertwined with her own. She blinked, wondering just for the moment how much was implied in such a simple movement.

Her eyes flickered back up and she had a sudden, desperate desire for the mask to be gone. Her hand moved of it's own accord. Her fingers brushed armor as cold as ice as they searched for some kind of clasp that secured the mask in place. The Flame Emperor's hand twitched and Blaise thought she was going to stop her, but she only led Blaise's hand up. Up another inch or so until she felt the indention and Blaise paused.

She wasn't quite sure why she waited. Maybe it was apprehension. Maybe she wanted to give the Flame Emperor another second to stop her if she wanted.

Or maybe it was because Blaise was acutely aware they were very close by now. And the mask was a barrier she didn't want. It surprised her just how much she didn't want it.

She pushed against the indention.

"Edelgard!"

The Flame Emperor jerked at the unexpected cry, her body snapping around to the mouth of the tent as footsteps pounded towards them. The Flame Emperor's hand was ripped from her grasp, Blaise flailing at the sudden loss of support and only barely catching herself before she landed flat on her face. She recognized the voice and glared as Manuela burst into the tent like she owned it.

Of all the times Manuela…

The Songstress-turned-professor froze as the flap of the tent fluttered shut behind her. A myriad of emotions crossed her features so fast Blaise could only pick out a few. Worry, shock, fury. Her hand lit with bright light magic held before her, and only then did Blaise realize exactly how bad this looked.

And Manuela wasn't one to ask questions.

She stepped forward, the glow of her white magic illuminating an expression Blaise had witnessed only once before. In Magdred. When she was protecting the Eagles.

"I do not know what your fascination with my coworker is, but I will give you only one chance to step away from her and tell me where the princess is. Now," Manuela ground out.

Blaise suddenly understood the phrase, "Oh, for the love of Sothis." Could anything else fall apart today?

The Flame Emperor stood stock still for a breath before she complied at least enough to step in a direction away from Blaise. Her hand twitched, but she seemed to refrain from grasping her axe.

The action seemed to catch Manuela off-guard as her brow furrowed, or maybe it was Blaise practically throwing herself, stumbling, tripping, and all, between them.

Stop.

Stop. Everyone just stop.

Blaise wasn't sure what to expect. Balen certainly hadn't taken the request well, a fact she was trying very hard not to think on. She didn't want to fight Manuela. She didn't know if she even could, but she also knew, if it came down to it, she would have to.

Because Manuela wouldn't understand who she was fighting if the Flame Emperor stepped in.

And that just wasn't fair.

Manuela blinked, Blaise assuming she was questioning what she'd seen.

So Blaise repeated the motion.

Stop.

Brown eyes narrowed and flickered past Blaise to the Flame Emperor behind. And Blaise watched, almost fascinated, as something like realization crossed her features. The light died in the tent, and there were more shadows than not, Blaise nearly straining to make out Manuela pressing her fingers to her head. "Kids..." she groaned. In a flash, she leaned forward, a glare firmly plastered on Blaise. Her voice lowered, but it did nothing to hide the intensity in it. "What were you thinking?!" Blaise hadn't managed to move a finger before Manuela raised her hand to stop her, and she snapped her glare on the Flame Emperor. "No, what are you thinking?!"

There was a pause where Blaise almost questioned if the Flame Emperor was going to respond at all though she eventually did, her words obviously chosen with great care. "With all due respect, the timing of this conversation is not ideal. Blaise and I need to be on our way to Enbarr immediately," she stated.

Predictably, Manuela wasn't all that pleased with such an answer. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not convenient. Tell me this then, were either of you going to say anything, or did you think it would be okay to skip out without a word?" she demanded.

"Manuela, the situation-"

"I do not care about the situation! These kids..." Manuela jerked a finger behind her, "… have worked harder than you can possibly imagine for what this day was supposed to be. Now it's gone to hell and everyone's worried sick about Blaise-"

"Jeralt is dead."

The interruption, an emotionless statement from the Flame Emperor, stopped Manuela mid sentence while simultaneously making Blaise recoil as if she'd been slapped. The Flame Emperor acted like she didn't notice though the voice did lower now that she didn't need to be heard over Manuela's rant.

"And if we do not leave now the Archbishop will be sure Blaise is as well. Their teacher's life taken before their eyes in the name of the Goddess. Is that what you want them to see?" she challenged.

Manuela's lips pressed into a thin line. "Why would the Archbishop wish to harm Blaise? I do not deny she has a particular interest in Professor Balen, but favoritism does not mean she poses a risk to the other," she argued.

"As we speak, Balen is on his way now to tell her Blaise sided with the Flame Emperor. Her mere presence will be enough for the Archbishop to further implicate her in Jeralt's death."

"That alone is preposterous."

No it's not.

Blaise felt her stomach churn as Manuela focused back on her. She forced it down, forced it away until she felt comfortably flat. Manuela deserved to know.

I killed him.

"No you did not," the Flame Emperor snapped so suddenly it may have surprised Blaise if she could feel much of anything. "He was a Crest beast. There was nothing else to be done."

Anger bubbled beneath her skin, the feeling rushing back despite her best efforts.

He wasn't just a Crest beast. He was still him. And she wasn't just anyone. It shouldn't have happened at all.

You weren't there.

The mask tilted. "Blaise-"

Her words cut short and it didn't take long for Blaise to comprehend why. There were footsteps closing in on them, light against the ground but too quick to be entirely silent. Unlike Manuela's interruption, there was no call warning their presence and the urgency gave Blaise a bad feeling. A very bad feeling indeed.

Manuela glanced in the direction of the tent entrance, already moving to intercept their visitor.

Blaise wasn't sure it was a good thing or not, what with Manuela clearly upset with them, but herself and the Flame Emperor were definitely a bad idea. Neither of them moved to stop her.

Manuela swept the flap of the tent to the side, a spell of white light in her palm. Blaise couldn't see who was on the other side, but she could see the tension in Manuela's shoulders. "Ahh...Hubert," Manuela greeted and not without a hint of her underlying anger. "Do come in. We were just having a discussion."

The Flame Emperor let out a breath heavier than usual. Whether from relief or trepidation was anyone's guess.

Hubert must not have heard it nor could he see inside the tent with Manuela blocking the entrance. He likely would not have remained as polite. "My apologies for the discretion, Professor. However, I have urgent news for Lady Edelgard."

"Of course." Manuela swept out of the way with a flourish.

It was apparent it was bad news when Hubert stepped in. He was never one who radiated optimism, but his expression was particularly grave and it only hardened further as he locked eyes on Blaise and then the Flame Emperor. And Manuela.

And he knew. Knew the secret was out prematurely.

Faster than Blaise could blink, Hubert was aglow with dark magic and aiming directly at the Black Eagles professor. Manuela exuded an air of unconcern. She knew him after all, perhaps more than he would care to admit and looked more than prepared to handle him.

But Blaise was hardly going to stand there and watch Hubert threaten Manuela. Manuela might not be happy with them, but she hadn't made any move to turn the Flame Emperor over to Rhea yet.

Blaise mirrored him, dropping naturally into an offensive stance and pulling at that flicker of magic left within her. It felt a little strange and that was her only warning as an unfamiliar spell burst forth. A spell of dark, cold light that twisted around her wrist in preparation for release.

Hubert's eyes were like that of a hawk as they turned on her.

It was almost as unnerving as the sudden appearance of dark magic. That was most certainly what this spell was.

"Hubert, Blaise, stand down immediately," the Flame Emperor ordered.

She made no comment about the dark magic for which Blaise was grateful. She was all too happy to comply with the order, letting the magic drain and dissipate until she was left with nothing but the disconcerting knowledge of its presence.

Hubert was a little slower, his gaze fixated on Blaise with obvious suspicion.

"What have you learned, Hubert?"

The dark mage turned just enough to bow to his liege while still side-eyeing Blaise. "The Archbishop has gathered a few of the Knights of Seiros and are enroute to this location."

Blaise felt her stomach roll.

"How long?" The Flame Emperor demanded.

"Minutes."

She hissed out a frustrated breath as she plowed towards Hubert, grabbing Blaise by the wrist and pulling her along as she did. "Warp her to Enbarr or one of the safe houses."

"I cannot."

Blaise could practically feel the Flame Emperor roll her eyes at the quick response. "Hubert–"

Hubert bowed a second time. "While it is true I have no desire to be forced to leave you with only your battalion for protection, the fact is I have expended my abilities to perform as you request. I apologize for my lack of foresight in the matter."

"Fine. Who has she gathered?" she questioned.

"Sirs Catherine and Shamir."

Catherine.

With Thunderbrand, no doubt. Tentatively, she reached out and concluded Hubert was correct.

Blaise cringed at the thought. Not only was Rhea's execution squad coming towards her, but she would have to endure the Holy Relic. No, no, and no. She snatched her Crest back to her before it could react to the weapon. Was it too late to run somewhere?

She hadn't managed to truly consider the idea before Manuela was out of the tent, and her heart skipped several beats. Hubert's hand glowed again, but it was too late. She was out where she could be seen, out where Hubert couldn't risk harming her lest the very people he wanted to stay away bore down upon them. He glared at Blaise, but she was already holding her breath, Thunderbrand pulsing loud and clear in the air telling her they were out of time anyway.

The Flame Emperor gripped her hand, trying to tug her away from the front of the tent, but Blaise didn't trust herself to move.

It took a few moments but not long enough before the party reached the outside of the tent.

"Manuela," Rhea's voice, as collected as ever but, if Blaise wasn't imagining things, colder, filtered through the tense silence.

"Archbishop Rhea, if you are here to see Princess Edelgard, I am afraid you just missed her. Hubert has taken her to the closest safe house. She did, however, leave instructions for her battalion to assist at restoring order and then return to her in Enbarr."

Blaise thought she might have stopped breathing altogether, and even Hubert's spell of dark magic died in his hand. The Flame Emperor may as well have been a statue of armor.

Manuela was covering for them?

"I see. That is unfortunate but understandable considering the circumstances," Rhea sympathized. "However, with her safety taken care of we can focus on some rather disturbing news Professor Balen has just brought us."

An uncomfortable pause.

"Oh?"

"Manuela, have you seen Blaise Eisner?" It was Catherine who spoke, probing and suspicious. It made Blaise's skin crawl.

"No, the last I saw her was at the beginning of the battle. Has she returned? The kids and I are worried sick."

It was Shamir who spoke next, "Have you noticed any strange behavior from her recently?"

That question surprised Blaise as much as it must have surprised Manuela who took a moment to respond. "I... strange behavior? In what way?" she asked. Blaise found herself leaning forward to catch the answer.

"It appears..." Rhea began, soft and concerned. Too much so, "... Blaise has rebelled and defected to our enemies' side. An investigation is currently underway in her involvement of a separate charge."

Manuela said nothing.

"The question then becomes was the girl Blaise at all or an imposter similar to Tomas, switched during her supposed kidnapping?" Catherine mused.

"... I know Blaise. I have nothing but good things to say of her both earlier in the year and in recent weeks," Manuela insisted.

"Unfortunately, she remains suspect. The Blaise Eisner I held as a baby bore no Crest of Chevalier. She may never have been Blaise at all as according to Jeralt the Crest manifested following a prior kidnapping. It is imperative we speak with her," Rhea stated. "Only then will we truly know."

Blaise could imagine how that would go. Probably bound as a prisoner faced with questions she had no answers to. Never-ending. The thought terrified her as much as the fact she could not remember not having the Crest of Chevalier.

Her legs felt as if they'd turned to lead, and she could hardly believe it as footsteps trailed away from the tent.

Manuela had not turned her over.

The Flame Emperor tugged at her arm again, whispering something about needing to leave, but she still didn't move. She dug her heels into the ground.

She couldn't leave.

Manuela would think she'd lied to her. The Black Eagles would think she'd lied to them.

That little voice in her head told her she had lied and staying would never change that.

But she had never lied about that. She'd never lied about what they'd meant to her.

"Blaise, we have to leave now." The Flame Emperor spun her to get her attention. She still held her hand with one, but the other dug into her shoulder.

Blaise shook her head.

Manuela

"Gave us an opportunity to leave. One we are taking. Hubert."

Blaise felt fabric suddenly cover her face and caught a whiff of a strong, noxious chemical. Her legs gave out, Hubert catching her as she fell. Her hand slipped from the Flame Emperor's and she might have panicked except her consciousness had already lost any such awareness. The last she heard was not the mechanical sound of the Flame Emperor's voice but that of Edelgard.

Soft and certain with an air of a promise. Beautiful.

"You will be safe in Enbarr. I swear it."

A/N:

No Enbarr. Maybe next time. We should slow down a bit and Blaise can process.

Manuela canonically joins Edelgard unless you recruit her to a different path. That doesn't mean she won't give El a good tongue-lashing but, in this case, it will have to wait a bit longer. I do think she would give these three the benefit of the doubt for now and thus give them an opportunity to run. Even though she's still in the dark, El and Hubie were her students and she's fond of Blaise.

I'm not the one who gave Hubert a noxious handkerchief as a lost item but, if you ever wanted to know why he has it, it is only to kidnap a stubborn, confused Blaise Eisner so she doesn't get her head chopped off by a betrayed brother and trigger-happy Archbishop. Nothing more nefarious. :)

I also do not condone kidnapping regardless of intentions.