The man wearing his uncle's face mouths a simple phrase before disappearing: "Good luck killing each other."
He'd said something similar only hours ago in Enbarr, Dimitri thinks. He would've loved to put an end to the man here and now, but... it's become abundantly clear that whoever the person behind Lord Arundel is, he has no plans on dying in Edelgard's war. He'd love to think more about it, but there's a far more pressing matter at hand, and that's Edelgard herself. He almost doesn't want to believe that the monster before him is who it appears to be, yet her voice, as distorted as it is, comes from it's lips, and he is forced to face the facts.
"So...that grotesque creature was Edelgard..." It's painful, to see the woman he once considered his step-sister like this. He will likely always hold some hatred in his heart towards her for everything she's done, but... it doesn't change the fact that they're still family, the only remnants of it they both have left. "If she is prepared to transform her very body to fight for this future of hers... Then I have no choice but to defeat her, even if it costs me my life!"
He clenches his fists. "We must defend the present... After all, it is all that we truly have."
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the pained expression growing on Claude's face at both his words and the sight before them. It's a difficult thing to process, what they're being made to face, and despite how much Claude likes to pretend he's untrustworthy and cynical... he's an optimist and an idealist at heart. Dimitri knows that. He knows Claude would've liked to have reasoned with Edelgard, he wanted it too, but... the sight before them now is the greatest evidence that such a future is impossible.
The duke's adam's apple bobs, and then— he fires an arrow from Failnaught. It soars through the air, like a shooting star crossing the sky, and pierces through one of Edelgard's winged shoulder plates. Blood splatters across the marble walls, staining the pure white in red ichor, and the screech that Edelgard lets out is truly befitting of her current appearance, totally and utterly inhuman. Her eyes blaze with fury as she turns to the tactician and his wyvern, rearing back her arm and, suddenly, firing off one of those long ranged attacks that had been firing through the castle earlier.
Claude barely manages to dodge out of the way, his face twitching in a desperate attempt to smile as he observes the gaping hole in the castle walls the attack creates in it's wake. "So, this is how far as you'd go for for your ideals, huh... You know, you said to me you couldn't trust the future of Fódlan to me. And you're right, I daresay it's true that I don't fully understand the history of Fódlan. Still, I've seen many things in my life." He notches another arrow. "Don't worry. We'll take care of Fódlan for you."
He fires again, aiming for the same spot he'd hit last time. Those words are a promise, Dimitri can't help but think, to the woman who'd once been their friend and classmate. Because some of what Edelgard wanted to do wasn't wrong— she was right in wanting to change how important Crests are to their society, she was right in wanting to help the commonfolk. But her path is the path of those ready to make choices like this one, her path is for those who are strong enough to carry the burden of millions of dead for a future that may not even occur. Dimitri does not consider himself that strong. He has spilt more than enough blood for those lost in the past, and he's spilt even more for the so-called future. But what they are aiming for, right now, with Claude's bow, Byleth's sword, and his lance, is a peaceful present.
Dreams of the future can wait until the people no longer need to fear the now.
The arrow meets it's mark in one of the pulsing eye-like appendages within the emperor's shoulder plate. Edelgard shrieks again, her anger evident in every movement her unnatural body makes, the twisted snarl of her horridly-toothed mouth closer in appearance to a beast. She swings wildly with her uninjured arm, clawed fingers reaching out to tear Lilia's soaring pegasus from the very air. He forces himself to look away, putting his faith in her ability despite the worry seated deep in his chest, and instead he aims Areadbhar for the thickly armoured legs of what had once been his step-sister.
He swings and feels his lance dig as deep as it can into the plating, and through the splatter of blood he sees a swathe of pure-white feathers scatter and Edelgard's hand pull back empty and burning with holy energy, and he can't help but smile. Injured as she is, he knew she could get out of that. If there one thing he knows Lilia has, it's agility and sheer luck. That luck of hers got them out of plenty of stints back when it was just the two of them in rural Faerghus during the dead of winter, after all.
Byleth kicks off the ground, the Sword of the Creator's glow lighting his skin and hair in the colour of flames, extending the blade and whipping it down the woman's torso, impossibly long, closer to an insect's thorax than anything humanoid. She reaches for the blade to pull it out but recoils, and for just a moment the furious expression in her face twitches as she turns to look at the professor. "Facing you... I grow weak..."
The man's brows furrow, and something quiet leaves his lips: a simple apology. Dimitri wonders if Byleth often thinks about what would've happened if he'd chosen to teach the Black Eagles, if he could've prevented this war somehow. He's sure all of them have considered that sort of line of thought once or twice during these long five years, but they don't have the luxury of such thoughts. They cannot change how the past went, even though they desperately want to. They can only shape the future by changing the present.
Dimitri dodges a slash of the emperor's claws, watches as she whips her other arm and slams Claude off of his wyvern. His breath catches for a moment, but he sees the man's wyvern help Lilia catch him, so he relaxes and puts himself back into the battle. They're working as a cohesive unit right now. Trust is imperative to get through this alive together. She manages to get a good hit in on him, throwing him several feet backwards with a swing of her arm, but he grits his teeth and bares through it. What point is his crest, all his strength and power, if he can't even take this. He shakes the vertigo of the hit off, swallows the dim pain in his side, and refocuses on the battle at hand. His good eye flickers over Edelgard's grotesque shape, seeking any weak spots he can aim for. In all their past fights, he's aimed for the weak spots in her armour, like where the plates meet. But there isn't any gaps in her armour now— it's all attached to her, all sinew and hardened skin and muscle.
Then, he catches glimpse of Claude, the last glimmers of Lilia's healing magic still flickering off of his skin, flying so high up he nearly touches the ceiling. The man winks, and then shouts out, "Follow my lead!"
When he hears such a thing from a man gifted the epithet of 'The Master Tactician', what else can he do but follow? Dimitri nods his head, dodges another swiping attack from Edelgard, and backs up a little to see what the Duke Riegan is about to do. With an undeniable ease, Claude pulls the string of Failnaught taut, the pulsating glow of the Hero's Relic lighting his green eyes like the sunset. The arrow set between his fingers begins to shine, likely the power of a unique skill granted to the crest-bearing weapon-wielder, like the powerful attacks Areadbhar allows him to unleash with his crest, flickering like a shooting star crossing the midnight sky. Even from this distance, he can feel the tension building, the controlled power contained, just about to be unleashed.
"Let's finish this!"
He fires the arrow with those words, and he watches as it soars past the strange set of jaws framing Edelgard's face and slams into the softer meat between her collarbone and shoulder. She lets out a shrieking sound, echoing and distorted like a sound caught in a cavern. The glare that she gives is bone-chilling, but the four of them are set in their way, too focused on the goal to feel it's full strength. The scatter of feathers from Lilia's pegasus tells him there's a plan in motion here, and Dimitri grips his lance tighter in preparation for the perfect moment.
It comes when Lilia gives him a nod of her head, then raises her hands and begins to cast a spell. The words she says are soft, sorrowful, an apology to the stern but once kind-hearted woman she never got the chance to know. "With this, be at peace." The circle begins to glow a powerful whitish blue, and for a moment he can't help but remember the shy but brave commoner who'd insisted on coming along with him on his death march, barely a single attack spell in her arsenal. Now... she shines like the warrior maidens of legend, and his heart soars within his chest.
Ice begins to crawl up Edelgard's body, encasing her right up to the shoulder on the side with Claude's arrow sits in, keeping her hunched in place. She struggles against it, but shards slice into her thickened skin. Dimitri sees the plan clearly now, and he aims Areadbhar with deadly precision. He takes a deep breath and rushes forward, leaping and slamming the blade through the connected tissue of her other arm. It sinks in deep, and he manages to catch a glimpse up at Edelgard's face.
It's twisted— contorted, no longer the little girl who taught him to dance, or the woman who walked the halls of the academy with him. It's no longer his distant step-sister, the only family he has left. "To be changed beyond all recognition..." He steels himself, certain now. "That is what lies at the end of the ideals you served so diligently. I have no pity for one such as you. If that is the future you hoped for, then you deserve no compassion."
He grits his teeth and shoves the Relic deeper, and briefly he swears he hears the ghosts, gleeful in this moment. He swallows thickly, ignoring them. He is not doing this to sate or avenge them... he is doing this for peace in Fódlan.
"Professor!" He shouts, looking over his shoulder for the man.
The sight of him, mint hair illuminated by last slivers of sun, the Sword of the Creator shining in his hands, is undeniably relieving. Their staunchest of allies, stoic but kind, the man who has led them this far. Edelgard's words towards the professor had meant something, what he doesn't know, but he just knows that if anyone can end this... it's Byleth. The man nods, poises his blade, and rushes forward. He raises the sword, it's glow bouncing off of the golden detailing of his robes, a warcry spilling from his lips. The man is only ever loud in battle, and right now his voice carries, reassuring to all who hear it.
The sword slices down the centre, black ichor spilling from the wound he cuts in oozing masses. Dimitri tears his lance from the meat of the emperor's shoulder, listens as Edelgard makes a sound between a growl and a cry and slumps forward. The ice slowly begins to recede, and the professor slowly begins to put his blade away, taking a few steps back.
Dimitri's chest heaves. "Edelgard... It is over."
Lilia can feel every inch of her body aching. While her pegasus and his wyvern took most of Claude's weight when he'd been thrown, she'd still had to grasp for a man twice her weight and attempt to stabilise him midair with her own wounds. Every single one of them is injured— just with a quick visual count, she can see fresh blood staining Byleth's robes, can see chinks in Dimitri's armour from that throw the emperor had gotten in, can see the healed over scratches of the injuries she'd healed Claude of during the battle. She can feel her own, and she wonders if helping Claude bare the brunt of that attack reopened one of her wounds.
The sky outside has grown twilight, purple haze meshing with the last glow of orange, and it shines off of the ashes of Edelgard's strange form as it dissolves away from her, revealing her real self. It's silent, more quiet than she would've expected, and she supposes that means the fighting outside has ceased... everyone is now just waiting to see what the resolution of this final battle is.
She dismounts from Echo, giving the pegasus a gentle brush over the muzzle as she watches Dimitri take a step forward towards the emperor. Her heart stutters, anxious, as he slowly extends his hand out towards the woman.
"El..." His voice is quiet, not quite gentle, but quiet.
There's a pause, a moment, where Edelgard lifts her head and meets his eyes. A smile forms on his face, and she returns it in kind. Lilia can't help but feel hope in her chest, that maybe, despite the way everything has gone, they can broker some sort of peace between them. Those feelings are smashed as she sees Edelgard pull a dagger from her belt behind her cape. She sees Byleth take a step forward, unsheathing the sword he'd just put away, but Dimitri acts first.
His grip tightens on Areadbhar, and he pushes the lance easily into her chest. Just as she throws the dagger into his shoulder. Her breath hitches, but she doesn't move. She realises this is an emotional moment, an important moment, for Dimitri. She doesn't want to intrude. She just stands there and waits, as Byleth sheathes the Sword of the Creator again, and gestures for Claude to follow him outside. She waits as the blond prince pulls the blade from the emperor's chest and she slumps forward lifeless. She waits as he tears the dagger from his shoulder with a grunt, dropping it to the ground before him, staining it with his blood.
He meets her eyes, and she doesn't smile. A smile isn't right for this moment. So instead she just reaches out to his hand with her own, holding it tight, and begins to walk with him to the door. Dimitri falters, stopping just as they're at the door, and turns back to the corpse at the throne. She bites her lip, and squeezes his hand, her eyes lowered. She cannot understand the pain he feels right now, cannot understand the pain any of them feel. She has not witnessed a friend, a family member, turn their world into darkness. She has not had to kill that person with her own hands. All she can do is provide comfort.
Byleth shakes his head, his brows furrowed and his eyes sorrowful, and opens the door. The world outside glimmers with firelight, the evening air filled with the cheers of their army. The four of them step beyond the threshold.
Compared to earlier in the day, the evening air is surprisingly cool— still hot for a Faerghan like herself, but most definitely cool. Perhaps it's the city's proximity to the water, with the many river canals that crisscross it's roads, or perhaps it's because it's far later in the Verdant Rain Moon than she would've expected from the earlier heat. The somber attitude of their small party lingers as their allies slowly begin to rejoin them on the steps of the imperial castle, but nobody seems to comment on it. Perhaps it was expected.
Carefully, Lilia helps Dimitri peel his cloak and pauldron off, her fingers brushing over the small slivers of the black fabric of his undershirt that she can reach, torn open where the dagger had pierced through. She really doesn't have any powerful healing spells left in her, she doubts any of their healers have much energy left, but at the very least... Though their hearts may be in pain, she at least wants to soothe their physical aches.
"Does it hurt?" She whispers softly, avoiding touching the wound directly.
"A bit," He admits, reaching with his uninjured left side and brushing a bloodstain away from her cheek. "It is tolerable, however."
She frowns a little, letting the warmth of the Goddess' magic seep through her fingertips as she brushes them over the wound. She can feel him shiver under her touch, and she glimpses up at him through her lashes, a worried ache in her chest. Their eyes meet, and she can see her own worry reflected in his gaze.
"Don't overexert yourself." He murmurs.
She shakes her head. "It's the least I can do."
The wound isn't fully healed, but at the very least it will last until they can bandage him up and he can get some proper rest in. She helps him reattach the pauldron and cape, and moves to stand at his good side instead. He reaches out and takes her hand once more, and she finds herself leaning into his side, exhaustion seeping into her bones after the long and painful day.
She feels his hand squeeze her's, his voice a quiet rumble against her side as he speaks. "... I— I gave her that dagger."
Her head whips up to look at him, and she thinks her surprise must be evident, because Dimitri furrows his brow and looks away. Gently, she brushes her thumb over the back of his hand, hoping to convey that she isn't shocked or angry; more curious, if anything. Worried, certainly... to be stabbed by his sister with something he gave her? It's an undeniably painful situation.
"You know that meaning behind blades, yes?" He asks, and she takes a moment to think. She did not grow up around weaponry like most other Faerghan children, instead spending her times with scripture and practicing faith magic, so it takes a few moments for her to remember.
"Ah," Her heart squeezes. "I see."
Their Kingdom is one of knights and warriors, after all. Blades have long been associated with their ability to carve a path forward... She may not know the context behind when or why he gave his estranged sister that gift, but it's meaning is abundantly clear. It's a meaning that she seemed to have taken to heart.
"She cut her path with that blade, and... you cut your's. Do not despair over that, Dimitri," She looks up to him once more, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Sometimes, she wonders if the Goddess is so cruel as to have created such a fate for a pair of siblings... but she knows the Goddess walks amongst them, and the matter is that humans create their own fates. "Just remember that you used a blade of your own to cut a path to our future, and that it will be one of peace."
He lifts their joined hands up, and presses his lips, curved like the crescent moon, to the back of her hand. "You're right. Thank you, Lilia."
The professor and Claude seem to be having a small conversation of their own not too far away, but once Byleth notices that they seem to be done with the quick medical attention (or perhaps he was just giving them space, of which she can feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment at how... shameless and public they've been recently), he gestures for Claude to follow him over.
The duke runs a hand through his hair once he comes to a stop, turning back to the imperial palace behind them just briefly. "You know... this wasn't the conclusion I had hoped for. Even though... I..." He bites his lip, words faltering in his throat.
"I don't believe any of us truly wanted this conclusion." Dimitri's words are a small comfort to them all, proof that perhaps they'd all secretly hoped that maybe things could've been different.
Lilia cannot put words to her own feelings towards the final emperor of the Adrestian Empire. She hates her, for the war that ruined her home and killed so many people unnecessarily. Yet she pities her, for the fact that she seemed to believe that this was the only way to reach her goals. Even deeper down, she wonders if perhaps, in another life, they might've gotten along. Been friends, even. Yet they all know there is no point wallowing in the past. It only feeds the ghosts that torment them all.
Claude nods. "Yeah... It's over now. the important thing is that we won."
Byleth nods his head, gently resting his hand on the man's shoulder. Even in his silence, there is comfort. Perhaps that quiet is what they truly need right now.
She read about a term in a book Rodrigue had once recommended to her during a march— a phyrric victory. When a victory comes at the cost of a devastating blow to the winner. While she cannot say this would be such a victory in the traditional meaning of the phrase, perhaps it could be one emotionally. Not just for their army's leaders, but also for their most important generals and commanders, all of whom had known the emperor in their youth. Some of whom are now standing at the site of their homeland's death.
She turns her head back to the castle, searching for that statue that she'd seen earlier. One thousand years of history, gone because of his descendant's selfish choice. She's not sure she can say whether or not it was for the best. She no longer has the ability to predict the future. She doesn't want to know. She'll just have to live through it and watch what happens with her own eyes.
"Your Majesty!"
Gilbert's voice cuts through the air, and the four of them turn with surprise as the older man approaches, the Hero of Daphnel swift on his heels. The woman continues approaching even as Gilbert keeps a respectable distance, coming to stop right in front of Claude and holding something out to him.
"Here, boy. A letter," The man looks to the envelope in her hands, observing in the wax seal keeping it closed. "An imperial general asked me to give it to you."
Claude looks up at Judith, then to Byleth, then to her and Dimitri. "A letter? Let's see it."
Carefully taking it in his hands, he turns it over and holds his hand out to the professor, who quickly hands him his dagger to use as a letter-opener. Carefully, he cuts through the thick wax sealing it shut and pulls the parchment out, brushing his fingers the straighten it out and read what it says. She can see his thick brows furrowing, and she briefly thanks the fact that so many soldiers have already lit torches to light up the area.
"It looks like it's from... Hubert," Surprise tinges his voice, and her brow raises, confused. His gaze flicks to her for a moment, and he quickly adds on: "Edelgard's vassal."
"Oh..."
She can guess who to associate that name with, but she chooses to pull the gauze over her eyes. Call it respect for a man who died at her hands without ever knowing her name, but she refuses to learn his. It's... the least she can do.
"What does it say?" Dimitri asks, stepping forward.
Claude clears his throat, and begins to read. "If you are reading this letter, that means I have perished. As Her Majesty would never surrender to another, I can only assume she has fallen as well. It greatly pains me to think of this coming to pass... That said, as the survivors, I must ask you to settle certain affairs in our stead. You must destroy the threat that slithers in the dark."
Her breath hitches at that, a sudden realisation hitting her. A threat that slithers in the dark... She thinks of dreams of rats scurrying into the salivating jaws of a salmon snake, and lets herself realise that all the threads they've been trying to untangle have finally come undone, and the truth has been placed before them.
"I am sure you must recall Monica and Tomas," Byleth nods his head in response, and she can see Dimitri narrow his eye at those names. She knows not who they are, but she thinks she's heard of them before— perhaps in another one of their strategy meetings. "Their allies yet live. They hold deep resentment against the children of the goddess and the people of the world, and they are biding their time until they can exact revenge. If left to their own devices, it is certain they will eventually bring unimaginable calamity and suffering to the world. I detected their sorcery when you took Fort Merceus. I have deduced the location of their stronghold, Shambhala. You will find its whereabouts enclosed. There is no question that they are the enemies of everyone in Fódlan. Do not allow yourselves to forget that." He turns to the next sheet of paper, and continues on.
"Lastly... While I cannot say she is in good health, the archbishop resides in a secret chamber in the Imperial palace. I have shared the location of the entrance to that secret chamber with the person to whom I have entrusted this letter. I believe that Her Majesty will be victorious... Even still, I must plan for her defeat as well. If you wish to lead this world, I challenge you to rise to the occasion and surpass my estimation of you. Such is your obligation as the victors... and the only fitting tribute to all that Lady Edelgard sacrificed."
With those words, he folds the letter back up and slides it into the envelope once more, letting what was said sink in. Lilia inhales deeply, closing her eyes and just resting over each syllable, each revelation that the letter has bought. Now she knows, that she and that dark mage may have been more alike than either of them wished to admit. They'd both had an unwavering loyalty in their liege, and they both were willing to die for them.
"Hubert..." There's an almost wistful tone to Claude's voice, and she looks to him. "To leave a letter like this behind... You were a better man than I believed you to be." Begrudgingly, she has to agree. She watches as he gently folds the letter and tucks it into a pocket sewn into his cloak. "So, Rhea is alive. And the fight isn't over yet. Those who slither in the dark... It sounds like Fódlan will never know peace unless we defeat them."
The professor nods, hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
"The allies of Monica and Tomas... Well, we knew about them already. I think it's safe to assume this is the same group who used Lysithea for their blood experiments. And they were also responsible for the javelins of light that destroyed the fortress." What a frightening enemy, she can't help but think, to be able to have and use such destructive magic at will. It's horrifying to imagine it, yet she had been there and witnessed the destruction it bought. She knows what those javelins of light can do.
Dimitri frowns, and she can't help but mirror his expression. "They're also likely the same group who replaced Cornelia and Lord Arundel, and experimented on Hapi."
She clenches her fist. What awful people... To do such things to such small children... No matter how much you supposedly resent someone, that's immoral.
Claude nods his head in agreement. "But who are these 'children of the goddess', who they supposedly resent? There's just not enough information here. I don't suppose there's any chance of his idea of a prank... If so, wow. Good one." The joke is awful, and the duke seems to realise it as the three of them turn to him— an apologetic grimace worming it's way onto his face. "Hubert... Rather than writing a letter, you should have just told us before we fought..."
"I... don't think he would've done that." She murmurs, mostly to herself. If she and the mage are truly so alike, she knows she wouldn't have dared tell anyone, especially not an enemy, a secret like that. Especially if it was something so connected to Dimitri as it is to Edelgard as the writer makes it out to be.
At her words, Claude simply shrugs and sighs. "You're probably right."
There's a pause for thought amongst them, a moment to think of all that has been revealed today. Just when she'd thought the war was finally over, that they could all go back to living lives of peace, without wielding weapons to survive and shedding blood and fearing for their lives each and every day... She supposes that there's no helping it, though. If something, or someone, truly terrible is plotting the ruin of Fódlan, they have no choice but to step up and cut them down. Lilia just hopes they'll get a chance to lick their wounds before they set off to battle again... Today has been rough on all of them.
"...Let's ask Rhea about it." Byleth finally breaks the silence by speaking up, turning back to the imperial castle behind them.
"Right," Claude agrees quickly. "We still don't know for sure if this letter is telling the truth. Let's go find out."
ending this chapter here bc otherwise it would've become MONSTROUSLY long
half this chapter is battle the other half is the gang going :pensive: emoji dkjfbbksjd
ive been writing this for like over half a year now and i STILL cant write fights for shit
ahh anyway ! but here we are at the end of the azure moon route!
from this point forward, any game dialogue used will be from silver snow or verdant wind.
my final exam is next week on friday, but hopefully once thats over my posting should
become a little more regular ! thank you so so much, each and every person who reads and reviews,
for staying with me this far. it's not the end of the fic just yet, but it's an important milestone nonetheless,
so i felt like i should just say it :). i started this off as a simple self-indulgent fic, but i've had
SO much fun writing it— i've even commissioned several pieces of art of lilia :clown:
i'm planning on making a tumblr soon for me to post some of that stuff on, so i will let you all know when that happens!
callmecrazylol: AAAH thank you! i wanted to write lilia as a girl who was shy and unsure but willing to help,
and eventually have her grow into the brave woman she is now! so im so glad you think so !
guest: aaaa thank u sooo much! i still always worry abt my dialogue and how ic it is (im just an anxious person lol),
So im very glad you think so ! from this point forward im going to be having lots of fun, so look out!
anyway, thank you so so much for following me for 40 chapters!
see you all next time !