Everybody Hurts Here

by AwfulSummary-DecentStory

Hoebag Edelgard has her life spared because baby.

7. Just Skip This One

Standing at the head of the class is not Byleth but Hanneman. It comes as no small surprise when Edelgard sees him there in her teacher's place, setting down his mug and arranging on the desk documents and magical instruments of all sorts. She walks up to him with a quizzical look on her face and inquires about his presence there in a brusque but not unkind manner. Byleth is their instructor today, as she is most days, and he not until the tail end of the week. Sipping from his mug of murky black Dagdan coffee, its smell so poignant that Hubert cannot help but loose an agreeable snort, Hanneman explains to her that a sudden change in their appointments had been necessitated in light of recent events.

House Gautier's Lance of Ruin had been stolen by its ousted son and its recovery entrusted to those of the Officers Academy. While normally a task that would have fallen to the Knights of Seiros, the deployment of most their forces to the headquarters of the Western Church leaves but a quaint few to protect the monastery. This combined with a request from Margrave Gautier himself places the burden of retrieving the relic weapon upon the shoulders of the Faerghus students and, oddly enough, Byleth. They left earlier that morning.

Edelgard turns to Hubert who shakes his head, indicating he had not known of this development either. It shows neither on her face nor in her body language, but it takes all of her willpower not to storm out of the class and right up to Rhea herself. Whose doing can this be if not hers?

Edelgard all but bolts out of the classroom come their first intermission. Climbing the stairs of the Central Building she cannot help but think it unfathomable that Byleth would not tell her about her departure before leaving. They had grown close had they not? Laid bare their hearts and she her most intimate thoughts that no other persons-aside from Hubert-had been so trusted to know. Byleth would have come to her, she knows it.

Upon reaching the second floor, Edelgard stumbles into Seteth. Rhea's assistant wears an ever stern look on his face as he tells Edelgard he had expected her sooner. Despite asking the meaning of his comment, he does not answer but instead makes an about face requesting that she follow him. He brings her directly to the archbishop who, too, says she had expected the girl sooner.

Rhea explains to Edelgard how she felt it beneficial for her teacher to embark on this mission with the Blue Lions, for her to see the results of those who foolishly attempt to wield the Heroes' Relics without the proper qualifications and to also bond with those from Faerghus, as she had done so with the Golden Deer the month prior. She tells Edelgard how she had personally gone to Byleth's quarters in the middle of the night to make this request of her.

"You've been spending quite some time there yourself, haven't you, Edelgard?"

Though she smiles, Rhea's words come off as nothing short of derisive to Edelgard's ears. Edelgard, for her part, plays nice-or as nice as she can manage to be. She gnashes her teeth and bites back a remark on Rhea's own inappropriate behavior toward Byleth, knowing full well that antagonizing the archbishop now will only draw unnecessary scrutiny towards herself later on.

"Yes, I have. Professor Eisner offers me one-on-one tutoring from time to time. My responsibilities back home often take me away from the monastery, so she does what she can to prevent me from falling behind my peers." It is not entirely a lie. Edelgard does leave Garreg Mach once or twice a month and will use some of the time she spends in Byleth's room to cover any material she missed while away, but that comprises only a small portion of their time spent alone. The majority of that time goes toward the subtle reinforcement of the fact that crests are a detriment to society and how the church enables their misuse.

"Be that as it may, it is beyond inappropriate for an instructor to take a student into their personal quarters. It is utterly indecent," Seteth says. As Edelgard watches him shake his head, it now becomes clear why Byleth had been hesitant to allow her into her room the first few times. He had probably been keeping an eye on them for a while. It takes a great deal of restraint to not roll her eyes right in front of him. "I thought I explained as much to her when she was first appointed her position, but I see we must revisit the monastery's code of ethics upon her return. And you, Edelgard, someone of your upbringing should know exactly how such behavior can reflect on your character."

"Seteth, it is fine," Rhea says. "Though she is a teacher now, our Byleth is still young, and from what Jeralt tells me, she has not had many opportunities to interact with those close to her in age; she is allowed some leeway. I would like for her to enjoy her first days here as much as those she teaches."

"That goes for Edelgard as well. She was born into this world bearing an enormous responsibility. It won't be long from now that she'll have to shoulder it. Let her enjoy these frivolous, carefree days of her youth. "

There is something in the way Rhea looks at her that makes Edelgard feel so very small-the way she speaks and brushes aside her and Byleth's blossoming liaison-it irks her. As much as it pains her to go on being appraised as a child, Edelgard knows it be for the best. "Thank you, archbishop," she says. She swallows her pride and accepts the brief yet insufferably long separation from her teacher. She doubts that Dimitri will have enough time to make much of an impression on her. She hopes not.

xxx

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

"No."

"Ah, wonderful! How fortunate it is that we are able to enjoy yet another meal together, Professor Eisner. And this time with you as well, Edelgard. How have your studies been treating you?"

Dimitri may not have made much of an impression on Byleth but she has obviously made one on him. Ever since their return from their assignment together, the prince had taken it upon himself to join Byleth in as many activities as possible. Whether it be fishing, training, or eating, he follows after her like a puppy more so than the actual monastery puppies. Edelgard learns of all of this in passing through conversations with Byleth during their nighttime tea. This does not sit well with her.

"Fine," Edelgard says with barely glance upward. Her hand inadvertently wavers over to Byleth's lap, taking a place on her knee. Byleth, though confounded by Edelgard's actions, does not seem to mind. She looks at the girl then promptly returns to her meal.

"I'm glad to hear it." A bright smile erupts across Dimitri's face. His eyes crinkle as he takes in the older girl seated across from him. Spoon dipping into his meal, he turns aside to Hubert seated right beside her. "And I mustn't forget about you, Hubert. How do you do?"

The eldest of the trio of students hums. Unlike Edelgard, he looks up and directly at Dimitri, returning the boy's wholly genial expression with one more sinister. "Lately, I've been subject to the persistent buzzing of a couple of particularly petulant pests. It is my hope that I be rid of them before long."

"Oh. That is unfortunate indeed. I wish you the best of luck in ridding yourself of them." Hubert's smile falters, his thinly veiled threat seeming to go entirely over the head of its recipient. "Ah, before I forget... Professor, during your sword training seminar this past weekend, you exhibited a style of sword play that I am unfamiliar with. Even Felix was unable to put a name to it when I described it to him."

"Oh, that," Byleth says between bites of bread, unperturbed by the hand steadily sliding up along her leg, attempting to drag her focus anywhere but what it is on. "That was Zoltan style. It's a more refined sword variant of the Sreng Berserker style typically used with axes."

"Zoltan style?!" Dimitri's jumps out of his seat upon hearing that name, his outburst completely rocking the table. Hubert grimaces as he witnesses some of his stew spill onto it. Dimitri pardons himself as he plants himself back down. "I'd heard he was a fine swordsman before becoming a smith but never of him having his own style! Professor, how did you come to learn of it?"

"Is it really that elusive?" Byleth asks just because swallowing a mouthful of carrot. She fills her mouth again, taking her time eating as Dimitri's head bobs up and down like an overly excited child. "An old man named Darius taught me while I was in Sreng about seven years ago. He gave me my dagger when he said there was nothing else to learn."

"Darius? That name sounds ever so familiar, and he knew of... Ah! Darius Zoltan! You learned from Zoltan's great-grandson himself?! He is nearly as highly regarded a craftsman as his predecessor. Remarkable... I knew you were quite the accomplished swordsman considering Lady Rhea immediately bestowed you the title of Master upon your arrival, but for you to also be recognized by the Zoltans..." Dimitri looks upon Byleth with a newfound respect. In his eyes, he appears to be starstruck. Edelgard can already tell this boy is about to become a nuisance. "If I may be so presumptuous, Professor Eisner, might I see more of Zoltan style when classes have concluded for the day? Before or after supper makes no difference to me."

"Sure, just let me-"

"The professor has prior obligations to attend to this evening," Edelgard cuts in. She feels she had sat by long enough and allowed Dimitri to eat up more than enough of the time meant for her. Her fingers dig deep into the meat of Byleth's thigh. "Don't you, professor?"

Byleth looks down at Edelgard's hand and back up at her. It is obvious in the way she looks at her the discomfort she feels in being grabbed so aggressively, but she doesn't make a move to stop her. "I do, but-" She tries to say more, but Edelgard gives her no room to say anything aside from what she wants to hear.

Her eyes and the tone of her voice sharp, Edelgard drives home the point that she will not be allowing Dimitri any further interaction with her teacher. "So I suggest you make whatever requests you have of her during your allotted class time. She's far too busy to accommodate any impromptu demands."

"Oh. Yes, you're right." Dimitri shakes his head, clearly appalled at his own behavior. "Professor, it was beyond rude of me to try to add more to your plate without taking into consideration how it might inconvenience you. I apologize. I shall wait until our next class together."

Edelgard smiles at Dimitri for the first time in a long while, a genuine smile not meant to comfort. Dimitri returns the look halfheartedly, not at all understanding the context behind the older girl's expression. He fully focuses on his meal. Hubert chuckles. She turns towards Byleth and goes on smiling, her grip on Byleth's leg loosening as she sees her return to her food. She pets her thigh and rubs it in a silent message meant to convey that she is a "good girl".

"I'll do it," Byleth says after she swallows the last of her stew. Edelgard's ministrations stop, and she along with Dimitri and Hubert devote their attention to Byleth. "Tomorrow. I'll eat on the way to the training area." Moving onto her next dish, she looks at Edelgard, a faint smile of reassurance on her face. "It won't be a long demonstration," she says. "Is that okay, Dimitri?"

Edelgard exchanges looks with Byleth, mirroring Dimitri's expression with an awkward smile of her own. She slips her hand back into her own lap and winds her neck and rubs it as she releases a quiet huff.

"Absolutely!" Dimitri exclaims, his countenance shining so brightly it causes both Edelgard and Hubert to wince. "I'll bring Felix along with me. You see he's also a particularly enthusiastic aficionado of Zoltan, and although he didn't show up to your last seminar, he is quite taken with you, professor. Your swordsmanship that is."

Byleth sets her hand on Edelgard's leg and rubs just how she had rubbed hers. She feels Edelgard flinch beneath her touch and the brush of her knuckles pushing at her hand but no more than that. Edelgard allows Byleth's hand to remain with her own against it. "That's fine," Byleth says. Their time together comes to an end not long after.

Few minutes remain until class reconvenes, but Edelgard makes use of it to walk the monastery grounds and clear her head. Hubert, ever the dutiful companion he is, remains only a few steps behind.

"Professor Eisner appears to be quite the handful, my lady," Hubert says. They come to a fairly isolated and open area of the monastery, one of many small gardens dotted across its grounds, this one situated none too far from and none too close to the school house.

Edelgard sighs. She laughs. "I cannot deny that. She's usually so unassertive. Sometimes it takes me by surprise when she chooses to speak out of turn."

Hubert watches Edelgard as she paces about the garden, touching and briefly smelling what grows there. She's reminded of home, he knows. "And you know as well as I do, a dog that only seldom heeds the words of its master is of no use. It shall be put down. Just give me the order, my lady, and that dog will be taken out around back and put out of its misery."

Again, Edelgard sighs. Her fingertips tease the petals of a carnation. She leans down to inhale its spicy and citrusy aroma, like cinnamon and clove with a hint of bergamot. "She is no dog, Hubert, and there is no need for us to take that course of action."

"Yes, far too brutish that one, though she does try to hide it." Hubert laughs. "Perhaps she is more akin to a bear or a demonic beast? She certainly possesses the appetite of one."

Her reaction is immediate, a sharp turn on her heel and a glare just as so. The imperial heiress reprimands her retainer. "Hubert, I will not have you disparage our professor's character in my presence."

His back straightens and all signs of mirth vacate his visage. The retainer bows his head in deference. "My apologies, Your Highness," he says.

His head still angled toward the ground, Hubert peers up at his lord. Her back is turned to him and she once again distracts herself with the flowers she is so fond of. Gnawing on his lip, he chooses once more to toe the line drawn between master and servant. "Lady Edelgard, if you would pardon my asking, why are you so invested in recruiting that woman? She is strong, yes, but strength is in no short supply among the ranks of our nation's army. She does hold in her hands the Sword of the Creator and bears the Crest of Flames, but this was only discovered weeks ago while you had begun to pursue her far sooner."

"Why indeed?" Edelgard intones. She raps a finger against her chin as she seeks to articulate the nature of her attraction. She thinks and thinks and soon enough in her head is a flower field of carnations with Byleth standing at its center, arms outstretched and that excessively alluring faint smile of hers painted across her doll-like face. She calls her name, beckoning her to come hither, and though this is but a mental construct, she so wants to. Finally she thinks to answer Hubert, her words trailing off just as her thoughts do.

"Hers is a different strength, Hubert. The way she fights is so brutal and efficient yet elegant and... Mesmerizing, the way she moves. She is indomitable and entirely inexhaustible it seems. Everything about her is so otherworldly, I... Listen to me going on and on." Edelgard laughs, cupping her face as images of Byleth continue to consume her. She clears her throat and her mind along with it, completely unaware of the dour expression Hubert makes. "Suffice to say, she is especially strong. I believe she will prove to be just as or even more valuable an ally than Jeritza. That and her joining our ranks may also net us the Blade Breaker himself. Does that answer your question, Hubert?"

It does and then some. It has become painfully apparent to Hubert that Edelgard's fascination with Byleth has far less to do with her value as a soldier than she lets on. The way Edelgard's eyes light up when she talks about that woman, how she adopts a far more girlish lilt to her voice and her cheeks grow rosy-it all screams of something he wishes not to acknowledge. It too makes him aware of something within himself he wishes not to acknowledge. With a callous heart, he kills that emotion, but he fears remnants of it bleed through into his words. "I fear you grow too close to our dear professor, Lady Edelgard. While it is ultimately your decision with whom you choose to fraternize, it would be a failure on my part to not remind you that our goals may not align with those of others. We cannot be certain that she will side with us. Above all else, I do not wish to see you hurt when the time comes for us to unveil our true motives."

Edelgard looks upon Hubert with some alarm, but it dissipates into that same sweet look that had been on her face moments before. Eyes bright, voice high and cheeks sporting a rosy tint, she walks by Hubert. "I appreciate your concern, but you needn't worry. As obstinate as she may sometimes be, Byleth is amenable to our cause. I'm sure you'll take a liking to her once she has officially joined our side. Believe me, I'm doing everything I can to ensure it happens." She chuckles, not aware of just how her words impact Hubert. "Now, let's get back to class."

It bubbles up, that emotion he thought dead. Like bile rising from the depths of his stomach, it spills from his mouth-words hurtful, factual, and fueled by that emotion he still refuses to name. "According to our people here on the premises, the professor has been observed leaving the archbishop's quarters at odd hours of the night in unkempt states of dress." Short, succinct. No more is said. He allows her to draw her own conclusions.

When Edelgard stops in her retreat from the small monastery garden, Hubert can honestly say he is not sure how his lord will react to this information. He had spent so much time beside her, watching her, that it would be no hyperbole to say that he knew her emotions better than even his own. He knew those things that brought her joy, the remarks that would inspire an inflammatory response, what frightened her, and what distressed her. Should she have been a book, he would be the one to know the entirety of its contents from start to finish. Any passage could be read from it, and he would be able to state its chapter, page and even line number. To this day this is still true, but since the arrival of Byleth, it seems his edition of that book has become outdated. Hubert knows not what is to come.

"Is that all, Hubert?" Edelgard says. She does not turn back, but she stands waiting for him to respond. In her voice, Hubert hears nothing. He thinks it is too restrained to be natural. This response he had not foreseen.

At this moment, he feels all he can do is repeat himself, hoping that she knows, if nothing else, that he will always be on her side. "I do not wish to see you hurt, my lady."

---

Edelgard snaps shut Jeralt's diary. She rolls her neck and pinches her eyelids closed. This is not the first time a break is necessitated from her reading, and she doubts it will be the last. The knowledge she amasses of the once stoic and impassive knight being so intimate in nature gives her pause. Each passage on from Byleth's birth spells out just how much he cared for his child, how nearly each and every passing thought correlated to her in some way. It makes for her to think back to months and years prior, to uneasy conversations held and a vicious and unrelenting guilt she'd thought buried. Her fingers drum against the book's cover as she seeks to banish these thoughts back whence they came.

"Oh, Edelgard. Which do you prefer?" Mercedes's airy voice calls from behind. It draws Edelgard away from those depressing thoughts. "Red or white?"

In the middle of the room, Mercedes stands with two dresses in either hand. She lifts them one by one as she asks again, "Red or white?" The red one a short length chiffon with its material gathered beneath the bustline and the white a sundress with a red bow at its center. Both appear to heavily accentuate the belly, attire for women proud of their maternity and looking to show it off. Not for Edelgard.

"Uhhh," Edelgard mouths lamely, her eyes darting back and forth between the dresses. She looks down at what she presently wears, one of the many plain colored shifts that now comprise the majority of her wardrobe. "I think I'd rather just stay in what I already have on."

"No, ma'am. It's the first time in a long time that you and all of your friends are seeing each other again. It's a special occasion and you should dress for it."

"Fine." Edelgard admits defeat without a struggle. She knows it to be a pointless endeavor. Mercedes, as mild-mannered a woman as she is, has proven herself to be far more uncompromising a caretaker in her days spent tending to Edelgard. Once she has stated her case, it proves fruitless to argue any further with her. "Um... I'll wear the red one."

"Hm. Are you sure? I quite favor the white dress. The big bow on your belly will make you look like you've been specially gift wrapped!"

"...Red. Definitely red."

Mercedes stifles a giggle as she sets down the dresses, moving to disrobe Edelgard. "Okay. Let's get you changed."

Minutes later and Edelgard stands garbed in red from head to toe, the dress only reaching as far as her knees but the addition of a nostalgic pair of red tights shielding her scarred legs from view. She pulls at its ruffled sleeves as Mercedes hops around her, nodding her head at every angle she views her from. "Oh, Edelgard, it looks wonderful on you!" She stops in place, clapping her hands together. "But I'll have to touch up your hair a little too. Have a seat for me please."

As disinclined as she is to do so, Edelgard does retake her seat. She thumbs the pages of the diary while Mercedes untangles and brushes her hair. She swallows a sigh as she allows herself to be groomed, the situation not totally unlike her treatment in her palace but far more infantilizing still.

"Your hair is so long and pretty, there's really no style that wouldn't look good on you." Edelgard winces some as she feels her hair being pulled taught and worked around to simulate whatever hairstyle Mercedes plans to put her in. Although she sits in front of a mirror, she has no intention whatsoever of looking up. "I would have liked to put it into twin braids, but I'm sure they're nearly here by now. Mm... It's a little muggy out, so how about a ponytail or to the side?"

"To the side? It doesn't matter. Whatever is quickest." She does her best to stifle her growing displeasure, but all the same Edelgard's feelings are translated to Mercedes as she utters a giggly apology. She quickly sets about arranging Edelgard's hair into some semblance of a hairdo and the quiet that comes as a result is very much appreciated by Edelgard. It lasts until the moment Mercedes finishes her work, just as a perfectly timed knock hits the door.

"You may enter." Not a half second after the words leave her mouth, Edelgard finds herself wincing at the instinctive authority in her voice. The door opens and with it comes a squeal of unfettered delight.

"Edie~! You look so cute!" Dorothea bounds into the room looking nothing short of ecstatic. Like Mercedes had done before, she circles Edelgard nodding her head in approval at what she sees. "Mercedes, you did a darn good job of getting our little princesses ready."

Edelgard groans, thumping her head against the edge of the diary she has yet to set down.

"Oh, I didn't do much of anything really. Just her hair," Mercedes says as she runs her hand through Edelgard's long hair. "Edelgard has such beautiful skin that hardly any makeup is necessary at all. And you chose the dresses."

"I really wanted to see her in the one with the bow on the belly. Maybe next time?"

Once more for emphasis, Edelgard groans. "I can do without you two making me out to be your dress-up doll." Mercedes and Dorothea both look at Edelgard and they burst into a fit of giggles. Dressed up with her hair done in an exceedingly childish hairdo, Edelgard thinks that's exactly what she's become to the two.

"But it's so fun. I can't wait for the baby to come so we can see you two in matching outfits."

And that is the last straw. Face matching her wardrobe, Edelgard stands as quickly as she possibly can and makes for the door. "The others are here? We shouldn't keep them waiting."

Dorothea follows while Mercedes remains to tidy up. They exit the room and she entwines her arm with Edelgard's, smiling in response to the side-eye she receives. "Are you excited, Edie?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Well, it's understandable if you've got nerves."

They descend the stairs to ground level, Dorothea holding tight onto Edelgard all the while. "Oh yeah," she says. "Do you mind acting like you're surprised when we walk out? We'd decided I wouldn't tell you we were all getting together today so it could be a, well, surprise, but I kinda let the cat out of the bag last night trying to cheer you up."

"If you hadn't Mercedes would have given it right away this morning, what with the dresses and her blabbering."

"Still." Dorothea's head bobbles side to side as if physically juggling her thoughts within it. "Also, I, uh, asked them not to bring up anything related to the war. That goes for you too. I already told you about Caspar's and Ferdie's fathers."

"Right..." As they near the door leading to the courtyard, Edelgard begins to drag her feet. Her grip tightens on the diary still in her clutches and she sighs wearily. She looks up to Dorothea with near pleading eyes. The events of the night prior had already agitated her enough. Doubts of whether she can handle what may come next pervade her mind. "Must we do this today?"

Dorothea answers Edelgard's plea with the smile on her face gradually growing somber. "Today's the only chance we've got before we head out to battle. We're gonna be in completely unfamiliar territory. There's no telling how things will play out, so it's best we all get together while we've got the chance. Don't you want to see everyone?"

"No. I can go the rest of my life without laying eyes on any of them again," Edelgard is tempted to say, and she might have had her mind not fixated on the implication of Dorothea's words. "You're leaving too?"

Dorothea's eyes wander as she breathes a curse. "Well, that's another cat out of the bag. Sorta. I'll explain after we've gotten settled."

The knowledge that she will no longer be under Dorothea's care causes Edelgard to forgo her worries of meeting her former schoolmates. She ponders what may be the reason behind the other woman's departure, who will replace her-if someone will replace her-and in what way she may be able to take advantage of this change. With her mind elsewhere, Edelgard is whisked out into the courtyard and hit in the face with the blaring light of the sun and a blaringly loud voice.

"Yo, Edelgard! Surprise, uh-Woah. You're crazy big."

Caspar stands caught in mid-stride with a crate in his hands, his eyes as wide as saucers and his jaw slack. Beside him is a cart loaded with several more crates, and further beyond him is another familiar face; slumped over at a large circular stone table featured at the center of the manor courtyard is Linhardt. He yawns as he addresses Edelgard.

"As you can see, Caspar remains ever tactful in his approach to the opposite sex. Edelgard," Linhardt lifts an arm in some farce of a wave, "pleasure to see you again."

Edelgard abstains from returning the greeting, her eyes instead straining on the contents of the cart Caspar continues to empty. She disentangles herself from Dorothea and moves toward it to peer inside. "What is all this?"

Dorothea takes a seat beside Linhardt, and on cue, the green haired noble exchanges the smooth yet hard surface of the table for Dorothea's lap. His head disappears beneath the table but he goes on talking. "Food, utensils, tea cups and plates, and other knickknacks we need for the little luncheon we're having."

Although surprised by their closeness, Edelgard chooses not to speak on it. She turns back to the cart and begins to rifle through the crates within even as Caspar steadily removes them. "It looks like a lot more than just that is in here. Huh?" And from one she pulls out what appears to be a knitted doll of a red and white polka-dotted carnivorous plant.

"Yoo~hoo~ Look who's here! The gang's all back together!" Through the gate barring access to the outside comes Hilda marching in. She carries no fewer than three of the heavy crates Caspar had expelled so much energy to heft up one at a time. "Caspar, be a dear and take these crates off my hands, please."

"Huh? You look like you're having a pretty easy time carrying them though, Hilda."

As Caspar and Hilda exchange light banter, one by one the rest of the Black Eagles filter into the courtyard-those few privy to Edelgard's true status. Bernadetta, Ferdinand, Petra, and Constance all come with bags and crates, some of them topped with bizarre potted plants of varying shapes and sizes. From the opposite direction, Mercedes comes with her own things packed and a platter holding a pitcher of cold water.

"Sorry, we're late," Bernadetta wheezes as she sets down her armful. "I just had to run back and grab a couple more things from my room."

Ferdinand follows suit, placing crates onto the ground and graciously accepting a glass of water. "I told Bernadetta it would not be necessary to bring along half the things she has, but she insis-"

"Edelgard!"

From behind Ferdinand, Petra comes plowing through. The way she charges her makes Edelgard start. Her hand brushes against her hip for a weapon no longer there-it is the first time she realizes she no longer has it-her dagger. Her harried response goes unnoticed by all, least of all Petra, and she finds herself seized in an overbearingly affectionate embrace. Arms clamped to her sides and nuzzled cheek to cheek, Edelgard manages to sputter out, "Petra. Um, you're squeezing me too tightly."

"Oh, I am so sorry." Petra relents in her affections, still holding her past leader but at an arm's length. She smiles nervously. It is a look Edelgard is unsure she's ever seen on her. She doesn't recall Petra ever being so open with her, but that would make sense given their past. "I was just being so... I was so excited to see you alive and not being-not dead! I could not help myself. You're alive. Alive and round. So round. You are looking so very round, Edelgard. May I touch your belly?"

That same nervous energy is imparted to Edelgard, though she is nowhere near as enthused. "I would rather you not..."

As Petra deflates from the rejection, she steps back to assist the others with setting the table and Ferdinand steps forward in her place. Constance lingers behind him with a gloomy expression on her face, her hands still full with the crate she had come with. Mercedes pats her head on her way out the courtyard. "It has been quite a while since we last saw each other, Edelgard," says Ferdinand. He tilts his head down only a little. "I am glad you appear to be in good health now. The state you were in when we found you was worrying to say the least."

"Yes, well... That was then." Again, Edelgard neglects greeting her old friends. She squirms beneath their inquisitive gazes, book still held firm in her hand. She returns her attention to the items in the cart. "Now, really, can someone explain to me what all of this is doing here?"

All goes silent until barely a whisper of a voice peeps up. "Surprise," Bernadetta says weakly.

"Bernadetta's going to be staying with you from now on," Dorothea clarifies.

Edelgard blinks once. Twice. "Oh?" she says, turning from one woman to the other. She fixes her gaze on the fidgety Bernadetta. "Not that I'm adverse to the company, but why?"

"Changes made to the battle plan," Hilda says. With her hands free, she twirls around the table, rummaging inside a wicker basket of foodstuff as she speaks. "Claude and the professor decided it's best to use a petite strike force to get the drop on and punch through our enemies before they have time to retaliate, and unfortunately that means fragile little Hilda and Marianne are forced to tag along."

Edelgard scoffs. "I'd hardly call you fragile. You killed enough of my soldiers to acquire the title of War Master, did you not?"

It is the first time they have spoken directly, Hilda and Edelgard, the small number of their interactions in the past weeks having been filtered through Marianne and Bernadetta. The two of them had never gotten along even as schoolmates, their personalities and ideals being so diametrically opposed as if one were oil and the other water. Hilda was the one guard Edelgard perfectly understood being there. Lazy as she is, getting past her would be no easy feat even in perfect health.

Hilda returns the scoff, pulling an apple and a peach from the basket. As she saunters past Edelgard, her cherry colored lips twist into something halfway between a snarl and a grin. Her eyes simultaneously sharpen and grow dim. This is the face exclusively seen by her victims. "Even a beautiful flower can turn deadly under the right conditions, but of course you know that." Just like that, it is gone. Her eyes snap shut and the sweetest smile spreads across her face. Hilda waltzes away with the same cutesy appeal to her as always. "Anyways, that's the gist of it. Feel free to bring me and Mari a snack."

Dorothea pats the seat beside her, signalling for Edelgard to sit down. "Let's keep talk like that to a minimum, okay?"

Edelgard watches Hilda walk out the gate with vitriol very apparent on her face. It remains even as she takes her seat. "You said you would be going as well, didn't you?"

Dorothea brushes a hand down Edelgard's arm in an attempt to soothe her. She pouts, making as apologetic a face as she can. "Yeah. The professor wanted me to stay, but Claude was really particular about having enough mages well versed in both Black and White magics with them, so off I go. Sorry, Edie."

"It only makes sense for you to go where you're needed." Edelgard shrugs, feigning indifference to this news. In truth, she looks upon it favorably. She opens Jeralt's diary as she probes more, her nose down but her eyes not truly taking in what they reflect. "So the only ones remaining on my detail will be Bernadetta, Mercedes, Sylvain, and Constance?"

At mention of her name, Constance's head lifts slowly. She plants herself in the seat opposite to Edelgard and answers. "Yes. I imagine the decision to leave me behind was not a difficult one. I am no more than a hindrance to our friends' good efforts. But even then, they have entrusted me with the duty of guarding this humble abode in their absence. How fortunate is one as pitiable as I to have such kindhearted friends?"

"Right..." Bernadetta too takes a seat, choosing the one right beside Edelgard. "So I'll be here all day and all night, and Mercedes will pop in for a few hours each morning so I can get some sleep and to check your condition. I'll try not to be too much of a bother."

"All day and night..." Edelgard muses. It is not much different than how things are at present-eyes will be on her at all hours of the day-but she believes that perhaps being in the company of someone as prone to mishaps as Bernadetta may be to her benefit. She decides she will just need to wait and see. "For you to be burdened with such a tedious obligation, Bernadetta, I apologize. Spending eight hours a day with me alone is taxing enough, I'm sure."

Bernadetta shakes her head vigorously. "No, not at all! I'm actually the one who suggested I stay with you in the first place. If it's between me going to battle and me having to stay locked up in this manor with you, I'll choose you every time! Uh, not that I'm doing this just to get out of participating in battle! And I'm definitely not suggesting that being with you is anywhere near as bad as having to fight! I like being here with you! Um, I mean..." Foot in her mouth, Bernadetta begins to sweat. She squirms in her seat and puts her head down to avoid looking at Edelgard entirely.

"Is that so?" Edelgard says, spared the sight Bernadetta's fit for her eyes remained locked on her book.

"Very much so," Petra says. She lines the table with plates and diningware as Caspar places platters of fruits, sweets, and handfoods at its center and Ferdinand brews a pot of tea. "Bernie is thinking she will be living with you when all is said and done, yes?"

"Oh?" That actually gets Edelgard to look back up, directly at Bernadetta who shrinks further into her seat.

"Well, the professor said I can stay at the monastery for as long as I want," Bernadetta exclaims, "so if as long as I want means forever then why not? And if I'll be here forever, then why not stay here with you? You'll need help taking care of the baby after all. Um, unless you don't want me around. Ohh, Bernie you idiot." She clutches her head, mussing up her hair as she berates herself. "Of course she doesn't want you around. What gives you the right to just barge into someone else's hidey-hole like it's your own. Stupid, stupid!"

Edelgard rolls her eyes at Bernadetta's antics and expels a half exasperated sigh. "I see you've not kicked that bad habit of talking to yourself, Bernadetta. I don't mind you staying here-not that I have much choice in the matter." She buries her face back into her book. "I just don't understand why you would want to."

With Edelgard's eyes no longer on her, Bernadetta feels confident enough to look at her again, only for her to turn away immediately after. "Well... I have my reasons."

Minutes go by as the table continues to be set. Edelgard looks up briefly as a teacup is placed before her. Ferdinand stands just over her shoulder as he pours her serving. Her face scrunches at the close proximity, and she holds the diary to her belly to hide away its contents as he lingers, dropping several cubes of sugar into the steaming cup of tea.

"I know you enjoy your tea when it is abhorrently sweet," Ferdinand says, "so I have made sure to give you plenty of sugar." He smiles at her before next moving to pour tea for Bernadetta. Edelgard mutters a gruff "Thank you" as she goes back to reading, and Ferdinand just returns it with a smile as he continues pouring tea all around the table.

Edelgard's plate is the first to be filled, but she neglects it for the book in her lap. One by one the rest of the Black Eagles take their seats at the table, but Edelgard keeps her head down all the same.

"So what's everyone's plans for after everything's settled?" Caspar is the one to get the ball rolling on conversation. He kicks up a leg as he stuffs his face with a sandwich, tilting his chair back on its hindlegs. He talks through a mouthful of partially chewed food much to many others' chagrin. "There's a bunch of stuff that's gotta be rebuilt but, like, there's other stuff to do too."

Petra, unconcerned with Caspar's poor manners, is the first to respond. "I will be returning to Brigid. A long time has passed since seeing my grandfather, so I must return. Things must be... Ironed out?" She looks toward Dorothea for confirmation of her usage of that phrase and smiles when she receives a nod. "You are all very welcome to visit, and I will be visiting you all in the future as well."

"I've always wanted to see your home, Petra. We'll definitely visit. Right, Lin?" Dorothea says as she leans down to gently nudge Linhardt. He lays across Dorothea's lap with his mouth agape and drooling as she strokes his hair. He says something entirely incomprehensible but his eyes remain shut. Dorothea laughs and plants a kiss atop his head. From where she sits, Edelgard is offered full view of their interaction, and this too she cannot help but roll her eyes at.

"Both you and Linhardt, Dorothea?" Ferdinand asks. Where he sits, he is unable to witness their exchange, but it has become apparent all the same there is something more to their relationship.

"Mhm. No ring yet but we're to be wed," Dorothea chirps happily followed by a chorus of surprised and gleeful gasps from around the table. "He proposed to me over breakfast in the dining hall in the most lackadaisical way imaginable. Can't say exactly when the wedding will be, but probably some time after he's done with his current project, so I'm hoping we can take that trip to Brigid as our honeymoon."

"I had no idea you were getting married." Caspar scratches his head in wonderment. "Didn't think I was that oblivious."

Dorothea shakes her head and giggles. "You definitely are but not in this case. Lin said he wanted to keep it on the hush for the time being so that he could do a proper proposal and announcement later on. That's all, but I don't see any harm in letting you guys know."

"I knew I should have brought that mead with me. Could've at least done a toast," Caspar sighs. "But good on ya! How about you, Ferd? Constance? Plans? Love interests?"

Ferdinand sips his tea with a smirk splayed across his face. With his eyes closed, he relates his future endeavors with his ever posh persona. "I will be inheriting my birthright as the Duke of Aegir of course. As for the identity of the fair maiden meant to become my beloved, it may shock you, and honestly, it may inspire envy within your hearts, so I shall-"

"It's Manuela."

"Dorothea!" Ferdinand's eyes shoot open and he jostles his teacup, spilling some of its contents onto his puff tie. Dorothea laughs all the while as she exposes him.

"He's had a crush on her for the longest. First thing out of his mouth when we met in the academy was question after question about how it was to work with Manuela, what flowers she likes, and exactly what kind of men does she favor. When we all got back here, he ran right up to her clinic and proposed to her then and there. Oh! And whenever he's in the stables, you can hear him practicing little songs to sing to her. It's so cute."

"Goodness, Dorothea! You can't just reveal a man's secrets like that!"

As Dorothea and Ferdinand squabble, the latter growing increasingly flustered as the former relentlessly shares more and more intimate details concerning his love life, Constance too chooses to relay her plans for the future. Unfortunately, she just so happens to be fully exposed to the light of the sun. Even as overcast as it is, its rays seem to find a way to beat down on her and her alone.

"It was my intention to restore House Nouvelle, but am I truly capable-Nay. Am I worthy of doing so?" Constance asks rhetorically, and she answers herself with her already downtrodden look growing more so. "I know not. Perhaps I am better off forever assuming the role of a gatekeeper? I seem to have some talent for that at least. And as for love, I shan't think of it. What poor lass or fellow would subject themself to a life with one as capricious as I?"

"Can someone please grab Constance a parasol? Anything to get the sun off her? Thanks."

"What will you do, Caspar?" Ferdinand asks. His face still burns red hot as he dabs at the stain on his tie. "You have been asking all of us but have yet to share your own plans for the future. Do tell."

"Hm. Me?" Caspar asks, well in the process of stuffing his face. He washes down his food with a gulp of tea and looks up toward the sky pondersome. "The professor says there's room for me as an instructor here at the monastery or as a general in the new military that'll be formed-even said I could become a knight here if I wanted-but honestly, I don't know. After what happened with my old man, I'm not really sure I want to take over his territory either." And at that, Edelgard looks up from her book, eyes trained well on Caspar. Although she keeps quiet for now, inquiry brews inside her. "I'm not sure what I want to do. I traveled a lot these past five years, so I think I might keep that up for a while. Maybe bump around Faerghus a bit before dipping out of the country entirely. I don't know."

"Ooh, Faerghus, huh?" Dorothea says through a knowing smile. "Why so far north? Hoping to run into anyone while you're in the neighborhood? A little orange haired witch perhaps?"

It is now Caspar's turn to be at the resident love guru's mercy. He sits straight in his chair and appears to have developed a keen interest in his hands. "No," he says, "I-I just haven't had much of a chance to really explore it like I have the Empire or the Alliance. It's got an interesting landscape and stuff. I might pass by Fhirdiad if I get the chance. Just to see what it's like, y'know..." Fresh out of excuses and breaking out in cold sweat, Caspar's eyes dart around the table. He hurriedly attempts to shift the focus of the conversation elsewhere. "Oh, right! Petra! Bernadetta! Love interests?"

Bernadetta turns as pale as a sheet and a frightful look appears in her eyes upon being called on, but fortunately for her, Petra is more than open to being the center of attention. "For me, yes," she says with a vast smile on her face. "Part of the 'ironing out' I will be doing in Brigid will involve the capturing of my love interest."

"And whom is that?" Ferdinand asks.

"Claude!"

Edelgard jerks in her seat. His name alone makes her want to retch-that she has not eaten in hours despite being incredibly hungry by now more than likely lending to her queasiness not withstanding. The guffaw of that green eyed bastard appears in her head unsolicited, and it causes her eyes to roll back into her skull and her face to contort with what can only be described as intense disgust. She wonders why Petra took a liking to him of all people.

"Bernadetta, what about you?" Dorothea asks. The way Bernadetta clammed up had not been lost on her. With the impression that she is hiding something, Dorothea urges her to reveal what it may be. "You've just been sitting here all quiet listening to us prattle on about our love lives, but surely there's someone you've got eyes for. Tell us!"

Somehow Bernadetta manages to shrink further into herself. She writhes in her seat, exclaiming loudly, "Love?! Uhhh, no! Nope! Nuh-uh!"

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks." From beneath the table, Linhardt rises to take part in the conversation. He stretches and yawns and expresses some small elation when he notices a cup of tea and cake already prepared for him. He talks still as he begins to eat. "Bernadetta had been spending an inordinate amount of time alone with the professor until late."

"You finally decide to wake up and it's to say that! That!" Bernadetta looks on the verge of tears as she refutes Linhardt's claims. She looks at Edelgard but shirks back, her eyes landing on each and everyone seated around the table. "I-It's not what you think! I like spending time with the professor, but who doesn't? Okay? She's just nice to be around, like her just being there eats up all my stress and anxiety and it's almost like she's not there even though she is and maybe I do forget she's still around sometimes because she's so quiet and-oh, Bernie, shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up -"

Talks of romance and plans for the near future carry on. Mouths are fed and teacups are refilled. The former Black Eagles reunited get on merrily, all except for one of them. Eyes linger toward the one silent participant of the gathering whose nose remains buried in her book. How exactly to go about inducting her into the conversation at hand? Most of them wonder this but all fail to concoct a suitable way to do so. Surely romance and future prospects are not topics of interest for one such as Edelgard-not when her lover is assumed to be dead and whatever future she has sees her confined to the manor she stays in at present. She would agree that talk of such inane topics is for those more privileged than her, those who fought for the winning side. She does not begrudge them the right to their discussion-they earned it-but she possesses not even the smallest inclination in taking part. Her interests lie elsewhere.

When she sets down her book, the action draws the attention of all others. Those who stumbled over how to best break the ice with her are relieved that she would be the one to do so. "Caspar, about what you said before. You mentioned the professor offering you positions here and a role in the coming military. How would she manage to do that?" Until they hear what she has to say that is.

"Oh. You wouldn't know." Caspar coughs into his hand. Although Dorothea shakes her head at him from across the table, he doesn't see it. "Well, it's still up in the air, but it looks like the professor is going to assume Lady Rhea's position as archbishop at least. After what she did in Fhirdiad, she's definitely got more than enough backing to do it."

"Caspar! I told you not to bring up anything pertaining to the war!"

"But that doesn't have anything to do with the war! That's after!"

"What did she do in Fhirdiad?" Amid Caspar and Dorothea's bickering, Edelgard persists in her questioning. She looks around the table, from Constance to Ferdinand to Petra. They all shy away under her gaze. Finally, her eyes land upon Linhardt who looks back her way. He shrugs.

"To put it bluntly, she took care of it," Linhardt says. He continues on even as Dorothea slaps his shoulder. "Despite our army's victory in Enbarr, Cornelia and the Dukedom were still holding strong and refused to recognize your defeat. We'd been at a stalemate for some time seeing as they constantly threatened to set the city ablaze if we attempted to march on them. Large scale military tactics were out of the question, so it looked like all we could do was starve them out, but then that would not only affect their forces but the innocents within the walls of the city as well."

Ferdinand follows up. Elbows perched atop the table and fingers knitted together in a tense pyramid, he looks Edelgard dead on. "That is when the professor arrived. She told us to hold our formation and charged into the city on her own. What followed was a series of peculiar explosions and rubble flying every which way. We thought it to be magic at first, but there was no sign of spell use upon closer inspection. But I digress... Not much time had elapsed before she came back looking none the worse for wear with Cornelia's head in one hand and the relic Areadbhar in the other. The opposing forces laid down arms immediately."

"After that pretty much all of Faerghus started worshiping the ground she walks on. People were already calling her the Enlightened One years back, but now they've scrapped that and flat out think she's the Goddess herself reborn." Caspar leans fully into his folly of words much to Dorothea's chagrin. He already revealed more than he should have, so it's best to explain everything in detail rather than leave any ideas half formed for Edelgard to infer the rest on her own. He thinks so anyway.

Tensions rise within the courtyard as Dorothea chides the three men who had expressly ignored her instruction. Edelgard disregards the noise as she mulls over this new information. She already knew Byleth had traveled to Faerghus due to her talk with Dorothea the night before, but she never would have imagined her pulling off such a feat as storming the stronghold that was Fhirdiad on her lonesome even as strong as she is. It was reckless endeavor and not an action to be undertaken by one of as sound and strategic mind as she. The most alarming information, however, is her intent to take over as archbishop of the Church of Seiros.

'But is that truly her own will and intent?' Edelgard wonders. Because of Dorothea, she too knows of Byleth spending significant lengths of time doting on Rhea. Rhea who had so deftly absorbed Byleth to her side years ago. Rhea who took advantage of and no doubt instilled a sense of dependency on her within Byleth. That same Byleth who, as Jeralt had described her only months before his passing, was still so childlike and innocent, who she had observed to fit that description to a tee. 'No. Of course not.'

It is without a doubt in her mind that Byleth is being forced into her new role by Rhea, who in both her ailing health and her true identity as a monster being exposed is unable to reclaim it. It makes sense to her. It is the only thing that makes sense. Why else would that same Byleth who wept so fiercely for her staunchly refuse to appear before her? The blame lies with Byleth as well, in her allowing herself to be manipulated time and again by Rhea, but Edelgard knows it should come as no surprise to her. Edelgard chews the inside of her cheek and balls fists into her dress.

"Um, Lady Edelgard," Bernadetta says meekly, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine, and don't call me that." Edelgard answers Bernadetta with an inordinate amount of hostility for her minor infraction. She has to make a conscious effort to calm down when she sees how badly Bernadetta flinches back. Still, the frustration born from her thoughts wavering toward Rhea remains. "There's no need to put on those hierarchical airs any longer. Not since I'm meant to be dead-Ah." Just then she remembers. She is meant to be dead. She should have died that day in the throne room. Remembering that makes her displace her resentment of Rhea for the time being and recall the talk with the stupid green eyed bastard last night. "Do you all know what went on within the Adrestian throne room? Or know of the questions surrounding what went on there?"

Once more, those at the table hold their tongues in an awkward silence as Dorothea gives them all a very distinct glare of warning. Once more, it is Linhardt who goes against the grain and speaks openly. "We know of them, but there aren't any definitive answers to those questions as of now. Not unless you wish to share your knowledge of the happenings."

"Lin, stop. We're not talking about this." Dorothea shakes her head. The glare she had levied across the tabletop now focuses squarely on her fiancé. Eventually he relents, shrugging and putting his head back down beneath the table, and she makes her disappointment known to everyone else. "I can't believe you guys. You all promised not to bring up any heavy topics today."

It is at this point Edelgard feels her frustration mount. The talk of love and plans for the future, the overall nonchalance displayed by those who had pledged their loyalty to her and their country only to turn their backs on both, and most annoying of all, Dorothea's frequent interjections in the few topics that she actually cared to speak-they've worn on her, wittled her patience down to absolute zero, and so she snaps. She speaks from the heart what she had wanted since the beginning of their gathering. "I promised you nothing," Edelgard hisses. "I'm not going to sit here and appease you traitors by sweeping your transgressions under the rug and playing pretend."

Dorothea recoils and her mouth snaps shut, her lip quivers. Linhardt sighs dramatically as he appears above the table again. Everyone stares at Edelgard with their expressions a mix of hurt and surprise, all save for Petra who is all this and more. She looks among them all, confused and worried but still willing to voice her question. "Our trans... Transgressions? I do not know this word."

"I believe Edelgard refers to our refusal to side with the Empire throughout the duration of the war," Constance says.

Caspar looks around the courtyard wide-eyed, in total disbelief of what he just heard. "You can't be serious," he says. "How were we supposed to go along with you after what happened in the tomb? You told your soldiers to kill us! Linhardt almost died because of that shit head Metodey! Who in their right mind would even consider trusting you after that?!"

"Stop!" Dorothea cries.

"I told them to only kill those who attempted to obstruct our objective," Edelgard shoots back. Caspar throws his hands into the air, mockingly saying how "it was so obvious!"

"Had you not tried to protect the crest stones, not one of you would have been harmed."

"Edelgard, you cannot truly believe we would have sat idly by and allowed such a thing to transpire, do you?" Ferdinand asks.

"Of course not. You were all too eager to do as that beast ordered. I'm sure it never crossed your minds to question her."

"That's enough-"

"And Byleth is no different. She'd kill anyone she was told to, do anything she was told to. That's the reason she's becoming the archbishop. Because whatever Rhea commands, she does. Even..." Edelgard stops herself from saying it. She bites her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. She stops herself from bringing to light the true nature of Rhea and Byleth's relationship, but she can't stop herself from talking entirely. She must vent her frustrations, so she spits out the next nastiest remark she can. "That emotionally daft bitch could never say no to her."

His reaction is swift, Caspar's. He stands from his chair so quickly that it topples over. His fist slams into the table hard enough to not only move its held contents but also crack its marble surface. "Don't you dare talk about the professor like that!" he shouts. He levels Edelgard with a look so heinous that she thinks he might actually lunge at her, and this thought seems to be shared by Bernadetta as she tries to position herself in front of Edelgard even as she shakes and tears well up in her eyes. Caspar sees this and puts his head down as he takes several deep breaths to calm himself. Once sufficiently settled, he speaks, albeit with a tremble of barely contained rage in his voice. "You've got no idea what all she's done to keep you safe here or how much she's gone out of her way to help as many people as she can during this shit. She's her own person! If she becomes the new archbishop, it's because she wants to and for no other reason! So don't you dare...! Don't you ever talk about her that way!"

When Caspar recoils, he leaves behind the cracked indent in the table top and a stark silence among those in the courtyard. Looking back on that moment just a few seconds in the past, she knows Caspar would not have laid a hand on her, and frankly that's disappointing. Beyond the gate, Hilda stands at the ready with key in hand should she need to interfere. Edelgard looks her way and their eyes make contact. She wonders if she causes a commotion now if Hilda might attack her with the intent to kill, but that wishful thinking is gone before it can even formulate itself into any plan when she sees the pink haired woman mouth to her 'do you need me'. Of course, the guards here are not to keep her in but to keep others out. Edelgard is no threat as she is with her strength and magical energy being sapped by the parasite within her womb. There's nothing to be done here, she decides, so she turns away from Hilda and back to the table. She inhales and exhales deep breaths that alleviate some of her ire, and she reaches out for the tea that has cooled significantly since it being placed before her. She drinks unabashedly while tension is still rife in the air.

Eyes all on her, Edelgard sips her tea slowly. It's good. Dorothea sobs beside her and Linhardt does his best to comfort, holding her head against his chest and whispering sweet nothings all the while. Ferdinand pours more tea for himself, and when Edelgard looks at him he does smile, but he looks down and proceeds to blot his already dry puff tie. Constance is finally shielded from the sunlight as the cloud coverage grows thicker, but her usual exuberance is nowhere to be found. Caspar rocks back and forth on the hindlegs of his chair with his nose upturned. Petra looks to and fro between all present, unsure of what to do or say; eventually she looks down and downtrodden herself. Bernadetta...

"The tea is good, isn't it?" Bernadetta asks as Edelgard sips from her cup. She regards the visibly emotionally detached Edelgard with an anxiety ridden smile as she turns toward her not uttering a word. "It's Hresvelg blend-like your name. We had bergamot for you, but I figured everyone could enjoy this one together. Do you like it?"

Inhale. Exhale. Edelgard closes her eyes to a Bernadetta no longer on the verge of tears but full on crying, who amazingly keeps her voice even and controlled despite her tears. Edelgard faces the table and sips her tea again, depleting the cup. "It's fine."

"I made little sandwiches too." Bernadetta gestures toward Edelgard's plate. It had already been filled to its edges long ago. "Cucumber sandwiches. If you want some. And there's cake." Bernadetta jumps halfway across the table to reach the cake on the far side. Petra hands it to her and they share a little smile. Once seated again, she presents the plate to Edelgard. "With lots of fruit and whipped cream."

Edelgard watches Bernadetta from the corner of her eye, still peeved but honestly finding it difficult to maintain her mask of indifference in the face of Bernadetta trying her hardest to diffuse the situation. It is much like the way Dorothea did so much to prevent her little crisis yesterday from worsening. Her eyes hover to her left, toward Dorothea, and she sees her still with her head laid against Linhardt's chest. For the third time, Edelgard and Linhardt make eye contact. He looks upon her with the same even-keeled stare as always even as his wife to be weeps onto his nice shirt. Perhaps he sees something within Edelgard's eyes she does not know to be there, because for the third time, he shrugs and opens his mouth. Before he had acted according to her unspoken will. Maybe he does the same this time too.

"We all knew this wasn't going to be all sunshine and roses. Whatever." Linhardt motions across the table, being fixed to his seat as he is. "Bernadetta, I'll take a couple of those sandwiches."

Though tears still mar her cheeks, Bernadetta stands up happy that someone has dismissed the uneasy atmosphere. Linhardt's words appear to have a domino affect as life begins to seep back into those previously frozen around the table. Ferdinand takes it upon himself to refill the teacups of those who require it. He saves Edelgard's for last.

As he stands over her shoulder pouring her more tea, Ferdinand sees Edelgard peer up at him. "And I shall bring some out to Hilda and Marianne. Be right back." He excuses himself expediently.

"And I need to head to the little girl's room." Constance shoots up as well. Quickly, under the cover of shade she strides into the manor.

"I think it is good that we are airing our grievings. Our grievances," Petra says. She sits up straighter, not smiling, but in no way as sad as she looked before. "Things should not be swept under the rug because they will remain there and just be ignored. That is no good. We must talk things out so that we may become close again. With no pretending."

With a thunk, Caspar sets his chair back on all fours. He groans exaggeratedly and runs his hands all across his face. "Petra's right. Sorry for..." He groans again. It is clear he does not wish to say what he is about to, but he does so anyway, "...Betraying you. Even if we only did what we thought was right, you were our emperor and friend, and we did turn our backs on you." It is all done in an effort to repair their fractured relationship.

Edelgard has no such allusions of her relationships with these people being repaired. At least, that is what she wants to say. In reality, she had not followed up on the clear path to creating more discord among this friend group. A few more choice words and she is sure she would have been left alone with only her caretakers and guards to keep her company. She had chosen to remain silent, however, in an effort to preserve some amity. After all, she is going to die soon anyway-whether she somehow takes it into her own hands or otherwise-so she can stand to be a little genial. Fewer than two years is her maximum and potentially less than that. She can make do.

Oh, what a mess she has become. The sight of one or two crying women and she loses all resolve. 'Resolve,' Edelgard repeats to herself. A crooked smile pops into her head and with it a pair of large inky black slanted eyes. She rolls her eyes and balls her fist, all of a sudden feeling the urge to slam that fist into the snide snake-like visage conjured inside her head. Resolve. She knew she always lacked enough of it.

"That's in the past now," Edelgard says. "All we have to look forward to is the future."

xxx

Thunder cracks overhead and rain pours relentlessly from the skies above, a host to clouds so dark and plentiful that they altogether obscure the sun making day appear as night. The winds which had lost their intensity from the days prior have rebounded two-fold. The gruesomeness of these conditions affirm Claude's decision to downsize their attacking force. He canters through his soldiers atop a horse black as night, his hood slick with rainwater and his fist raised high to gather their eyes. He stops at the forefront of the amassed soldiers and lowers his hand, for a time taking them all in.

"Glad to see you all could make it," Claude says as loudly as he can, voice barely eclipsing the sound of pouring rain. "I know this isn't the fair weather we might have dreamed of heading into our final battle, but let's take it as a sign of the heavens smiling favorably upon us anyway. As you can see, there aren't many of us, but that's because our goal is not to overwhelm with numbers. Each one of you has been handpicked to join this unit not only for your phenomenal feats in battle and your areas of expertise, but also because you are all dear friends of mine. I trust you all with my life, and I know the same can be said for each and every one of you in regards to each other. Adrestia, Faerghus, Leicester... We all hail from different countries but have come together to form a whole the likes of Fódlan has never seen before, so henceforth, we will be called the Chimera Strike Force-an amalgamation of the eagle, lion, and deer. We will not overwhelm with numbers! We will crush our foes with the weight of our bonds!" Claude pumps his fist into the air and at that very same moment a bolt of lightning strikes not far behind him, its thunderous clap sounding not a half second later. The gathered soldiers all erupt in a chorus of cheers and fists fly into the air akin to the way Claude's had. The sight and sound of it all gives him a dopamine high like never before.

His fist opens into a flat palm as Claude asks for a moment of silence. It comes a bit after one particularly enthusiastic soldier-who else but Raphael-finally notices that everyone else has gone quiet. "Now. The time it takes to reach our destination in Goneril would normally take eight days of travel. Four days to reach the warp pad in Myrddin, and another four from Valentine in Goneril to our target. We'll get there in six days." He pauses then to let his announcement sink in. They will be on the move near nonstop with minimal breaks. "Finish making your last preparations. We move out as soon as the professor arrives." Swiftly, he leaves his position at the front of the pack and makes for the road leading back to town. There he intends to wait for the last one to join their party.

"Claude!" a voice calls from behind. Claude turns on the spot to see Ingrid cantering toward him. She too, like all others, is adorned in a dark cloak meant to protect from the rain. It slopes down and partially obscures her face, so that when he looks at her all he can see is her nose and below.

"Sup, Ingrid," Claude greets her. He turns back around to the road, taking Ingrid along with him as he rides that way. They ride close to ensure they can hear each other. "You like my speech? I thought it was pretty good. Wracked my brain for days just thinking up that name, y'know. Chimera Strike Force!" He laughs, shakes. "Gives me chills."

"I think that might be the rain." Ingrid rolls her eyes, the urgency in her voice dispelled by the jokester beside her. Her question comes all the same, and while it is not an urgent one, it is wrought with doubt. "Are we enough? Are you positive that you've made the right decision? It's risky. We don't know how many enemies we'll have to face. Just one hundred of us is far too few."

Claude thinks for nary a second before he spouts his comeback. "In Enbarr there weren't many of their people among the imperial army, and the same five years ago during the attack here. Both pivotal moments yet so few? I think it's safe to say they probably don't have enough to spare, else we would've seen more."

Ingrid remains unconvinced. "Even then, we'll be fighting on their territory. We can't know what to expect. What if they have more of those javelins of light?"

"Even more reason for us to move in small numbers," Claude says. "Makes us harder to target. Means fewer casualties-although I'm hoping for none." He looks beside and sees Ingrid quiet, her jaw clenched taut. "I'm pretty sure they won't drop those things on their own doorstep. That would be insane even for them. And once we do get to their doorstep, we've got our not-so-secret weapon acting as our commander and vanguard. Teach'll punch through whatever they throw our way." He throws a fist forward, laughing. Again, he looks at Ingrid. "Honestly, we could probably manage this with just her alone. That display in Faerghus was something else entirely."

What little of Ingrid's face he can see tells him her worries are far from gone. The ones she harbors now, however, are different from the last. "About the professor..." She trails off, not knowing exactly where she means to lead their conversation. She looks up at Claude who looks back at her.

"Have you still not spoken with her since then?" Claude asks. She doesn't say anything but shakes her head. He sighs. "I know it must not be easy, but going into battle with a chip on your shoulder-"

Ingrid's head flies up so fast that the hood of her cloak flips off, revealing a ferocious glare and lines of anger cut into her face. "It isn't a chip, Claude! She killed Dedue!" she all but screams into Claude's face. "For that monster! She's the reason they're all dead, but the professor protects her nonetheless! This isn't something so trivial to call it a chip on my shoulder. How can you expect us to ride into battle with someone like that? To put our lives on the line with someone who doesn't show the smallest inclination of remorse for what she's done?"

As Ingrid huffs and puffs, Claude looks behind them. He can see plenty looking their way, the majority of them with no idea of their secret prisoner. He does his best to assuage his friend's anger lest it cause additional conflicts. "Ingrid, calm down. Please calm down. I understand where you're coming from, but the professor has her reasons."

"Really?" Ingrid asks incredulously. She is not ready to calm down. "Well, what are they? Why does she luxuriously house the killer of several thousands of my countrymen and king, Claude? Why does she threaten to kill us for even suggesting the idea of having words with that killer? Tell me. What are her reasons?"

"She didn't threaten to-"

"Yes, she did!" Ingrid screams bloody murder right in Claude's face. Her outburst frightens their horses, causing them to be jostled and Claude to nearly fall from his mount. It takes her soothing and calming her horse down for Ingrid to calm herself. When she speaks again, it is a far more subdued tone meant only for Claude's ears. "It may not have been explicit, but we all know what she meant. And she's already done it. Just look at what happened to Dedue." Brushing the mane of her white steed, Ingrid makes a miserable face.

"She wouldn't do that-not to us," Claude says. He pats his horse and looks Ingrid directly in her eyes, his green posed to hers. He speaks bluntly. "Dedue was an outlier. If she did do it, you know why. Are you really okay with a child dying before it even has the chance to see the light of day, Ingrid? You're a knight, right? You're THE storybook definition of a chivalrous knight. I know you wouldn't be okay with that."

Ingrid is unable to combat Claude's words. She swallows a remark and next a choked sob. As vehement as she was to see Edelgard beheaded, she had lost all vigor for the act upon hearing of her being with child, as did most of her allies. The few still in support of her immediate execution had been told by Byleth herself that attempting to go through with it would not end well for any of them. That threat could not be mistaken. Although not expressly aimed at her, the fact that Byleth remained prepared to kill allies for their longtime foe did not sit well with her. Yet she cannot completely fault her for wanting to protect that innocent life within that vile foe.

"Just talk with her. She probably won't answer all of your questions, but at the very least, you'll see she's still the same Teach at heart."

For a moment, Ingrid sits there with the rain pouring on her bare head and considers Claude's suggestion, but then Dedue and Dimitri come to mind. Rodrigue too. "No," she prepares to say, but she thinks back further to a life lost long before the others. She is positive Glenn would tell her to talk things through. Ingrid covers her head and asks through a hefty breath, "Where is she?"

"With Rhea. Arguing with Rhea." Claude sucks his teeth. "She wants to join us, but Teach isn't having it obviously. Seemed like she was getting the picture that she wouldn't be coming along when I was leaving, so probably won't be too much longer 'til..." He looks further down the road leading back into the town of Garreg Mach and sees none other than the one he speaks of. Byleth has arrived. "Speak of the devil."

Both Claude and Ingrid ride off to meet Byleth who slowly trots forward on her dappled gray mount. Her wardrobe has changed little from the last few days, only donning her simple black shirt and shorts, a belt about her waist with her seldom used dagger, and now Areadbhar kept slung across her back. Peculiarly enough, she still chooses to forgo shoes and this time a cloak to protect from the downpour of rain. She appears before Claude and Ingrid drenched to the bone with her hair dripping and matted across her face.

"Did sleeping at the bottom of a river turn you into a fish or something? Teach, you're soaked!" Of the past month, Byleth had presented to him no shortage of surprises, but this by far is the most shocking to Claude. "Here. Take this." He reaches for the button of his cloak, preparing to trade it off to her and go without, but he is stopped as she raises a hand and dismisses his chivalrous gesture.

"I'm fine, Claude. Thank you," Byleth says. She smiles lightly, and Claude swears her smiles before now had never been quite so unnerving. Number one unnerving Teach smile.

Nearly two weeks have elapsed since Ingrid had last spoken to Byleth, but she feels she has to now. She shakes her head and chides her. "Nonsense. Professor, take it. You'll catch cold if you don't properly shield yourself from the elements. You should know better." Rainwater streams down Byleth's face as she locks Ingrid with an indiscernible stare. It is as chilling a look as the frigid breeze in the air, and the parting and curling of her lips does little to inject any warmth into the exchange. Claude now marks this as her most unnerving smile.

Byleth shakes her head, her eyes shifting downward as a short hollow laugh leaves her. "I'm fine, really," she says, but it doesn't show. She looks back up, back to Ingrid, and she musters as much of a normal smile as she can. "Thank you for worrying, Ingrid, but the rain... It actually feels nice." Byleth looks up to the sky and proceeds to lead her horse forward. She walks on by them, eyes closed and face raised high. Claude looks at Ingrid expectantly, nudging his head in the direction of Byleth. Ingrid's jaw tightens. She looks anywhere but at Claude or Byleth. She shakes her head, frustration and something painful on her face, and she canters off back among the rest of their numbers.

Claude watches Ingrid's back as she goes. He looks between her and Byleth with a conflicted look on his face. Ultimately, all he can do is sigh. He turns and follows after Byleth, and he's glad she at least looks at him when he catches up to her. "How'd everything go with Rhea? I mean, I see she isn't here, but she clearly wasn't taking well to the idea of being forced to stay."

Byleth's eyebrows knit together and she frowns. The serenity on her face has all evaporated. Her grip tightens on her reins and she looks down. "It was difficult, but it's for the best."

"Right," Claude says. He watches Byleth closely, honestly, a little happy that she shows some emotion. "Don't know what she was thinking trying to come along after we only just found her. Been a month and her condition is still so fucked we can't even go in and question her. I mean, you can since you're with her most of the day. Have you?"

Byleth's grip grows tighter still. Her head falls lower. She is not angry, Claude can tell, but discomfort is apparent in her mannerisms. "Are you okay, Teach?" he asks. "Everything is fine between you two, right?"

"Are Linhardt, Lysithea, and Hanneman here?" Byleth is quick to change the subject. Her head snaps up and any sign of unease has been whisked away. She stares at Claude awaiting an answer.

Claude sighs again. Redirects had become commonplace when speaking to her, so he cannot say he did not see it coming, but it annoys him all the same. "Yeah. Everyone's here and accounted for."

"Good," Byleth says. She turns back toward the mountains. Although it cannot be seen from their location, she faces the direction of the manor in which Edelgard is held. "We don't know how much longer she has, so... We must act fast. I have to save her. I have to do everything I can."

It is with a solemn expression that Claude watches his former teacher's back. Water makes her shirt cling to her, makes the lean muscle across her back stand out. He is not sure if she's become closer or harder to reach as things stand, but he's positive that just as the rain falls onto her skin, she can open up to those she wishes. "You're not in this alone, Teach. And I know. Lysithea's in the same boat. It's a real race against time. Speaking of, it's about time we get this show on the road." He makes an about face, pointing his horse back toward the road leading away from Garreg Mach and the Ogma mountains. "Find me at the head of the pack when you're ready to move out." He waits to give Byleth enough time to reply, in which all she does is nod in understanding. Without another word, Claude rides off.

Byleth remains in place, sitting atop her horse and staring in the direction of where she knows Edelgard to be. She extends her hand but pulls it back. She begins to say something but stops herself. In her head appears the image of a battle ready Edelgard, sword drawn and poised at the throat of none other but herself.

"Words mean nothing."

Edelgard's voice resounds in Byleth's head. It resonates within her, drawing out a cold yet fierce determination that presents itself upon her face as a mask of extreme apathy. Her face grows lax and her eyes despondent and dull. The rainwater ceases to run down her skin but still it pours. Relentlessly it pours. Byleth rears up on the back of her horse and with a crack of its reins, they are off. The strike force splits apart to make room for their commander as she gallops through at top speed. She passes Claude and they follow her lead. The Chimera Strike Force moves out.

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Note: I don't know why this chapter is so long. Something's wrong with my brain. Anyway, I mention warp pads towards the end there, yeah? We know that technology exists in the game world, so I figured why not use it to explain how the units trapeze around a continent 2/3 the size of Europe from coast to coast three times a day. Essentially they go to giant warp pad A in city A' that then transports them to warp pad B in city B' and back again for the return trip.

Does Byleth seem like a player in this? There's this other story of mine, Take What You Can Get, that should refute that idea. All of my Three Houses stories so far are tied together. I'll say otherwise if they aren't. The next chapter should also clear things up. Also, the entire story is outlined from start to finish; I appreciate your thoughts, but I already know how everything will play out and suggestions on where to take the story aren't needed. You can speculate though.