Lilia is brushing her hair when Dimitri opens the door to his old school dorm and enters, having clearly just finished the meeting that he, Byleth, and Claude had orchestrated with those who wielded Hero's Relics. She smiles gently at him, taking note of the furrow of his brow as he places Areadbhar against the desk, quick to get up and check on him. His expression softens upon the sight of her, but she's already noticed the tension within his body, the squareness of his shoulders.

"How did it go?" She asks, voice gentle.

Dimitri looks from her to Areadbhar again. "Well, I believe..."

She feels relieved at that, though still worries. She'll probably always worry, especially as the fighting comes to an end and their stresses move from battles and injuries to what will be best for the people who live in Faerghus. Lilia gets the feeling that the weight of that stress will weigh far more than that of their battles, and last far longer than any wounds they've received. For Dimitri, who is soon to be King, she can only imagine what sort of pressure he's under.

He lets out a small sigh, and then approaches her; and, to her surprise, folds himself nearly in half just to press his face into the crook between her face and shoulder, nose against the pulse in her neck. He takes a deep breath in, and she can't help but put her hands on his curved spine, gently rubbing up and down, relieved he's not wearing armour right now.

"What's wrong?" She murmurs softly, words so quiet that not even the goddess could hear what she wants to keep only between them.

"I am... conflicted, truthfully," He responds, his arms slithering around her waist. "Areadbhar is my father's lance, and his father's lance... and yet the knowledge that the weapon is made of one of the goddess' murdered children, it is... difficult to swallow, to say the least."

"Ah..."

She understands his feelings completely. For Dimitri, who was (and still is) long haunted by the dead begging for vengeance, he must feel some sort of connection to both the slaughtered children of the goddess, and to Lady Rhea herself, for surviving such an incident. Even she is unsure she could bear the weight of a long suffering soul like that. Yet she can also understand the other side; the weapon being passed down generation from generation, the centuries of familial history...

The two conflicting emotions must be difficult to deal with.

"How did everyone else feel?" She decides to ask. From what she could gather from the small conversation they'd had with Byleth and Claude before they left for the meeting, they'd felt a little weird about it; but otherwise it seemed they both came to the conclusion that they wanted to continue wielding their Relics. At least she thinks that's what they believe. She wasn't there, so she's just basing it on conjecture.

Dimitri lifts his head from her shoulder, though he doesn't step away from her, remaining instead in close proximity. She doesn't mind it; instead reveling in the closeness, the comfort of privacy. Even though she's almost certain every soldier in their army has some idea that they're... like that, she still can't quite get used to all the eyes on her, watching. She's gotten more used to it than she was months ago, but still.

"We all came to an agreement that the Hero's Relics should only be used in times of peril, and that the people should know the truth," He explains. "We decided that would be the best for Fodlan."

That makes the most sense to her; at the very least then, those children of the goddess will be given the peace they deserve. That, and if Byleth— the goddess made flesh— agrees with the plan, then she has no qualms. After all, if both he and Lady Rhea, the two with such a connection to the incident, haven't opposed such a decision, then she feels as though she has no right to complain or oppose herself.

Taking his hands, she gently moves them both to the bed, sitting down at his side. "Then we can only move forward. Areadbhar is no longer just a weapon of slaughter, Dimitri. With this final battle, it will become a weapon to protect the people."

He looks at her for a few moments, silent, but soon the corners of his eye softens and he nods. "Thank you, Lilia. I can always count on you to lift me out of the darkness."

She grins, soft and gentle, like a late spring sun. Dimitri is a kind-hearted man, one who's been through more than anyone should ever be through, which is why she knows such things torture his mind so. So if, at the very least, she is able to remind him of the present, of the words he spoke before his father's and ancestors' graves, then she is more than happy to continue being his light.


"...I have... something to give to you."

Lilia blinks sleep from her eyes, having just awoken. It's early, so early the sun has barely touched the horizon, but Dimitri is clearly well awake. For as long as she's known him, he's been a light sleeper— likely because of the ghosts he sees, but perhaps also just because of his position as the future king. She hums curiously, legs over the side of the bed, hands in her lap, the chemise she's wearing sliding off her shoulder a little. She watches as he moves to his desk and opens a drawer, pulling something out and approaching her while concealing it from her view.

He kneels before her, and gently places the item in her hand. It takes a few moments for what it is to sink in, but she's shocked to see a beautiful dagger, the hilt adorned with gems of a deep azure-blue, still within it's delicately ornate sheath. Slowly, with shaking hands, she unsheathes it, admiring the beauty of the blade itself. The colour is stunning, silver with an almost pearlescent gleam.

"It— It's beautiful..." She whispers, feeling her face warm and her eyes watering.

Dimitri smiles softly, helping her pull the sheath back onto the dagger. "My father gave this to my mother, my birth mother, before I was born." Though briefly he hesitates, as though both she and the dagger are made of porcelain, soon he places his hand over her own. "I have something else I wish to give you as well, but... I want to wait until after the battle for that. Like we promised."

Her heart flutters, and her lips curl into a smile.

"Thank you, thank you so much! I promise, I'll treasure it forever."

"I'm glad you like it. Truth be told, I was worried as to whether or not giving you a dagger was the right choice," He laughs wryly, scratching his neck. "Sylvain has been teasing me about the time I gave Edelgard one for as long as I can remember, so admittedly... I worried that it wouldn't be a good gift."

Lilia shakes her head, bringing the dagger close to her chest. "It's perfect."

She can see a sheen of tears in his own eye, and he speaks with such a gentleness that her chest feels tight. "Remember to use it if you ever need to protect yourself."


Today they'll be marching towards the enemy— the Fell King Nemesis himself, a man of myth and legend, if Lady Rhea is to be believed. Her heart has been pounding in her chest since the order was given in the early hours of the morning, addled with anxiety. This is, goddess willing, the true final battle. After so many battles, so many good men and women dead, after so much destruction... she can only hope that this is going to be the end of it all, that people can finally rest and recover from the many years of war. She can only hope that, with this final battle, the dead can find their peace.

She runs her hands over Echo's muzzle, letting out a small sigh. She's nervous, that much is obvious, and she can only hope that it doesn't effect her performance on the battlefield. It would be a cruel twist of fate for her to fall in the final battle, unable to see the upcoming dawn with her own eyes. It's just... the idea of facing someone who has gone down in history as a fearsome general definitely strikes fear into her heart.

"Hey, Lilia!"

She spooks, quickly lifting her head and turning to see Hilda, her long ponytail fluttering in the wind. She comes closer, looking from the pegasi stables to the wyvern stables, where her own wyvern and Claude's seem to be huddling close to keep warm in the cold Red Wolf Moon weather.

"Hilda," She greets, leaving Echo's side to approach the older woman. "How have you been?"

She seems to know immediately what Lilia is talking about, as she lowers her gaze for a moment and shrugs a little. "It's just, you know... My brother knew he couldn't win, but he challenged Nemesis anyway. So his friends could escape," She lets out a sigh. "It's a miracle he didn't die."

It's strange, seeing Hilda so... down. Ever since they met, Hilda has always been bright— with a smile warmer than the sun, her words airy and always easygoing, reaching out a hand and acting out of kindness, and always being the first to throw herself into the fray, even though she complained about it. She could never relate to the fear of possibly losing a sibling, (the closest she could ever get is worrying about Byleth, but that's Byleth) but she understands the fear of possibly losing a loved one.

"Thank goodness he's alright," Lilia decides to say; it's the truth, it's a relief that Duke Goneril lived such a battle, against such an enemy. "I'm sure he made it because he didn't want to upset you."

Hilda laughs, shaking her head. "Honestly? Probably. But, y'know, in spite of myself... I'm proud of him. For both fighting, and for living."

Lilia smiles. She knows that Hilda thinks her older brother is too overprotective, too attached, but in this moment she can see the true bond between them; she can see how much she loves and cares for her big brother. They're going to win this next battle, defeat the Fell King, so that way Hilda's older brother can be just as proud of her as she is of him.

So they can all walk towards a future where Hilda can complain about her brother again, where Dimitri's worries aren't the dead but the living, where Claude can see people of all walks of life live in harmony on Fodlan's shores, where Byleth can watch his students grow in a peaceful world.


The march down the Oghma Mountains is quiet, the air tense with the readiness of the army.

Only those who were willing and ready to battle this potentially deadly final fight have come along, leading to a force of only the most elite of the elite of Fodlan's soldiers. And her, Lilia supposes, though she'd be willing to pat herself on the back and say she's improved leaps and bounds in the art of warfare compared to the place she was in a year ago. Why, back then, she barely even could cast an attack spell, let alone the powerful kinds she knows now.

She's not sure how useful she'll be against a king of legend who has possibly been living for the past thousands of years, but at the very least she can provide support and backup to those she knows can fight against such a monster. If anyone would be capable of defeating Nemesis, she thinks Byleth, Claude, and Dimitri would be able to. With Byleth's experience, Claude's tactical prowess, and Dimitri's strength, she thinks that they make the most powerful group of generals Fodlan has ever seen.

Her heart beats with an energy, thrumming through her veins familiarly. She's grown used to this sensation, the warning from what little of the goddess' magic remains within her. It's not as urgent as it has been other times, not as anxious. It's a warning, she feels, telling her to be cautious of the entire battle; not just a certain event that may occur during it. That's how she knows this battle will be the toughest yet— because she's getting warning signs before it's even begun.

The main army consists mostly of former students at the Officers Academy, the people who, once this war ends, will shape it politically. They collect in a meeting tent, circled around a map with notes from scouts about the positions of the enemy army. According to what information they have, they'll probably clash with Nemesis's army in what appears to be a swamp; that is, an environment none of them exactly have experience battling in. It makes her chest ache with nerves, and she can see Claude's eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out what the enemy is planning here.

He takes a deep breath and a sigh, turning to Byleth. "What's the plan, my friend?"

"We will defeat Nemesis." Byleth clenches his fists as he responds, earning a nod of agreement from several others within the tent.

"I thought you'd say that. And of course, I'll be joining you," He turns to the rest of them, raising an eyebrow. "What about the rest of you? Our enemy is a monster of legend. As always, there's not a shred of proof that we can win."

Lilia can tell what he's really saying— he's telling them that this is their final chance to turn back and return to the monastery if they don't want to fight what might be an impossible battle. And she knows what everyone else will say about such a question, she just waits for the group to confirm her suspicions.

Lorenz scoffs. "A foolish inquiry, Claude. I must finish what my father started…"

"Started?" Hilda questions. "Your father ran away before the battle even began."

The purple-haired man scowls. "I... well," He flips his hair, trying to regain his footing. "All the more reason why I, as his heir, cannot flee now!"

Dimitri presses a hand to his chest, the picture-perfect image of the Saviour King, as people had begun to call him after the taking of Adrestia's capital. "You have my lance, Professor. We will end this war for good, and usher in a new dawn for Fodlan."

"I'm sure the Fell King will be a worthy opponent for my blade," Felix runs his hand down the blade of the Sword of Moralta. "We will be victorious."

"I'm in," Hilda looks to her briefly, before turning back to Claude. "I need to get back at him for hurting my brother. I'm not going to let him get away with it!"

"Wow… Hilda's serious about this!" Ignatz looks up from a book before him, clearly surprised. If she squints, she thinks she can see a charcoal in his hands, the pages stained in black from it.

"I too will fight until the end," Lysithea's eyes are calm, intelligent, and full of strength. "I wish to protect Fodlan's future."

Ingrid nods in agreement with the younger woman. "I too will fight until my last. So long as Nemesis stands, both our and Fodlan's future stands in the balance."

"I will use both my shield and body to protect you all, no matter the costs." Dedue's quiet admission brings strength to her heart, and she smiles at him.

"I feel the same as Lysithea and Ingrid," Leonie straightens her back, looking stronger than an oak tree. Lilia's memories of Captain Jeralt are fleeting, brief from her childhood, but she thinks that, in this moment, Leonie resembles him greatly. "It would hardly be fitting for Captain Jeralt's apprentice to bow out now. I'll show them everything he taught me."

"I…I will give it my all as well!" Marianne clutches her hands together. "For the professor, for Claude, and for all of you who helped make me as strong as I am now!"

Mercedes clutches at the Rafail Gem hanging at her waist. "I don't know what that Nemesis fellow has against Garreg Mach, but I'll do what I can to defend the monastery and Lady Rhea!"

"Let's combine our talents and defend the peace of Fodlan! We'll win this war so long as we all work together!" Annette's optimism shines through, bringing hope to anyone who listens to her.

"I'm in too!" Raphael flexes his arms. "And when we're done, I'm gonna eat tons of steak to celebrate!"

"To be honest, this feels like I'm living a nightmare," Ashe admits, scratching the back of his neck. "I don't even know whether or not this Nemesis is the real thing. But I know that the death and damage he's causing are real enough. So I'll fight to protect those who need it."

Ignatz shakes his head, and finally closes the book in front of him. "This truly is the final battle… At this point, you shouldn't have to ask, Claude. You know we're with you."

"Ignatz is correct," Dimitri glances to his close friend. "Claude, you needn't have asked at all."

"I do know that, Ignatz, Dimitri. But I had to ask just to make sure." Claude shrugs a little, grinning wryly. It goes to show how much he cares for everyone here that he'd even asked the question in the first place.

"I believe in us." She says softly.

It's all she can think of saying, but it seems to work, as everyone smiles— filled with the confidence they need to face this final battle with everything they have. She still has her worries, the tingling sensation at the back of her mind as a warning sign still lingering, but she doesn't want it to affect the way they all fight. She wants everyone to be at their best, and if keeping it to herself helps, she'll just make sure to protect them all herself.

Judith chuckles. "Look at how reliable you kids have become. You've trained them well, Professor." She looks over her shoulder to the tent's exit, the outside sun clouded over; an ominous omen, maybe. "This Nemesis guy should be arriving soon. Is everyone ready?"

The air grows tense with those words. When they leave this tent, they leave behind roles like 'noble' or 'commoner' and take on the roles of soldiers, the last line of defence for Garreg Mach Monastery and the people who reside there. If every single one of these seasoned, hardened, skilled soldiers falls in battle, then it's likely that Fodlan will fall as well. Such ideas make her mind spin, but she must swallow them down and simply live in this moment— she must live, and live, and live, in order to see a brighter tomorrow for the land and people she loves.

"It's finally time." Claude lets out an exhale, as though expelling all nerves from his body.

Dimitri nods. "Indeed. Professor, is there anything else that might be necessary to go over?"

Byleth steps forward, not at all flinching under all the eyes that lay on him. As usual, his expression is cool and calm, though not relaxed. It just radiates a strength, a reliability that makes them all trust him. His voice is low, collected, but it conveys a simple promise. "I won't let us lose."

Claude smiles. "I'm on board with that. Let's all make it through this alive." Everyone nods, echoing his sentiments. With a nod to Dimitri, he picks up Failnaught and heads for the exit, turning around one more time to address them all for the last time before they all depart for battle. "Let's defeat this dusty old King of Liberation and put an end to this history of lies. Once we've done that, there'll be nothing holding us back. A new and brighter age will begin. Let's go, my friend! Fódlan's new dawn awaits!"

They cheer, ready to face their final enemy.


Their group finally meets face to face with the enemy, in, as their scouts predicted, a swamp.

Lilia, from atop her pegasus, and Claude and Hilda, atop their wyverns, can easily see the all of the enemy commanders from this distance, all dressed in an ancient style, resembling that of armour they'd seen in frescos and artwork of the church depicting the War of Heroes. It certainly lends credence to the idea that this Nemesis might just be the real Fell King.

"Nemesis is here…and with more soldiers than expected." Claude bites his lip, gazing around at the amount of soldiers there are. They certainly outnumber their small elite force, and a cursory glance tells her that some survivors from the fall of Shambhala are here too— their robes easily spotted, more than recognisable now after how many times they've seen them on the battlefield.

"A swamp, huh?" Hilda eyes the water, frowning at the colour. "But there's something about it… It looks odd somehow."

One of their foot scouts gets close to the water, about to wade through to get a better look at what the enemy is working with, but a strike like lightning shoots down her spine, and immediately she gasps out: "Don't touch the water!"

Dimitri grabs the soldier by the back of his breastplate and pulls him away from the waters' edge; accidentally using so much strength that the poor boy is nearly thrown, and she most certainly can see finger prints in the metal where Dimitri had grasped at his armour. In response to her warning, he carefully kicks a stick into the water, watching with a narrowed eye as it sinks, but not before they see it bubble and burn up.

He turns to the rest of their army and calls out, "The water is toxic, be aware!"

"Everyone on foot or horseback, try to avoid it during the fight!" Claude adds on.

With a deep scowl on her delicate features, Lysithea gets a little closer to the swamp water, kicking another stick into it's midst. Her brow furrows as she watches the stick sink, practically melting into the swampy midst. She takes another step back before the enemy decides she's crossed their line and looks up at Claude, having seemingly figured something out from that simple observation.

"I don't think the water is naturally poisonous," She states, still frowning. "I think someone might be using magic."

Annette huffs, clearly bothered by that. "If someone's using magic, then we need to find them and stop them!"

Claude purses his lips, looking over his shoulder for a moment before gesturing for everyone to listen. "Judging by both our intel and what I'm seeing, I think Nemesis has ten commanders." That doesn't bode well, she thinks, but she keeps that to herself. "If anyone's controlling magic, it'd be one of them."

"Ten commanders..." Dimitri murmurs, clearly picking up on the foreboding energy that she also felt.

Felix clenches his fist, and places the other on his blade. "Then let's split up and take them down."


Thanks to her trusty wyvern, Hilda is able to fly over the dangerous swamp towards the nearest commander to her. As she approaches, she can tell that it's a man, clad in a berserker's armour— though that's not what surprises her the most. In his hands is an axe, one most familiar, considering she's holding it herself. Freikugel rests within her own hands, glowing deep red in comparison to the dullness of the man's weapon. Without hesitation, she swings it down on the man with a fierce yell, shocked to find that he uses his own Freikugel to parry her off, easily forcing her to pull the reigns of her wyvern with the other hand and fly back a little.

At this distance though, she can see his face clearly, in spite of the helmet. His skin is deathly pale, almost ash gray, but she recognises him from a portrait she'd walked by at her home a million times. He looks undeniably like her ancestor, the original bearer of the Crest of Goneril.

"No way!"


She and Dimitri approach through a bushed area towards a commander in jet-black armour on horseback. Although he'd initially objected the idea, she'd chosen to act as a decoy in order to help him get close so they can take out the enemy faster. She swirls above on Echo, catching the man's attention. The commander looks up at her through dark hair, and for a moment she's stunned at how familiar the colour of his eyes are— especially when combined with the weapon he wields in one hand; a deeply precious heirloom of the Blaiddyd royal family, or at the very least, an excellent copy of it.

His eyes are practically dead though, completely unfeeling, especially as he raises a hand and fires off a bolt of lightning at her. She swoops to dodge it, surprised, and quickly calls out to Dimitri. "Watch out, he's capable of using magic!"

"I'll handle this!" He responds, raising the real Areadbhar for battle.


Claude is flying well atop the swamplands when he hears someone yelling— a deep, furious voice, filled with a darkness like nothing he's ever heard before. Swinging his head around to look in the direction of the sound, he sees the older man from earlier yelling. With long grey hair and a thick beard, and deep scars covering his entire body, he certainly paints an intimidating picture; even if you're not listening to what he's screaming.

"Seiros! I will kill you! Do not get in my way!"

Claude exhales deeply, in disbelief. "So, that's Nemesis…" Deciding to fan the flames a little, he yells across the battlefield. "You're a crusty old bastard, you know that?"

Nemesis lets out a yell, and swings the blade in his hands— and, to Claude's shot, the blade extends, a near perfect replica for Byleth's Sword of the Creator. With just a furious swing, he cuts several of their pegasus and wyvern fliers down from the skies. "All those who stand in my way…will be destroyed!"

"Watch out, Claude! They're coming for us!"

With that yell from Raphael, the enemy begins to cross the toxic waters.


Ingrid's gaze falls upon a lance just like her own, in the hands of a Holy Knight— one of the enemy's commanders. She's been dodging and taking magical hit after magical hit, the bright light of the spell Aura nearly splitting the cloud cover in two. But the worst part about this fight isn't the barrage of magic attacks, or the weapon that resembles her family's Luin; it's that despite the blank look and the corpse-white skin... the man's face is recognisable.

She's seen it in textbooks, she's seen it on a wall in her father's office. It's hard to swallow the very plausible idea that not just Nemesis was bought back to life by those who slither in the dark, but they were also...

"I am your opponent." She says, and lets loose Luin's fire.


Travelling around the swamp instead of across it like the those atop flying mounts, Mercedes and Dedue come across a woman with a gem at her waist and a tome in her hand, just like Mercedes' own. The woman's light hair and ghastly skin make her almost look like a ghost, the sort she whispers tales of to scare Ashe, Annette, and Lysithea. At even the glimpse of them from a distance, the pale enemy lifts her hands and casts powerful lightning down on the pair. Her Rafail Gem glows as she moves to protect the magically-frail Dedue from the blast, shielding them both with a shimmering light.

"It's not possible that that woman could be..." She glimpses at Dedue with wide eyes, unable to say the name. "Could it?"

He swings his axe down on a soldier in Agarthan wear. "It matters not now."

Her lips quiver, but she swallows it down and nods, pulling taut the string of the Tathlum Bow. It glimmers in her hands, and she exhales slow as she fires off an arrow. It soars through the air, slamming into the commander's shoulder. The woman doesn't seem to react to the attack— only briefly looking at the arrow in her body before turning those empty eyes back to Mercedes and Dedue, raising her hand to fire another blast of Bolting.

It hits Dedue straight on, and she sees him grit his teeth, blood dribbling from his mouth. She gasps, and rushes over to heal him. He remains standing, in spite of the leftover energy thrumming over his body, causing a slight twitch. She presses her hand to his back, frowning softly.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, thank you." Aftershocks still spark off his skin, but at the very least she can no longer see injuries.

The pair nod at each other, and she fires another arrow off at the commander. It bounces off a glittering shield, similar to the one her own Relic summons, only toned deeply purple, like violets. Instead of switching over to magic, Mercedes decides to just continue aiming and shooting off arrows. Soon, Dedue manages to close the distance thanks to her distraction, and he throws an axe. It directly hits, landing with a sharp and wet sound in the woman's shoulder. Even with the blood that begins to stir from the wound, she doesn't make a sound.

Pained, Mercedes notches a final arrow, and fires.


HII surprise an update that isnt like three years late! ive been hit by the muse
(also i quit my shit job so now i have freedom lmao)
this was so so much fun to write! since it's the final battle, i really wanted to go all out!
anyway, i wont take as long w the next chapter since i have so much spare time on me now, so look forward to it!

guest: ahh yeah it was something i thought would be good to add! since yeah,
in game they only ever reveal the origins. but i figured the gang wouldnt keep
such a big secret from each other, so i chose to write in a scene about it.
and yeah! byleth thinking that way is a mixture of his own feelings and sothis's! it just felt right for me :)

anyway, i'll see yall soon! thank you all so much for reading,
and if you enjoy my writing, please leave reviews! it fills my heart knowing its not just me who likes my writing LOL