c/w: racism; during the second Claude POV scene
When he woke, it was to the crow of a rooster.
Sunlight dripped in through the windows, the windowsill gleaming with morning dew. Ignatz's vision was bleary as he opened his eyes. Goddess, he ached all over.
Blinking several times, his blurry vision faded and revealed Manuela's office. He lay in a bed, one reserved for patients. And if he were in Manuela's room instead of where all the regular patients went…
It came back to him. The Mausoleum. The knight. The scythe.
His leg.
A blanket covered him and he slowly reached to pull it towards him. He had to see.
When he revealed two feet at the end, he sighed. The image of his mutilation would be relegated to memory. He wiggled his toes.
Only his right foot moved. The left struggled to mimic it.
Ignatz's breath caught in his throat. He tried again, attempting to bend his toes. And they did after considerable effort.
He pulled the blanket up more, revealing a ring of sorts around his leg. It was a scar, angry and red, wrapping around his leg in a jagged circle.
Could he even walk?
Ignatz bit his lip hard, focusing on the pain instead of the tears beginning to pour down his face. He had to try to walk. He had to know.
As he sat up in bed, he finally saw the rest of the room.
The rest of the Deer were arrayed around the room as if in vigil. They all looked exhausted and were passed out in various states of sleep.
Raphael was leaning against the other bed, softly snoring. Hilda had flopped onto the ground without a seeming care, Marianne near her, attempting to take up as little space as possible. Leonie sat beneath the window, mouth hanging open. Lorenz had collapsed into Manuela's chair, slouched in a position that most nobles would frown upon. And Byleth was against the wall, looking straight at his bed. On her right, Claude was dozing and on her left, Mercedes had leaned her head on the professor's shoulder.
In his professor's hands, a large greatsword. She'd almost curled up with it like it were a pillow, holding it protectively.
It looked like a Relic. The same texture, color, even a hole where a crest stone ought to be. But unlike Thunderbrand, this one looked like a spine. Ignatz looked away from the macabre blade.
His tears dried with his leg forgotten. His friends had stayed with him. He was hurt and they hadn't left his side.
Ignatz smiled amidst pain.
A day later and Ignatz was up walking.
Granted, he had one arm around Raph's waist and he still could barely walk without stumbling. His left leg couldn't support much weight now. Manuela had explained it like trying to sew the sleeve of a shirt back on. It was inevitable that there would be stitch marks and it'd never be as strong as it was before.
She'd also forbade him from leaving his bed, but Raphael had helped Ignatz escape to get some air.
"Okay, let's stop here," Ignatz said, trying to hide how much pain he was in. They'd made it to the courtyard. More importantly, they'd made it to chairs. He slumped into one, sighing with exhaustion.
Raphael noticed. "I'll carry you back."
Ignatz didn't try to fight him on it. It just felt good to get some air. The bed in Manuela's office was thankfully comfortable, but nothing beat the breeze. Growing up, he'd loved to paint outside. Painting nature came easier to him when he was amongst it. Some artists could picture a landscape and put it on canvas, but Ignatz wasn't able to do that. He needed to see it, breathe it, experience it.
"You're quiet, Raph," Ignatz said, looking back to his friend.
Raphael looked like he was on the precipice of saying something. In fact, he'd looked like that ever since he'd come to visit him today.
Ignatz waited. Rushing Raphael to do anything (except eat) never worked out well. He did things at his own pace, be that fast or slow.
"I'm just mad at myself for letting you down," he finally said, not looking at Ignatz.
He blinked in surprise. "How did you let me down?"
Raphael still didn't look. "In the Mausoleum. I was in the front with the professor. I was supposed to help her protect you and Mercedes. I failed."
Memory trickled back. Byleth rushing to defend him. Her getting knocked aside. Mercedes appearing before he lost consciousness. No Raphael.
"Raph, you were holding off the other soldiers, weren't you?"
The blond nodded. "I mean, yeah, but I—"
"Raphael, look at me," Ignatz said with more certainty that he'd ever felt before. His best friend turned his head and locked eyes with him. "You did everything you could. If you hadn't held off the soldiers, we might have all been killed."
Raphael slowly nodded, but didn't look totally convinced. Still, it was a start, Ignatz supposed. "What happened to that knight?" he asked, turning the conversation away for Raphael's comfort.
His best friend frowned. "I'm not sure. You'll need to ask Mercedes or the professor. I turned to look and he'd vanished and Mercedes was bent over you, trying to heal you."
"Well, well, Ignatz, I didn't you had such a rebellious streak to you."
Both friends look to their right to see Claude sauntering up. He stole a seat across from them with a smile. "Manuela's in quite the mood, having found you gone. I told her I'd track you down for her."
"Ah," Ignatz sputtered, embarrassed. "Perhaps it was a hasty decision on my part."
"How's the leg?" Claude asked.
Ignatz looked down at it. Even idle, he barely felt it. His mother would read him stories when he was younger, stories about heroes and knights. In one, there had been a pirate with a wooden leg. That was how Ignatz felt walking around.
"Better than yesterday," he said instead.
Claude nodded. "Whatever happens, you're a Deer, Ig. You've always got a place amongst us."
"Why do you say that?"
His house leader's expression turned somber. "There's some talk from Seteth and Rhea that you won't be able to stay a student here. I wasn't supposed to hear, but I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Outside his office door with an ear to the keyhole." A glimmer of a smile, but it didn't reach its typical luster.
"Oh, I supposed that makes sense." Ignatz sighed.
"Teach was furious when I told her, you should have seen her. If you want to stay, she'd going to fight tooth and nail for you."
"Really?" Ignatz gasped.
Raphael clapped him on the back, lighter than usual. "You're one of the Deer, Ig! The herd doesn't let each other down!"
His face warmed at that. "Thanks, guys."
Claude smirked, this time with its usual radiance. "Not a problem. Now we should get you back, before Manuela has my head too. I'm quite attached to it, after all."
Ignatz rolled his eyes as Raphael scooped him up. His two friends bantered back and forth on their way back, both trying to make Ignatz laugh harder.
Ignatz would look on the moment as one of the first where he thought of the Deer as family.
"No class, just talk," Byleth said as she slouched in her chair. "I think we all have things to say."
All her Deer, sans Ignatz, sat in their usual spots. Mercedes had taken Lysithea's old spot next to Leonie, near the front.
"I'm proud of you all for being there for Ignatz as he's recovering," she said. "He's going to need our support, especially now."
Goddess, she needed a drink. Byleth hadn't had any alcohol since Ashe had threatened her. Coincidentally, she had barely had any sleep since then either.
Now her dreams were visited by a man in armor, trailing purple fire in his wake. She shivered just thinking about it.
"None of you failed him," Byleth said.
Several students shifted uncomfortably. Mercedes, Claude, others. She didn't see them all in time.
"None of you," she repeated. "In battle, there are things we can't expect. A warrior of that caliber was not something to be expected."
"Teach," Claude piped up. "You can't blame yourself either. There wasn't any way you could have seen that coming."
Byleth shook her head. "I'm the commanding officer when out in the field. Failure ultimately leads back to me."
Lorenz stood up and walked to the front of the room. Claude's reply died on his lips, holding back to allow the noble to speak.
"Professor, not everyone was there to witness what you did. Allow me to regale them with it," he said.
She said nothing, frowning.
"Our teacher jumped in front of the knight as soon as he appeared. She threw herself into danger to protect Ignatz. I have grown up hearing tales of soldiers, from the Gloucester army to stories about Lord Holst's victories. This was my first time ever hearing about a commanding officer doing something like that," Lorenz said, fixing her with a firm gaze, imploring her to understand his point. "You blame yourself for much, professor, and I cannot stop you from doing that. But I will not have such a noble risk be overlooked."
He walked back to his seat and sat down.
Leonie spoke. "Is that true?"
"Yes," Byleth said softly.
"Then I see no blame that should go to you," Leonie said. "Captain Jeralt would have done the same thing. If there's one thing you've taught us, professor, it's that people can and will fail. It's what they do about it that matters."
She taught them that? When?
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Um," Marianne murmured, raising her hand timidly. "Well, we lost the mock battle. But you didn't dwell on it, you just had us practice more."
"Right!" Leonie said, smiling. "And we've seen you pick yourself up again and again, professor. I think we all see when you do that."
"My dad once said," Hilda began, "'Hilda, true strength isn't by winning a battle, it's about getting back up after you fall.' He was talking about that in regards to me eating my vegetables, the weirdo, but it still applies here."
Marianne giggled and Hilda's smile grew.
"We owe it to Ig not to be down," Raphael said. "I've been blaming myself for this, but Leonie's right. Even if we do, we have to get back up and keep fighting."
Byleth had expected to teach them sword stances, battle tactics, and whatever other tips she had for battle. Instead she was watching children grow into adults.
They adore you. Don't you see? Can you not love yourself the way they do?
She didn't know. But she could try.
"Back where I was born, we had a lot of crows," Claude said. "When one of their flock dies, they gather around to mourn it. My father told me they saw it as a learning experience, so that the other members of the flock could understand what had killed it so as to avoid the danger. My father told me to learn from mistakes, mine or others. We may be a herd, but I think we can apply that here.
"Teach, let's get stronger. Let's make sure what happened to Ig never happens to one of us again."
Byleth felt her eyes leaking. Leaking? No, she was crying.
She turned to the chalk board, hiding the tears. "Then we haven't time to waste. No training yard time today, we're going to cover cavalry, their advantages and weaknesses. By the end of today, I want you all to know how to dismount a rider and be ready to practice it tomorrow."
He'd left Teach a hastily scribbled note on her door. Judith hadn't given him any warning.
"I was hoping to meet this professor of yours, boy," she mused as he saddled up his horse.
Claude laughed. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have sprung a visit on me so suddenly?"
The woman rolled her eyes. "Perhaps if you wrote home more often, I'd be more inclined to keep you in the loop."
"Thanks, mother. Last time I checked, I was busy learning to lead the Alliance at the academy." Claude hid a smirk. He enjoyed their verbal jousting.
Judith grinned. "Were I your mother, I think I'd have you spanked for all the disrespect you show me. You're speaking with a lady, boy."
"And you're speaking to the next sovereign duke," Claude shot back.
Judith shrugged as Claude got onto his horse. They began to trot towards the gates of the monastery. "Your grandfather isn't doing as well as he used to be."
"I suspect that is the reason you're here?"
Judith nodded. "He's not kicked the bucket yet, but he barely leaves his bed these days. His stewards are handling Riegan affairs with you gone. I worry what Gloucester will plan with him indisposed."
"If you can help him hold things down until I graduate, I can take over everything. That is, if the old man will let me," Claude said, voice sour.
"You know how likely he is to do that," Judith said, eyes shifting to make sure there were no eavesdroppers. They'd passed under the gate and were far from people, but Judith hadn't risen to fame without being careful. "He was quite angry about the Ordelia girl."
"Let him be," Claude growled. That man was one of the few who could draw out his ire. "I'll be sure to give him a piece of my mind when I see him."
"Be careful," warned Judith. "The Alliance will need you. If you push him, he will punish you."
"Where my grandfather burned bridges, I am building them," Claude said. "If he decides to make more of an enemy out of me, then I will make him regret it."
"Hello, Ignatz."
He broke out of his concentration and set down his pencil. Being confined to a bed didn't make the proper environment for painting, but sketching was easily done. Manuela had been quite angry with his little rebellion a few days ago, insisting he stay in bed.
So he was drawing her. Hopefully it would earn some forgiveness. Ignatz didn't like it when people were displeased with him.
"Oh, hello, Mercedes," he greeted with a smile. "What brings you here?"
She returned the smile and sat down in the chair next to his bed. "I just wanted to check up on you. There's always someone speaking to you, I figured I could steal a little of that time for myself. Unless you're busy?"
He laughed. "I welcome the company. It gets pretty boring in here, the visitors help remind me to smile."
Mercedes smiled and began to speak as the door opened. Both of their heads turned to see Dorothea and Petra walk in.
"Oh!" Petra exclaimed. "Would we be bothering you here?"
"The more the merrier!" Ignatz said with a smile. "What brings you here?"
Dorothea chuckled. "Dear Petra just couldn't stand the thought of you thinking poorly of her."
"Dorothea! Do not be teasing me!" pouted the princess. Turning back to Ignatz, she moved and knelt by his bedside. "In my country, when a warrior becomes hurt, we…" She paused and shook her head. "I do not know Fódlan word for it. But we are gifting this to injured warriors." And from her pocket, she drew out a carved figure.
It was a deer, shoddily carved, but not hastily. Petra must have done it herself. "In Brigid," she continued, "offerings to the Wood Spirit are made for getting better in health. When a soldier comes home from a hunt hurt, the village is giving them carved offerings so the Wood Spirit may heal them."
Ignatz took it in his hands. It was hard to see, but she'd even made eyes and a mouth. "Thank you, Petra!"
She laughed. "It is not good. Before coming to Fódlan, I have not been seeing deer. We do not have them in Brigid."
"Do I do anything with it to help the Wood Spirit heal me?" he asked, interested. He knew absolutely nothing about Brigid aside from where it was on a map.
"Be keeping it close by while you are healing. That is all." She rose to her feet. Petra said something in her native language quickly. At his confused look, she answered, "A blessing."
"Are you feeling any better, Ignatz?" Dorothea asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"A little," he said with a shrug. "Manuela says it may take a while. She can't tell since she wasn't the one to personally heal me."
Mercedes shrunk into herself. Dorothea's eyes darted over to her briefly, but said nothing.
"I once broke my leg when I was rehearsing for a role," Dorothea said. "It's not the same problem at all, but I am familiar with some exercises to help your muscles recover. If you'd like to try, just say the word."
"Thank you!" Ignatz smiled. "You're both so kind to me, it's a shame we haven't had much interaction before."
Dorothea and Petra exchanged a look that was not lost to him. "It is a shame," the songstress said. "Perhaps we can rectify it. But we must be going, I'm afraid. Hanneman's lessons call, after all."
They said their farewells and left Mercedes and Ignatz in the room alone.
"I apologize," Mercedes said. "For your leg."
He cocked his head to the side. "How do you mean?"
"Were I more experienced in healing, I could have attached it better. You might not have had any consequences." Mercedes bit her lip as it quivered. "It is my fault you are crippled."
"Oh," Ignatz said. "But you saved my life."
"What?"
Ignatz leaned forward in his bed so he sat closer to Mercedes. "If you hadn't healed me, I'd have bled to death. I might not remember much, but I do remember how much blood there was." The hairs on his arms stood up just thinking about it. "You saved my life, Mercedes."
"I suppose," Mercedes whispered. "I can't help but regret not being able to do more."
"Maybe you could help me with my recovery?" he suggested quickly. He had no idea what to say, that was Claude's area. "Not that I blame you at all! But maybe you'd feel better if you could help me?"
"You're a sweet boy, Ignatz." She smiled warmly and he knew he'd said something right. "I'll come to terms with this on my own time. I'm pretty sure Byleth will say something similar to you."
It always felt odd to hear the professor's first name. Mercedes seemed to be the only one in class to call her that. Maybe it was just their close ages?
"Is there anything I can do to help? Right now, I mean," Mercedes asked.
"If you hand me my crutch, you can keep me company while I have lunch," he suggested, gesturing to where it rested against the wall. Byleth had brought him it a few days ago from town. And judging from how nicely it was made, it had cost a quite a bit.
"Why, that sounds lovely!" Mercedes clapped her hands together.
"He's expecting me," Claude said as he stepped up the guards outside his grandfather's room.
One of them nodded, and with a golden armored hand, opened the door for him.
Claude strolled in, still wearing his academy uniform. Let his grandfather mock him for that as opposed to any Leicester fashion.
The room was spacious, as any Duke's personal chambers would be. Off to the side was a sitting area that led to a balcony where his grandfather would receive visitors. Though the room had become a makeshift bedroom with his deteriorating condition, as seen with the bed near the chairs. It was opulent, like everything in Riegan Manor. The finest silks money could buy alongside a gaudy bedframe. It disgusted Claude.
Claude did not take a seat. He stood at the foot of the bed, hands behind his back, waiting for his grandfather to address him. His eyes lingered to the left side of the room, where the Relic Failnaught hung on display, unused.
"Boy." It wasn't the playful jab Judith's address was, it was pointed. A dagger, driving home a point. "About time you made it back."
"I came as soon as I received word," Claude said evenly.
His grandfather was a handsome man and fortunate that his condition hadn't marred his looks. Even in bed, his hair was well tied back in a ponytail. Few wrinkles and grey stubble were the few indicators that his grandfather had been aging.
Hazel eyes bored into him, stony and calculating. His mother had once told him that he got his intellect from his grandfather. In his youth, Silas von Riegan had been one to make the Riegan name feared or respected, depending who you asked.
"The Gloucesters have begun to push their tariffs again. They're insisting we double the tax paid on lumber." Not a word wasted on Claude. His grandfather didn't particularly care about his life.
"House Goneril benefits from that, not Gloucester," Claude said. "What is Goneril pushing instead?"
Silas snorted. "Hmph, so you do pay attention. At least you inherited some of my brains instead of your father's."
Don't rise to it, he reminded himself. The man will be dead soon anyway. "Is this another attempt by Lord Gloucester to keep his armies at home instead of at the Locket?"
"Indeed. The idiot keeps his army maintained to not use it." Silas coughed, grabbing a handkerchief. Claude saw, as he moved it away, that it was flecked with blood. "I might not have cared were it not for you letting the Ordelia girl slip through your fingers."
Claude said nothing.
Silas attacked. "Did it cross your mongrel brain that we need her? Riegan is not wealthy with allies. The Ordelias were steadfast allies of us once, but now you've let them get away from us. Only months after transferring and they have begun to already show stronger ties to Adrestia."
Hate him as much as he did, Claude couldn't help but share the anger. The Ordelias were no longer a family to depend on for them. "Any luck with Edmund?"
"Losing the Daphnels at the Roundtable will haunt our legacy," Silas said. "Edmund has no goodwill for us, nor does he despise us yet. Gloucester has yet to sink his claws in him."
Claude again said nothing.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" growled Silas. "We have no allies. Lord Goneril has stepped down, finally relinquishing charge of House Goneril to Holst. The Ordelias are traitors, Edmund too careful to do what we say, and Gloucester is Gloucester."
"I understand perfectly," Claude shot back. "Perhaps it is a lack of faith in Riegan. Once I graduate, I promise you I will get them back in line."
Silas' eyes flared. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Power to let your friends across the border and take Leicester. My servants tell me you're in correspondence with Nader. You take me for a fool?"
Fuck, he thought he'd been careful with the notes.
"You will not have charge of Riegan until I make certain arrangements," Silas said. "While the great families do not favor Riegan as they once did, there is a host of minor families that will be present to keep you in line. Toe out of that line and I'll know." The old man smiled. It wasn't kind. "You might be my heir, but you are not my progeny. Your father's line taints what I might have passed on to you. That you have a Crest at all is reason to pray to your pagan gods in thanks. Or whatever you do over there."
For the briefest moment, Claude's eyes shifted to Failnaught. If he killed the man…
"Hmph." His grandfather had seen. "Kill me and you start a war or at least lose your right to inherit. You think me without contingencies?"
When Claude looked back to Silas, he fantasized about wringing his neck. Hands wrapped around, pressing him into the ground as he slowly felt his body lose the strength to struggle.
No, he chided himself. He needed to be patient and wait for the man to die. Horrid he may be, it was the ticket Claude needed for power. Power to change things.
"Very well," Claude said. "Then do say your orders for me, grandfather. I'll make your will happen at the Roundtable."
He was strong enough to bid them off.
Rhea had commanded the Deer to retrieve the Lance of Ruin, a Relic that Sylvain's older brother had stolen. And Ignatz wasn't strong enough to come with.
Though what would he do if he were to go with? Act as moral support? He could barely walk, let alone fight.
"Come back safe," he said, giving Raphael a hug.
The big man smiled. "Oh, don't you worry about me. Or the rest, I'll keep an eye on them. Especially Mercedes, because she's so reckless."
The woman in question rolled her eyes at the joke and went back to speaking with Annette who had come to see her off. Claude, Byleth, and Lorenz were all looking at a map, planning their route. Leonie and Hilda assisted Marianne in getting the horses ready. They worked quickly, quietly saying their goodbyes to him when they had a chance, unsure how to approach the subject.
His friends all gathered up their things, leaving to Conand Tower.
And Ignatz was left along at the gates. His whole house, off without him.
He turned around and began to walk aimlessly. Ignatz debated painting briefly, but the cold pit in his stomach preoccupied him far too much to seek his passion.
Walking was getting easier. Manuela had said his leg would steadily improve with time, but the limp would stay. The more he worked at it, the more its severity would lessen. But some things magic couldn't fix.
"You done moping yet?"
Ignatz blinked. His mindless wander had brought him to the training grounds. To Shamir.
The woman wasn't even looking at him, still firing shots at a target. She wasn't training, her stance was far too relaxed for that. Instead, she passed the time, landing bullseye after bullseye.
"Pardon?" he finally said.
Shamir looked to him. "It's been a month. I've been waiting for you to come to me. But I guess you're still stuck in your head."
Ignatz just looked at her confused.
The mercenary sighed. "Fine, I'll spell it out for you. There's talk of making you return home since you can no longer fight. But you'll be able to stay if you can fight. So, obviously, I teach you."
"How?" he said. "You would do that?"
Shamir chuckled. "You've got potential and I'm helping your teacher out. Better to teach a student who can get better than one who won't." She walked over to him, offering over the bow. He slowly took it.
She continued. "As for how, there's two options. First, I make you into a sharpshooter. I may have distaste for archers who stand still, but that doesn't mean I can't make you one. Then…"
"Then?" he prompted.
"We teach you to fight mounted." Shamir folded her arms. "Not the easiest thing to do. Mounted archers are the hardest people to train in all of combat. But I think you've got a chance to be one."
Could it really be that simple? He'd thought the ability to be a knight was beyond him with this.
You don't need two good legs to paint, a small voice said to him.
He shook his head, dispelling the rebellious notion. No, he'd learn. He wouldn't be left behind again.
"I accept," he said, holding the bow tighter.
Shamir spared a rare smile. "Good. I still have missions, so we'll be training in the mornings before your class. You're my student now. Come hell or high water, you will listen to me, understand? No matter how bizarre the lesson."
Anything. "Yes, ma'am!" he said.
She snorted. "This'll be quite the adventure. Cut the ma'am, I'm not old enough for that."
They set aside the bow and got to work on assessing Ignatz's mobility. It hurt, it was agonizing. His leg screamed, giving out and planting his face right in the dirt more than once.
But he persisted.
Author Notes: That fact about crows is true. I learned that this week and it's so cool.
Introducing Silas von Riegan, first of the family characters, and one of the worst characters I've had to write. He's so gross.
Editing Notes
4/14/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.
7/29/2021: Minor grammar adjustments.