He met the Astral Knights at their camp, just shy of two days from the monastery.
Internally, he was displeased. With them so close, could they not have made their own way to Garreg Mach? No doubt this was some sort of ploy by his father, though to what end, Ferdinand did not know. Perhaps it was just the old man being petty, making Ferdinand come collect his troops for having the gall to ask for them.
Nevertheless, when Ferdinand crested the hill to the camp and saw the one hundred soldiers, his heart brightened.
The Astral Knights had a long history in Aegir. Fluctuating between being the most elite force in the Empire and the personal guard of both the Aegirs and Hresvelgs. When an Emperor chose new guards to serve on their personal detail, most came from the Astral Knights.
Time at the monastery had given him a new appreciation for their ability, not only on the battlefield, but also in the mundane. Their camp, for example, was tucked between two of the Oghma Mountains, out of sight from all but the most attentive travelers. Despite his father's interference, it appeared his orders for secrecy went heard.
Soldiers looked up as his horse approached the camp. There was brief, palpable unease at the sight of him before relaxing into recognition at both his uniform and mop of orange hair.
The Astral Knights saluted him as he dismounted. All were out of uniform, dressed in drab attire like mere mercenaries. Some still wore armor and carried weapons while others simply looked alert.
"Lord Aegir," several intoned, bowing or saluting.
"At ease," he said.
A woman approached, dressed in light armor unlike the rest who had set aside their armor. She snapped into a crisp salute, her brown pony tail sashaying. "Lord Aegir, the commander is expecting you."
"Lead the way," Ferdinand said.
She turned around and led him through the tightly packed tents to one just a little larger than the rest. The woman cleared her throat. "Commander, Lord Aegir has arrived."
"Come in."
They stepped into a tent sparse of ornamentations typical of a man ranking as high as he did. Ferdinand smiled and closed the distance. "Sir Regis, thank you so much for coming."
Regis von Heimdallr, commander of the Astral Knights, man of just under forty years, was Ferdinand's distant cousin. He had hair as black as soot with flares of silver, showing off brilliant white teeth as he smiled through a well-kept beard. "Lord Ferdinand, the pleasure is mine. Welcome to our camp. Was your journey safe?"
"It was," Ferdinand said with a smile. "You made it here sooner than I expected."
"Hmph, I'm not so old as to be slow yet," he said with mock offense. "'Fast as shooting stars.' The Astral Knights will always be where needed." His mirth turned serious. "Now, business first. Your message—"
Ferdinand cleared his throat. "Would it not be best to speak in private?" He cast a glance to the woman who had led him to the tent.
Regis chuckled. "My manners are lacking, as ever. Lord Ferdinand, this is Ladislava, my second."
"A pleasure, Lord Aegir," Ladislava said, bowing. "I look forward to working directly with you on this venture."
"She's tough stuff," Regis said. "If she doesn't get herself killed, she'll command the Astral Knights after I die."
"Or retire," Ferdinand jabbed back with familiarity, relaxing once again.
"And die on some farm? I think I'd rather drown," Regis scoffed. "Regardless, you may speak freely around her."
"Very well," Ferdinand said. "Forgive me for withholding information, this is something of sensitive nature."
Regis nodded. "I figured as much. Urgent as well, I'd wager. Forgive me for not offering you a chair, but we didn't pack them."
"None needed," Ferdinand waved off. He looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the tent. Breathing, he spoke quietly. "It concerns a traitor within the high nobility of the Empire."
The commander shifted, crossing his arms. His brow knit into focus.
"Hubert von Vestra is behind the murder of Linhardt von Hevring," Ferdinand whispered.
Regis said nothing for a moment. "I must ask, but only once, are you certain?"
"Yes," Ferdinand said.
"It is my vow to believe you as my liege. But as something akin to a friend, I hope you have proof," Regis said.
"I appreciate your concern, Regis."
"Have you proof?" Ladislava asked. "I do not wish to demerit your claims, Lord Aegir, but protecting such evidence would be paramount."
"Ladislava," Regis said in a warning tone. Warmly, he said, "Forgive her, she takes such matters seriously."
Ferdinand laughed. "Rest assured, several of my father's spies have intercepted communication. They have assured me it will be sufficient."
"Satisfied, Ladislava?" Regis asked.
She nodded, bowing her head. "Forgive me, Lord Aegir. I am but a woman of caution."
"I anticipate you want us to ride in and apprehend Vestra, right?" Regis asked. "He won't be expecting us, I assume, so that's a boon."
"I am no expert on subterfuge," Ferdinand admitted. "You are both far more experienced in such matters than I am. Any suggestions or plans you have, I would hear them."
Regis nodded, thoughtfully. "Whatever we do, midday is not the time for it. We have a little time to plan. Give me an hour and I'll give you a plan to capture Vestra."
"Alive, Regis," Ferdinand reminded.
The commander chuckled. "Lord Ferdinand, I assure you, treason will be punished swiftly with us as your tool. Ladislava, show Lord Ferdinand to the tent we set up for him to rest in. He's had a long ride."
Far shorter than theirs, surely. But then again, the Astral Knights were hardly amateurs unused to such things. He said his thanks and followed Ladislava from the tent.
"Are you from Aegir, Sir Ladislava?" he asked, breaking the silence.
She laughed. "Lord Aegir, you are mistaken. I am no knight. I was born in Enbarr though."
"Indeed?" he said, interested. She led him through the tightly packed tents. Several soldiers nodded to her as she passed. "I would have thought being with the Astral Knights would have meant a knightship."
Ladislava looked at him over her shoulder with a half grin. "If you may forgive my candor, Lord Aegir, that isn't my world to live in."
Ferdinand's mind wandered to Catherine, who had renounced her name as a Charon. He could understand that, she hardly cared for life in and surrounding nobility. Ladislava would be the same sort.
"I think I understand," he said.
She looked surprised and said nothing else until they arrived at the tent, packed firmly away in the back of camp. A year of military tutelage told him that was the best place to hide the person to be protected, at least with the mountains as cover.
"You may rest here," she said, holding the tent flap open for him. "I'll fetch you in an hour once Regis is ready to speak."
"Thank you, Ladislava." He smiled to her and she nodded in return, departing.
He sighed, taking a seat on the cot that had been set up. It was the only thing as far as furniture went in the tent. They truly had traveled light to make it there. He'd need to thank them for forgoing comfort in order for the mission and for giving him some time to be with his thoughts.
Hubert.
Ferdinand clenched his fist. Where adoration had bloomed in his heart before, now anger stood. Killing Linhardt, killing their friend?
He'd make him pay. Him, the people he worked with, Edelgard too, if she truly was complicit.
The thought of the future Emperor killing one of her own troubled him deeply. That could have been him, could it not? Left in the library with no one to spend the last moments with.
Had Linhardt been scared? Had he cried out for his father?
Remus von Hevring and his son hadn't been close, but the way the man looked at his son's body? Ferdinand wondered if his own father would look at him the same way if he died.
A shout outside his tent broke him from his thoughts. Ferdinand frowned and stepped towards the opening of his tent as another shout followed.
Just as he was about to open the flap, it opened on its own. Something white hot pierced his stomach.
"That was easier than I thought," Ladislava said, unperturbed as if she hadn't just stabbed him.
Though she were not his teacher, Byleth would have been proud that Ferdinand's immediate reaction was to punch Ladislava. His fist caught her jaw, knocking her back.
He stumbled into the follow through, the knife still sticking from his gut. Ladislava was far quicker to recover than he was, drawing her sword and holding it up to swing.
"Bitch!" screamed a deep voice as someone tackled her. Ferdinand fell to his knees and grabbed the hilt of the dagger. All of his training told him not to yank it out, but they didn't tell him how much it would hurt to have six inches of steel in him. With a scream, he pulled the blade free.
Ladislava kicked her attacker off. Regis fell onto his back and quickly stood up. He was unarmed as the chaos raged around. Ferdinand looked with bleary eyes. Aegir soldiers were fighting Aegir soldiers.
"Fuck," rasped Ferdinand, understanding the situation if not the reason.
Regis was under no such confusion. "I took you in. I trained you. This is how you repay us?"
Ladislava wiped a trickle of blood from beneath her nose where Ferdinand punched her. Or maybe Regis had. He didn't know. "This has nothing to do with you, old man. These are just orders."
"Ferdinand," Regis said. He bent his legs, adopting a stance Ferdinand didn't recognize as his hand cackled with electricity. "Get out of here. I'll hold her off."
And with that, he leapt at her, gauntlets flaring with lightning as he attacked. Ladislava swore loudly ducking out of the way.
Ferdinand coughed, a bit of blood hitting the ground. His lung was punctured. Or his stomach. He didn't know, medicine wasn't his discipline.
Shakily, Ferdinand stood and began to stumble back to where his horse had been. When he passed a tent, he saw into the main area of the camp. The knights were tearing each other apart, knights sworn to him. It was a coup. Regis' loyalists against Ladislava's. But why?
His stomach turned, having nothing to do with his injury. Hubert. It had either been a trap or an opportunity. Regardless, he'd walked right into it.
Fire had broken out from stray spellflame and Ferdinand's horse was nowhere to be seen. Poor beast must have bolted, he thought. But whatever sympathy he had for his mount vanished as another fit of coughing came over him, bringing him back to his knees.
"No," he ground out. "Not…here."
Pathetic, truly. A simple stab would brought Ferdinand von Aegir low while soldiers sworn to protect him died around him.
A man flew from the main area of the battle, body racked with electricity as he hit the ground, unmoving.
Regis stepped into view and the relief Ferdinand felt was palpable.
"C'mon, lordling, this isn't your place to die," Regis muttered, crouching down by him. "Shit, this is gonna hurt."
Before he could ask, a flaming hand touched his skin where the wound was, cauterizing the flesh. If Ferdinand had screamed before, it had been a lie, as this was truly a scream. He gasped for air, body still feeling like it was on fire as Regis extinguished his hand.
"Sorry," he apologized. "Let's get you—"
A blade bit into Ferdinand, though barely an inch.
He blinked, Regis and he both looking at the blade stuck through Regis' chest, Ladislava standing behind him.
"Shit," he muttered, almost as if impressed, before slumping over as Ladislava pulled the blade free, raising it to strike.
Ferdinand said what he assumed would be his last prayer.
"You okay?" His voice was quiet, questioning, wary.
Byleth looked out the window of her private room. The sun was nice, even as it set. Daytime was far preferable for her, after what had happened. For a brief moment, she almost forgot it all.
"Teach?"
"It's nothing." It wasn't, it was everything. She really didn't want to be alone. But how did she tell Claude that she'd seen hell? How did she tell her students she was terrified of solitude?
How did she tell Mercedes she wasn't the same person as before?
Byleth finally turned around to see him, dressed for battle. "Is it time?" she asked.
He nodded. "The Archbishop sent me to collect you. She was…stressed. I assume that has to do with the shouting?"
They hadn't been that loud when they argued, had they? Byleth bit her lip. A revelation, that's what Rhea had called it. She'd receive Sothis' blessing or something akin to it. The way she spoke of it, Byleth had no choice in the matter.
So she'd snapped.
"I don't want your Goddess' blessing," she'd snarled.
Rhea, affronted, gaped. "Child, the Goddess Sothis is the salvation we need for this world. That you have taken on this appearance means you already have her favor."
Byleth had stalked right up to Rhea. "Your Goddess is dead. I don't give a shit about whatever revelation you want."
The Archbishop had gone stone cold. Colder, even. The harshest winter in Faerghus couldn't rival her. "Girl," Rhea growled, "you are treading in dangerous territory. You'd be wise to consider what you say next carefully."
"I'm not your fucking pawn," Byleth shouted. "First Lonato, then your errand girl for taking care of Church business, I've had enough! My father is dead because of your religion's enemies! Dead! That's on your conscience!"
Rhea's hand jerked, as if she were making to draw a weapon. Only she was unarmed. Instead, she hissed, "I gave you everything. You only here because of me, you ungrateful child."
She scoffed. "Is this about when I was born? With what happened to my mother?" Rhea looked stricken. "Yeah, father told me. I didn't ask for whatever you did. I don't even know what you did. But I sure as hell want out."
"You think there's an out?" Rhea said in a low voice. "Cry a river if you must, but this is the way things are. You will receive the revelation."
"Or what, you threaten me?" Byleth said. "With what, my father's life?" The pain in her stomach was worth Rhea's flinch.
"I am above such things." Rhea looked furious. "Cooperate and I shall let you leave the monastery at the end of the year."
Byleth didn't believe her, but she'd hold her to it. "Sounds like you weren't planning to let me leave originally. Fine, I accept. You can have your revelation from a dead god, I don't care. Just leave me out of it after."
She'd stormed out of the Archbishop's office, on display for the bystanders who had heard the raised voices. Byleth left and returned to her room.
"Yes," she said to Claude, back in the present. "We had a disagreement."
He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Word on the street says you told her, and I quote, 'Your Goddess is dead.'"
She frowned. "That's going to be a problem, right?"
He shrugged. "Would have been, but you're underestimating Rhea. Everyone in that room was fed some lie about the whole thing. You were delusional or having a crisis of faith, I dunno, didn't stick around for it."
"You were there?"
"Of course," he said, surprised.
She blinked. "Why?"
He chuckled, abashed. "Well, I was hardly going to let you go meet her alone, yeah? I don't trust her, and I certainly don't trust her with my friend who just went through something nasty."
There was that word again. Friend. It felt nice in the wake of the darkness, like a little warm in her heart.
"Thank you, Claude."
"Well, at least that's the excuse I'm giving to cover up my addiction to eavesdropping," he said, deflecting the praise with a joke. Still, he looked pleased.
Byleth stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Claude…"
"Yeah?" he said, clearly all too aware of how close they were standing.
"You're a good man. I'm proud to have met you," she said.
Claude began to make a joke, she could tell by his expression, then stopped. "Thank you, Byleth," he said instead. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."
"Doubtful," she said, a dry laugh creeping into her voice.
"Hey, if you can find me someone else who can yell at the leader of the biggest religion in the world and de facto leader of Fódlan, then I'll rescind my statement." And there was the joke. She laughed.
"Well, you may have a point," she said with a smile. "Come on, let's not keep her waiting."
They'd all been led into a room surrounded by torches. Lorenz hadn't seen any doors, sans the one they'd entered. But then the Archbishop waved a hand and the floor beneath his feet began to move.
"Be not afraid, this is safe," she said, though Lorenz wasn't convinced. It reminded him of an earthquake, something he'd experienced once in his childhood and was content never to again.
At least there was some satisfaction that Edelgard also looked uneasy with the contraption. All three houses were coming to be present for whatever this 'revelation' would be.
Claude had confided in him that it was likely a power tactic. Show everyone a light show, have them become fervent believers. This, of course, would be in the wake of Byleth and Rhea's rather…public argument.
Were Lorenz a gruff mercenary, he'd probably say Byleth had balls. But he wasn't, so he told her she was either the stupidest woman he'd ever met or the bravest. She'd laughed.
Ignatz had stayed behind for Petra. No one had seen her since Edelgard had returned. She'd departed with Hubert, Lysithea, and Petra, returning with only the former two. Lorenz wanted to dismiss it away as not his business, but there was an ominous feeling in his stomach, as if something were coming. Ignatz had been worried.
Or maybe that was the palpable tension between Rhea and Byleth. The two woman stood at the front of the group, neither looking at the other. Lorenz thought himself an insightful man, but he was certain there wasn't a person in the room who couldn't see it.
"You alright there?"
He blinked and looked over at Leonie, who now stood next to him. "Oh, hello, Leonie," he said. "Yes, I'm quite fine. These circumstances are…strange, but that seems to be all."
"Wish I could have your confidence, then," she said, looking around. "Because this sure doesn't feel natural to me."
He scratched his chin. "Hmm, well I think that goes without saying. Though the Archbishop seems to have faith in whatever this is, so we should be fine. After all, were it dangerous she wouldn't step foot onto it, yes?"
"Good point," Leonie nodded.
At least he hoped everything would be fine.
The throne was cold, punctuating just how empty it truly was.
She trailed a hand on the stone, feeling the smooth surface somehow spared time's erosion. The grooves carved in hadn't weathered at all since its construction, well over a thousand years ago.
How did she know that?
She blinked. Had someone told her that? Or—
"Professor," Rhea said, tone impatient.
Oh, she thought Byleth was going to back out. A woman of faith without faith. Byleth might have laughed, were it not for the circumstances.
Byleth lowered herself onto the throne, on display for the all the students' eyes. She held back a roll of her eyes, feeling quite silly atop the throne that didn't fit her.
And nothing happened.
Crossing and uncrossing her legs, she looked at Claude. His eyes were locked on Rhea, watching her like a hawk. She turned her own eyes to the woman.
"Well? What does the Goddess say?" Rhea asked, eager.
The thought did cross her mind, briefly, to lie. To pretend, to masquerade, to do something to use the moment to her advantage. But that was Claude's domain, not hers.
"Nothing," Byleth said. "I hear nothing." And it was true, nothing but the silence of the tomb.
"We done here?" a new voice spoke, familiar.
Rhea turned on the speaker: Caspar. "Bergliez, I trust you to understand the implications this ceremony has."
The once cheerful boy—no, man—looked at her with something akin to sorrow. He crossed his arms and sighed. "I wasn't talking to you."
A beat of silence passed before his answer.
"Indeed," Edelgard answered, snapping her fingers. She stepped away from the group as purple auras of magic condensed and vanished, leaving behind imperial soldiers. She, Caspar, and Hubert stepped away from the group of students.
"What're you doing, princess?" Claude asked, warily grabbing his bow from his back.
"Emperor now, I'm afraid," she said without a smile. "Soldiers of the Empire, grab the Crest Stones. Kill anyone in your path and capture the Archbishop."
"You!" Rhea's eyes lit up. "You vile cockroach. You're the Flame Emperor."
Byleth was the only one to see Dimitri go stock still, frozen. He began to turn his head towards Edelgard, face devoid of emotion.
"Crest Stones are the priority," Edelgard said, untethering the axe strapped to her back, and noticeably not disagreeing.
"Wicked girl," Rhea breathed, voice still echoing in the chamber. "You would commit sacrilege against the Goddess? Defile her divine sanctum?"
Edelgard laughed. "Archbishop, I saw everything I needed to see in regards to your Goddess today. I fear no retribution from the nonexistent."
"Insolence!" Rhea screamed. "Kill Edelgard von Hresvelg. Bathe the Goddess's soil with her blood and make her beg for the Eternal Flames."
"Protect the Archbishop," Claude called out weakly, sounding unsure of the circumstances. Nevertheless, the Deer rallied to his position, near their charge.
But the Lions didn't. Or rather, one didn't.
"Archbishop…Edelgard is the Flame Emperor?" Dimitri asked, his lance shaking in his hand.
"Yes, Prince Dimitri," Rhea said, eager. "Will you answer your Goddess' call?"
He stalked forward, alone, boring holes into Edelgard as she stood, unflinching. "Your will shall be done, my lady." As he stepped forward, some of the Empire soldiers who weren't plundering the tomb stepped forward to intercept him.
"Get out of my way," he growled. They didn't.
Dimitri became a whirlwind with his lance.
Byleth climbed off the throne and ran down the steps to her students. She pushed her way to the front of the group encircled around Rhea.
"Professor, bring me Edelgard's head!" she shrieked, furious.
"We're your guard detail, not your assassins," Byleth retorted, drawing the Sword of the Creator.
The screams she didn't know she'd been listening to died. She looked up.
Dimitri stood, covered in blood, though seemingly none of it his. He pushed now red hair from his eyes. And then he began to laugh.
Everyone across the tomb stopped moving, turning their gaze to him.
"All this time," he breathed between bouts of manic laughter. "All this time, it was you. You!"
Hubert bent down and whispered something in Edelgard's ear. She nodded. A second later, she, Hubert, and Caspar winked out of existence.
Dimitri's laugh turned into a howl of rage. He pointed his lance at the remaining soldiers. "Lions, kill every single one of them." And he ran alone at the imperial forces.
"Goddess, he's going to get himself killed," Lorenz groaned. "Apologies, professor, Claude." And he broke ranks as the Lions charged after their leader.
"Protect the prince," Byleth called, following suit.
A week had passed and the monastery was quiet.
Classes had gone on hold as soon as Edelgard had absconded. Hubert and Caspar had left with her with word coming from the Empire soon after.
War. War on the Church of Seiros.
Around Garreg Mach, it was as if a fog had come over the people. Black Eagle students were fleeing and the rest pretended not to notice. Petra never returned, nor did Ferdinand. Bernadetta stole away in the night, fleeing with the company of a few other students. No one had seen Lysithea. And with that, the flock of Eagles was no more.
Rhea had secluded herself in her chambers, taking no visitors. Excuses were made on her behalf, but in the light of the war, few focused on them.
Seteth took charge of the defenses. With the help of Alois, Catherine, and Shamir, they prepared. Messengers brought word of an imperial army making its way north, less than two weeks out. Time was up.
Aelfric took up the duties of the Archbishop, reaching far and wide for help. Local nobles sent contingents of soldiers, but they were paltry. The grand armies of Faerghus were too far for aid and Lord Holst sent apologies from the border, caught up in another skirmish.
The time for Garreg Mach was short. The Aegir Astral Knights already were raiding outposts of the Knights of Seiros, slowly breaking the hold they had over the Oghma Mountains. Each day that passed wrote the story that much more: the final battle for the Church would be done on their own soil.
Aelfric allowed any students who wished to flee to do so. And some did. But most stayed. Some for moral obligation. Some for a sense of right. And others simply because their friends were staying.
The Lions remained. As did the Deer. All of them were tasked with helping with the defense. There were no complaints, just grim resolution.
They all knew the end was nearly there. Each day the imperial army marched closer and, perhaps, their end.
"What do you think of this?" Claude asked, handing Lorenz the sheet of paper.
With the incoming battle, Claude's room had become something of a center point of Alliance business. Letters were constantly being composed and answered. His grandfather's health had taken a turn for the worse, leaving him something of an authority.
Lorenz took the letter from his hand, scanning it quickly. He had his own stack of communication he was going through, though the two lordlings had the same goal: secure whatever support they could.
"Too grim," Lorenz said. "Don't phrase it like 'coming to save us'. That implies a lack of confidence on our part. If we make it seem like we can't do it, they'll send no one."
Claude nodded, exhaustion apparent. "Right."
They returned to silence, penning letters and occasionally handing them to the other for opinions. Every hour, Raphael would knock on their door, take what they had written, and bring it to messengers. And then the cycle would repeat, no rest for either of them.
Mercedes had brought them food a few hours ago, the only break they'd taken in the past twenty four hours. They'd asked how Byleth was doing.
"Not well," Mercedes had said. "She won't tell me what's going on in her head."
And they'd kept working, pausing only again when Hilda had come to check in on them, offering them some reprieve.
"We got the ballistae ready on the southern wall," Hilda groaned, flopping on the bed and narrowly avoiding messing up Lorenz' organization. "Seteth was happy, though I'm supposed to go oversee the north and west walls in an hour."
"Never thought I'd see the day you were helping prepare for a battle," Claude teased.
"Oh, shut it, Riegan," Hilda moaned. "I am far too delicate for these things."
"And too reliable, it seems," Lorenz chuckled.
"Why can't I just go spend what may be my last days in Marianne's arms?" Hilda said. But after a few minutes she departed, far too committed to the cause than she would ever have admitted.
And they continued to work.
As dusk came and went, as candles burned brighter into pools of wax, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in, Raph," Claude called, not looking up.
But it wasn't Raphael in the door.
Ferdinand von Aegir stood in the door frame, caked in dirt and grime. His hair was mussed, even burned in a few places. The once immaculate officer's uniform he wore was torn open, hanging on him like a ragged jacket. His chest was covered in his own blood as well as a large burn mark.
"Ferdinand?" Lorenz gasped. "We heard you were dead!"
He chuckled, which turned into a hacking cough. "Take more than that to stop me," he grunted, all former poise gone in the moment.
Claude rushed to his side. "Ferdinand, you need medical attention—"
"Not yet," he croaked. "Something to do first." He was clearly in pain.
Lorenz and Claude exchanged glances.
"My father is dead," Ferdinand said, eyes closing. "He was put under house arrest and resisted. I heard what happened with Edelgard on the road here. I know war is coming."
"We don't know for sure about Lord Aegir," Lorenz began.
"Makes no sense to keep their greatest opposition alive," Ferdinand cut him off. "I am Lord Aegir now. My own soldiers tried to assassinate me. Whatever country the Empire was, it wasn't mine."
He fell to his knees, prostrate as a beggar.
"Claude von Riegan," he began. "And Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. You two have shown me kindness this past year. I am without a home and without a country I love."
Claude bent down, touching Ferdinand's shoulder. "What are you saying Ferdinand?"
He grinned weakly. "I am yours to do with as you wish. No one will follow me if my own soldiers won't even. I give you House Aegir. I will be your personal guard if you would allow me. And if not, I'll lead any force you ask. And if you don't trust me to do so, send me to the front lines and I will obey as a soldier."
"Ferdinand, I cannot accept this," Claude said.
"My father is dead!" he rasped, damn near cried. "Hubert killed his own father. Bernadetta's is under house arrest. The rest of the families have sided with Edelgard. I have no country, no home. Let me…let me do this, please."
Lorenz bent down and gently embraced him. "I believe I speak for both of us here. We will not allow you to destroy yourself over this. You are a good man, Ferdinand, whatever you may think otherwise."
Claude smiled. "And I'm loath to turn down a friend, Ferdinand. Come on, let's get you to Marianne or Mercedes."
They helped Ferdinand up, leaving the room.
"I don't understand," he said, leaning heavily on the two of them as his injuries caught up to him.
"It means, welcome to the Golden Deer, Ferdie," Claude laughed.
Author Notes: Ah yes, at long last Ferdinand joins the Deer. Most of you saw that coming. Fun fact, I originally didn't plan for him to join before the war. But when I was playing through the game recently, I ran across his little conversation he has in the monastery before the war chapter where he mentions his father and it made me change my mind on him.
Editing Notes:
5/6/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments. Fixed a tiny continuity error. I continue to correct misspellings of Riegan.
9/23/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments. Spaced paragraphs differently.