cw: tense family discussion/argument in the first scene

Trevor had set their meeting place at his private home in the city.

Leonie had never been there, what with it being tucked away on the north edge of town far away from the happenings of the city. Until recently, the Albrechts weren't important enough to merit prime real estate in Derdriu. Such things were expensive, which meant they were restricted to their ancestral seat in Derdriu.

Not that Leonie could see why that was a big deal to nobles. Even five years of living in Claude's house and experiencing the best comforts of nobility, she was still the commoner girl from Sauin. The same brat, shorter than the rest, who's eyes widened with glee as Jeralt told stories of the rest of the world. The Albrecht's estate was massive in her eyes.

"You been here before?" she asked Balthus as they stood outside, waiting to be received at the gate.

He nodded. "More than our actual home, honestly. I think I spent more than half my time in Derdriu. Little wonder Trevor got picked as heir."

When Balthus had told her his story, she'd expected there to be conflict over that. But Balthus was a rare breed that had a smart head on his shoulders, even if he didn't often use it. His brother was better suited for rule, and he accepted it. Leonie could respect that.

A servant eventually received them, taking them into the manor. They were led up to a balcony that overlooked the water (small it may be, it was still a noble's property). With promises that his lord would be along shortly, they sat in chairs waiting at a small table.

"So how do you fit into all this?" Balthus asked. "I've been told Claude has quite an eclectic group around him. You part of that crazy?"

She snorted. "If I had known what I was getting into, I might have refused him when he recruited me into this grand scheme."

Balthus quirked a grin. "I don't think you mean that."

She didn't. "He's an idealist. A jaded, cynical, despising idealist, if such a thing can exist. He looks at the world in a way that sees it for what it could be without losing sight of what it can do to you." Leonie sighed. "If I had his life, I'm sure I'd have spurned it all, hating the world."

"I thought the same about Holst for a while," Balthus reminisced. "Though I was more a lost puppy about it, just following him around everywhere."

"That tracks," she mumbled, though he caught it and grinned. "Guess it's up to the followers to keep the home front safe, huh?"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Balthus said. "These people we love, they trust us with it. Well, I haven't really seen Holst in years so that's not so much true with me. I guess you could count Yuri? Eh, actually, no, comparing Yuri to Holst is like oil and water."

Her response was cut off as Trevor arrived. She'd seen him from afar, but never up close. His shaggy black hair was the only thing he shared with Balthus. Trevor was scrawny where his brother titanic, short where he tall, sharp features where he rounded.

"Brother," he clipped, tone icy, if surprised.

Off to a great start. Not like she expected anything else.

Wisely, Leonie stood back while Balthus scratched his head. "Hey, Trev. I'm back?"

Trevor pulled out a chair at the table and took it. For a brief moment, his gaze softened. "You get out of Gloucester's cell?"

"Yeah, about that." Balthus winced. He briefly recounted the past several years beneath the monastery. All the while, Leonie watched Trevor as his face lost that hint of softness and turned far colder.

"You mean," he bit off each word as he spoke them, "all this time, Gloucester never had you?"

"I was briefly in a Gloucester cell," Balthus explained. "But that was years ago."

Leonie shifted in her seat uncomfortably. She hadn't wanted to be here for this reunion, not after Balthus' story. But this might be her one chance to sway Trevor, the one moment of weakness she could exploit.

Manipulative, but damn her, if it saved this city it didn't matter.

It didn't take much to guess what was going on in Trevor's head. Years and years of being Leander's stooge were coming to light. That had to bother him.

He glanced at Leonie. "Why are you here? Why set up this meeting?" It seemed more an attempt to distract himself from Balthus, to cool himself down.

Leonie was happy to oblige. "The Gloucester army will attack here within the week. The Duke left me in charge of defenses. I'd like your support against the rebels."

"So you bring him here to gain favor with me away from Leander?" Trevor gestured at his brother. "Lysithea now, I suppose."

"Correct," Leonie said. "I know a little of what Balthus has been through. While I hope the reality of him not being in Leander's cells helps me sway you, I also thought you might want to see him." She bit her lip.

Trevor snorted. "He tell you about our father?"

Balthus flinched. "A bit," Leonie said.

"He tell you his gambling addiction is what got him killed?" Trevor asked, pointedly ignoring Balthus.

That drew an honest frown from her. "He told me you two argued about something in relation to your father and he hadn't attended the funeral. I didn't ask for specifics."

"You should have," he said, not maliciously. At least, not towards her. He glared at his brother. "You know why the Albrechts aren't well known? We're a poor family. Balthus here gambled away most of our savings."

Balthus remained quiet.

"Our father," Trevor continued, "fell ill. The Eastern Church is not known for being benevolent. To get the best healers from them—from anywhere—takes gold. Gold we didn't have." He folded his arms. "For the benefit of the doubt, I don't know if better care could have helped him. But he didn't die at peace, that much I guarantee. His last days and months were spent pinching gold where he could, trying to keep our family afloat. Trying to keep our people safe when we couldn't hire mercenaries or pay wages of guards."

"How did you recover?" Leonie asked. The man didn't have a countenance of poverty in any way she was familiar with.

"I'm smart," he said bluntly. "It took time, but I turned things around. Not without the help of some favorable loans from Leander. We haven't recovered, not fully, but we've come a long way. So forgive me if I'm not ecstatic to see the progenitor of such hardship."

Balthus cleared his throat. "Trev, I am sorry. I mean that."

"It's done," he said, cold. "You didn't even have the courage to come to his funeral. A man, who against all logic, loved you even as you destroyed his life work. You ruined him—us—and you know what he told me on his deathbed?"

Balthus looked sick.

Trevor looks his brother directly in the eye. "He asked me where you were. That he wanted to see his son before he died."

He broke eye contact, looking out to the sea. From where she sat, she could see tears in Balthus' eyes.

Trevor turned back to Leonie, looking tired. "It's been a long time, Lady Leonie. Some bridges can't be rebuilt."

"You only have one brother," Leonie murmured.

"True," Trevor replied. "But I wonder if that man's even alive anymore. Regardless, I don't think any of it matters. I mentioned Gloucester made some favorable deals with me, right? I may have been his pawn, but the people who live in the Albrecht territory have survived and prospered because of those deals. Voting his way was the least I could do."

"I thought you voted his way due to your brother's thought imprisonment?" she asked.

He hummed. "I can see why that would be thought. And Leander even threatened to use that against me should it come to it. But in all honesty, I saw it as a fair punishment to Balthus." Trevor glanced back at his brother. "For what he did to our father."

"I see," she said. It was all she could say.

"So I'm sorry, but I won't be able to help you," Trevor said, having the courtesy to at least sound apologetic. "I respect Claude for what he's doing with the refugees, but I also owe the Gloucesters a debt I can't repay on my people's behalf. I will not help you, but nor will I hinder you. Consider that my compromise."

Leonie bit her lip. "I can't talk circles around like Claude can. But are you sure the Gloucesters have the best idea in mind for the future of the Alliance?"

"Can you be sure Claude does?" Trevor asked. "I know you trust him, that much is obvious. But I'm not you. All I've seen is someone arguing for war." He sighed. "Thank you for coming here today, Lady Leonie, if only to confirm things about my brother I hadn't known."

"Could you at least hear him out?" Leonie asked, a last-ditch effort.

Trevor turned to Balthus, who tried to meet his eyes, and failed. "I don't think he has anything to say to me," Trevor said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I don't gamble anymore," Balthus said softly.

"Good," Trevor said, raising an eyebrow. "Better you had decided that ten years ago, though."

"Yeah," Balthus admitted, weak. "But I just wanted you to know."

Trevor slid back in his chair and stood. "Farewell, brother. I hope this meeting was as enlightening for you as it was for me."

"Yeah," Balthus repeated, ever softer. "Take care, Trev. I'm…I'm just sorry."

As Trevor turned to walk away, he paused, as if considering saying something else. But he changed his mind, continuing to leave.

"Hey," Leonie said to him. "You want to say anything else to him? Might be your last chance."

Balthus shook his head, utterly defeated. "No, I don't think there's anything left to say."

He didn't expect to wake to anyone, least of all Shamir seated at his bedside.

"Good, you didn't die," she joked in that deadpan way only she could, so dry that you wondered if she was even joking.

Ferdinand made to lean up, but his abdomen burned like the Eternal Flames. What had happened?

Oh, right. Petra had run him through.

"Hello to you too, Shamir," he croaked. Goddess, how long had it been?

"Here," she beckoned. "Tilt your head up."

He did as told and Shamir held a glass of water to his lips. He drank, greedily. Looking around while doing so, he recognized it as a room on the lower level of Riegan Manor.

"How long has it been?" he asked, glancing at her apparent injuries. She was bandaged, though not as heavily as he felt.

"Not long, but you've missed a lot," Shamir said. "We'll catch you up later. You feeling better?"

"I feel like I got stabbed with a sword," he grunted. It drew a laugh from her.

On that note, why was he alive? As philosophical as it sounded, it really wasn't. Petra had stabbed him. She wasn't incompetent, he'd seen that first hand at the academy.

Had she intentionally dealt him a wound that wouldn't kill him?

"Claude and the rest took the bulk of our healers south," Shamir explained. "Who's left patched you up how they could before moving on. You'll make a full recovery, but you'll need to deal with a little pain. Or a lot, if you move."

"More refugees?" he guessed while processing that sentence. Claude went south? When did that happen?

"Yeah. Word's spread enough that we're getting people fleeing from western Fódlan. Apparently there's unrest in Rowe with a faction of Kingdom loyalists." Shamir sighed. "We're getting so many people who've lost their homes. The Alliance can only feed so many." She didn't say anything about the hard choices that came with that reality.

"Did we take Myrddin?" he asked. "Or has that not happened? And why did Claude go south?"

Her grin returned. "Up for a minute and already getting back to work. Calm down. We won. Claude went south to see Byleth."

"Ah," he murmured.

"He found the note on you, the one from Ignatz," Shamir said. Her expression brooked no judgement. "He wasn't pleased."

"Somehow, I saw that coming," he said.

"Makes sense why you did it. He's just a bit emotionally compromised when it comes to her."

Ferdinand nodded. If it had kept Claude focused, then it had been worth it. He was their strategist, their leader. As much as Byleth meant to him—to all of them—he couldn't afford be distracted.

Hopefully he'd forgive him.

"Have they reached Aegir yet?" Ferdinand asked. Claude's plan needed him, so hopefully they still had time. If not, there were contingencies, though they were far from ideal.

Shamir shrugged. "Doubt it. We haven't heard much from them due to the situation we have on our own hands. The army on our doorstep is a bit more pressing."

His eyes shot open and he tried to get up. Shamir had been ready for it and clamped a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. "You're staying in here. Neither of us are fit to fight."

"If a healer attends to me—"

"And deprives some of the refugees their attention? Ferdinand, there are kids who have charred bodies from fireballs. They come first. Don't be selfish."

Shame pooled and he nodded. "Could you at least tell me what's been happening?"

"That I can do."

"Your orders have changed."

"Back again so soon?" Lysithea asked dryly.

Hubert had entered the covered wagon she rode in. At this point, she didn't bother asking how he'd found her or gotten past her guards. Hubert could turn into a snake and she'd only be mildly surprised.

"Derdriu must fall, but your primary objective is to capture, or kill, Claude von Riegan," Hubert said, sitting down across from her in the wagon. "Intelligence dictates he has stayed in Derdriu to mount a defense."

She nodded in interest. "Expected, if unfortunate. Knowing him, he'll have some sort of plan that will prove a problem."

"And you have some time to figure out how to counter him," Hubert said. He glanced at the flaps of the caravan. "You're less than a week out?"

"More or less," Lysithea said. "Weather complying, less."

Hubert nodded, approving. "Kill Claude, and the entire war effort for the Alliance will fall apart."

That, she wasn't so sure of. Claude wasn't the type to put all his eggs in one basket. So long as Lorenz was alive, Lysithea had a feeling the Alliance wouldn't stay down.

But that wasn't her business. She had her orders. "Does the Emperor have anything else for me?"

He sneered. "Expecting heartfelt letters? No, her majesty has more pressing matters to attend to."

Lysithea's face remained impassive. "Then leave me be, your presence is exhausting."

Hubert rolled his eyes, and stood. "Don't hesitate to remove any of your former classmates from the equation as well. Petra should have taken care of some of them."

"Has she reported in yet?" Lysithea asked. "If she managed to hurt Claude, that'd be beneficial to know."

"She hasn't," Hubert said. His face was the kind of frigid that only appeared at his most furious. "Don't expect Claude to be wounded. The Alliance hasn't slowed in any regard, so I suspect she failed."

Lysithea nodded. "If you learn anything more, let me know."

"I will."

He stepped out of the caravan while it was still moving. Had he been anyone else, she might have been concerned how they'd get off.

Lysithea bit her lip. Claude she knew she'd have to deal with and that was something she'd come to terms with. But the rest, they were good people. Ignatz, Raphael, Leonie, Marianne…who would she be facing in the days ahead?

No use dwelling on it now, she thought. When the time came, she'd be ready.

She'd have to be.

Felix was the only person in the war room when the messenger knocked. "Come in," he said.

A timid voice spoke. "Margrave Edmund is here, milord."

He bit back a curse. Leonie should be here to deal with a Roundtable lord. He didn't know anything of Leicester politics. "Send him in."

A minute later and a black clad Alister von Edmund stood in the room on the opposite side of the table from Felix. He wore no finery, instead traveling garb.

"I'm afraid Leonie is at another meeting, Margrave," Felix said politely.

He cocked his head to the side. "Pardon, are you deferring to a commoner?" His tone wasn't angry or stuffy like a typical noble. Alister seemed genuinely confused.

"Claude has put her in charge of the defenses of Derdriu," Felix answered. He paused. "That is why you're here, is it not?"

Alister shook his head. "Forgive me, I've had a situation on my hands that has taken my attention away from external affairs. All of the Edmund resources are at your disposal to use to defend Derdriu. It's not much, but I have a battalion of knights in the city. They should be of some use."

"Thank you," Felix said, a note of optimism in his voice. That certainly wasn't expected. They'd take what they could get. "Then what brings you here?"

"I was just hoping to find where my daughter is," Alister said with a smile. "Marianne. Do you know her?"

He hadn't seen Marianne in five years. "Last I heard, she's at the front. They might still be regrouping at Myrddin or have pushed further. Apologies, that's the best I have."

"Excellent," he said, looking relieved. "That's more than enough to go off of."

"Do you need something from her?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Does a father need a reason to be concerned for his daughter when she's gone off to war?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Just a bit of parental worry. I haven't seen her in a while and I got word she might be fighting."

Well, pardon Felix for not having the best example of fatherly concern. "Fair enough. Would you like to wait for Leonie before heading out? I'm sure we could supply provisions or something for the journey."

Alister waved a hand in dismissal. "You'll need everything for this battle. I won't detract from that, or take up any more time. Thank you, Lord Felix."

"Of course," he said. "Safe travels, Margrave."

"Goddess' blessing to you, Lord Felix."

Alister departed and Felix looked back down at the sheets of paper with lists of supplies on them. He groaned. War was much easier on the front lines.

Rodrigue had never understood that about him. For when he did care to pay attention to his own son, it was to tell him to spend more time in the war room instead of a war itself.

"Be a general, not a fighter," he implored.

Fuck that, Felix had decided. Some people were made for planning, others made for fighting. Sure, he couldn't balance a dozen different supply lines and their contents like Sylvain could. But he sure as hell could kill a dozen men while backed into a corner.

Well, Sylvain could probably do that too. He had a habit of being good at everything, Felix thought fondly.

He should return soon, he mused. They'd gotten word of Galatea falling and coming back under loyalist control. Felix should be at his husband's side fighting that war.

But Leonie needed his help. Damn Sylvain for making him soft.

Balthus hadn't said anything since they'd left. The two of them had gotten in the carriage that waited for them without a word.

Normally Leonie would be loath to indulge in such extravagance. Her feet worked, did they not? But with the Gloucester force pressing down upon them, she didn't have the luxury of walking throughout the city on her way back to Riegan Manor—something a small-town girl such as herself still took joy in even this many years later.

About halfway through their ride back, Leonie plucked up the courage to finally say something. "I'm sorry."

Confusion was what drew Balthus from his stupor. "For what?"

"For bringing you there," she said. "You didn't tell me the whole story, I didn't know how things really were between you two."

"Yeah, sorry for not getting that much into the thick and thin of it," Balthus mumbled.

Leonie shook her head. "I'm not blaming you. I'm just sorry my ignorance brought you there. I should have taken a cue from how you were acting."

He sighed and leaned forward, looking out the window as the city passed by. "Thanks. I should have told you, though. It's like you said, you're trying to fight a war."

"If I couldn't sympathize, I might agree with that," she said. "But I know something of what you feel."

"Really?" he said, surprised and, perhaps, a little doubtful.

"Did Byleth ever tell you about her father?" Leonie asked.

Balthus shook his head. "I mean, I know he's dead. But that's it. Hapi was always the one she told things."

Leonie nodded, unsurprised. "Jeralt was as close to a father as I ever had. I'm an orphan," she explained when seeing his confusion. "Never told him how much his support meant to me. I think, in my better moments, that he knew, but I still would have liked to tell him."

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Balthus said. His words rang with honesty, probably the truest words he'd said to her.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Time doesn't make it better."

"If I can be bold," Balthus said, "I bet he'd be proud of you."

"Maybe," she deflected.

Balthus wouldn't have it. "I mean, look at you. An orphan commoner rising to the Duke's right hand? That doesn't happen—hell, I'd be surprised if it ever has in the history of the Alliance."

"Lorenz is his right hand," Leonie chuckled.

Balthus didn't laugh. "Then his left. You're dodging a compliment, Leonie."

She was, wasn't she? "Thank you," Leonie said instead of following her instinct to refuse it. "Just hard to accept sometime, when I'm like how I am."

"You mean what happened in our fight?" he asked, timid. Odd to see such a boisterous man take such a gentle tone. He was full of surprises.

"Yeah," she said, and left it at that.

The silence from earlier returned, though it didn't feel as oppressive. Leonie was content to let it remain.

Balthus broke it several minutes later with a quiet question. "You think Trevor was right?"

"About what?"

"All of it. About me."

Leonie shut her eyes and breathed out. "I don't know. But you don't strike me as someone who is happy with the way things are. Sounds like you want to change."

"Is that enough?"

"It's the first step," Leonie answered. "I don't really know much about all this myself. But from everything I've seen, you can't change without regret."

"Thank you," he said, quietly.

She nodded, and that silence returned.

"You know this is tactically absurd, right?" Shamir asked from across the war room's table. "You do this, it'll damn us to defeat."

Leonie shuddered. "And if we don't, we'll condemn the people of Derdriu to destruction and death."

"I'm not saying I don't agree, I'm just making sure you understand," Shamir said, looking equally pained.

Engaging the Gloucester army in the city would result in high civilian casualties. Fighting them outside would save innocents at the cost of soldiers and potentially lose them the conflict.

Without Albrecht support, Leonie had little to no confidence in their victory. The refugee army was passionate, but untested. There were no veterans among them.

"Byleth once told us in class that if you have a castle, you should never leave it," Leonie reminisced. "She phrased it a bit more colorfully, but that was the essence."

"But?" Shamir prompted.

"But she also said that a soldier should protect the innocent, that the people we protect are the priority." Leonie sighed. "If I must pick between two of her lessons, then I know which I'll decide."

"If it helps, I'd choose the same in your shoes," Shamir admitted. "So would Ferdinand. So would Claude."

Leonie shook her head. "But they're commanders. Leaders. I'm just who was left to try and hold things together. I can't even fight."

Shamir frowned at her. "Don't pity yourself, it's unbecoming. We don't need more fighters, we need people who think. People who mediate. People who look out for those less fortunate than themselves."

"I'm not exactly proving successful at those like Claude or Lorenz are."

The Dagdan shook her head. "Don't define yourself by the nobles who have trained their entire life for these things. Don't define yourself by anything other people think." Her expression softened. "Be proud of what you have accomplished."

"I just wish I could do more," Leonie said.

"You and me both, kid," Shamir murmured. "I used to tell myself the same."

"In the Knights?"

"Before, in Dagda," Shamir said. "I was the daughter of a prominent warlord. Nothing like a Fódlan noble, but a respected figure. I did my fair share of leading. Got a lot of people killed because I wasn't ready."

Leonie said nothing, listening.

"Eventually, I got my partner killed in a bad skirmish. That one shook something in me. I struggled with some of what you deal with now." Shamir took a breath. "Focused on the bad stuff for a long time."

"And now?" Leonie asked.

"I didn't see it differently until I met Catherine." A soft smile graced her lips at the memory. "She was always quick to point out the good we did, even in our failures. And we fucked up a lot at first. Guess it made me think that if you focus on the bad, it's always gonna be bad."

"I understand," Leonie said, "but what good have I actually done? It feels like there's not much to speak of."

Shamir smothered a laugh. "You're serious?" When Leonie didn't budge, Shamir threw her hands up in a rare show of theatrics. "You saved the leader of the Alliance from an assassin, and probably mine and Ferdinand's lives as well. And from what I hear, the entire time this war has gone on you've advocated for taking in refugees. Those people, dozens, hundred, thousands, are safe from the war because you spoke up for them."

"I…"

"You want to tell me you haven't done good?" Shamir growled. "Walk through one of the refugee camps and tell me they don't recognize you, that they don't shower you with thanks. We both know how they treat you. Should I go on about how you go and help them with everything from manual labor to playing with the children?"

"You've made your point," Leonie said, embarrassed.

"Good," Shamir said, satisfied. "All of you Deer are good people, but if you ask me, I think you're one of the better ones. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to you talk shit about yourself."

"Thank you," Leonie said. It was all she could think of. Then, "You know, I don't think I've seen you get this passionate about anyone before."

Shamir muttered what could only be a curse in Dagdan. "Yeah, well, you people are rubbing off on me."

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Leonie chuckled.

Shamir grumbled to herself and Leonie couldn't fight her smile. Catherine was a lucky woman, if those two could set aside whatever happened between them. Neither of them were the people they were five years ago.

"We'll get through this," Leonie said, fixing Shamir with a look. "We need to get you back to Catherine, after all."

Shamir made to say something before deciding against it. Instead, she just nodded with a ghost of a smile. "Yeah."

Author Notes: We enjoying the Leonie show? I already liked writing her a lot, but this chapter was more fun than I expected.

Editing Notes:
8/24/2021: Minor grammatical adjustments.
2/13/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.