Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem Three Houses.
A/N: Well, it's been...quite the year. Everything aside, over the holidays, I finally broke my copy of Three Houses out of its shrink wrap. This plot bunny was born. An m!Edeleth fic, one of dozens! Dozens!
A Fork in the Road
A sharp crack echoed through the halls of Garreg Mach, sending scattering the birds and vermin that now called the monastery home after it had been abandoned following the vicious Imperial assault five years previously. Loose masonry, having gone unrepaired after Adrestian siege machines had battered the walls down, tumbled to the ground as the precarious balance that kept them in place was so suddenly disrupted.
Up high in the Goddess Tower, the ex-mercenary ex-professor Byleth Eisner was still reeling from the sudden blow. His vision swam, stars swirled before his eyes, and the metallic taste of blood settled on his tongue. Truth be told, while the slap wasn't his first guess, it was definitely within his top five most likely scenarios as he ascended the steps and saw the petite figure that stood there leaning against the balcony. No, the shock was less the surprise of the hit and more the sheer amount of force behind it. As he tilted his head down to look into enraged lilac eyes, Byleth found himself once again wondering how such a tiny woman could pack so much power into her blows.
Edelgard von Hresvelg, former House Leader of the Black Eagles and current Emperor of Adrestia, had never been a very expressive person. The slap aside, and Byleth gingerly raised a hand to his cheek to poke at the angry red handprint he was sure was starting to develop, her face remained the same impassive mask the green-haired man had grown so familiar with back at the Academy. He looked elsewhere to gauge the petite royal's mood: the look in her eyes, the subtle shaking of her shoulders, the forceful exhalation through lips pressed into a thin line.
A silent moment passed as he took in just how much his…truth be told, he had no clue what the two of them were anymore, his unwilling five-year slumber having precluded any further discussion…had changed. Her face was thinner, her posture straighter, and the emotions swirling within her eyes reminded him of the veteran mercenaries in his father's old company.
The small hand that had packed so much strength behind it hesitantly lowered as its owner realized what she had just done. Eyes imperceptibly widened as she closed the remaining distance between the two and raised a hand to the man's rapidly-reddening cheek.
"My teacher, I-"
"It's okay," he closed his hand around hers, "I…probably deserved that."
If Sothis still spoke to him, she probably would have yelled at Byleth for saying exactly the wrong thing at the worst possible time. As it stood, the ex mercenary berated himself as he saw Edelgard's expression harden once more as she wrenched her hand from his grasp. He relaxed as the tension melted away from the woman's body moments later, her posture slumping as she crossed her arms in front of her stomach.
"Do…do you remember what you said the night before we attacked Garreg Mach?" she whispered, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable in a way she vowed to never be again, "Did you mean any of it?"
To her, it had been five years ago. To him, it had been less than a day. The answer formed at the tip of his tongue—Every word—and died just as quickly. He'd promised to stay by her side, and the sun hadn't even risen and set before he'd broken that promise.
"Why am I so weak when it comes to you?" Edelgard snarled, more to herself than to Byleth.
A suffocating quiet filled the air of the carriage during the trip back to Enbarr. Edelgard had traveled surprisingly lightly for the Emperor of an empire currently at war. A small handful of Imperial Guardsmen, few enough that any respectable Guard captain would have thrown a fit and ordered the complement multiplied, and a young woman who merely identified herself as "Fleche." For reasons Byleth did not completely understand, she didn't seem to like him very much. She never crossed the line into outright rudeness, but she regarded him with the strained politeness of somebody who barely tolerated him. Edelgard remained close-lipped as to just why.
The mystery only deepened as they crossed the great iron gates into the Imperial Palace itself, the well-drilled staff already in position to unhitch the horses and disembark the passengers as the carriage pulled up to the stables. Byleth turned around and offered his hand, and he would be lying if he said how Edelgard simply ignored the offer didn't sting just a little. Two figures, just familiar enough to identify, awaited them. Their expressions rapidly morphed from relief as they looked upon their Emperor to cold fury as they saw the man accompanying her.
The rapid tramp tramp tramp of approaching footsteps caused Byleth to instinctively tense up as the pair stomped towards them.
"Edie!" Dorothea exclaimed, "You can't possibly be thinking of…not after he…"
Whatever Dorothea's objection to him was, it was drowned out as one Ferdinand von Aegir grabbed Byleth by the collar and forced the man to look him in the eye.
"You have some nerve showing your face here," the Prime Minister hissed, "After five years! The nobles tore Her Majesty to shreds because of you, and you think you can just come back like nothing's happened?"
"Both of you!" Edelgard shouted, effortlessly shifting into Emperor mode, "That's enough! Professor Eisner has pledged to support the war effort, and that's all that concerns the two of you. Any other matters will strictly stay between the two of us. Am I clear?"
Dorothea shot Byleth a venomous look before stepping aside. Ferdinand gave him a small shove as he released his grip, sending the ex mercenary stumbling back a few steps.
The reception from the remaining Black Eagles, though not as openly hostile, proved just as chilly. He suspected more would have given him the same earful the first two had if it weren't for Edelgard accompanying him while radiating an aura of sheer not wanting to deal with it right now. Caspar had abruptly turned away upon spotting Byleth, rapid-marching back the way he came with a tch of disapproval. Petra regarded him with a cold expression as he passed, her head rotating to keep her gaze on him until he turned the corner. Linhardt stirred from one of his impromptu naps long enough to crinkle his nose at him in disgust. Even Bernadetta met him with the same type of expression one would normally reserve for a particularly unpleasant variety of insect, and the skittish young woman somehow managed to not turn around and run off when Byleth turned his head to get a better look at her.
Hubert was nowhere to be found, but the hairs on the back of Byleth's neck stood up as he passed a particular poorly-lit alcove.
So absorbed was Byleth in figuring out the mystery of the hostile reception that he hadn't noticed as Edelgard led him through the winding hallways of Enbarr's Imperial Palace. They passed the working areas and into the Imperial family's personal wing, and he nearly crashed into Edelgard as she abruptly stopped before a door that proved identical to the last dozen they had passed.
"What's going on?" Byleth hesitantly ventured, "El-"
"Don't," she whirled around to face him, finger millimeters from his nose, "You don't get to call me that. Not anymore…"
A pregnant pause passed between the two before the red-clad woman slowly lowered her hand, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath as though she were bracing herself for something.
"I will say it now, and I will say it once," Edelgard reopened her eyes and shifted into Emperor mode once more, "I have bought you to Enbarr to help with the war. I neither need nor wantanything further from you, and I am only allowing you here because I believe you deserve to know."
Byleth had no time to process her words before she opened the door, noiselessly slipped inside, and slammed the door closed. There was the sound of something rustling inside, the sound of something being put away, followed by a muffled 'You can come in now.'
The ex mercenary pushed the door open and quietly closed it behind him, his eyes sweeping the room with the ease of long practice. It was…a fairly nondescript room, all things considered. A few candles provided lighting, a bed and dresser against one wall, and a well-stocked bookshelf against another. He turned to face Edelgard, standing in the middle of the room with an uncertain expression on her face as he noticed something behind her shift almost imperceptibly.
She seemed to take a deep breath as one of her hands disappeared behind her back as if to coax something out. His heart stopped as a head poked itself from behind Edelgard's skirts, followed by a pair of hands that tightly clutched the fabric. The teal hair and the shape of the face left no question as to the child's parentage.
"I…" Byleth's throat closed, his mouth suddenly dry as a desert, "I…"
He struggled with what to say. There probably wasn't anything he could say. He remembered Ferdinand's words with sudden terrible clarity. He felt faint, willing himself to stay standing as he swallowed the onrushing nausea.
"His...his name's Jeralt, and…there's…one more thing you should know…" Edelgard's expression morphed several times over the next few seconds, from nervousness to impassiveness to a faint smile as she directed her gaze downwards and gave her son a fond pat on the head, "Go on. Just like I showed you the other day."
A small hand released its death grip on the crimson fabric, palm faced upwards. As the Crest of Flames appeared in the air, Byleth suddenly saw the floor rushing towards him. It took him a fraction of a second to realize the floor wasn't moving towards him, but he was falling towards it. Another fraction of a second later, and his world went black.
A/N: And that's a wrap! While I do have some idea where this would go (50% angst, 30% drama, and 20% tooth-rotting fluff, all culminating in a happy ending), I can write approximately zero of those categories. This one-shot was born of a comment about how it'd be hilariously ironic if Edelgard and Byleth accidentally reintroduce the Crest of Flames into the human gene pool. But I am apparently incapable of writing anything happy, so this was born.
Oh yeah, and the suggested listening:
Bad Boy - Cascada
