Another brief aside before this chapter: With Annette, Bernadetta and Lysithea coming to Fire Emblem Heroes at the same time, I happened to remember a side-story starring the three of them that I had imagined up but never got the opportunity to throw into the Academy portion of this story.
If that's something you'd be interested in reading let me know! I could probably make a decent spin-off/unconnected extra Three Houses fic if there's an audience for it.
Edelgard watches from afar as her battalion of Wyvern Knights is chipped away by the Ruined Sky, using her full-body length shield like a visor from the flashes of lightning while propping herself up with the spiked tip of her axe.
"You'd best make it out of this fight intact Ladislava," she mumbles into the high collar of the Flame Emperor's armor.
Randolf and the Death Knight had already retreated with substantial injuries, the latter in particular scarred by the might of Byleth's blade yet seemingly giddy at the opportunity he'd gotten to see its power first-hand. Even after all these months, Edelgard was still unsure how to approach her bloodthirsty lackey.
With her commanders seemingly faltering left and right, the snowy-haired Empress knew that it would soon be time for her to properly join the fray — despite Hubert's insistence to the contrary.
What kind of leader would she be if she let her army perish while enjoying a spot of tea in Enbarr, or partaking in some other ridiculous pleasantry of her noble status?
"Milady," one of the two soldiers at her side suddenly remarks, pulling her away from her laser-focus on the skies above.
As she brings her gaze toward the ground again, the two lightly padded knights are moving to guard her front as a blond boy in black-and-blue stumbles down the path. His lance tip sparks against the cracked stone as it drags behind.
Edelgard smirks and closes her eyes, head tilting down to let her hair cascade over the black-and-red smock adorning the front of her pitch-dark suit of armor.
"I was wondering how long it would take for you to find me, Dimitri."
The boy stops and visibly shudders, as though the mere sound of her voice threatened to tear his body apart molecule by molecule. His head rolls across the back of his neck from left to right, and then he lifts his lance to hold it toward his foes.
"We are all tired of waiting," Dimitri calls back, voice breathy and strained. His grip on the lance tightens to the point that it looks on the brink of shattering. "Let's separate that sick head from your neck, shall we?"
With an unhinged grin and a few snickers through his nose, Dimitri begins to run at Edelgard.
Her soldiers race to meet with, and stop the Blue Lions' head before he can get too close, but Edelgard just stands back to watch. Part of her knew she should call off their counter-attack and save a few more lives but… They were going to throw their lives away for their Empress no matter what she commanded of them.
The girl's pale eyes suggest a shred of remorse as she watches Dimitri shatter the leftmost guard's helmet with a single swing before he follows through by twirling around the other guard's attack and meeting it with an eviscerating slice to his core.
She couldn't help but note the strange beauty in his loose form of fighting, the kind of pure, unadulterated skill that the Prince possessed when his mind was clear.
But that appreciation was brief, as soon Dimitri was headed her way again. Edelgard steels her gaze and holds her shield out while rearing back her axe to prepare a counter play for whatever attack he would deliver.
Dimitri goes for the straight-forward approach: He slams his lance into the left side of her shield to force it aside, but has to back away before she brings her own weapon down where he would have been.
"You never were one for patience," Edelgard says through gritted teeth.
She brings her weapon up from the ground while sliding forward, hoping to catch his leg with the sharp end of the axe's shaft.
The less hefty armor Dimitri wore made him more agile, so he easily dodges the thrust by lifting his right foot above it. Before Edelgard can pull away, he stomps down and sends it careening onto the ground. The actual axe blade has nothing to catch onto and slides onto its side, twisting Edelgard's arm in the process, and giving Dimitri the upper hand as he locks the weapon down with his boot.
"You're undeserving of my patience," he hisses while raising his lance with both arms — aimed directly at Edelgard's face.
Her purple eyes widen as she brings her immense shield up to block the jab.
At the same time as that strike resonates against the metallic protector, the Empress lets go of her axe so it falls to the floor. Dimitri stumbles when the loss of its upward angle trips up his footing, and Edelgard takes advantage of the moment by bashing him with her shield; the protruding bit above her grip hitting his sternum.
Dimitri falters a few paces back, coughing and holding his chest as he attempts to catch his breath.
She casually kneels to pick her weapon up off the floor.
"I wish you were someone whose heart could be swayed by my words and deeds," Edelgard says with a somber sigh as she straightens out again, shield and axe at the ready. "If it were so, I would have done anything to make you my ally…"
Dimitri's grip on his weapon grows more intense as he snarls, weezing slightly.
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you slaughtered my father in cold blood, you witch."
The girl has no response, and he offers her no opportunity to think one up.
Dimitri takes a few heavy steps forward again and brings his lance up over his head, and then slams it down like a hammer.
Edelgard raises her axe up to meet the attack, and grunts as the collision draws the crossed weapons dangerously close to her head. As the steel brushes against the crimson feather plumes lining her shoulders, she drops her shield to the floor so she can grasp the axe handle with both hands to push back against his lance.
"You hide in this blackened shroud," Dimitri says as the clashing weapons makes their arms shutter. "Because you're ashamed to wear the banister of your Black Eagles' lineage. Because you're afraid of tainting that which your so-called friends believe in."
The Empress' gaze dart across her opponent's face, but can't seem to escape the pull of his dead eyes.
"You know that your soul is the wellspring of despair, the very source of all Fódlan's suffering." The boy snarls as he pushes her arms down more.
"A bleak plague carved into your very being."
Edelgard yelps as she feels her arms starting to buckle under the sheer power of the Crest of Blaiddyd that flowed through his veins. She needed to turn the tide, and fast.
When he presses down toward her head again, she tries a last-ditch maneuver.
By letting go of her axe with her hand closest to the base, it immediately tilts askew from his pressure. The stick bounces harmlessly against her shoulder as his lance slides off in that direction and winds up careening into the floor. Webs of cracks in the stone weave out from the impact site, and Dimitri grimaces as it reverberates back into his body.
With a huff, Edelgard follows through by kneeing Dimitri in the face. Her armored strike immediately stuns the boy and makes him stumble back, some blood gushing from his nose.
Then Edelgard rears her axe to the side and swings it into him like a bat. As she does, her aggressive cry triggers the brief flash of a Crest in her eyes — the very same their mysterious Professor Byleth was believed to be the only possessor of.
The sharp edge cracks into Dimitri's armor and sends him flying with a breathless grunt. He lands hard and tumbles a good few feet away, his lance scattering even farther.
As he settles onto his back with arms spread, momentarily passed out, Edelgard turns to face him. She struggles to catch her breath through heavy pants, axe very loosely held at her side. Her free arm wipes some of the sweat from her forehead.
"I meant what I said," she mumbles through her strained breathing.
Her footsteps clang against the stone path as she slowly trudges toward him.
"I didn't want to make you my enemy, Dimitri."
She stands over his limp, collapsed form and tightens her grip on her axe so she can begin to raise it skyward.
"I see now that no amount of explanations or apologies will help you see past what you think you know about me." She squints. "At least I can put you out of your misery, old friend."
Before Edelgard can bring her weapon down, she's stunned by a sharp, feminine cry as pain shoots through her abdomen. Her raised arm quivers until she loses her grip on the axe and it falls harmlessly to the side.
Her gaze slowly pans over to find Marianne, holding back a well of tears in her eyes as she drives her lance deeper into the weak point in the Flame Emperor's armor.
Edelgard groans in pain as she pivots to face the blue-haired girl and grasps the forward end of the lance with both hands, stopping it from being pushed in more.
"Never would I have expected Marianne von Edmund to raise a weapon against me," she says hoarsely before coughing up a little blood. "Of all people…"
"I'm… Not as weak… As I look…" The cleric hisses back before she bites her lip to steel herself before trying to thrust the lance against.
This time Edelgard is prepared, and her strength far outmatches the other girl's.
"You're not as strong as you think you are, either."
Edelgard pushes back, slowly and excruciatingly drawing the sharp metal out of her side with a continuous groan and whimper.
"I… Didn't want to fight you either Marianne," she remarks through hard breaths.
Marianne licks her lips and shakes her head, arms straining against Edelgard.
She takes a deep breath. "Why not kill me too?"
Edelgard gasps out as the weapon frees itself from her skin, stained red. She leans in, letting her words come out slowly and methodically.
"Because your Crest may still be of use to me one day."
The other girl's eyes widen with shock, and Edelgard takes advantage of the opportunity to tug control of the lance away. She then thrusts it forward and hits Marianne in the stomach with the blunt base of the weapon.
Marianne cries out in pain, doubling over and letting tears spill down her cheeks, as even that relatively weak attack is too much for her unarmored body.
Before Edelgard can do anything more, Hubert appears in a flash of light beside his master and casts a blast of dark magic that sends Marianne flying.
The concussive force of the attack knocks her out, too.
Though Hubert looks worse off, robe cut up as he hobbles on his gashed leg, all of his attention is immediately focused on Edelgard's wound.
"Lady Edelgard, you've been hurt."
He puts both hands over the open hole in her abdomen and casts a basic healing spell. She grimaces at the sting, but lets him continue.
"You don't look much better Hubert."
Hubert shakes his head. "It's nothing. I'm just relieved I could come to your aid in time."
Edelgard laughs, though it's clearly shaken by the pain.
"We really must stop making this a habit… You rescuing me from certain doom."
"I will never not rescue you, Lady Edelgard."
He pulls his hands away and glances toward Marianne over his shoulder. The dark mage snarls and shakes his head.
"Come, we must get you out of here. You need proper medical attention."
Edelgard nods, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose.
"Right," she sighs. "Send in our reserve troops. And give my uncle the signal."
Hubert takes her arm, but before he can zap them both away Edelgard hastens one last look at Dimitri passed out on the floor. Then, they're gone in an instant.