AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is basically a thing because I enjoy angsty trauma fics with a good dose of healing sprinked in between. The very basic premise is Ingrid joining the Black Eagles midway through the war, and it goes from there. Loosely follows Crimson Flower with a few elements of Scarlet Blaze and possibly other Three Hopes references.
Happy Reading!

CHAPTER 001: IN DEFIANCE OF DEATH

They had said the Silver Maiden yielded to no one; that her defenses were unbreachable and unbreakable… and perhaps they were, once upon a time. The Imperial War Machine was an unstoppable force coming against an immovable object… but in the end, the object had moved and the force charged on.

Three years deep into Emperor Edelgard's mad war, and here Ingrid sat amidst the skies as she watched the Imperial forces throw themselves at the defenses using various methods. The garrison sent to protect the city had seemed sufficient, and indeed the defenses were holding, and yet the legions of Adrestian armies were like an endless river of red, never ceasing, never relenting. Was this how they treated the lives of their countrymen? As numbers and pawns to throw at a rock until something stuck?

Three years. It had only been three years since that fateful day when the new professor had sided with Edelgard's mad scheme to do goddess-knows-what. The mercenary-turned-professor had opted to teach the Black Eagle House and was not privy to what exactly they had schemed that day. At this point, nor did she care. So long as she stood, she would not allow these invaders to taint the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and she was determined to drive them back.

She did not see the fateful arrow that struck her chest and marked the beginning of the end. It staggered her, and she didn't even notice who the archer had been when another came from the same direction and struck her a second time. Still staggered from the initial blow, the second one hit her and knocked her right out of the sky and onto a pile of corpses, adding her own to the number. With their primary general gone, the remaining defenders saw a horrific plunge in morale and a swift surrender.

Ingrid's life flashed before her eyes as she fell for what seemed like an eternity, watching hopelessly as her frightened steed bolted for the skies. Good. At least one of them could survive this hopeless ordeal. She thought about her friends, her family and her loved ones; of King Dimitri and how he would lament her loss; how he would regret letting her stay behind to cover his escape. He would lament how he had to watch yet another friend die; that it should have been him and not her.

But it was not King Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd who died this day; it was Ingrid Brandl Galatea whose noble sacrifice allowed the King and his vassal to live another day; to lead Faerghus to victory in spite of this defeat. A fallen general was always a tragedy and a blow to a nation's morale, but the war was far from over. This was what Ingrid told herself as she fell, in the most literal war possible, to her death. She struck the pile of corpses with a sickening crunch, her magic lance Lúin still clenched in her right hand. The red and black skies loomed over her, but gradually the black took over, and her life faded from her eyes. Ingrid's story ended here.

Or so she thought.

She found herself enshrouded in darkness as a dim reddish light on either side of her helped illuminate this place. Where was she? And why couldn't she move without excruciating pain and formidable dizziness clouding her actions? She was seated, almost at a slight recline, and for the moment she was short on breath. The musty atmosphere of wherever she was was certainly not helping. Was this where the people who had committed crimes against the goddess went when they died? Had she been that terrible of a person in life? The teachings of the Church of Seiros had never been a high priority for Ingrid, but she held no ill will against them as far as she was aware. Still, she had made her stand defying the Adrestians and now apparently she had defied death.

"You may not want to move much," a sinister voice drawled from the shadows and snapped Ingrid back to reality, "you took quite the fall and you're still rather injured."

"Who are you?" Ingrid hacked, "where am I?" She could feel blood and taste it too. She curled her toes and shifted her feet, hearing the light grazing noise of metal against the stone floor. So she had not been divested of her armor, but then why couldn't she move? Why wouldn't she stand? Was she that fatigued from…?

"You're in the cellar of the central stronghold, still in Arianrhod," the sinister voice snapped her back to reality, and suddenly the memories surged back to her as to what had happened. She had died—or thought she had, but somehow here she was alive and a prisoner. She mustered every ounce of her willpower to try and get to her feet, but cried out in agony when she attempted to lift her back from the slightly reclined chair, slumping backwards again in defeat, her breathing still sharp and labored as well.

"Again," the sound of footsteps gave a weight to their owner as the vague silhouette of a pallid face appeared in view, albeit still heavily shadowed, "I wouldn't recommend too much movement yet. I won't stop you, of course, but the chirurgeons are fairly certain you broke your back in that fall. It was a rather nasty spectacle, all things considered."

"Hubert…?" Ingrid remembered the tall sinister young man from the academy three years prior, "come on now, we're, AH!" she winced from the pain, "we're both adults here. We can put the charades behind us."

"Good," indeed it was Hubert, who flicked his hand and with a few small flames lit a couple of other torches on the walls, better illuminating his form. "Now that that's settled I will cut right to the chase. As far as everyone else in Fódlan knows… you are dead."

"And I'll sooner die than throw everything I fought for in the last 21 years away. We fought, you won, I lost. Just take my life and be done with it. What are you going to do? I hardly imagine the Adrestian War Machine is going to ignore Galatea territory if it gets that far."

"There are a lot of things we could do," Hubert stroked his chin, "but my dear Lady Galatea, you must understand that while the Empire is many things—not all of which are entirely ethical all the time—this arm of Adrestia is not wasteful. We know talent when we see it, and while we clashed on opposite sides of the battlefield for three years on and off, I would be a fool to suggest that you were anything but one of the best and brightest."

"You really don't need to stroke my ego," Ingrid spat, feeling the taste of blood on her mouth again, "you shot me out of the sky and I landed on a pile of corpses. I'm sure there's something poetic there, but with my back the way it is, I really don't want to think about it. Just kill me."

"Why do you wish to die?" Hubert's tone shifted just enough that Ingrid smirked in the darkness; a dry amusement at a slightly turned table.

"Because I'm in agonizing pain right now, you defeated my men, you captured your objective, my King has fled to safety to fight another day, and I succeeded in keeping him safe." Ingrid grunted, now almost wishing that the Adrestians had stripped her armor off. There must have been some potent healing magic put into her to keep her from losing all of her vitality. "I accomplished what I set out to do, and my purpose has been fulfilled. You wouldn't get much of a ransom out of me because Galatea's struggling enough as it is to make financial ends meet, King Dimitri knows that I wouldn't want him to divest his resources coming after me when he can be shoring up defenses, and I'm sure if you found me then you've probably got Lúin in your hands already, so you're not going to even have to interrogate me to find your Hero's Relic. What could you possibly want with me at this point?"

"Come now, dear Ingrid," Hubert smirked, stepping into the shadows again for a moment, "I thought we said we were dropping the pretense here. You know what I want—or rather, what Lady Edelgard wants.

"And I've already said," Ingrid didn't even skip a beat, "over my dead body. You should have thought of that three years ago when I was at the academy and more impressionable."

"And do you not believe in the phrase 'better late than never'? There is nobility in serving a greater cause than your own; in serving king and country. Far be it from me to talk, what with all the remarks I used to get back at the academy of me "kissing Lady Edelgard's boots" or the like. Far be it from me to participate in such asinine schoolyard foolery, but the point remains. King Dimitri is an honorable man. Somewhat misguided, but his heart is in the right place. Unfortunately, in this age of sweeping reform, that simply won't do."

"And why's that? What makes your ideals the right ones beyond the fact that you're winning?"

"Winning? Ha, would that this victory could secure the war, but true to your claim, your little gambit here did indeed allow the King a safe retreat, back into the arms of the Church, where they doubtless plan their next move against us."

"And you have the gall to suggest that I take up arms against the selfsame king that I just gave my life to defend? Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"In truth, Lady Galatea, the King is not the problem." Hubert stepped back into the light, revealing a familiar lance in his hand. "It is the Church—the party propagating and perpetuating this vicious cycle that one's value as a human being is tied directly to the existence of a Crest, or a lack thereof."

"Sure, it's a Hero's Relic, and your sorry crestless ass isn't gonna be able to use it, as much as that might bruise your ego."

"I've had an interest in the art of the lance for a while now, actually." Hubert seemed so utterly undeterred by Ingrid's petty words that she actually gritted her teeth in frustration. "That being said, I shouldn't even be holding onto it for very long. In any case, I'm not here to try and take it from you anyways. I was here to offer it back to you."

"You'd give me a weapon when we're alone in a room together?" Ingrid's labored breathing made her statement not hold as much force as she would have liked.

"Why not?" Hubert brandished a ball of dark magic on his free hand, curling his gloved fingers and watching the red and purple shadows swirl, even in the dim light of the cellar. "As you've noticed and as I've said, we're fairly certain your back is broken and you would therefore be fighting at a severe disadvantage. There's no honor in killing you this way, but I will of course defend myself if I am attacked. That said, surely you had to wonder why we did not bind you if we were trying to take you prisoner."

"Even if you don't take me prisoner…" Ingrid stammered, fighting off dizziness from the searing pain in her back, "betraying my King, my country, my family, my people… how in the hell do you think that would feel if it were you?"

"So you don't believe me to be the heartless monster everyone says I am?" Hubert chuckled, I like you more and more with each passing minute, Lady Galatea."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, snake." Ingrid pointed a gauntleted hand at Hubert's nose, "I asked you a question."

"Ingrid my dear, if you are coming to me of all people for moral advice you are better off looking almost literally anywhere else." Hubert laughed, "that being said, I will be honest with you, as I have been since we started speaking. I lack the conviction to betray Lady Edelgard, so that might very well make you stronger than I. Rather than betraying Faerghus, however, consider it more of liberating Faerghus from the grip of the Church of Seiros. The selfsame Church that dictated a person's value based on their Crest. That selfsame teaching that forced your dear friend Sylvain to have to take up arms against his elder brother, who was thrown out of his own house due to an element of his birth beyond his control. This is the selfsame Crest system that caused your dead friend Mercedes to nearly get caught up in a rather repulsive relationship with her own adoptive father all in the name of bearing "crest children". This is the selfsame society that put the entire burden of House Galatea on a young woman who was forced to give up her own dreams and autonomy all in the chance that she might bear a Crested offspring to continue the family's bid for power."

"It's…" Ingrid was screaming at herself for stammering, especially since her surprise was more at how Hubert had known about Sylvain and Mercedes more than how he had read up on her family's situation, which after Glen's death had been much more well known. "It's more nuanced than that, and you know it!"

"Well of course, and I would be remiss to suggest otherwise, dear Lady Galatea," Hubert put a hand to his chest again, "but you are not here to listen to the smooth and melodious sound of my sinister voice, and so I don't imagine you want me narrating your own life story to you."

"Yeah," Ingrid's fists slowly clenched, "you'd be wise not to do that."

"I apologize for my misstep." Hubert's smug expression grated at Ingrid enough that she shifted her hips slightly in her chair, but even that slight shift caused her to wince in pain from her back, which only seemed to stop hurting when she was completely still. "Now, we are of course, willing to offer you incentives if you were to pledge your lance to our cause. We won't try and bribe you with power or land; but if anyone can improve the Galatea's lot in life, it's you, even if you're helping reform the continent in the process. Your life, the lives of your friends and loved ones, no longer bound by an antiquated and harmful old social structure that places burdens on those who have, and casts out those who have not. Your dreams of knighthood would be in reach; your choice of marriage would be yours to finally make as—or if—you see fit."

"And how would I be treated in the meantime?" Ingrid gritted her teeth and tasted more blood. Her tongue and her jaw shifted as she briefly tried to find where the source was, but to no avail. "Am I just the next pawn to be thrown at your enemies—at my former allies?"

"While obviously we couldn't suggest that a woman of your talents ought to languish in her chambers, you have the skills of a general, and would be afforded the same benefits as any others in our army with that rank." Hubert explained, "You recall Petra Macneary, yes? While the old leadership of Adrestia took her as a political hostage, she is treated as an equal and as a valued member of our strike force. Your situation, should you accept our generous offer, would be absolutely no different."

"Why am I even entertaining this?" Ingrid spat again, the crease on her brow betraying her anger almost more than her sharp tone did.

"That is not a question I am able to answer, Lady Galatea, for despite my myriad magical abilities, reading the minds of others is not one of them." Hubert remained calm and almost smug, but more than being frustrating, it felt almost violating, like he was seeing under her armor, naked, bruised, and exposed, and reveling in his vantage point.

"What's got you so smug anyways?" she demanded, "what do you stand to gain from this?"

"A valuable ally of course!" Hubert's directness without even skipping a beat once again caught Ingrid off-guard. "You're right to question me. Question everything; a modicum of moderated faith is not a dangerous thing, but blind faith in higher powers that may not have your best interests in mind is detrimental. Now, obviously this being a war, things are not as convenient as in peacetime, but I assure you, as an ally, your interests would be considered within reason, not unlike how we considered the interests of Brigid even after their failed invasion. A wonderful thing it is… that sense of order, is it not?"

Despite believing that Hubert's answer was actually honest, she was fairly certain his smugness also came from the fact that he was peeling Ingrid's armor off in a metaphorical sense and that he knew it. Frankly at this point she would have rather he peeled her armor off physically instead. Hubert was not a lecherous man and he struck Ingrid as exactly the type of person who would have kept the exact same composure even if the Adrestians had stripped her naked and left her here.

And for how well he was getting under her skin, she might as well have been naked.

"Let me speak with the Emperor." She demanded.

"My lady, surely you know by now that my words are no different than the words of Her Majesty, who despite the trust she has put in me, is still far busier than I am—"

"I said!" Ingrid's hand grabbed the front of Hubert's coat so swiftly that his grip on her lance actually loosened and for a brief second his narrow eyes widened. "Let. Me. Speak. To. The Emperor. Savvy?"

To her slight ire, Hubert grinned as he gently loosened Ingrid's grip and stepped back.

"As you wish, Lady Galatea." he bowed, and while he would doubtless deny it, she was pretty sure he was mocking her. "She will say as I have told you, but if the peace of mind that comes from hearing the words from her lips is what you need, then we will be honored to oblige."

He disappeared into the shadows and a few moments later there were footsteps again, accompanied by the footsteps of someone in armor. Edelgard, Ingrid hoped, but they did not step into the light and she was not certain. The pain in her back was getting to her though and she either wanted a swift death or a release from the agony. She was not about to show them that weakness though—especially not Hubert. If only she was able to reach her lance, but if she got up to try and pick it up, she knew full well she would not be able to stand back up again.

"You did tell her that your words are essentially from my lips, did you not?" That voice had to be Edelgard's, talking in a low whisper, but clearly calculated to deliberately be in earshot.

They were playing with her. They tied her hands to little strings as they danced her around like a marionette and the very idea was infuriating. Ingrid felt violated, as if something or someone had just invaded her mind and torn the place apart.

"I told her that verbatim, Your Majesty. She was… rather insistent that you speak to her."

"Very well. Thank you, Hubert. I will see her now."

And indeed Edelgard von Hresvelg stepped into the dim lights. A small, unimposing woman outside of her armor, the red and gold regalia she wore now coupled with her upright posture and commanding presence made her size not an issue. She leaned down and picked up Ingrid's lance, before looking towards her with a calm expression.

"You may have overheard us," she gestured, although Hubert was nowhere to be seen, "but what Hubert told you was true in every word. His words are my words, but if you wish to hear it from my mouth, then so be it. Ask me what you will."

"It can't be this easy… it's not this easy." Ingrid's teeth clenched again.

"To turn against King and Country is never easy, and in an ideal world you would never need to do such," Edelgard sighed, "but the Church of Seiros must be stopped, and if the Kingdom wishes to harbor them instead of letting them atone for their crimes, then they too must be brought to justice. Your dreams of becoming a knight and protecting those who cannot protect themselves is genuinely noble, Ingrid… but in a society where those who should be protecting others only protect themselves and cast the rest under their feet as chaff, how can we protect them? Do they not deserve to live as much as the rest of us?"

To Ingrid's surprise, she stretched her hand out, offering Ingrid her lance.

"Take it. If you are still insistent to be against me, then I will allow you the right to die on your feet, but I cannot allow you to stand in my way. If you would be my ally, however, then know you will be treated as an equal. I will be sure of it."

"An easy challenge to make when you know I'm such a far cry from my full strength," Ingrid grunted, shifting to try and ease some of the pain which was also prevalent down at her hips and on her left side. "I should have died. I shouldn't have survived the fall."

Edelgard said nothing, her lavender eyes fixated on Ingrid's green ones, as if wordlessly waiting for her to make a decision.

"Emperor," Ingrid reasoned, "you have to realize that I'm in no condition to be of any use to you. You have to know that your resources and energy are better spent elsewhere."

"Whether or not I do is not your concern," Edelgard insisted, "what matters is that I am making you an offer, and that I see you as a valuable ally and an incredibly smart and talented woman. I do not want to waste that."

There was a long pause, where seconds, minutes, hours, and even days all seemed to fly by without any sort of end in sight. Edelgard would have her answer, and no amount of stalling would save Ingrid from either accepting or declining the offer.

"I…" Ingrid took a deep breath, wincing. Her gauntleted hand clenched tightly around Lúin as if dropping it would mark the end of her life. "I will do it. I will fight at your side, Emperor. I… I pledge to protect you as a knight protects her liege. Unfortunately… I am in no condition to be of any use at the moment, if you catch my meaning."

"I will hold you to that word, Ingrid Brandl Galatea," Edelgard warned, and yet despite the sternness of her warning there was a sense of calm assurance. It wasn't enough to make Ingrid believe she was doing the right thing just yet, and yet here she was, having to make that decision on her own, in a world that thought her to be dead. Perhaps she was, in a way, with her old life ending and her new one beginning.

"Hubert!" Edegard beckoned, "get the healers in here, stat! Take her to the infirmary and let's get her back into working shape and good health!"

She turned to Ingrid. "Thank you," she said in a much gentler tone, "I will not ask your reasons or demand anything outside of reason from you… and I hope in due time you can find it in our heart to trust me, and to know that I care about you. I do not expect blind trust nor would I want it; I earn my keep as much as anyone here."

"We'll see…" Ingrid groaned again as she felt herself being delicately lifted. "If I survive this ordeal, maybe things will be different. I've already defied death once…" she trailed off. Whether it was from the pain or something in the drink they gave her, she felt herself slipping from consciousness again; her mind's attempts to weigh the quandary in front of her crushed by the pain and the dizzy sensation that had been gnawing at her for what had definitely been hours, all of which finally overwhelmed her. Once again, Ingrid's world went black.