Chapter Text
Five strikes.
Five strikes from a sword was all it took to bring her to her knees.
The thought stung at the fallen Emperor. A lifetime’s worth of training, of pushing beyond her limits to grow stronger, only for it all to be swept aside like nothing in an instant. She would have laughed at the situation, had she still the strength to do so. As things stood, however, it was all Edelgard could do to stay conscious, breaths coming in short pants while she clutched at the gaping wound in her side.
Her troops were still fighting outside, risking their lives for her cause, and here she was on the ground, reduced to a bleeding mess after putting up a pitiful excuse for a fight. It frustrated Edelgard to no end, knowing she would die without having achieved any meaningful reform for Fódlan.
The only thing that frustrated her more was the woman standing before her.
“I don’t want to hurt you any further, Edelgard.” Her former professor murmurs as she takes a step closer, the shattered remains of Aymr crunching under her boots. “We can still have a peaceful end to this war, if you surrender now.”
Lowering her sword, Byleth reaches a hand to her. There’s a soft, hopeful, smile on her face, and Edelgard feels her heart twist painfully at the sight. It was far more kindness than a bloodstained monster like she deserved.
She longed so badly to take her teacher’s hand, to stop fighting and finally lay her head down to rest. But she couldn’t. She had a responsibility to her people, her siblings, herself - she had promised a brighter future, and as long as she still drew breath she would not stop moving forward towards it - no matter the cost.
“I’m sorry, my teacher,” Edelgard whispers sadly, “But I cannot let you win.”
Summoning the last of her strength, Edelgard lunges at Byleth, activating both her crests and forcing their power into every last fiber of her body. The accursed magic burns through her veins like wildfire, and she bites back a scream as she feels her blood coalesce, forming thick, black tendrils which burst agonisingly from her flesh. They pierce easily through her armor, twisting and slithering across her limbs to take form as scales, claws, wings - it takes all the focus Edelgard has to push through the pain of the transformation and continue her assault, willing her broken body to stand up and fight .
Her teacher stumbles backwards, caught off-guard by the unexpected attack, and Edelgard seizes the opportunity to press her advantage, swiping at Byleth with her half-formed claws. Her newfound strength allows her to easily overpower her teacher, and within moments Edelgard has Byleth pinned, the Sword of the Creator clattering on the marble floor as Edelgard crushes both her wrists against the ground.
Panting hard, Edelgard raises her head to face her teacher for the final time, steeling herself for the bloody execution that was to come. She’s left speechless, however, when she finally meets her teacher’s eyes - instead of the look of hatred or disgust Edelgard had anticipated to find, Byleth simply looked... sad .
“Stop that! ” Edelgard yells, growling when Byleth raises her eyebrows, confused. Releasing Byleth’s wrists, she slams her fists down on either side of her head, sending sharp cracks across the marble. “Stop looking at me like you still care abou - AAAARGH!”
The fresh wave of pain that hits Edelgard is unlike any she’d experienced before, and it sends her careening to the ground, her every thought consumed by the fires burning through her. Her tendrils convulse wildly as she screams, feeling her body being torn apart again and again and again and again and agai -
A warm pulse.
The pain subsides as suddenly as it had appeared, and Edelgard nearly sobs in relief as she tries to curl into herself, searching for some measure of comfort. Her body doesn’t respond, however, and she realises with a growing sense of panic that something is wrong . Somehow, her surroundings have been dyed an unnatural shade of purple; and the sounds of the battle outside have all but died out. It leaves Edelgard feeling bewildered and apprehensive as she lays frozen on the ground, listening to the sharp click-clack of boots as her teacher approaches her.
This was it. She was going to die. Stuck as she was, there was no longer anything she could do to defend herself. Though she was not deserving of a merciful death by any means, she silently held on to the hope that Byleth would at least grant her one with a quick blow of her sword.
But it never comes.
Instead, a gentle hand settles atop her head, petting slowly across her hair. It’s more warmth and kindness than Edelgard has felt in years , and she feels her heart swell at the touch, a small, selfish part of her wishing that the moment would never end.
“I’m so sorry, Edelgard.” Her teacher says, voice tinged with regret, “Let me go back and make things right.”
Edelgard barely has a moment to consider her words before the world around them shifts, blurring into a vivid mixture of shapes and colours. She finds herself able to move again as well, and she gets up slowly, marvelling at the thousands of glowing threads that fade into existence around them.
What...was all this? Where were they?
Curious, she raises a claw, grasping carefully at a few of the golden strands to get a closer look.
“Edelgard, wait!”
Startled by the sudden yell, Edelgard jumps, a few threads catching against her claws and snapping as she jerks away roughly. Immediately, the ground underneath her gives way, and she’s falling, flailing as she tries in vain to catch her teacher’s outstretched hand.
“Edelgard! ”
Her teacher quickly fades out of view as she plummets into the void, and she flaps her wings helplessly, trying her best to keep herself aloft. There’s little resistance for her wings to push against, however, and she finds herself shunted by an unseen force towards a glowing ring of light, illuminated brightly in its centre with the Crest of Flames.
The sound of shattering glass fills her ears as she falls through the ring, and she hits the ground face-first with a hard thump , sending bits of grass and flowers into the air. She lies with her face buried in the dirt for a good moment, trying to process what exactly just happened.
Pinning Byleth. Falling over in pain. Byleth comforting her. The threads. The void. The portal. The mouthful of grass.
Thinking about it all makes Edelgard’s head spin, and she gives up trying to make any sense of the situation, resigning herself to just laying in the dirt and waiting to die like she was supposed to. It wasn’t too bad of a final resting place, all things considered - she can feel warm sunshine on her back, soft grass against her scales. There are birds chirping overhead, and she thinks she can just make out the sounds of a stream burbling nearby.
It’s peaceful.
“El! Tea’s ready!”
Another flurry of grass and dirt is sent into the air as Edelgard jolts off the ground, looking around to find the source of the familiar voice. It sounded exactly like hers , except slightly raspier and far more...affectionate than Edelgard had ever heard coming from her .
Hesitantly, she makes her way towards the small stone cottage standing before her, listening to the soft clinking of ceramic through the door. As she reaches the top steps of the porch, however, a well-worn sign by the door catches her attention.
Byleth and El’s House
She reads it once. Twice. Three times. And a fourth, for good measure.
The sign doesn’t change.
Taking a few steps closer, she gently prods at the sign, tracing a claw over the delicately carved letters and trying to make sense of the words they formed. Byleth’s house. Their house.
It couldn’t be…
Just as she’s about to give the sign another poke to make absolutely sure it’s real, the door swings open, and Edelgard is greeted with the sight of her teacher, smiling brightly as she leans out the door.
Except, it wasn't quite her teacher. The woman looked slightly older, softer, than her teacher; and her hair and eyes were the same pretty shade of blue as when she and Byleth had first met. She was dressed more simply than her teacher as well, wearing just a simple tunic and leggings-a far cry from the full church regalia Edelgard was used to seeing her teacher in.
Still, the resemblance is uncanny, and Edelgard can only stare, stunned, as the woman calls out into the gardens.
“El, the tea’s getting... oh. ”