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Edelgard has been a force of nature on the battlefield, ever since she could remember. If she had a weakness, she compensated for it in turn. If she couldn’t compensate, she would find someone she could entrust with her life. She could always rely on Hubert, like she could rely on the sun rising. The day she learned that she could trust Byleth was a day she learned that she could cry again.
Perhaps the biggest surprise, however, was that one of her closest, dearest allies would end up being the darling of the Golden Deer house.
Logically, it made sense. Lysithea, as early as the Lion and Eagle Cup, showed incredibly potential with dark and white magic.That, in and of itself, is nothing that can’t be done by others. However, as war overcame to Fódlan, her skill and capacity for magic only blossomed further. The small, delicate white haired girl would become a front-line member to which no one could believe.
Before enemies could even get within hair’s reach of her, she could smite them down with fury that could only be compared to the Gods of ancient times. If there was a word of any wounded soul on the field, Lysithea would had them back on their feet before she even arrived. Most devastatingly, Lysithea would be the solution to one of Edelgard’s greatest hindrances; the weight of her own armor.
Edelgard flows in her armor like the Valkyrie of myth, as if the armor had the weight of icing atop of a delicate cake. The swing of her axe, however, was rarely delicate and even less merciful. If an enemy was to retreat, however, it would take more time for herself and her troops to catch up in time. That is where Lysithea would devise a clever trick.
“Edie!”
Even if Hubert wasn’t against it, Edelgard would have her own complaints. Warp is a spell that is used to take people to safety, and wasting a use on sending someone into the fray of battle is not only foolish, but incredibly dangerous for everyone involved. Even if her armor was capable of handling blows, if there was a single mage in the area, Edelgard could be put in an incredibly dangerous situation. Anything that put the Empress, the sole body of the Andrastian throne, in danger was something to be avoided.
Lysithea was confident, and to her and Edelgard’s surprise, so was Byleth. With the right positioning, Byleth and Hubert would be able to take out any distant targets that could blast Edelgard with magic. Lysithea remarked that, even if it would wind her for a moment, the Empress could still easily charge any magic user into a close combat scenario, with a first, decisive strike.
It is impressive what sort of strategy people can come up with together within the confines of a room. To have someone who was capable of reading the nuance and strategy of the enemy at a glance like Byleth was incredible, a Goddess send. With all of the fights against Those Who Slither in the Dark, Byleth was able to figure out that despite their heavy use of magic, very few sole mages existed on the battlefield. With pinpoint strikes of arrow and magic, the magical backbone of Those who Slither in the Dark would crumble under pressure.
“Edie…”
From there, it all seemed to fall into place. Solutions can finally be at hand, with minimal casualties, if any. The important thing was to strike fast, steadily, and completely. Despite Edelgard’s nerves needling at the plans set ahead, if all the pieces fall properly into place, then there was nothing to fear. The only thing to really fear, was…
… Would it be foolish to say that she is a bit afraid of the magic? There was never really time to test it, and Edelgard rarely fell to such an injured state that required Warping, so this would be something entirely new for her to experience. Nothing -could- go wrong with Lysithea commanding the spell, of course, but would she be prepared for when she landed? Would she fall to her knees once she reached her new destination? Perhaps it is not the spell that she is afraid of, but the consequences that the spell might create.
Even if she was rendered immobile, she would still have a number of choices at hand. The… tool known as Aymr can deal with any close combat situation if needed. If she can’t reach anyone within her immediate surroundings, she has tomahawks strapped to her legs to be used in a pinch. There shouldn’t be anything to worry about, but why was she still so worried?
“Edelgard!”
It was with that declaration that Edelgard rose from her own mind, quickly turning towards the one who yelled, Lysithea. The four of them; Edelgard, Lysithea, Hubert, and Byleth, were sharing a carriage ride towards their next battle, and yet with this many people around, the Empress was still quick to daydream of their plans ahead. Lilac eyes dart towards her comrades in the cabin, with Byleth and Hubert casting short glances before returning to the conversation they were having. There was an attempt to ease drop, before the white haired woman beside her spoke once again.
“We might be miles or so away from a breakthrough,” Lysithea started, “but that doesn’t mean you get to start using your time to stare at nothing. This is why you should always bring something to read while on these long trips, before you end up spending all of this time dozing off like Linhardt.”
It was easy for Edelgard to nod along with what Lysithea was saying, but before long, her eyes return to the carriage window. It was never out of disrespect for the company she carried, or other activities that could busy her mind, but there was some odd comfort with being alone in one’s own thoughts. Everyone knew that there were moments of flightful thinking when it comes to the heavy burdens that fall upon an Empress.
Lysithea, however, knows a thing or two about burdens. If they are anything like her burdens, she is making everything more difficult on herself. If no one else is going to say something, for one reason or another, Lysithea will just have to be the one to say it. With a huff, the woman gets up on her feet, standing directly in front of Edelgard, leaning down into her face with her hands on her hips.
“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” she says with intent, “you have absolutely no reason to be this despondent. This is only another footnote in your history! You’ve faced tougher challenges crawling out of bed this morning! Stop looking so solemn and sad, staring at the grass growing while we are on our way to a brand new life!
“I’m not asking you to get excited over going into battle,” she reaffirms, crossing her arms, “but I’m asking you to realize that, this… this could be it. This could be the final chapter that we have to fight through! Can’t you be excited over that? To finally take a break from this nonsense over crests, relics, and all of that! Toss it away into the past where it belongs!”
Whether the excitement was genuine or from being unnerved, Lysithea had a difficult time keeping herself calm about the situation. For her, the prospect of having a year after this one, and perhaps twenty, thirty, forty years after this year, was something she never dared to dream of. Surely, if she’s feeling excited, then even Edelgard should be feeling something as well. The Empress looked as if she was content to keep a calm exterior, however, and it seemed to infuriate Lysithea.
Edelgard, for what it was worth, attempted to defuse the situation with a small laugh, before trying to explain herself. “I appreciate your concern, Lysithea, but it is nothing to worry about. I’m simply not as… emotive as I used to be, nothing more serious than that. That being said, I do have a few things on my mind, and they prove to be ample distraction to the situation at hand.”
Lysithea’s eyes narrow, straightening her back. A scathing remark is building in her throat, before an idea crosses her mind. She looks over to the corner where Byleth now resides, inspecting her dagger to assure that it is in top condition. Her eyes slowly roll back to Edelgard, who matches her gaze slightly slower than she caught hers. Almost immediately as their eyes meet, a small blush crosses Edelgard’s face and decorates her ears, and she is quick to look away.
She sighs, “am I really that obvious, Lysithea?”
“Painfully.”
The sigh turns into a grunt of frustration, Edelgard rolling her head back against the cushioned seat of the wagon, drawing attention from the others in the carriage for a short moment. A small hand waves the two off, before she takes a seat right beside her Empress, facing her.
“I don’t know what has gotten into me,” she began, her emotional levees starting to leak, “but I haven’t been able to focus at all for the past several days. I would never call myself someone enthusiastic for bloodshed, but for these... monsters disguised as men, surely, I would be able to focus. How long have we pursued these bastards, and yet with their looming demise I can barely concentrate long enough to follow our strategies! It’s a frustration that escapes words!”
Lysithea stays quiet, but a smile grows on her face; one of assistance and, secretly, one of pride in being correct about Edelgard’s mood. The most important thing, however, is actually helping the Empress in her hurdle, now that she has coaxed the problem out into the open. She taps a finger across her own lips in thought, looking up to nothing before going back to the lady in front of her.
“Usually,” Lysithea starts, “when I encounter something distracting me, I start picking it apart to find out what is bothering me the most. So, is there something about this whole… assault that is distracting you? Do you think… it’s a trap? If you got what if scenarios, you have three of the brightest minds in Fódlan here to help.”
When she puts it like that, Edelgard gets a pit in her stomach. She really is being unreasonable with this, isn’t she? It seems silly, having a small uncertainty with a tactic that received approval from everyone, including her personal adviser who more than once threatened her professor with… unique methods of disposal. Lysithea can see Edelgard wrestle with the words, before she does speak up with a quiet tone.
“... This has nothing to do with your ability, Lysithea, but I am concerned about, the latest strategy that we are to employ on the battlefield. I never had a problem charging into battle by my own volition, but this. This feels almost too difficult for me to get accumulated with. It’s one thing to charge head first towards an enemy you see, but how can one prepare for those she can’t see?”
The other woman moved to sit directly beside her, leaning in to listen to her as she speaks. Lysithea is obviously paying attention… which makes the gentle snrk all the more offending. Quick to offer up a hand in defense, she explains herself while trying to suppress guilty giggles about the entire situation. Laughter is rare enough in wartime that Edelgard wouldn’t dare hold it against the other, anyhow.
“Sorry, I don’t want to be mean,” she started, before adding the dreaded words, “but you sound like I used to sound before I better understood magic. You don’t have to do anything but trust me, Edie, no one would put you in a situation that you can’t handle. If things do go poorly, then I am basically guaranteed to be close by thanks to this strategy.”
Edelgard’s ears tint pink from the joking, but gives a tiny smile in suit to the reassurance. It is always one thing for the self to say something, and it’s another when someone says it out loud. Silly fears are just that, fears that have very little basis in reality. The Empress moves to place a hand on Lysithea’s shoulder, before continuing the conversation, lest the silence becomes heavy.
“It is not hard to put faith in you, Lysithea, I will agree with that. Though, I would have to request that you not immediately obliterate someone right next to me, especially if the numbers get out of hand. I swear, parts of my closet still reek of… whatever composes Dark Magic. Bog water and bitter medicine, the type served by an aging witch in the woods.”
Lysithea remains in a good mood, perhaps because she wasn’t reprimanded for poking fun at the Empress. “So, you figured out my retirement plans already? I was hoping to keep it a surprise until you paid a visit. If it wasn’t for Hubert, I would’ve secured the ‘brooding magic using assassin in the Empire’s Court’, but now I have to really dig for job opportunities now.”
Preemptively, Edelgard glances over to Hubert, with a shake of her head and a small smile. The bright yellow eyes were already darting over to the couple, and was shied away by the Empress’ attention. Whether he likes it or not, he is a part of Edelgard’s life, and that means he will be the topic of discussion from time to time. No amount of glowering can change that.
“I would have to see about that, Lys. I heard that having multiple people of similar demeanor can help ease stress and make themselves more productive. Though, I would have to admit that seeing either of you to become more productive as a horrifying visual. How can the two busiest people I know become even more busy? Would it drive you two to develop magic to create doubles, to get multiple things done at once? Will I have multiple Lysitheas and Huberts roaming the grounds?”
“Oh, I am sure if there is anyone with multiples running around, it would be multiple Edelgards and Byleths.” Lysithea says this with such a candid grace, that it takes a moment for the other to put two and two together. When the four comes to fruition, her face blooms red, and Lysithea gets a slap on the arm for her troubles. Despite the sting, the mage reveals in the embarrassment she has caused the Empress, half expecting her life to end in a whirl of Miasma.
“You are lucky I adore your company, dear,” Edelgard returns, firing her own remarks, “otherwise you would be walking to the battlefield by yourself.” The change of tone was slight, and was paired with a playful threat, but the words hit their mark. The pale mage has a hint of color growing on her own face, and is now at a lack of words to say. Both of them have made this an awkward battle, and both of them are now playing out their next replies in their heads.
It is well known that Edelgard and Byleth shared private company from time to time, but was Edelgard actually… attempting to flirt with Lysithea? With Byleth in the same carriage? It seems as if it came completely out of left field, and it leads to the mage looking into space for answers.
While doing so, she misses the nonverbal argument between the Empress and her teacher, who insists that she laid on the comment too hard, and the other insisting that things are fine. Between the two of them, Edelgard and Byleth had things come together fairly easily, perhaps because they were both emotionally stunted ladies of the sword. This doesn’t seem to be the case right now, however.
Hubert is going to recommend smaller carriages for the next campaign.
Darkness is where all the monsters lived, and there are very few places darker than this.
The intel that Edelgard received on this holdout of Those That Slither in the Dark was much more than she ever bargained for, taking her to depths she never knew existed within Fódlan. She knew that Those That Slither in the Dark had impressive fortifications, and played a hand in many of the near indestructible fortresses that cover Fódlan from tooth to throat. However, she never knew that their hideaways and bulwarks extended into the crust of the very planet itself.
The dull blue glow of the architecture and infrastructure is the only light down here; artificial like the very axe she holds in her hand, from dark and illicit means. The calcified bone and cartilage recoil and strain, aching for battle and blood. There was a;ways a thought that persisted in Edelgard’s mind, once she knew the extent of relics and crests. Is she playing with the anguished soul of those long deceased? Could an axe forged from the bone and tissue of long dead beings hold a grudge? Does the axe wish that it could strike Edelgard down where she stands?
A chill goes down her spine as she presses forward.
Edelgard seemed to have gotten into position long before the others were ready. Byleth redirected the main fighting force to tackle the Titans that were awakened by their arrival. While Those That Slither in the Dark are known for their expansive use of technology, there was immediate fear of Cornelia, or another figure head, was pulling the strings in this small underground outfit. Also known as Helike, this small underground castle turned out to be a nest of activity.
If Cornelia, or anyone else of reputable power, was here, they have their hands full to the brim with the front line. Byleth, the ever cunning strategist she is, spread the line of the Black Eagle Strike Force evenly and thoroughly. Hubert, Dorothea, and Annette held down a magical siege like none other, while Bernadetta, Petra, and Ashe keep the enemies grounded. Ferdinand led Sylvian and Lorenz in hit-and-run tactics, while picking up any wounded soldiers back to the triage team of Mercedes, Linhardt, and Marianne. The fliers were grounded for their safety, and most of the others acted as a line of steel to protect the others from Those Who Slither in the Dark.
Assuming that Byleth keeps control of the front lines as she wishes, it leaves Edelgard, Lysithea, Ingrid and Leonie to break Those Who Slither in the Dark’s line and route them from their entrenched position. Ingrid and Leonie were specifically chosen to counter any specific hurdle they might come across, be them monsters or men. There is no reason to believe that there isn’t monstrous creatures among the ranks of Those Who Slither in the Dark, so it is all the better to have arrows and spears to break against their hides.
As if her thoughts had summoned them, the thunderous sound of hooves clack against the black steel of the subterranean street.
Ingrid, clad in mint and grey, comes immediately to a halt, whereas Leonie, steel, black, and orange, trots ahead and around Edelgard to deposit the tiny gremory in front of her. Lysithea, like a feather, gently floats to the ground, while the two horsemen get into position behind the two of them. Ingrid removes her helmet, as does Leonie, as the four prepare to discuss the battle at hand, and the strategy moving forward.
Leonie, of course, is quick to greet the Empress with a cheeky salute. “Afternoon, Edelgard, I’m here to say that your order for one long range magical menace has been delivered, without a scratch on her back! I’ll just add it to your tab.” The words got a laugh from Edelgard, and a roll of the eyes from everyone else. Ingrid was next to comment.
“The front line holds steady, milady, but we are all still very mortal. We should have a few moments to get our plan in order, but the sooner we start our assault, the better.”
“As I figured,” she started, before looking back up to Ingrid, “and nothing of note has changed on the battlefield, correct? No… surprises, right?”
“It is very much so locked at a stalemate. We have sundered the enemies machinations, but supply is starting to dwindle, and their ground troops refuse to yield. What they lack in quality, they have in quantity.”
Lysithea shrugged. “I offered to aid the siege team, but Byleth insisted that I save my spells for our ambush. Does she know how many spells I can do in a single day? The sunlight doesn’t even reach down here, I probably have unlimited power right now.”
Leonie snorts, while Edelgard is quick to defend Byleth’s word. “You know no one doubts you, dear, but I would much rather have the ability to blow two holes in a wall instead of just one. Not to mention, Caspar might get caught in the crossfire, and you remember what happened last time someone hurt Dorothea’s ‘big bro’.”
“C’mon,” Leonie starts, “Caspar will find a way to get himself hurt in an empty room. Better you than someone else!”
Ingrid is quickly growing impatient, and slowly walks herself in front of Edelgard proper. She releases a brown canteen from her belt, and passes it down to Edelgard. “All things aside, milady, Byleth assures that she has the situation under control. She wished to give you a spare concoction, if it was of any help to reassure yourself on our current plan.”
“Thank you,” the Empress starts, grabbing the canteen “but please, don’t call me milady. I appreciate your chivalry and honor, but we live and die together as a family. The formalities aren’t needed.”
Edelgard secures the canteen, and the blonde woman sighs. “I know, but you are still the Empress of Fódlan. We go over this regularly, but it feels more proper to give you the respect you deserve.”
“You give me the respect I deserve by fighting by my side, and trusting me.” Ingrid goes a small bit red on the ears, as Leonie laughs while she secures her helmet. Lysithea waved the two horsemen away, and hovers over the Edelgard’s shoulder. The Empress wouldn’t be an Empress if she didn’t have such a way with words, and an aura of charisma that escapes all words.
Lysithea, however, knows a few words of her own.
“How are your nerves, El?”
Edelgard stops, both of her hands resting on the very end of Aymr’s hilt. Turning around, she musters up a smile that would fool many, but not Lysithea. “I would be lying if I said that I was completely fine, but I will survive, Lys. Thank you for being as understanding as you have been.”
The woman floating in front of her commands such a different presence in her gremory attire than in her civilian clothes. It is hard to believe that the woman that stands in front of the soldiers was once worried about being treated like a child. “You don’t need to thank me. Just know that no matter where you go, I’ll have your back. Any man you don’t rend, I will destroy. Any danger I see, I will remove.”
Silently closing the gap, Lysithea goes to hug the armor clad woman, as gently as she would hug a porcelain doll. A warm embrace in the unforgiving cold of the enemy’s land. “There is no one that I could trust more than you to do this. And if you can’t trust yourself, trust me, Leonie, Ingrid, Byleth, Hubert… trust that we would do you no wrong.”
Edelgard’s mind is running blank for a spare moment, before she drops a hold of Aymr and embraces Lysithea in turn. In this underground tomb of mana and magic, she can still feel the power that radiates off of the gremory, just as the gremory can feel the fire of the Crest of Flames burn brightly in the Empress’ chest. They’re alive now, and they’ll be alive when these moments become memories. With a soft sigh, Edelgard leaves the hold… with a grin on her face.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you’ve been rehearsing those lines in the mirror. Does Dorothea know you are an aspiring actor?”
A familiar groan of disdain rattles from the magical woman, before a bare hand slaps against Edelgard’s pauldrons. “I try to be helpful, I try to calm yourself down, and all you do is laugh it off! I’m going to warp you over a cliff! You’ll become the new queen of all these mole people!”
Lysithea’s reign of terror with unarmed strikes comes to an end when Leonie and Ingrid catch up. As much as Edelgard would wish these moments to last forever, there is work to be done, and unfortunate work at that. With Amyr in hand, the four of them prepare themselves to storm the enemy’s flank and quickly bring a finale to their assault on Helike proper. Edelgard readies her shield, as Lysithea starts preparing the Warp spell. There is no such thing as too safe of a measure at this moment.
The gremory’s eyes glow eerily coral, drawing the attention of others while she divines. Unbeknownst to them, Lysithea can see their gawking just fine as well. “Yes, I know, Warp has nothing to do with making your eyes glow. It’s called scrying, look it up.” Leonie grunts in reply, while Edelgard attempts to suppress a laugh, and failing.
“We should spare no expense, with the Empress’ life on the line,” Ingrid says, straightening herself out on her steed. It was uncharacteristic of her to be antsy, yet the blonde woman was raring to go. Even her darling pegasus flapped her wings anxiously as the two of them were forced to stay grounded.
“Edelgard,” Lysithea begins, “I’m going to be warping you into the structure’s… bailey? It’s divided into four separate sections, I’m assuming for structural support, and you’ll be going into the front-most part of the bailey. The front lines haven’t shifted just yet, so the most you will have to deal with by yourself is about seven, eight individual men. Half are armed with spears, two with swords, and two with gauntlets.”
As the magical light fades from her eyes, she focuses on the Empress in true. “Once you dispose of them, make your way up to the barbican. Here, fend off anyone who tries to attack you, and wait for Leonie and Ingrid to arrive. I’ll be providing ranged support for this stint before regrouping with you. If any of the other cavaliers get wind and join you, grab them as well, otherwise once we are regrouped, we are to drop the gate behind us and push forward. Any questions?”
“Will you need one of us to pick you up, or are you just going to float over there?” Leonie quips.
Lysithea begins to make a retort, but purses her lips before any words slip out. Giving the redhead the cold shoulder, she turns to face the lady of the hour. Edelgard passes a small smile, and the gremory rubs her hands together as if it’s needed to prepare the spell properly. Floating behind the Empress, she gently presses her hands against her shoulders, savoring the rare height advantage. She was always silently jealous of the other’s blonde locks, and she will just as silently lavish in the ability to restore each other’s hair once this mess is all over.
“Whenever you are ready, Edie.”
In a blink of an eye, she was gone.
The air chilled around her, as if she had been teleported straight into a tomb..
If this was a castle, then surely was of no design familiar in her mind. Familiarity was only found in the men who filled the castle, who were now gobsmacked at the appearance of the Empress of Andrastia standing in front of them. It was two men to a wall, most of them now scrambling to get themselves properly armed with an enemy clearly, easily breaching the perimeter.
Behind her, a brawler dashes into a full sprint towards Edelgard, drawing her attention as she turns to block the man with her towering shield. There is only so much a punch can do to solid steel, but it gave the other soldiers an opportunity to strike; if she is facing the one brawler, she must have her back facing someone. She may be an emperor, but she is still mortal. She may be a successful experiment, but all experiments must end someday.
Another rushes in to bash his hilt against the shield, trying to force Edelgard to budge to no avail. Two men rush forward, spears held upward to her back, and they are met with a flurry that they, no, no one can comprehend. In a single fluid swing, Amyr unfurls and whips itself through the men’s weaponry, it’s spikes rending the black steel that protected flesh and bone. Before either man could react, Amyr digs it’s spines into the victims, as if to devour them like a beast.
Just like how a woman suddenly appearing into a room, the vicious, twitching axe drew the attention of another man, trying to aid his comrades from their immediate demise. Three were occupied, which leave five. Two were being pushed back, which leaves three more left. One spear-man, one brawler, and a swordsman. Temporary disarmed, she ducks herself down to reach for a tomahawk attached to her thigh. Charging footsteps grow louder and louder, she only has a short moment to react before she finds herself in trouble.
Without another thought, she lets the tomahawk fly, punching straight through the spear-man’s chest piece. She reaches down to free another when a sword bounces across her back, only to be replied with a golden eagle embedded in a bright red shield. The brawler had just gotten into range as Edelgard rotates, catching the man’s neck with the small axe. The first two assailants, the remaining brawler and a spear-man, double their efforts to avenge their fallen comrades.
The spear-man’s thrust goes wide, getting pushed aside by the tower shield, only for the brawler to go low and strike Edelgard in the stomach. Armor torn by the gauntlet’s spikes, Edelgard can only do with what she has on hand to fight the brawler. He is quick to receive a strike against the jaw for his efforts, while the spear-man readies to stab Edelgard from behind. Tossing her tower shield aside to free her remaining hand, Edelgard grabs the spear by the point and plunges her shoulder into the man’s face. Daring to keep a hold on his spear, the Empress rewards his bravery with a steel foot to the face.
It was not long after the spear-man was downed that the brawler comes back for more, charing shoulder first into the woman’s back, having to take a knee to stay steady. Before a wild kick could connect with Edelgard’s face, her new spear blocks it with a hearty thwack. She tries to take him off of his feet by lifting the spear up, and the brawler replies by flipping backwards onto his feet. The fight draws to a standstill, and the hand-to-hand fighter is rejoined by his remaining comrades, including one saved by Amyr’s wrath, and his aide.
If Edelgard could dig her feet into the metal flooring below her, she would be standing in a trench made by a woman with undying fury. Trying her best to ignore the aches growing across her back and stomach, she gets into a proper spear fighting stance. Too far away to safely reach Amyr, she has to count on the few weapons she has left; two tomahawks, and a spear. No one dares make another move… until the spear-man dives in to attack. It was as if the whole room was caving into Edelgard herself.
The spear-man feints towards a blow to the stomach, but Edelgard is much faster with such a lighter weapon, sliding her guard down to better deflect the blow. Stepping and turning with her strike, she intercepts a blow from a swordsman, her hand sliding to the tip of the spear to quickly turn it up into the man’s neck. Pushing the wounded man into his comrades, she readjusts for a lower spear guard, and before she knew it, she was corralled into a circle once again.
Despite their numbers dropping, the pale men have Edelgard in a poor spot. If she had made one mistake, she would have been buried under a mountain of blows before her light was snuffed out. She tries to focus on those most vulnerable; the brawler who has an incredible reach disadvantage, and the swordsman who was still wounded. These last three men stop in their tracks, looking at one another as if they were communicating through mere glances. As quickly as silence fell, it was broken once again.
The spear-man jumps into the fray first, stabbing high towards Edelgard’s face. As expected, she taps her spear against his, trying to throw him off of his guard. As this happens, however, the brawler closes distance quickly and goes for the Empress. The spear-man braces, and despite being the correct move, Edelgard finds her spear breaking as the fist-fighter barrels through the both of them. He tumbles past out of view, just as the spear-man attempts to strike down his now disarmed opponent. His thrusts are careful and reserved; too slippery for Edelgard to catch in her hand, especially now as it aches and bleeds.
Her mind starts to race as it dodges stab by stab, almost to the extent that she is caught looking by the swordsman, who makes short work of her flowing cape. This would be used to Edelgard’s advantage, however, as she grabs it and pierces it on the offending spear-man’s spear. With all of her might, she rips the spear out of the man’s hand using cloth alone, as she attempts to arm herself with one of the two tomahawks remaining. Despite the swordsman’s best efforts, Edelgard moves much too fast to be stopped before she plunges the axe head into his comrade’s shoulder.
Just as quickly as the sword swipes at the Empress, it is met with the steel of a dying soldier, his armor saving the life of his assailant. Before she was to toss the man away, she draws a dagger from his belt holster, flipping the blade over in her hands as she makes these last moves count. The swordsman, with anger that will be felt long after he passes, swings wide for a blonde head, and has only a few strands of hair to show for it. The point of the dagger reaches between the plates of his breastplate, and not long afterwards, he falls to the ground.
The dead or dying now populate the floor more than those still breathing. Edelgard counts the bodies, to make sure she finished the deed properly, or if things got more out of hand than she expected. She counted seven, and Lysithea said there were at least seven men in the room, so she must have gotten them all. All that was left was to retrieve her tools of the trade, and bring the cavalry on in. The hardest part was finally over, and she can take some time to catch her breath and rest.
As she reaches down to grab Amyr’s handle, a cold chill rolls up her spine. In the moment she catches it, the room falls dead silent. Burning, searing pain darts across her body, as if a hot iron was mending and creating wounds with hapless abandon. It happens so quickly, so haphazardly, that she can almost feel every bit of her become blasted apart and reformed. By the time she feels able to breathe again, the only thought that runs through her head is to grab Amyr, and run.
The blade of a tomahawk just barely misses her stomach as she dives forward. Facing the very last man in the room, she holds up Amyr to deflect another stray tomahawk throw heading her way. It didn’t end there, however, as the man was quick to throw other discarded weapons the Emperor’s way, as if wishing to halt her assault in any possible fashion. The blades bounce against her armor aimlessly, and as soon as Edelgard winds up to strike the final blow, a cataclysmic explosion is heard. It was more than enough to have Edelgard lose her standing, but not enough to save the brawler, if that was the intent.
Quickly switching gears, Edelgard grabs for her shield, making double time towards the barbican behind her. As fate would have it, she had either killed those who were meant to guard it, or they had pushed themselves to reinforce the front line. By her lonesome, she raised the portcullis open for the cavalry to come… if they come at all. Huffing out a heavy sigh, she leans against the stonewall of the barbican to finally, if not just for a moment, catch her breath. The fight felt like it lasted an eternity, and her body is already glowing with sweat and blood.
Pausing to drink her concoction, the Empress has time to think. Not about how to counter her opponent, how much light is left within her, or how deeply drenched in blood she is. Instead, she thinks about where she is, how she got here, and those who helped her get here. She always knew that she had to get this far; the fact that Edelgard accepted the help of Those Who Slither in the Dark will be something that will haunt her for the rest of her nights. Despite this, her fellow students and teachers believed in her, believed in the dream.
She may have lost her family in blood, but through these trials and tribulations, she may just have a family once again. If not in her far, distant future, then in the now, with those she shares arms with. The more she ponders on this, the more she tries to parse this… familial structure. It’s no secret that Hubert and Edelgard are nigh inseparable, and the adoration she holds to her professor rivals that of the epics and poems that pine of romance and love. Yet, the interaction she had with Lysithea still hangs in her head.
Byleth is someone of unparalleled understanding, and always told Edelgard to do what her heart tells her to do. After all, to say that the Empress became a watchful hawk over Lysithea’s shoulder after the two of them connected their dots together. The fight against Those Who Slither in the Dark was always personal, always vengeful. But why Edelgard learned that Lysithea too had been tortured, her thirst for revenge redoubled and flourished. Her candle burned at both ends, while Edelgard’s candle only burns faster, brighter.
They both have limited time, but for Lysithea, fragile Lysithea, any day could be her last. Edelgard could carry the weight of the Empire, all of Fódlan, all of the planet upon her shoulders, so what could the weight of protecting a mage be in comparison? But to Edelgard, losing the world would be a catastrophe. To lose Lysithea? It would be the cruelest tragedy fate could ever play. She deserves protection, she deserves a life outside of blood and battle, she deserves a better, longer life, far away from these damn crests and these damn mages.
Edelgard has to consciously relax her jaw. She never worried about Byleth, or Hubert, and the worry that she felt over Dorothea or Bernadetta never quite matched the anxiety that came with Lysithea’s fate. She has the magical capabilities to bend the space around her like it was second nature to her. She can travel distances with just a thought. She can even hover above the ground at a whim! What could an armored, gravity bound knight like herself do that Lysithea can’t? She isn’t even as tiny as she used to be!
The new height disadvantage didn’t hinder her from sneaking up behind Edelgard, however. There was no chance to react, her arms wrap around the Empress’ waist.
If it wasn’t for battle fatigue and the weight of crimson gear on her body, it very well could have spelled doom for Lysithea. There may just be another master strategist in the class alumni, or that the gremory has simply surpassed all earthly limits to her benefit. Nonetheless, Edelgard was trapped in a warm embrace, and her worry and melancholy melted away. A steel-encased hand rests on top of scarred flesh, giving an exhausted laugh for acknowledgement.
“The next time we test a technique,” she begins, forcing Edelgard to turn and face her, “we’re practicing on barbarians, not these… freaks? The few mages I had to fight, and the jerks that tried to charge me down… they really want us dead! I thought they were all full of hot air, but.” Lysithea shudders, as if a new image haunts her vision. Even against a foe that wishes nothing more for their demise, death is still death. Pain is still pain. Agony is still agony.
Edelgard attempted to provide distraction with conversation. “They are fierce fighters, but they are still no match for us. Our backup will be arriving soon, and from there we should be able to turn the tide of battle. Just like Byleth said.”
An unexpected giggle. “Oh, I’ve heard what Byleth said, alright. Maybe it’s how hearing works, but I swear I heard her yell a thing or two. I never heard the professor get that frustrated, much less while in battle. She’s fine, though. I just know it.”
A pause.
“I apologize,” Edelgard quickly remarks, “but I never got to ask. You’re okay, yes? I heard plenty of commotion while fighting, and an explosion or two. I hope you were not caught in anything dire.”
Lysithea, shaking off the pause physically, turns towards the castle proper. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine outside of some scratches and… well, all the wounds I already healed. The explosions weren’t me, for once. Did you know that you can cast Meteor indoors? Apparently Dorothea can do just that, and she has been keeping that card up her sleeve without telling anyone. Did Hanneman ever summon a Meteor indoors? I doubt it.”
“You almost sound jealous,” the Empress smiles, “but I suppose that everyone still has surprises in store. I bet Dorothea would be tickled to know that you’re green with envy.”
A huff. “Well, you can send her my regards later, if you are going to be so smug about it. I can send you over there right now! Or to the bottom of this bridge!”
Edelgard lets out a tired laugh from Lysithea’s frustration, and her breath crushes the weights on both of their shoulders. The two of them were locked in a stare, and held each other’s hand tightly. The battlefield dissolved away, and for that moment, life became simple. Once again, Edelgard finds herself blessing the stars that brought her here, even if she had to trudge through blood and gore to get here.
In the distance, hoof tracks. Afterward, a cat call followed suit.
“Hey, angels,” a cheery tone perks, and tension flares, “trying to sneak some tender time in between battles? Who knew our fearless Empress and the toughest mage in Fódlan were eloping in the shadows!” Riding towards the two was the entire cavalry division: Ferdinand, Lorenz and Sylvian, accompanying Ingrid and Leonie. Sylvian, much to everyone’s chagrin, had broken off from the group, just for the glory of arriving first. This early bird had caught two worms quite unaware, and even Sylvian is surprised at what he found!
The two quickly pull their hands away, and their faces burn with redness that rivals any empirical finery. While Edelgard steeled her defenses, Lysithea readied her offense; throwing a ball of miasma towards the hooves of Sylvian’s mount. Rearing back in fear, Sylvian is quickly and soundly dismounted, tumbling onto his back with a rattling thud. Despite the cavalier reaping what he planted, the Empress was quick to chide the magus in her choice of retaliation.
“Lys, do not torture that poor animal to get back at Sylvian. Imagine if you had to carry him on your back all day, only to have someone throw magic at you. Where is the justice in that?”
The gremory makes a few more steps towards the downed rider, but is halted by a gentle tug of her majesty’s hand. She lets out a small grunt. “Sometimes justice calls for death. I’ve been wanting to learn how to ride a horse in my spare time, anyway!”
Edelgard merely sighs, as the cavalry arrives onto the scene. Leonie remains endlessly amused by the situation, while Ferdinand and Lorenz merely roll their eyes at their fallen comrade. The only one who attempts to help Sylvian is Ingrid, as per usual, but his envoy followed in suit not long afterwards; though, Ferdinand was of demeanor that he was the leader reporting to the Empress, not of an equal team.
“My Empress,” he begins, saluting just before he speaks, “we gathered the moment we heard word of you needing aid. It blesses my spirit to see that you have survived your endeavors, and that we are now able to properly assist in bringing the professor’s plan into action. Merely say the word, and my trope shall make it so.”
Sylvian and Lorenz look away in opposite directions; the purple haired diva rolling a wrist while the fiery headed lady killer tried his best not to cringe at his supposed leader’s gravitas, rubbing the back of his neck. Leonie merely snickered to herself, enjoying how distraught the ‘dorks’, as she would call them, currently look. Ingrid, however, took the metaphorical reigns of the conversation, facing Edelgard and Lysithea with a more serious tone.
“The battle goes well, my Empress, with minimum casualties. Byleth seems… frazzled, about the situation, but no one has sustained any major injuries under her eyes. Some of the mages noted of exhaustion, namely Linhardt and Dorothea, and only a handful of our front lines received any wounds above cuts and bruises. All things seem to be going according to your desires, and our main forces shall be making short work of the remaining foot soldiers.
“Additionally,” she adds, pulling a neatly folded paper from a small satchel, “Byleth has given us further orders. We are to hold off any reinforcements from the front line and establish a line until the main attacking force regroups with us. You, Edelgard, shall be stationed the furthest up, with Lorenz, Sylvian, and I at your back. Leonie and Lysigard are to provide additional fire support. It should only be an hour or so until we regroup.
“From there, we establish a perimeter and try to rest for a moment, before heading forward and attacking the main structure. Whatever happens from there, we shall take it as it comes.” Ingrid straightens herself, nodding towards the Empress. Edelgard, in return, nods back, as if to relieve her of her duty. A smirk does betray her inner feelings, however, and as Ingrid goes to turn back, she double takes back to the woman in red. A steeled hand waved her off, as Edelgard covers her mouth to save the blonde knight any further embarrassment. Who gave that knight permission to be so fitting for her role, and to be so… vulnerable? Sincere? Whatever it was, Lysigard picked up on it too, with a shrewd look on her face as well.
Perhaps there is mutual plotting to be done once the night is over.
“You heard her, move out!” Edelgard balks, arming herself with Amyr and shield once again. These good times were hard to part with, but it was something that needed to be done. There is victory to be had, and life to wrangle free of decrepit hands. The sooner that these deeds are completed, the sooner they all can wash the blood from their hands, and trade swords to plowshares. Perhaps then, they can plot, mingle, and live the lives they truly deserve.
That dream can’t be complete without her comrades, her teachers, and, perhaps most importantly, her friends, beside her.