Work Text:
“It’s the end of the final battle. You fall before your old childhood friend, broken and defeated, your demonic form crumbling away from the battle lost. He calls to you, not in your title of Emperor, but by the name he did all those years ago, quietly, tentatively.” The Game Master puts on a sympathetic, hopeful smile. “‘El.’ He still has hope for you. Hope that, after all this time, you’ll change your ways. In one last act of mercy, he does not kill you — rather, he extends his hand to your crumpled form, and he exudes calmness not seen before you’d clashed weapons just a few moments ago.”
The large group sitting in front of Edelgard stares at her intently. Flipping her hair behind her shoulder, the blonde contemplated her next action. It was an easy decision, really — why not go for a happy ending after all the bloodshed and chaos? The run was almost over, anyway, and she knew the Game Master already had another up her sleeve. All’s well that ends well, then.
“You know what? I realize that my stubbornness and pride have caused only grief and misery to those around me. The act of kindness opens my eyes yet again, and I realize that I’m tired of fighting. I wish to end this war, and start anew with this second chance that he offers me.” Edelgard smiles at Dimitri, who in turn gives her a lopsided grin. “To show him that I truly mean it, I take out the dagger he gave to me all those years ago and give it to him.”
The majority of the group gasps. Some even look like they’re about to cry; the Game Master, however, isn’t having it. “Roll for charisma, El.”
Edelgard pauses for a split second. Then, realizing what the GM is doing, she glares at her. “Byleth .” The woman in question smiles innocently. “You jest, surely.”
She shook her head. “Not in the slightest. Roll for charisma, if you would.”
Sighing, the blonde took one a d20 and rolled it onto the wooden table. The satisfying sound of the die clinking against the polished wood brought a smile to her face—
“Nat 1.”
Then her blood ran cold.
Byleth exhaled through her nose, and it sounded similar to a —
“Did you just laugh?”
“No.” Byleth turns and covers her mouth, clearing her throat. Once she turns back, her face is completely neutral.
“As you reach out your dagger to Dimitri, the blade slips from your hand and it’s sent flying into his shoulder. Upon reflex, Dimitri’s arm jolts forward, sending Areadbhar into your abdomen.” Byleth pauses, eyebrows scrunching slightly. “What’s your armor class, again?”
With a defeated sigh, Edelgard slumps back into her chair.
“Forget it. Just kill me, already.”