Work Text:
It had, without question, been the strangest week Ingrid had had since arriving at Garreg Mach. Nothing could compare; Annette’s new obsession with helping her learn to use makeup; finally reaching her wits’ end with Sylvain’s skirt-chasing - which was a long time coming, if she was being honest with herself; the time the boy from the underground, Yuri, had found her indulging in far too much food in town. No, this week topped everything else.
The news from her father of the marriage offer had been typical enough, if unwelcome. But never in a thousand years would she have guessed that Dorothea would not only notice her disquiet, but know and loathe the man in question. It simply would not have occurred to her that she would spend several days on the road with the Black Eagles and Professor Byleth to investigate his dealings; let alone that Dorothea’s accusations of his fortune being soaked in blood would turn out to be distressingly correct.
The strangest part of all, however, was only just sinking in now as they all made their march home to the monastery. As conversations, laughter, and even the odd marching song sounded all around her, she felt… oddly welcomed among the Black Eagles. She would have expected to feel like the odd one out, especially now that they had finished helping her with her suitor problem, but it was not so.
Dorothea now seemed to consider her a friend, keeping close and basking in their victory over her would-be-suitor’s brigands. Her attitude seemed to have softened the other students to Ingrid's presence as well. Caspar seemed eager to see what she was capable of in a sparring session at her earliest convenience. Petra had alluded to understanding what it was like to feel the weight of others’ futures on her shoulders and not being sure what the best course may be. Even Hubert seemed to have softened, just a little, to her presence; though he was less chatty than the others. Most surprising, though, was Lady Edelgard’s attention at this very moment.
“Tell me, Ingrid,” Edelgard said, keeping step beside her as they marched, “would you have married the man, had he turned out to be a more legitimate sort of wealthy scoundrel?”
The question took her off guard, and she found she had no real answer. Would she have? For the good of her house, she’d certainly have considered it, but could she have ever brought herself to give up on her dream of knighthood? She had been content with an arranged marriage once before, true, but that had been different. Had she only been at peace with the old arrangement with Glenn because she’d known he’d never feel any need to hold her back?
“Edie!” Dorothea cut in before Ingrid could fully organize her thoughts. “Poor Ingrid’s had a very trying journey these last few days! Surely you ought to know when to let a matter lie.”
“Indeed I do,” Eelgard nodded, “I find that, in cases such as this, the freshest impressions are the most honest. That’s why I ask now.”
“It’s alright, Dorothea,” Ingrid spoke up at last as she motioned for Dorothea to stand down. “As to your question, Lady Edelgard, I suppose I cannot say, at this point. The matter is no longer relevant, after all.”
“True,” Edelgard said, not missing a beat, “but surely you must recall your feelings in the moment, yes?”
Ingrid had to stop herself short of a rueful grin. Edelgard was clearly just as sharp-witted when it came to reading people as Dimitri, maybe even more so. The product of a tip-top, high-society upbringing.
“Well…” Ingrid said, trying to think how best to word what she would say next. “I suppose I still didn’t know, even then. My duty to my house would demand I at least seriously consider the possibility.”
“But?” Edelgard pressed when Ingrid paused.
“But, truthfully, I do not really wish to marry anyone who would see me as naught but a political piece, or worse, just a convenient source of a crest.” It felt good to say it, Ingrid thought, however futile the sentiment may be.
“Ingrid,” Dorothea spoke again now, “if you really do know how you feel, then why consider the proposal at all?”
Ingrid paused for a long moment, thinking about how she could possibly explain what it was to carry the future of a noble house to someone who had never been noble herself. How could she make clear the depth of the responsibility, the weight of the burden? What words would be able to capture the bitterness she felt, despite her best efforts to push it down, at the utter disregard for her own dreams?
“You wouldn’t understand,” was all she said in the end. As she did, she felt the stone shell she kept around her heart crack on the bitter words.
—
Some three weeks after their return to the monastery, Ingrid found herself wrapping up a hard day’s training. She’d spent all morning with Professor Manuela learning the basics of black magic. Although she’d been dubious of the usefulness of such a session, they had found that she apparently had a rather rare natural aptitude for ice magic, should she wish to pursue it. Once lunch had come and gone, however, it was straight to the yard for her to run drills and seek sparring partners until sunset, as usual. She could ponder if magical training was worth pursuing on a day she didn’t already have a set schedule for.
“Ingrid!” Edelgard waved her over as she called. “Do you have a moment?”
Ingrid flinched as she remembered the last time Edelgard had called to her while they were here on the training grounds. For whatever reason, the imperial princess had wanted to spar with her. She did her best, but her fine-tuned technique with a lance was nothing against the weight of Eelgard’s axe blows. She’d had bruises for a week after, but Edelgard had seemed satisfied, at least. What with, Ingrid wasn’t entirely sure. She was fairly sure she’d hardly put up a fight.
“Lady Edelgard,” Ingrid put on an impassive face as she turned to respond. “What may I do for you? I’m afraid I’m rather spent, so sparring may not yield the results you’d prefer today.”
“Ha!” Edelgard laughed as Ingrid made her way over. “No, no, none of that today. I was actually wondering if you might have a few moments to talk, now that the day is winding down.”
“I suppose so,” she replied, wondering where this was going. “Although, I’m unsure what I could offer you by way of conversation, Lady Edelgard.”
“Oh, please, don’t be so modest. I’ve every reason to believe your wits are just as sharp as your lance.”
Ingrid felt a small stir of pride in her chest at the praise, but quickly brought the feeling under control. She had to remember who she was, and who she was talking to. They were more than just students, and no conversation between a noble of the kingdom, however minor, and foreign royalty should be taken lightly.
“Well then,” she said, trying to keep her tone and expression neutral, “what was it you’d like to discuss, my lady?”
“My my, so stiffly formal,” Edelgard smirked. “Though, I suppose that attitude is rather relevant to my topic.”
“Oh?” Ingrid cocked her head, letting just a hit of her true curiosity show on her face. What was Edelgard getting at? And why was she so brash about it?
“I was just wondering, as best you can describe it, what does it mean to you to be a noble?”
Ingrid almost couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, let alone who she’d heard it from. Even more shocking was the utter nonchalance with which Edelgard had asked the question. Such a question was, of course, one she had considered before. But those thoughts had remained politely private, as was expected in the kingdom, and she imagined the same must be so for nobility elsewhere.
“Oh, dear,” Edelgard said, a shadow of concern passing over her face. “I apologize, I did not mean to ask something uncomfortable.”
She said that, but Ingrid suspected she knew exactly how the question would go over. She had dropped it so directly so as to put Ingrid off-kilter and elicit a “more honest” response, just as she had on the march home after the suitor incident. Well, no matter. Ingrid knew her answer. It was just a matter of articulating it.
“It’s alright,” she said, gathering her thoughts. “I suppose, to put it as simply as possible, it means I am obligated to be of service to my people.”
“How do you mean that?” Edelgard pressed, a keen look in her eyes.
“Even a noble family as relatively modest as mine occupies a place of importance and influence. It is our duty to use that influence to protect and better the lives of our people.” Ingrid elaborated, rattling off the things she had told herself for so many years.
“I see,” Edelgard mused, staring into space. “It sounds much like I’ve heard the ideal of knighthood and chivalric service described to me.”
“Of course,” Ingrid puffed up slightly, in spite of herself, with the recognition of her core ideals.
Edelgard continued to look ahead for a moment, then turned back to face Ingrid again. “And what of those nobles who do not share your ideals?”
“Excuse me?” Ingrid was caught off guard again.
“You seem to be of a decent mind about these things, and so I cannot imagine it has escaped your notice that many among the nobility abuse their station to satisfy their own selfish ends,” Edelgard’s voice had the air of a woman choosing her words carefully, and Ingrid wondered why. “So what of them? Do they not infuriate you, being one who takes their duty so seriously?”
“My lady…” Ingrid suddenly felt the conversation was moving in a dangerous direction. “It would be improper of me to say such things about my fellow-”
“Ingrid, come now,” Edelgard said, looking her dead in the eye and causing Ingrid to flinch at the scrutiny. “It’s only us here right now, and I am not even part of the kingdom’s own noble society. It’s not as though I’d have any reason or opportunity to share what you say. I’m simply curious, as a future ruler, to hear more about such things from as many sources and perspectives as I can.”
“I see…” Ingrid hesitated, but under Edelgard’s piercing gaze and listening to her calm rationalization, she found she could not, and indeed did not want to, hide her true feelings on the matter. “To tell you the truth, then? Yes. Yes, it makes my blood boil to consider it. Those crooks and layabouts owe their people everything they have, and they give nothing in return. Not only do they give us all a poor name, but their people’s suffering makes the entire kingdom weaker, in addition to simply being cruel.”
“Indeed,” Edelgard nodded, regarding Ingrid much the same way she had on the march back from the investigation, seeming both pleased about something and still curious. “Thank you, Ingrid. I appreciate your honesty.”
Ingrid was about to politely accept the praise and be done with the conversation, but then she had another thought and, before she could stop herself, found herself asking a question. “If I may, my lady, what is your answer? What does your station mean to you?”
She blinked after saying it, then wished she could curl into a ball and die. What was she thinking, asking that question of a foreign princess? Yet, at the same time, she had to know, and something about their talks up to now told her Edelgard would answer.
Edelgard, for her part, laughed. “Well well, I must say that is refreshing.”
“Why so?” Ingrid kicked herself again for how discourteously she was speaking. By this point, however, she felt almost compelled by her curiosity to speak, and so she wasn’t getting much of a chance to correct herself before the words had already left her mouth.
“I’ve asked a fair few nobles that question lately,” Edelgard said, smiling as she spoke. “Some were of such high standing that they could credibly claim to have more power than the imperial family does these days, and many of them were capable statesmen. And yet, all but the very first one have been either too foolish or too nervous to ask me the same question in turn.”
“I see.” Ingrid had resolved that, if she couldn’t get herself to use proper forms of address, she would at least keep her responses short.
“In any case,” Edelgard continued, “I suppose that it’s rather difficult for me to explain in full. My position in the Empire is… let us just say it is very complicated, presently. But, ultimately, I am in a position to bring about great change. I have the potential to leave a better world than I found in a way vanishingly few people ever get. But, if I wish to focus on that, then I must be strong and clever enough to bring it about.”
Ingrid considered that for a moment. It seemed a good philosophy to have, for one so influential as an imperial princess. Though, she did find one question that nagged at the back of her mind, demanding an answer.
“If I may ask, my lady,” Ingrid said, trying to choose her words carefully. “What sort of changes would you hope to bring?”
“Ha!” Edelgard let out a brief bark of a laugh, then her demeanor shifted, becoming more severe. “Astute question once again, Ingrid. I’m afraid, however, that I must keep the answer myself, for now. Perhaps I’ll be able to share it with you, someday. I do hope so.”
Ingrid wanted to push farther, to dig into the meaning behind Edelgard’s cryptic explanation as far as she could. Ultimately, though, she thought better of it. It seemed like she’d taken this topic as far as it could go for now, and she didn’t want to overstep with Edelgard, not when she seemed to be forging the kind of connection that could one day represent a diplomatic relationship far beyond what her station would normally allow in foreign affairs.
The thought was sensible, she knew it was. Yet still she couldn’t help but chafe as she reminded herself of their difference in standing, and of her own position and what it meant for her, long term. It was a bitter pill, one that she found harder to swallow every day since the incident with her would-be suitor; and every time she was forced to do it, the cracks in her heart that began on that day weeks prior spread and widened.
—
“Ingrid!” The call came from the door to the dining hall, stirring Ingrid from her focus on the manual of magical basics that Mercedes had lent her.
“Professor Byleth,” she smiled, looking up at the young instructor. Even though she led the Black Eagles rather than her own house, and clearly struggled to emote in most circumstances, the professor had become a welcome, friendly presence at the monastery. Always helpful, possessing a knack for finding things people had lost, clearly a hard worker, and skilled enough with a blade that she’d become the premier sword instructor in the academy, outstripping even Professor Jeritza in that particular discipline. “Always a pleasure to see you. To what do I owe your company today?”
Usually, Ingrid would expect the topic to be something small and quick, like an invitation to train, or a message from Dorothea. Honestly, the girl had become almost uncomfortably familiar since their outing, even as that was now well over a month behind them. Today, however, seemed to be something more, as Byleth took a seat across from her rather than remaining standing.
“I'll get right to it,” Byleth said, blowing past the niceties and small talk as she always did. Honestly, Ingrid found it refreshing, in its way. “I'm looking to offer transfers into the Black Eagles to a handful of students, and I think you'd be a good fit.”
Ingrid, having raised her glass of water to her lips a moment before, had to fight very hard to avoid spitting her last sip all over Mercedes's book and the professor. Once she managed to choke it down the rest of the way, actually eliciting a light chuckle from the ever-stoic Byleth as she did so, she attempted to gather her thoughts into a response.
“I- what are you- me?”
The gathering of her thoughts had not gone terribly well.
“Indeed.” Byleth’s brief moment of laughter had receded now, leaving her expression perfectly serious, as usual.
“I'm flattered, professor, really, but I must ask: why me?” The confusion Ingrid felt was mirrored well in her voice. Of all the students Byleth could try head-hunting, she had no clue why she'd be on any sort of short list.
Byleth, for her part, seemed to have expected the question.
“Quite simply?” She said, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. “You're a phenomenal and disciplined student, and you've already made a great impression on both me and my class. I believe it would be a pleasure to help you along in your studies, and I think you and the rest of the class have perspectives you would all find value in discussing and comparing.”
As she mulled over Byleth's case, it hit Ingrid, not for the first time, how shocking it was to her that the woman before her had been little more than a simple mercenary less than a year ago. Now here she sat, rubbing shoulders with some of the most influential people on the continent, and bothering to take a moment to make some very compelling points in favor of an utterly ludicrous idea on her account. Still, the idea of getting to study under Byleth was tempting, and she had been enjoying several of the Eagles’ company, conversation, and training help…
Ingrid shook her head as she
“Please don't take this the wrong way, professor,” Ingrid spoke slightly slower than usual, sorting through the reasons that this idea was madness as she went. “But you do realize that I am a scion of a noble house sworn to the kingdom, yes? And that the Black Eagles is the house meant for Adrestian students?”
“Of course,” Byleth said, not missing a beat. “But those guidelines are not iron-clad. I wouldn't be able to offer you a transfer otherwise. I'm sure you've noticed other students transferring, here and there, throughout the year.”
It was true, she had, but those tended to be students with weaker ties to their homelands’ leaders. Commoners considering life in a new territory after graduation, minor nobles from border territories looking to build local ties, and so on. While her house may not be the most influential or prestigious, and the idea did hold a certain intriguing appeal, she certainly had a very deep connection to her homeland in the form of her friendships with Dimitri, Felix, and Sylvain. Those three being both her best childhood friends, as well as the heirs of the royal family and two of the greatest houses in Faerghus…
Besides, she thought, catching herself once more in those resentful fractures in her heart, she couldn’t take the risk as to what that may do to her marriage prospects within the kingdom.
“I apologize, professor,” she said, her voice cold and distant as her head drooped, “but I can't.”
“I see,” Byleth said, and when Ingrid looked back up, she saw the Professor's head was tilted in an almost doglike fashion as she seemed genuinely disappointed at the reply. “Well, I do hope you consider the offer a little more, as it remains open. Maybe we can revisit this at a later time.”
Ingrid knew she should just cut off the possibility. No matter how personally interested she may be in the idea, she couldn’t. Her path was set from the moment she was discovered to bear a crest. But, even as she tried to figure out some polite way to shut Byleth’s offer out, she knew she didn't have the heart to, instead muttering something about “maybe later” as she rose from her seat and turned to leave.
As she went, it felt as if a piece of her heart finally chipped away entirely, this time, as she struggled under the weight of her role and its utter inevitability. She had no choices, not really. Only dreams and fancies that were all fated to shatter.
—
Block, thrust, block, sweep.
At this hour, with the sun having slipped over the horizon and the autumnal chill in the air, Ingrid had the training grounds all to herself as she ran drills. Sweat steamed off of her as she put herself through her paces, over and over, her movements sharp with frustration.
Block, thrust, sweep, block.
Apparently, it hadn't been enough that her house had lost the Battle of the Eagle and Lion last week, or that she'd been forced to bury her disappointment and grin her way through an inter-house feast suggested by the victorious Black Eagles a scant two weeks after she had declined to join the house. No, not for her.
Block, sweep, sweep, thrust.
As soon as they’d returned to the monastery, after a decent few days of marching, she’d found a letter from her father. He said he had yet another suitor for her, some viscount’s son. Worse yet, he'd felt the need to twist the knife and remind her of how important it was that she marry into wealth.
Thrust, sweep, thrust, block.
Did he think she didn't know? Could he even begin to imagine how her looming destiny as a crested broodmare for some rich sleazebag noble hung over her every waking moment?
Sweep, thrust, sweep, thrust.
Could he ever, just once, talk to her about something else?
Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust…
Finally, the training dummy she'd been taking out her frustrations on could suffer no more abuse. It fell apart under her final onslaught of blows, falling into piles of straw and burlap.
Ingrid stood there for a moment, no thoughts entering her mind more complicated than raw sorrow and anger. She had no idea how to turn her father down this time. That the last time had turned out as it had was nothing short of a miracle. She had just hoped it may take longer, perhaps until graduation, at least, for her father to arrange yet another prospect.
But no such luck. Not for her.
To make matters yet more mortifying, Byleth had come across her as she tried to dispose of the letter. Seeing the look of sheer pity on her face after Ingrid had allowed the professor to see what had her so upset had been one of the most humiliating experiences of her life. What had possessed her to show Byleth the Goddess-cursed letter?
“Ingrid?” The voice from the entrance to the courtyard had her jump. She went into a spin, moving to level her training lance at the source by pure instinct.
Dorothea raised her hands in a placating gesture, stopping where she was across the yard. That was when Ingrid noticed that her hands were frozen in place on the shaft of her lance. Her semi-trained ice magic seemed to have slipped, somehow, and now she couldn’t properly adjust her grip on the weapon. As Ingrid looked down at her frosty grip and began to curse under her breath, trying to tug her hands away and wincing when doing so hurt, Dorothea couldn't help but laugh slightly.
“What's so amusing then?” Ingrid asked, looking up at the songstress and trying to ignore how her cheeks suddenly felt even hotter than a workout would usually make them.
“Oh, nothing, really,” Dorothea said, coming a few steps closer and glancing at Ingrid's predicament as she did. “I suppose I'm just reminded of when I was a novice with my magic. Goddess, the number of times I took someone's hand only to lay the poor thing out with a static shock for the ages.”
As Dorothea approached, Ingrid found herself glancing anywhere but directly at the girl. Eventually, however, she did turn to face the other girl when she heard Dorothea click her fingers and noticed a soft light dance to life.
Dorothea held up the small flame, no more than a candle's worth, on her finger, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. “May I?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Ingrid nodded, extending her hands to give Dorothea room to work. “Just be careful,” she said. “I'd prefer not to need a trip to the infirmary for burns sustained in such a ridiculous situation.”
“Ha!” Dorothea chuckled as she set to the task. “Have you no faith in a dear friend?”
“Is that what we are?” Ingrid raised A quizzical eyebrow. “Funny, last I checked, one of our most common topics of conversation was about my being hopeless in fashion.”
“A conclusion that, largely, I still stand by.” Dorothea replied, not looking away from her work, which Ingrid did appreciate. “I will admit, however, to having noted some small improvement.”
“Oh, my,” Ingrid deadpanned, “how very flattering.”
“I'll have you know that it is quite flattering, thank you,” Dorothea smirked. “I mean, really, Ingrid, don't you realize who you're talking to?”
“Hm… I want to say a puffed up diva with far too high an opinion of herself?”
Dorothea withdrew for a moment, having managed to free Ingrid's left hand, to strike a pose and make a face that both radiated exaggerated shock and indignity. “Well,” she said, her tone matching the rest of the performance, “I have never been so insulted!”
Ingrid rolled her eyes, and Dorothea grinned slightly as she started working on the right hand. As she did, Ingrid looked down at what she was doing. Dorothea wasn't much of a fire mage, but all students focusing on magical pursuits learned a basic spell to pluck flames from the air early in their studies. Dorothea, thankfully, seemed to have decent control, holding the flame close enough to help thaw her out without becoming painfully hot. Then, Ingrid noticed Dorothea's right ring finger.
“You kept it…” she said, trailing off as she looked at the ring, the gem set into a seat of carefully shaped metal wings.
As the lance finally loosened in Ingrid's grip, Dorothea followed her gaze. When she landed on the ring, she gave a soft smile that made Ingrid's heart flutter uncontrollably. She shook her head slightly, trying to bring herself back to the moment. What was wrong with her tonight?
“Well, of course I did,” Dorothea said. Ingrid suddenly felt very aware that Dorothea let her other hand linger where it had been holding Ingrid's steady as she held up her right to look at the ring. “It’s a keepsake I'm coming to treasure quite a bit, honestly.”
Once more, Ingrid felt her cheeks burn as she spoke. “Why, though? Why would it mean so much to you?”
Dorothea looked almost as if she wanted to laugh, but also slightly hurt. “Why wouldn't it? It's a reminder of a time I helped you dodge a life married to a monster, and a gift from you besides.”
Dorothea lowered her hand again and met Ingrid's eyes, just for a moment. Then, driven by some uncomfortable urge, Ingrid jerked her head to the side and pulled her hand out of Dorothea’s, closing off and hugging her arms across her chest.
“Why are you here, Dorothea?” Ingrid asked. “It's not like you tend to train with weapons very much.”
“Heh…” Dorothea backed a half step away, trying to give Ingrid space. “No, I guess I don't. Honestly, I was thinking I'd find you here.”
“Oh?” Ingrid glanced back over and raised an eyebrow. “And why ever would you have come looking for me?”
“Well…” Dorothea shuffled her feet for a moment, seemingly trying to decide on the best way to phrase something. “I may have, possibly, overheard Edie and our professor talking, and that might have included mention of you being upset, so I wanted to offer an ear.”
Ingrid could feel as her eyes went wide. Wonderful, she thought, because I haven't been sufficiently humiliated today.
After a moment to take a deep, steadying breath, Ingrid looked at Dorothea and spoke in the most neutral voice she could manage. “I see. And what did you hear, precisely?”
“Nothing much, honestly,” Dorothea cocked her head in thought. “Just that the professor ran into you earlier and you were in a bad way from a letter. Didn't catch who from. I just figured your answer to most problems seems to involve working it physically out of your system, so I came here to look for you.”
Ingrid scoffed, in spite of herself. “So, what, am I supposed to just launch immediately into my tale of woe?”
“If you like,” Dorothea said matter-of-factly. “But I'm also content to just talk about anything, if you'd rather have a distraction.”
That gave Ingrid pause. She'd expected Dorothea to be pushy and try to pry. Now that she wasn’t, Ingrid found she almost wanted to tell her. It might be nice, having someone to talk to besides a nice but emotionally stunted teacher.
“Alright,” Ingrid sighed. “I suppose there's no sense hiding it if rumors look fit to fly anyway. The letter was from my father. He's found yet another prospect for me.”
Upon pausing to gauge the reaction to the news, Ingrid noticed Dorothea was wearing a slightly confused expression as she spoke. “Already?” She asked. “My, He's quite dedicated to… assisting your courtship, isn’t he?”
“Heh,” Ingrid chuckled mirthlessly. “You have no idea.”
“Soooo what's this one look like, as a prospect?”
“Oh, some viscount’s son. Nobody of great influence, but a wealthy family.” Ingrid cringed at the thought of her next statement, then forced herself to continue. “Unfortunately, father has done his own vetting a bit more thoroughly this time. There's nothing suggesting he wouldn't be an acceptable match.”
“Well, except the way you're speaking about him, of course,” Dorothea said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
“Dorothea, please,” Ingrid sighed. “It may be true that I don't relish the thought, and perhaps I could try to refuse, but to what end?”
“To what end?” Dorothea seemed almost indignant as she repeated the phrase. “To the end of your own well being! You can't go ahead and marry someone if it would feel like a prison to you! There's always another choice, another way!”
“And what would you know of it?!” Ingrid snapped, some invisible tether holding in her anger finally breaking. “You flounce around trying to get men interested in you, and you have the luxury of being as picky as you like! I never asked for this! I never asked to be paraded around like a prized broodmare to any stranger with the means to buy my future! Ever since I found out I bear a crest, I've always known my dreams were pointless, my ambitions impotent, and my duty to my family set in stone! What the hell do you think you know about any of that!?”
As she finished her rant, Ingrid noticed she was breathing heavily, and that a few tears had apparently escaped her eyes to carve tracks down her face through the dust and sweat from her drills. Dorothea, for her part, wore an expression somewhere in-between pitiful sympathy and red-cheeked anger.
“Ingrid…” Dorothea’s voice sounded conflicted in much the same way as her face looked. “I- I'm sorry you're going through this. Really, I am. But don't think for one moment that the way I have to court the boys around here is for fun.”
“Oh?” Ingrid said, incredulous. “Do tell, then. What reason do you have to go flitting from one fling to the next every couple of weeks?”
“Oh, I wouldn't expect you to understand,” Dorothea’s voice had a mocking lilt to it. “Financially stricken or no, you're a noble, and grew up in a loving home, after all. You've never had to scrape on the streets to scrounge a meal. Never had only yourself to count on. Never-”
Dorothea's voice caught in her throat when she saw Ingrid's face, twisted with pity and guilt.
“Dorothea, I- I had no idea-” Ingrid stumbled, trying to sort through her own mess of emotions as well as this new information as she spoke.
“Of course you didn’t,” Dorothea scoffed. “Hard to imagine such origins for a star songstress turned student at such a prestigious academy, isn't it?” Her words rang true, but even so they dripped with sarcasm.
“Regardless,” Ingrid said, desperately trying to regain her composure, “what does that part of your past have to do with your current… habits?” All the vitriol had left Ingrid now. Only curiosity and a fragile, false calm remained, fit to shatter if pushed too hard.
Sensing the shift, Dorothea's voice softened once more, but still held its firm foundation. “I can't be young and beautiful forever, Ingrid.” Her eyes fell to the cobbled floor as she spoke. “And when my days as a star are done for good, I will not end up on the streets,” she glanced up again, the steel in her gaze taking yet another swing at the stony remnants of the walls around Ingrid's heart. “Never again. And so, I flirt. I court those who might take care of me as I grow older. Simple, really.”
Ingrid considered that for a moment, some detail nagging at the back of her mind. “If that's so…” she began, the realization coming as she spoke. “Then why be so selective? Surely you've already come across several prospects with the means to care for you well?”
A wry smile curled Dorothea’s lips, and she gave a small chuckle. “Indeed I have. But, well, I suppose I'm something of a liar after all. I must still be holding out some hope that, maybe, I'll get to marry for love as well as financial security.”
“Ha…” Ingrid felt the laugh pass her lips, but not any of the mirth that should accompany such a sound. “At least you have such hopes.”
“What do you mean?” Dorothea asked.
“Just what I said,” Ingrid replied. “I’ve never had any hope to marry for love. I can't.”
“Never?” Dorothea seemed surprised. “Not even the slightest hope that you'd hit it off with a suitor, just by luck?”
“No,” Ingrid said, trying to figure out how to stop this line of questioning.
“Whyever not?”
“Because I've never been interested in any man that way!” Ingrid clamped a hand over her own mouth as soon as the words escaped, but it was too late now.
There was silence for an agonizing moment as Dorothea processed what Ingrid had said. Then, eyes going wide, she spoke. “Ingrid… you said no man has interested you that way, but have you ever been interested in a woman?”
Blood screamed through Ingrid’s body as it rushed into her face. “I- How could you even- No!” She sputtered, trying to think of how she could possibly convey how wrong the idea was. “Absolutely not! Why would you ever suspect-” she stopped short again, an uncomfortable idea occurring to her. “Wait… is that why you’ve been so interested in me and my prospects?”
It was Dorothea’s turn to blush, though hers was somewhat less intense. “Well, no. I just didn’t want to see anyone forced into a marriage they didn’t want, let alone to a monster like that last suitor. But, well… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t grown fond of you since.”
Ingrid almost couldn’t think at all. What ideas did manage to take shape in her mind were alien and confusing. This was ludicrous. All of it was ludicrous. She needed to get out of here.
As she moved to push past Dorothea, she felt a gentle grip on her wrist, stopping her, and her mind went blank again.
“Look,” Dorothea said, “I understand that whatever is going on for you right now, on top of everything else… it’s got to be a lot. But I’m here if you need to talk about anything, okay?”
Ingrid nodded, barely registering the words, and pulled her hand free. Within moments she was out of the training yard, and within minutes she was collapsing into her bed. After some time spent staring at her darkened ceiling, Ingrid began to form more coherent thoughts again on the day’s events.
Regardless of… whatever had just happened in her talk with Dorothea, she still had a very real issue to deal with. Her father would expect a reply sooner rather than later, and she had no idea how to get out of it this time. Even knowing that her dreams were all but certainly doomed to fail, she couldn’t help wanting to chase them, at least for a little longer.
Heh, she thought, I suppose that's something else Dorothea and I have in common, then.
She stopped as Dorothea entered her mind once more, paralyzing her momentarily as she thought of the songstress’s face in the moonlight as the two of them had, for that strange moment, poured their hearts out to one another. The tones of even just her speaking voice had been enough to bewitch Ingrid into lowering her guard. What must it be like, she wondered, to hear her sing…
She shook her head, dispelling that line of thinking as best she could. What mattered now was making a plan to deal with her father and this latest suitor.
She could just refuse outright, maybe not even reply at all. She’d done it before. But something told her that wouldn’t cut it, not now. She was too old now for her father to let that kind of behavior slide, and this whole matter was only going to become more and more pressing as she came into her own as a member of noble society.
No, she had to answer with something substantial. But what? What excuse could she possibly come up with that would satisfy him, and yet allow her to hold out some small hope for her true dream of knighthood?
“There's always another choice, another way!” Dorothea’s words rang in her ears, refusing to leave her be. But what “other way” could she have? Even the other Blue Lions, sympathetic though they may be, would do nothing to stop this. She was in entirely the position she was expected to be in.
Then, in a flash, it hit her.
She practically launched herself out of bed, rushing to her desk and searching for her flint to light the candle by which she had studied the previous night. She wouldn’t be able to send the reply until she’d confirmed if this was even an option, but she had to write it now. If she didn’t, then she might come to her senses too quickly.
Mad or not, the idea had her feeling as though new growth was springing from the stony rubble around her heart.
—
The next morning’s classes seemed to drag by, and Ingrid thought she might finally understand Sylvain’s feelings on them, if it was like this for him all the time. All the while, the sealed letter in her jacket’s inner pocket seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour.
Finally, after a seemingly endless review of the strengths and weaknesses of the tactics they had employed at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, it was time to break for lunch.
Ingrid would normally have made straight for the dining hall, especially when the smells of grilling meat had drifted all the way to the classrooms. But no, today she had a mission to attend to.
As she approached the door to the Black Eagles’ classroom, just for a moment, she almost lost her nerve. This was idiocy, surely. Even if the first part of the plan worked, then what? Just hope father accepted her explanation as reason to hold off on marriage prospects?
But, no, all that could come later. Right now, she just had to do it.
She took a deep breath, let it out, and then knocked on the door.
“Come in,” came Byleth's usual monotone from inside.
Ingrid pushed the door open just wide enough to slip inside, closing it behind her, and turned to look at the desk. There Byleth sat, filing through papers with one hand and, in something of a surprise, spinning the knife that she usually wore on her belt in the other.
"Just a moment,” she said, still reading whatever was on the most recent page. Ingrid felt her nerves rise again as she waited, but thankfully Byleth seemed to find a stopping point sooner, rather than later.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” Ingrid bowed her head for a moment.
“Afternoon, Ingrid,” Byleth replied, the slightest hint of a smile tweaking the corner of her mouth as she re-sheathed her knife. “To what do I owe this visit?”
“Well, you see, I…” Ingrid trailed off for a moment, unsure how to word the request, before deciding straightforward was probably best. “I wanted to ask if your offer to join the Black Eagles is still open.”
Byleth raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, and tilted her head slightly as she considered Ingrid's words, seemingly taking a moment to examine her demeanor as well. Ingrid felt herself squirm internally under the scrutiny, but held steady.
“I see,” Byleth said, leaning back in her chair. “If I may ask, what changed for you to want to do this now?”
Ingrid briefly considered playing coy, or even just declining to answer, but thought better of it. That was no way to begin a relationship with a new house professor. Besides, Byleth more or less already knew about her reasons.
“Do you remember the letter I received yesterday?” Ingrid paused, waiting until Byleth had nodded to continue. “Well, quite simply, I cannot think of any way, in my current position, to reject it.”
“Indeed,” Byleth said, head resting on steepled hands in contemplation. “But how does changing your house in the academy aid your cause?”
“A fair question,” Ingrid replied. “Honestly, it's slightly desperate, but I'm hoping that I can provide him with the excuse that I'm trying to focus on fostering diplomatic relationships between our family and leading families of the Empire. It still stands to help our family, and it's more than just an excuse, to boot. I really can pursue that goal. Meanwhile, I can still work toward my true ultimate goal of being ready for knighthood back home after graduation.”
“A novel plan,” Ingrid could swear Byleth almost managed a chuckle as she spoke. “But why the Eagles? Why not try to strengthen ties with the Alliance through the Golden Deer? Doesn't your family hail from there, originally?”
Ingrid had expected the first questions, but this one threw her. “Well, I suppose because I don't know any of them very well,” she said, the words rising, almost beyond her control, into her throat. Even so, it felt good to lay everything out. “You, Lady Edelgard, Dorothea, and several of the others have been good to me, helping with that debacle and being friendly since.”
Ingrid did, however, choose to keep the previous night's talk with Dorothea to herself. That mess of a conversation and her feelings about it were something she still needed to sort out, once she had the time.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Byleth actually grinned. Though it looked good on her, it threw Ingrid for such a loop that she came crashing back to reality.
“What do you think, Edelgard?” Byleth called over to the door. Ingrid felt herself go pale as she spun to face back at the exit where, sure enough, Edelgard stood, leaning against the archway and smiling broadly.
“Well, my teacher,” Edelgard walked closer as she spoke, joining the conversation properly. “I do believe that you have the final say in this matter.”
“Perhaps,” Byleth said. “But, as house leader, you would be involved in the integration of a new member. Besides, I've come to value your opinion regardless.”
Ingrid listened to the back and forth, and as she did the blood which had vacated her face moments before came rushing back with a vengeance.
“Well,” Edelgard said, giving Ingrid a scrutinizing glance. “I would hope the answer is obvious, seeing as I suggested we ask her.”
“What!?” Ingrid's jaw dropped as she cried out, not caring that it sounded improper.
Edelgard broke into a fit of giggles, holding one hand over her mouth for a moment as she regained her composure.
“In any case,” she said, once she'd regained control. “I remain in favor of you joining us, Ingrid. Also, I actually don't think your idea of establishing bonds of friendship for diplomatic benefit, born of necessity though it may be, is a bad one.”
Ingrid looked once more to Byleth, who nodded, leaning down to open a drawer in her desk. “Here,” she said, handing Ingrid a packet of papers. “Transfer forms for you to submit to Manuela. I took the liberty of filling out my portion of them around when I first offered the transfer. You and she just have to complete yours.”
Ingrid took the papers quietly. She could not believe this had gone so smoothly. Not only had Byleth still been willing to take her on, but Edelgard had wanted her here as well. She added it to the frankly daunting pile she was beginning to amass of “things to properly unpack later.”
“Well, Byleth said, rising from her chair. “I must say, I am famished. Would you two care to join me for lunch?”
“Always happy to, my teacher,” Edelgard’s smile seemed oddly soft, considering the usual edge that all of her expressions seemed to hold. “Will you be joining us as well, Ingrid? Perhaps we can share the good news with the others, while we're there.”
Ingrid nodded, pulling herself fully back to reality at last. She had planned to send the letter only after getting to eat lunch anyway, and it almost seemed weightless now where once it had been so heavy. It made sense, she supposed. The worst nerves were over, and the die was cast.
As they departed for the dining hall, Ingrid tried to think of where this new path may ultimately lead, and found she was strangely excited at her lack of any clue as to the answer. For once in her life, if only just for the moment, her fate felt like it would be her own choice. Even as she knew how foolishly optimistic she was being, the new weeds springing over the cracked stone of her heart quickened their growth.
—
Four months. It had been four months now since Ingrid had fully and officially joined the Black Eagles. They had welcomed her, all of them had, with open arms.
Caspar and she had clashed, at first, but ultimately he had been overjoyed to have so enthusiastic a training partner, and she had been equally happy to give him one. Bernadetta had been nervous, but they had bonded over Ingrid's own past with such an attitude, and now frequently went riding together since Bernadetta had started to learn. Lindhart acted indifferent and was infuriatingly truant, but he clearly cared for his fellows well being when it counted, and that was enough for now.
Mercedes, Lysithea, Marianne, and Ashe had transferred as well. With Mercedes and Ashe, Ingrid had been grateful for at least a couple of familiar faces in the earliest days. She and Mercedes had kept up their old arrangement of taking tea together. Ashe, meanwhile, had continued to prove he had fine taste in tales of valor and chivalry, and the two of them had practically formed a personal book club now. She didn't know the former Golden Deer as well as her fellow Blue Lions transfers, but Lysithea was clearly an incredibly hard worker, so she was fine by Ingrid. Marianne, for her part, was quite shy, but had occasionally helped Ingrid with insightful observations about care for her mounts, and so Ingrid considered her a friend.
Petra and she had ended up quite competitive with each other, between their shared love of flying and tendencies to train in free time, but it was good natured. They taught each other many things as well. Ingrid had learned to hunt and refined her technique with a sword with elements of the Brigid style that Petra used. Petra, meanwhile, had improved massively as a flier, going from well-laid fundamentals to become nearly a match for Ingrid herself, as well as becoming fond of Ingrid's uniquely brusque-but-still-acceptable version of etiquette.
Hubert had seemed an impossible nut to crack at first, what with his overprotective streak with Edelgard and seeming lack of other interests. That facade had finally cracked, however, when she caught him watching her and Petra's airborne patrol one weekend. In the ensuing conversation, she had discovered his secret love for pegasi and, with some hard-won context clues, put together that he had once wanted to be a pegasus knight as a child. Between that little episode, as well as their shared respect for one another's deep senses of duty, a sort of accord had arisen between them. Most amusing of all was Hubert's sneaking down to the stables while Ingrid had her mount out to stroke her feathers. The only thinking that kept it from being completely hilarious was Hubert's very serious threat to “silence” her should she breathe a word of it to anyone.
Edelgard, as it turned out, was quite fond of discussing the topics of good governance and the current state of the nobility, much as they had done that time before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Ingrid was happy to oblige, generally, though some of the conversations had leaned a bit out of her usual comfort zone. Things like talk of the role of the church in local and state politics, or theoretical models in which nobility was no longer a concept. It was somewhat beyond Ingrid's ken, but it clearly fascinated Edelgard, and in playing the sounding board she had learned a great deal. In turn, Edelgard told her that her questions were usually good ones, and she appreciated the earnest engagement with the topics. Ferdinand had frequently been part of these talks as well, and his perspective as a much higher-born noble than Ingrid brought yet greater nuance to proceedings. It was an odd friendship that had grown between her, the future Duke Aegir, and the Heir to the Adrestian Throne, but one built on respect and full of good natured humor and a developing shared interest.
It also helped that they all enjoyed a good workout to unwind, leading to many more casual topics of conversation.
Her relationship with Dorothea, meanwhile, had probably been the most strained lately. The two of them hadn't had a chance yet to properly unpack the conversation they'd had the night before Ingrid transferred houses. Even still, they had been friendly, and Ingrid kept telling herself there would be time to sort out whatever hung between them.
How foolish that notion suddenly seemed, now.
Byleth had proven a capable instructor, as Ingrid had known she would be, and she had come to respect the woman even more greatly upon seeing her handling of the Remire disaster. Her heart had bled for her teacher when Jeralt had fallen and, for the first time in any of the students’ recollections, they saw their professor’s face twist with the depth of her emotions as she wept for her father's passing. The way Ingrid heard it told, Jeralt had raised Byleth by himself, the professor's mother claimed by some illness shortly after giving birth. He had been the only family Byleth had ever known.
Ingrid could scarcely imagine how awful the sense of loss must be, and had been in favor of their unsanctioned mission into the forest to hunt down those responsible and deliver justice. It was a stance that, for a moment, she could not have regretted more, having watched her professor be swallowed by darkness.
Never could she have predicted what came next. Not even in her wildest dreams.
But even that seemed to pale in comparison to this moment. Four months since she joined the Eagles. Four of the best months of her life. Four months that felt more filled with possibilities than the prior four years.
And, in an instant, all of it had shattered.
“Such a rebellious heart cannot be allowed to continue beating!” Rhea's usual demeanor of gentle kindness had been stripped back, revealing a layer of horrifically bloodied steel beneath as she demanded Byleth execute her own student. It terrified Ingrid, and she could feel that energy in her friends as well. Worst of all, though, was the feeling of complete and utter powerlessness as they were forced to watch the scene before them unfold.
Ingrid wasn’t sure what sort of emotions crashed over her as she watched Byleth step forth. The professor took a place in front of Edelgard sword in her hand and a mask of emotionless calm on her face that looked far less natural than it once had. Then, most incredibly of all, she turned to face Rhea, raising her sword into a middle guard.
“You…” Rhea practically hissed. “How dare you?”
“My teacher, I-” Edelgard seemed as shocked as the rest of them. “Th- thank you! But are you certain that- no. Now isn't the time for discussion.”
As soon as Edelgard had said it, there was a crackling, scraping sound, and Hubert appeared behind the pair.
“Words cannot properly express my gratitude, professor.” That was all he said before the temperature of the room noticeably spiked as Rhea bristled with rage.
“So, this is the choice you have made. You are just another failure.” As she spoke, the Archbishop's robes began to darken at the edges and in spots where they made direct contact with her skin. “Your presence soils this holy tomb and disgraces my brethren.”
Much to Ingrid's horror, Rhea's form began to shift. She was becoming taller, her features more angular, and her robes began to burn as they tore from her expanding frame and the heat she gave off became almost unbearable.
“I will not allow one who would lend our enemies strength to wield the power of the goddess Sothis!” Rhea's voice was becoming impossibly deep and booming impossibly loudly now as a pale green light began to grow in her chest.
“I. Have passed. JUDGMENT. I shall rip your chest open, and take your heart back myself!” Rhea roared the last words as the green light grew blinding. When it faded, the Archbishop had been replaced by a monstrous dragon at least twice as large as any demonic beast Ingrid had yet fought.
Once the light faded the dragon lowered its head, opened its jaws, and roared with enough force to shake the entire chamber. Bits of stone fell around them as the ceiling and structures of the chamber shifted, and as she clamped hands over her ears Ingrid suddenly felt keenly aware of the fact that they were deeper underground than she’d ever been before.
Edelgard was yelling something over the din that Ingrid couldn't make out. What she could understand, however, was Edelgard’s wave beckoning the rest of the class closer. Not knowing what else to do, Ingrid joined the others in forming up around Edelgard.
As soon as everyone was packed in close enough, the crackling scrape that had accompanied Hubert's arrival came again. Their surroundings changed in an instant, and suddenly they seemed to be in some kind of abandoned stone building. Perhaps an old chapel, or a disused watchtower.
Wherever they were, the effort of bringing them here had clearly drained Hubert, who fell to one knee as soon as his spell was complete, panting heavily.
There was silence and stillness for a few moments, barring Hubert's signs of exertion, as everyone present allowed what had just happened to sink in. Then, slowly, Ingrid and the others backed away from Edelgard, Byleth, and Hubert to form a semi-circle on the other side of the room from them.
“So,” Ferdinand was the first to speak, stepping slightly forward as he did so. “I do believe that we are all owed one hell of an explanation. However, given the full circumstances, I also think we owe you the chance to give it.” This drew nodding and murmurs of assent from all around, Ingrid included.
“That is more than fair,” Edelgard nodded as she spoke. “But, as it is a long story, I'll need to send a few messages first. Time is truly of the essence.”
“Send them how?” Lysithea piped up. “None of us are going to run messages for you right now, and Hubert seems pretty spent.”
“A fair question,” Edelgard said, pushing open the door to the building in which they stood. They were on a hill, still somewhere in the mountains near the monastery by the look of it, and in the valley below them lay a full military encampment. Adrestian standards fluttered in the wind, and the sounds of hundreds of people going about their daily tasks were now audible through the open door.
“Welcome,” Edelgard said, “to the forward camp of the Imperial Vanguard.”
—
By the time night had fallen, Ingrid's head was swimming with new information. Over the last several hours she and the others had learned not only that Rhea and the legendary Immaculate One were one in the same, but that the church had apparently been shifting politics across the continent for centuries with nobody successfully pushing back until now. It didn't sit right with Ingrid, the idea that the church in which she had been raised could be so despotic, but the evidence was difficult to deny. Not only had Rhea literally transformed before their eyes, but the conversations about the church's role in governance she'd had with Edelgard and Ferdinand made a great deal of sense in this new context.
After hours spent listening, processing, and discussing these new events with the others, Ingrid had come to a conclusion that surprised her. When she had joined the Black Eagles, it had been spurred by a desperate desire to seize some small amount of control over her path in life. She had been fascinated by the offer initially, sure, but without the push of her father’s seemingly endless campaign to get her married? Without Byleth and Dorothea having discovered her being upset and needling at the issue? She was all but sure she'd have never joined a new house.
Now, much to her surprise, she shuddered to think where she would be if she hadn’t. She'd have never learned of the truth behind the church. Never forged the new friendships she'd come to treasure with her housemates. Never begun to consider a better world, one in which none would be seen as prized breeding stock or a valuable bargaining chip because of their blood. A world where corrupt nobles could not abuse their subjects, and people of all sorts could pursue their dreams and passions.
The vision of that better world had taken root in her once-stony heart and grown like a weed through the cracks of her old walls. Now there was a garden of wild beauty and possibility, and she knew who she had to thank for that.
Moreover, she knew how she intended to convey her thanks.
In the once-abandoned watchtower where the Eagles had set up their own little camp, Ingrid climbed the winding stairs to the upper floor room that Edelgard had claimed as an office. Most of the others had either fallen asleep by the fireplace or found some side room to retire to in private, after the long day’s events. Byleth and Hubert, as Ingrid understood it, were down in the main camp, gathering a full situation report for Edelgard to review.
As Ingrid reached the top of the stairs, she took a deep breath, then knocked on the door in front of her.
“Come in,” Edelgard’s voice was almost unnaturally steady as she answered.
Ingrid pushed the door open, stopping as she entered to give a quick bow. “Good evening, your Majesty.”
“Oh, come now,” Edelgard said, smiling wearily and looking up from the reports she had been reading. The jovial attitude Ingrid had come to expect from how Edelgard tended to treat her classmates was there, but weighed down now by the burdens she had hidden for so long. “I understand why you would address me that way in public, but can we not speak as friends in private?”
“My apologies, your Majesty,” Ingrid replied, closing the door and standing at attention. “I've been taught to address royalty by proper titles all my life. It has proven a difficult habit to break, despite both your and his Highness’ insistence that I try to.”
“Ah, so Dimitri has asked the same, has he?” Edelgard’s face darkened slightly, but her smile held.
“Indeed,” Ingrid said. “I apologize for bringing that up now, of all times.”
Edelgard waved away the apology. “Don't worry about it. Frankly, I'd be surprised if your old friends and your home weren't on your mind right now. But enough of that, what brings you here at such a late hour?”
Ingrid took a deep breath, then began.
“Earlier today, after you told us what was going on and why, you said we should reach our own conclusions and let you know once we had.” Ingrid paused then, proceeding once Edelgard had nodded. “Well, I've come to a conclusion.”
“So soon?” Edelgard cocked her head. “Only Ferdinand has told me his intentions so far, and I expected him to be relatively quick, for good or ill.”
“And which way did he decide to go?” Ingrid couldn't help but ask.
“He's chosen to remain here and join my fight,” Edelgard said. “Truth be told, I'm pleasantly surprised everyone has even given me a chance, so it was welcome news indeed.”
“I can only imagine,” Ingrid said, also relieved to hear of their friend's choice.
“And you, then?” Edgard asked, her gaze growing more intent. “What decision have you come to?”
This is it, Ingrid thought.
“I've decided I want to stay,” Ingrid stood tall and firm as she spoke. “I would fight for you, and for your dream of a better world, if you'd have me.”
As Ingrid watched, it seemed as though a weight fell from Edelgard’s shoulders. The young Emperor allowed her eyes to blink closed for a moment as she let out a long, relieved sigh.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, Ingrid,” Edelgard said, eyes fluttering open again as she met Ingrid's once more, now wearing a far more relaxed expression. “Even still, though, I feel it is my duty as both a ruler and a friend to ask: are you completely certain? Your homeland- including your family- will most likely brand you a traitor.”
“I know,” Ingrid replied, the thought stinging once again. “But, ultimately, this is just as much for them as anyone else. And…” she stumbled, the words not coming as naturally. “Frankly, I will take the chance to help them this way, even if they hate me for it, if it means I can live my life as I've always wished to.”
“Oh?” Edelgard said, one of her eyebrows rising.
“You've heard me say many times that, in my own heart, I am a knight,” Ingrid began. “Even and especially now, that remains true. But, in reality, there is one step I've yet to take.” She trailed off for a moment, searching for the right way to say it, before Edelgard supplied her with an answer.
“You wish to make an oath of fealty?” Edelgard asked, her eyes going a little wider as Ingrid nodded in reply. “But… why? You know I would never ask that of you, that your actions will be more than enough.”
“I know,” Ingrid said. “That's precisely why I want to offer it. You and the others have opened my eyes to a world beyond the scope of anything I had believed would be an option for me before. Because of you, I feel like I have real choices for the first time in my life, and like I might be able to give others real choices for the first time in theirs. And so, to mark the occasion and set my whole heart on this new path, I wish to offer you the sort of oath I thought I would only ever have a chance to make to a king.”
For a moment Edelgard just seemed shocked. Ingrid wondered if she had, perhaps, overstepped. Then Edelgard slowly nodded.
“Alright,” the Emperor finally said once she'd found her voice again. “I know how much the ideals of knighthood mean to you, and what sort of hypocrite would I be to deny you the very path in life you most desire? I do, however, have one condition.”
“Name it,” Ingrid said, her heart pumping as it sank in. She was really about to do this.
“If ever I falter in such a way that you feel I have not kept to the ideals that inspired you to make this vow, then I do not wish you to keep it.” Edelgard’s eyes were deadly serious as she spoke, standing up and approaching Ingrid until there was only a few feet of space between them. “I want you to remember that you are free, and that I will never own you. If ever I fail to keep up my end of this- fail to be the person you see when you swear this oath- then you will not be bound to uphold it. Do we have a deal?”
Ingrid nodded. “Honestly, I expected something like that. Once, I would have felt an oath made with such a condition was meaningless. But now, after everything… yes. Those terms suit me just fine.”
“In that case…” Edelgard took a deep breath. “Your sword, please.”
Ingrid drew the sword she'd taken to keeping belted at her hip and examined her own reflection in the freshly cleaned blade for a moment. Then she knelt, bowing her head and offering the weapon to Edelgard, who took it.
“Ingrid Brandl Galatea,” Edelgard began lowering the sword so the flat hovered just above Ingrid's left shoulder. “Do you swear to fight for a brighter tomorrow? To strive for and protect the dream of a world in which all may live freely and unbound by the circumstances of their birth? To follow this path so long as our convictions stand firm?”
“I swear it, my liege.” Ingrid replied, keeping her head bowed as Edelgard lifted the sword over it and brought it into position over her right shoulder.
“Do you swear to be loyal and true, both to your ideals and to those you hold dear, never faltering in your oath?”
“I swear it, my liege.” Ingrid's heart raced as Edelgard brought the flat of the blade up just over her head again, then brought it up, partially covering her own face. They held like that for only a moment, but to Ingrid it felt like it could stretch forever in her contentment. Then, Edelgard changed her grip on the sword, taking it by the blade and offering the hilt back to Ingrid where she knelt, now raising her head to meet the Emperor's gaze.
“Then rise, Sir Ingrid, Knight of Adrestia. Rise, my friend, and let us walk together toward a new future.” Edelgard smiled as Ingrid stood, taking her sword as she did so.
Ingrid took a deep, steadying breath to bring her heart rate back under control. This was it. The die was cast. In a way she would never have expected, she had achieved her greatest dream. She was, at long last, a knight, and she found that among the storm of conflicting emotions in her chest, the greatest by far was excitement.
“Thank you, my liege,” she said, sheathing her sword once more. “I won't let you down.”
“Of that, Ingrid, I have no doubt,” Edelgard smiled.
“Is there any more I can do for you tonight, my lady?” Ingrid asked, eager to be of service as soon as she could.
“Yes, actually,” Edelgard said, a note of sarcastic mirth in her tone. “Get some rest. It's been a very long day and I need you ready for tomorrow, now that you're joining the cause fully.”
Ingrid blushed slightly, suddenly self conscious. “Fair enough,” she said. “But do try to take your own advice as well, yes? A leader that's dead on her feet does an army little good, after all.”
“Ha!” Edelgard barked a laugh, nodding. “That's a fair point as well. I promise, as soon as Hubert and the Professor return, I'll retire for the evening.”
Ingrid nodded, turning to leave. “Thank you, your m- Edelgard.”
“Sleep well, Sir Ingrid,” Edelgard grinned. “We've plenty of work, come the morning.”
As Ingrid descended the stairs, absently musing on where she'd lay out her bedding, a grin crept once again onto her face. She had just thrown away everything she had been raised to believe, and yet she felt more like herself than she ever had. If it was a choice between well-kept stone walls around her heart or a garden of wild weeds overtaking the crumbling remains as she pushed forward, then she was happy to let the weeds grow however they pleased.