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Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 21, Imperial Year 1186

Byleth stepped into the throne room of the Adrestian Empire, Sword of the Creator on his right hip and a rapier on his left.

"His Highness, the Lord Consort Byleth!" One of the guards declared. Edelgard chuckled from her throne, Ingrid by her side with Lúin in hand. The Emperor looked like the peak of Imperial power, her red armour shimmering slightly in the sunlight that shined through the window. Aymr rested against the throne, the mighty axe ready for its master to need it.

"I fear I will never get used to that title." Byleth smiled faintly. "I swear, Hubert and Ferdinand found the most garish title they could muster."

"Be glad they dropped the Royal part," Ingrid noted.

"Fair." Byleth nodded.

"Marquis Vestra, Lady Arnault, and Miss Nevrand have arrived, Your Majesty." A guard entered the throne room. Edelgard waved her hand, motioning for them to be allowed in as Byleth ascended the steps to the throne, taking up a position next to Edelgard opposite Ingrid. Hubert, Dorothea, and Shamir entered, all bowing.

"Hubert, Dorothea, Shamir, welcome. I hope the journey from Aegir was calm." Edelgard smiled.

"Other than the party of bandits we encountered, but they weren't a big problem." Dorothea smiled back. "As promised, we're back in time for me to help you prepare for the state dinner."

"You're a blessing, Dorothea." Edelgard chuckled. Edelgard got off her throne, picking up Aymr.

"Please tell me you're not taking that to dinner." Dorothea sighed.

"No, no. I just don't like having it out of my sight if it's not in my armoury." Edelgard grinned. She and Dorothea walked towards a door at the back of the room, tailed by Hubert.

"Hubert, a word?" Byleth motioned for Hubert to stay behind. "Shamir, could you-"

"I'll keep an eye on the Emperor." Shamir nodded, following Edelgard and Dorothea out of the room. Hubert walked over to Byleth and Ingrid, arms folded behind his back.

"I presume this is something requiring my skillset that the Emperor will not approve of?" Hubert raised a brow.

"Of a sort." Byleth nodded.

"It's more... I don't..." Ingrid breathed in deeply, tightening her grip on Lúin. Byleth handed Hubert a letter, who took and opened it.

"My dearest daughter, Ingrid. You have found yourself in a position of great opportunity for your home. You stand beside the Emperor of Adrestia, a place that gives you a chance to..." Hubert paused, running his tongue along his upper teeth. "Avenge our murdered king." Hubert sighed, looking at Ingrid. "You know what I have to do. You asked me to spare him, and I agreed. I cannot honour that bargain any longer."

"I know." Ingrid breathed in deeply. "I know what comes next for him. I have only one thing to ask." Ingrid pulled a letter from her black and crimson armour. "Read that to him before he dies. Please."

"I shall." Hubert nodded. He handed the letter from her father back to Ingrid before spinning on his heel, walking out of the room. Ingrid let out a nervous huff of air from her mouth.

"I know you're not alright, so I'll skip asking that." Byleth gave Ingrid a sympathetic look.

"I just signed my father's death warrant." Ingrid leaned on Lúin. "If I went to deal with him, if you went, if the Emperor went, my father might survive longer as a prisoner. But I chose Hubert. I chose someone who will make my father beg for mercy and then smile when he is denied it."

"Do you regret it?" Byleth asked.

"I know that taking him prisoner only to lead to a likely public execution for scheming against the Emperor would only make him a martyr. Like..."

"Dimitri." Byleth finished.

"No." Ingrid shook her head, her short hair whishing slightly. "Glenn." Ingrid sighed. "I made him a martyr for the longest time. I have wanted to be a knight for as long as I can remember. Then came Duscur. When he died, I blamed myself. I blamed my not being strong enough, good enough to be a knight beside him. When I came to the Academy, I came for that. To become a knight good enough to avenge him. To serve my Kingdom like he did."

"When did that change?" Byleth asked.

"Two weeks before the Battle of the Eagle and Lion."

Garreg Mach

Fishing Pond

Wyvern Moon, Day 12, Imperial Year 1180

Byleth walked past the fishing pond of Garreg Mach, a book in hand. Ingrid stood by the water's edge, gazing into the pond.

"Catch anything?" Byleth asked.

"I'm afraid not, Professor." Ingrid smiled slightly.

"I believe this is your Jousting Almanac." Byleth offered the book to Ingrid.

"Yes, that's mine. Thank you very much! I've been looking for it." Ingrid beamed. Byleth nodded before turning on his heel. "Oh, I almost forgot." Byleth turned back to Ingrid. "You have good timing, Professor. There's actually something I want to speak with you about. There are so many things I want to learn from you. Being in another class makes it especially challenging."

"You'd like to join the Black Eagles?" Byleth raised an eyebrow.

"If you and Lady Edelgard will have me." Ingrid nodded.

"We will both be happy to have someone of your skills. Come to class tomorrow. We begin half an hour after breakfast." Byleth nodded.

"Thank you, Professor! I look forward to studying under you. I will be extra diligent with my studies. Thank you for this opportunity." Ingrid smiled widely.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 21, Imperial Year 1186

"You and Edelgard were happy to have me for my skills. Not for my Crest, not for political power, but for me." Ingrid wiped a tear away. "That was the first time that someone wanted me for me and not for other motives. That's why I joined the Empire. Because the only question you asked was to confirm I wanted to join your house. You didn't ask about my duty to my Kingdom, you didn't ask what my family thought, you asked if I wanted to be a Black Eagle." Ingrid hugged Byleth. "I've thanked you and Edelgard before, but I don't do it enough."

"I know you're thankful. Even when you don't say it." Byleth returned the gesture. "Edelgard knows too."

"You should go get ready. You have your first dinner as the Imperial Consort." Ingrid pulled away and smiled sadly. "I'll be alright." Byleth nodded, placing a hand on Ingrid's shoulder in a comforting gesture before walking out of the room. Ingrid walked over to the throne, tracing her hand on the armrest she had stood guard next to.

Ingrid Brandl Galatea. That was her name. The name she had been born with. Ingrid, the name of a lesser Saint that hailed from Faerghus. Brandl, a word that could either mean warm fire or sword. Ingrid's father had preferred the former, Ingrid much preferred the latter.

Her father.

"No." Ingrid whispered to herself.

No, she couldn't keep looping back to him. She couldn't keep looping back to a man who would be dead within days. It was cold to think about, but her father had always been cold to her feelings. Cold to her. Ingrid felt less like she had always been less of a daughter and more like a pawn. That's why she stayed with Edelgard during the war, why she didn't hesitate to fight beside Edelgard and Byleth against the Kingdom and Church she had grown up in. She made her choice when she had helped from above as Edelgard and Byleth fought their way to Dimitri. She made her choice when she had escorted them to Rhea. She made her choice when Rhea disarmed Byleth and she threw Lúin to him so that he could still fight while she recovered the Sword of the Creator. She made her choice when she helped Edelgard shatter the Immaculate One's defenses so Byleth could kill the tyrant dragon.

She made her choice long before that.

She made her choice in the Tomb.

Garreg Mach

The Holy Tomb

Pegasus Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1180

Edelgard held her axe at the ready, sprinting away from the raging Immaculate One. She ducked behind a piece of rubble to catch her breath.

"At least I had the sense to wear wedges instead of heels." She joked to herself. It wasn't as though it was a choice. It was easier to wear the wedge boots that she had taken to wearing since she had passed the Lord Certification Exam under her Flame Emperor armour. Not that she was wearing that now. "Hubert better be following my orders to get everyone else out."

"I WILL CLEANSE THE TOMB WITH YOUR BLOOD, HERETIC TRAITOR!" The Immaculate One screeched.

"Wilhelm's Beard, what I would give for Ferdinand and his horse right about now." Edelgard sighed. She heard a whinny and turned, expecting to see Ferdinand had come at a very convenient time. But no. It wasn't Ferdinand.

"Lady Edelgard!" Ingrid brought her pegasus up next to Edelgard, holding out her hand for the newly crowned Emperor. Edelgard took it, climbing onto the pegasus.

"Ingrid, why are you-" Edelgard began, shaking her head in confusion.

"I'm a Black Eagle, Lady Edelgard." Ingrid tucked her braid into her collar so it wouldn't hit Edelgard in the face while in flight.

"Thank you." Edelgard smiled.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 21, Imperial Year 1186

"I look ridiculous," Edelgard groaned as she evaluated herself in a mirror. She wore an outfit similar to the one her father had worn when she was coronated, but with the horned crown she had worn during the war still on her head. "I do wish I could wear my armour to this dinner, but Dorothea would throw a fit."

"Armour is practical for fighting a brigand, El. Not a bowl of soup." Byleth chuckled.

"Mmm." Edelgard walked over to him, leaning her head against his arm and looked back towards the mirror. "Fair." She sighed. "I like that we aren't at war. There's at least some level of peace. Still, I can't help but feel vulnerable with only silk and no steel."

"El, dear, you are the steel beneath this silk." Byleth took her hand in his.

"You know exactly what to say, my tea-love." Edelgard caught herself. "I do need to shake that habit. I know you and the rest of our friends find it somewhere between funny and charming, but the people will whisper if I call you that in public."

"Yes, well. Let's worry about surviving dinner first." Byleth chuckled, stepping behind Edelgard and rubbing her shoulders.

"Having the Black Eagle Strike Force around will soothe my nerves." Edelgard smiled and closed her eyes.

"Most of the Strike Force. Hubert had business to attend to in former Kingdom territory. Apparently whispers of a plot against Imperial power in the region came to his attention." Byleth explained, not giving Edelgard the details about Ingrid's father.

"Should I be worried that Hubert told you and not me?" Edelgard raised a brow. "Is that what you wanted to talk to him about?"

"He asked me to tell him when it was a good time to talk. That was a good time." Byleth smiled. "As for worry, don't. Hubert promised he will be discreet. There's no need for you to pick up Aymr and charge headfirst into another fight."

"Mmm. I suppose I can let it go for now then. If it becomes a problem, which I doubt it will, I hope you're ready to stand beside me again."

"My swords and magic are yours to wield, El."

"And Aymr is yours to command."

Edelgard and Byleth looked at the table around them. The Black Eagles, sans Hubert and Shamir, all laughed with each other. Various other politicians sat among the heroes of the war, listening to the stories with great joy.

"You know, Ferdie, I love your hair." Dorothea leaned forward. Ferdinand touched his hair, which sat in an intricate braid against his back.

"Why thank you!" Ferdinand smiled. "Marianne did it. Isn't she incredible?" Marianne blushed.

"Absolutely! I must get you to help with designing hairstyles for my new opera, Marianne." Dorothea's eyes sparked as she began to plot her latest endeavor.

"Oh, you've begun another opera?" Ignatz asked.

"Yes! Petra and I were talking over a lovely romantic breakfast the other morning, and the topic of unification came up," Dorothea began.

"I am believing that to combine the people of Brigid better with the Empire, we are needing to combine the history," Petra continued.

"Petra has been teaching me the songs of her people, and oh, they're lovely. I have to share them with Fódlan." Dorothea took Petra's hand.

"And I would like to be sharing the songs of Fódlan with the people of Brigid." Petra smiled at her.

"Though I am rather nervous that some of the people may not look kindly upon the Ballad of the Flame Spirit." Dorothea smiled sadly.

"Well, I'm certain at least some hearts will be swayed when the Emperor and Lord Consort of Adrestia sponsor its creation and watch it on opening night." Byleth sipped from a wine goblet.

"Ah, finally used to the title?" Edelgard asked with a smug grin.

"Only when it's useful, El." Byleth smirked slightly.

"Getting a bit of a sarcastic streak there, Professor." Raphael paused between bites of food to make a joke.

"Oh, he's always been sarcastic. He just wasn't supposed to show it around his students." Manuela put her chin in her hand. Byleth tilted his head to the side and gave a look of agreement.

Edelgard and Byleth stood on a balcony together. The festivities within the palace continued, though the sounds were slightly muted by the cool evening breeze.

"It's good having everyone back together, even if it's just for one night. Though I will note that the number of people who were originally Lions or Deer that are now in relationships with Imperial figures is somewhat comforting. It means they'll hopefully stay closer to here. To us." Byleth pondered.

"Lonely?" Edelgard asked.

"Perhaps." Byleth smiled. "But perhaps it's something more. When I was a mercenary, the only one I was close to was my father. That was likely because it was natural for father and son to be close. Every other mercenary? I was ready for them to die at any moment on any mission for the sake of profit."

"And thus the Ashen Demon was truly born." Edelgard touched his cheek.

"Beyond even what Rhea did to my heart, that time made me lock away the emotions. But then I came to teach the students. Came to meet you. For the first time in years, I stepped between someone and a mortal attack." Byleth leaned down, pressing his forehead to Edelgard's. "There was just... Something about you. Something that told me to save you."

"I'm grateful to that something." Edelgard kissed Byleth. Ferdinand quietly cleared his throat. Byleth and Edelgard broke away, turning to look at him.

"I hate to interrupt, but Commander Uwe von Gimsteinn is missing," Ferdinand explained. "Marianne says Mercedes saw him leave just after you two came out here."

"That's incredibly suspicious." Edelgard crossed her arms.

"Indeed. Especially because he commands one of our siege battalions." Ferdinand nodded. The group then turned to see a massive rock sailing towards them. It impacted the palace wall beneath the balcony that the three stood on, and the floor beneath Edelgard shattered, with her falling through.

"EL!" Byleth yelled. He watched the world around him shatter like glass and then freeze, the air developing a purple haze. Time rushed backwards, Byleth rewinding the past moment with a power he thought he had lost.

The Divine Pulse still beat within.

"Marianne says Mercedes saw him leave just after you two came out here," Ferdinand explained.

"Move," Byleth ordered. He took Edelgard's hand and shoved Ferdinand towards the door. The three of them saw a massive rock sailing towards the balcony. It impacted the palace wall beneath said balcony, causing the floor where Edelgard had been standing to crumble.

"How did you know?" Ferdinand asked.

"I didn't." Byleth shook his head. Ingrid let out a piercing whistle before breaking out into a sprint. She jumped off the balcony, Lúin in hand. Her pegasus flew beneath her, catching the knight. She soared towards the trebuchet that had hurled the stone, dodging the arrows of the archers defending it. She leaned down, spearing one archer, before jumping off of her pegasus and charging forward. She drove Lúin into the shield of a soldier protecting the trebuchet, pulling on the lance to tear his shield away. She then drew her sword, slashing into the soldier's chest. An arrow sailed past her ear, striking the soldier in the head. Ingrid pulled Lúin from the shield and nodded at her help, Petra atop her wyvern. Dorothea jumped off her partner's wyvern and summoned magic to her hands.

"Thoron!" Dorothea yelled. A beam of electrical energy rocketed forth at her command, blowing the trebuchet apart. Ingrid's eyes darted to the side for a moment before she leaned her head down. She stomped on the shield she had punctured earlier, flipping it into the air. She twirled the shield behind her head just before an arrow struck it, an arrow fired by Uwe von Gimsteinn. Dorothea summoned magic to her hands again, but the glow was fainter. "Thunder!" A ball of lightning shot forward, impacting the commander and knocking him flat onto his back. Ingrid discarded the shield she had grabbed and pointed Lúin at the commander's neck. Petra and Dorothea approached, with Dorothea's Levin Sword at the ready.

"Stay down," Ingrid ordered. Uwe von Gimsteinn growled before turning his jaw slightly, but Petra rushed forward and shoved her hand into his mouth. "What are you-"

"His tooth has the poison," Petra explained. Ingrid nodded, understanding. She gripped the treasonous commander's jaw, helping Petra force it to stay open. "Knock him off, Dorothea." Dorothea nodded, summoning pink magic to her fingertips.

"Sleep." She cast the magic forward, dust flying into von Gimsteinn's eyes. He slumped over with a groan, and Ingrid and Petra released their grip on his jaw.

Edelgard sat at a table in a rooftop garden, leaning her mouth against her folded hands. Her hair was down and she was dressed in casual attire, but Aymr leaned against the table next to her. The Emperor was at rest, but she was restless. Assassinations weren't uncommon in Adrestia, and Hubert had always dealt with them with ease. This was Edelgard's first experience with such things without her trusted advisor there to handle it. He was busy dealing with some other plot that hadn't been explained to her fully, but she suspected it was another attempt on her life if he was not here now. Fortunately, she had someone else to save her this time.

"Some Emperor I am. I need my minister and my betrothed to handle every knife aimed at my back because I'm too busy looking at the axe in my hand. She heard rustling behind her, and she turned quickly, grabbing Aymr.

"I figured I'd find you here." Byleth walked over. Edelgard set Aymr down in relief. "You always come to see the stars when you're upset."

"Mmm, then what took you so long to get here?" Edelgard joked, though it was half-hearted. Byleth grabbed a second chair, sitting down across from Edelgard. He set a plate of various sweets in front of her. "Ah, you stopped at the kitchen." Edelgard picked up a cookie, eating it quickly. "You said you didn't know about the rock. I would have died if you didn't save me." Edelgard looked up at him. "Not to be ungrateful, but how did you manage it?" Byleth leaned back in his chair.

"I died saving you." He began. "Not today, no. Five years ago. Well, that's not entirely true. I was supposed to die. But Sothis gave me a power, a power I've hinted to you about."

"Your legendary hindsight." Edelgard nodded.

"Yes, but that's not what it's truly called." Byleth leaned on the Sword of the Creator. "It's called the Divine Pulse. I used to save you five years ago, and I used it to save you today. It still beats within me." Byleth examined the Sword of the Creator's hilt. "And I'm not sure how. Rhea's dead, my heart has finally begun to beat." Byleth ran his hand along the blade. "I don't believe our war is truly over yet."

"You're right, it's not," Edelgard agreed. "There's still Those Who Slither in the Dark. There are still loyalists to the Kingdom and the Alliance and the Church. We have victory over Rhea, over the monsters that intended to enslave our world, but we don't yet have peace." Edelgard picked up Aymr. "If I return to battle, will you follow me?"

"No." Byleth shook his head, placing his hand on Edelgard's cheek. "I will stand beside you. This is not just your war. It's ours."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Hresvelg

Garland Moon, Day 22, Imperial Year 1186

Hubert and Shamir sat across from each other in a carriage. Shamir was polishing her bow while Hubert had his eyes closed, evidently in deep thought.

"You know, I'm surprised you asked me come along. You don't usually like witnesses for your darker deeds, which I assume this is going to be because we're traveling in secret. You don't like letting people in on your schemes, but maybe you should let me in on this one." Shamir talked, but she presumed it was to herself. If there was one thing she knew about Hubert, it's that he didn't talk much when he was working. He didn't talk too much at all, but he was eerily quiet when carrying out the Empire's best interests.

"This isn't my scheme. Not entirely. I am the instrument of destruction, but it is in regards to a plot I did not discover." Hubert spoke up, much to Shamir's surprise. "Please, make your joke about me slipping."

"It's not nearly as funny when you tell me to make the joke." Shamir chuckled. Hubert smiled slightly. "Who discovered this plot if not you?"

"Ingrid. In a letter from her father." Hubert stroked his chin. "She could have dealt with it herself and gone to talk her father out of it or told the Emperor about the letter, but she chose instead to tell me. Either of the former two options would have given her father a chance at survival, but she picked the option where he must die."

"Why so surprised?" Shamir asked. "She's loyal to Edelgard and Byleth, they've done so much more for her and her dreams than her father ever did."

"I don't doubt her loyalty. No, no. I'm surprised because guaranteeing the death of one's father is something I would and have done." Hubert chuckled. "I'm very happy that I trusted her. I'm very happy that she still trusts me."

"Why the trust? Seems like it was easy for you to get used to her. She was Edelgard's chief bodyguard within a month and a half of her joining the Empire."

"It..." Hubert paused. He closed his eyes again. "It was a series of events."

Enbarr

Great Tree Moon, Day 10, Imperial Year 1181

Hubert strolled around his father's office, examining the books on the walls. Or at least it had been his father's office. The old Marquis Vestra was dead, now Marquis Hubert von Vestra was the Minister of the Imperial Household. Hubert smiled to himself. It felt good to finally restore the House Vestra honour that his treacherous father had cast aside for a chance at temporary power. Hubert touched a painting of his father, taking it off of the wall. He walked over to the room's fireplace, pulling the painting from its frame. He forced the painting in, taking care to not touch the lit fire himself. He stepped back, watching his father's image burn away slowly.

"You never were much for schemes, father. Duke Aegir was the brains behind the Insurrection. You? You were just a vital pawn. But you still chose dishonour. And now here I am, at the rebirth of the Empire. Emperor Edelgard will lead us to victory, despite the Seven's best efforts." Hubert watched the flames grow higher, enveloping more of his father's image. "Most children visit the graves of the father and mother. They come to speak, hoping the dead will hear. They talk about their future. Marriage. Their children." Hubert chuckled. "I don't often think about any of those, despite your best efforts to marry me off to some noble or another. Perhaps I would have done so if you had been less treasonous. Perhaps this office would still be yours." The fire began to lick at the portrait's face. "As for you, I doubt I'll take the time to remember where I buried you in a pauper's grave. The one thing you feared most will happen. No one will ever speak your name again. You will only be known as the father of Hubert von Vestra. I swear that to you now." The face crumbled, and Hubert smiled. He heard a knock on the door, and he picked up a book. "Come in."

"Hubert," Ingrid said, bowing as she entered. She was still wearing her school uniform, the one that she had kept even since joining the Black Eagle House. He had offered her a more fitting colour scheme, but she had rejected the offer based on familial duty.

Honourable of her.

"Ingrid. I assume you have business." Hubert asked. Ingrid folded her arms behind her. Hubert knew it was a sign of respect, but he was too paranoid not to think she would just pull a knife on him.

Ingrid felt odd coming to Hubert for help in this matter. She could have asked Dorothea or even Edelgard, but no. She chose to ask Hubert. She looked down at her clothes, the blue and gold of the Blue Lions shining the wrong colour among the dark browns, blacks, reds, and silvers of Hubert's office. The smell of burning paint was fresh in the room, and she could see the remains of a portrait in the fireplace.

"Yes, I do. I need a favour." Ingrid explained. She removed her arms from behind her back, ignoring the slight change in Hubert's expression. "I need to change... This." She gestured to her blue pants. "This." She picked at the Blue Lion brooch on her shirt. "Just all of this." She motioned at her clothes in general. "Everything. I kept trying to be a Blue Lion after I joined the Black Eagle House. Foolishly, honestly. I committed career suicide in Faerghus the moment I took the offer to join the Black Eagles. I thought maybe looking like a Blue Lion no matter the banner I walked with, the banner I studied under, I could still do my family proud. But then I saved Lady Edelgard in the Holy Tomb, I made the choice to side with the Empire against the Church. I made a choice when I joined the Eagles, but I cemented it in the tomb. I think it's about time I looked like that choice."

"You would like to look like an Adrestian?" Hubert asked.

"Yes, but more than just that." Ingrid nodded. "I want to look like an Adrestian knight. Sure, I'm still a noble, I still have Daphnel's blood, I still have Lúin, but I want my destiny to be more than nobility. I want to be the knight I've dreamed of being since I was three, since I first held a sword."

"I believe that can be arranged. Come with me." Hubert led her out of his office.

Hubert and Ingrid stood in a smithy, the blacksmith setting a bar of blackish-silver metal in front of Ingrid.

"We call it dusk iron, though it's a steel alloy. Lightweight, very good for knights on pegasus." She explained. Ingrid smiled as she touched the steel. She had always dreamed of this moment. Armour forged just for her. The Academy had battle armour, yes, but it wasn't truly tailored to each student. But this?

"It's perfect." Ingrid smiled. She reached into her pocket, pulling out an aged piece of paper. "I have a design in mind. I've had it bouncing around for seven years, and I made a promise to myself that I'd wear armour like it if I ever got the chance. The blacksmith took the paper, unfolding it. She evaluated it, rubbing her nose.

"Are you attached the colours?" The blacksmith asked.

"No." Ingrid shook her head. "The dusk iron will be perfect, but I think it needs some red."

"That I can most certainly do!" The blacksmith laughed, taking the paper and the bar of dusk steel into her workspace. Hubert stepped aside for a moment, evaluating his head in the reflection on a polished shield.

"Hubert?" Ingrid asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm merely thinking about how glad I am to have an appointment with my barber in two days," Hubert explained. "Having spent the past year helping the Emperor prepare for her ascension, I've not had much time for such affairs."

"A barber." Ingrid nodded slowly. She and Hubert walked out of the smithy, moving down the street. The people around would pause to look at the odd pair, the feared Minister of the Imperial Household and the pegasus knight from Faerghus.

"Yes, the people who cut hair. Do you not have those in Galatea?" Hubert asked. When the phrase left her mouth, Ingrid had regretted it immediately. She had almost expected Hubert's response to be mocking, the Imperial minister looking down on the lowly knight from Galatea, from Faerghus. But it wasn't that. His tone was genuine curiousity. He wanted to know about her home. Whether if it was to know her so he could better fight her if he needed to or if it was as a potential future ally and friend, it didn't matter to her.

"Not in Galatea. They had them in Fhirdiad, though. I never went, not when I visited the capital. At the Academy, I'd always just knock on Mercedes' door and ask her to trim my hair. Back in Galatea, my... My mother did it. She always made sure my hair was healthy when I'd go to visit. Said it was important for a noble to look her best."

"Fascinating." Hubert scratched the back of his head. "Haircuts at home or from a friend are somewhat common in Adrestia, but many prefer the professional approach. I, for example, do. My family has used the same barbershop for six generations. The place runs in their family, as do many stores here. It's a certain... Honour to it, though no one is obligated to take up their family's position. They are simply obligated to find someone worthy of it, be it themselves or another."

"Interesting." Ingrid nodded slowly. "You said two days from now?"

"Yes, why?" Hubert asked.

"Oh, just in case anyone asks me where you are." Ingrid shrugged. Hubert nodded slowly. He had a gut feeling he should ask Belimar if he had time for a second person.

Enbarr

Great Tree Moon, Day 11, Imperial Year 1181

"Hubert?" Edelgard asked. Hubert looked up from the map he was working on, seeing her fiddle with her horned crown.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Hubert rose from his chair.

"Does the crown fit me?" Edelgard asked. Hubert smiled slightly.

"I should hope so, it was made specifically for you." Hubert joked. Edelgard gave him a sour look. "My apologies, I'm simply trying to lighten your mood. I see it hasn't worked. Yes, you are fit for the crown, Lady Edelgard, and the crown is fit for you."

"It's odd." Edelgard sighed. "For years, I was ready to rule with just you as my advisor. Then Ferdinand happened, and I was ready for him to eventually be my Prime Minister. But then..."

"Then the Academy." Hubert nodded. "The professor." Edelgard froze.

The professor.

He was gone now. He had pledged himself to her fight, brought the entire house with him. The students from the Empire possibly would have joined her cause without the professor, but the Blue Lions and Golden Deer who had left their houses to join the Black Eagles? Edelgard believed that she would have had none of them if not for the professor, if not for Byleth.

"Yes." Edelgard nodded sadly. "The professor."

"I am... I will be the first to admit that I was not quick to trust him. But I allowed him to live because you did. Because he saved your life. Slowly, I started to trust him more. As soon as he agreed to come to your coronation, as soon as he chose to represent the divine crowning you, I knew that he might join us. Still, I was at least a little surprised that he joined us in the Holy Tomb. Though I was far more surprised when everyone except Flayn followed him."

"Damn it, I forgot about her for a moment." Edelgard sighed. "I direly hope that we don't have to kill her." Edelgard leaned on the table. "If we must, if I must, then so be it. But I hope that the world will offer me that small sympathy." Edelgard looked over at Hubert. "Are those from the Kingdom and Alliance adapting well enough to life in Adrestia?"

"Well enough. It's a major change for all of them, except Mercedes. She's helping them along, as are the rest of the Eagles. Hanneman and Manuela have settled back in to Imperial life, while Shamir and Alois are adapting very well. Those five are older than the others of course, the latter four being much more so. It's less shocking for them."

"How's Ingrid? Dorothea mentioned that she saw you two in town yesterday." Edelgard massaged her left wrist for a moment.

"Yes, I was taking her to a blacksmith. She wanted new armour, something that would let her fit in better. I expect she'll be picking it up today with Dorothea," Hubert explained.

"Oh, lovely." Edelgard leaned back with a smile. "You said you have a prior engagement tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, Lady Edelgard. I would rather not cancel that plan for a variety of reasons. However, if my services are required, I am willing to do so." Hubert bowed slightly.

"No, no." Edelgard waved the offer away. "It's more suited for Caspar's skillset anyways. Enjoy your time." Hubert stood and bowed, turning to leave the room. "One more thing, Hubert." Hubert turned back. "What do you think about making Ingrid a Knight of the Empire?"

"I need to collect a bit more information on her. I will let you know tomorrow," Hubert explained.

"Very well. Thank you, Hubert." 

Enbarr

Great Tree Moon, Day 12, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid walked through the halls of the Adrestian palace, Edelgard's words echoing in her head.

"Well, I suppose you can guard Hubert if he wants it. Don't be surprised if he says no. He tends to enjoy his private time. He wouldn't even tell me where he's going."

Ingrid hoped he'd say yes. He seemed to be alright with her knowing where he'd be. She wanted a friend to the Empire, she wanted to serve the Empire. She wanted to be...

She wanted to be part of the Empire.

"Goddess, you're like a lost puppy," She whispered to herself.

At least her plan for the day wasn't just based on wanting to prove herself loyal to Hubert by ensuring he would be safe. No, this was something much more. Something she had wanted since she was a little girl. Something her mother had always refused, something she could never bring herself to ask Mercedes. If Hubert would let her, and more importantly if she would let herself ask Hubert, she wanted to go into this barber, whatever that meant in practice, and ask them to cut her hair. Cut it short.

That was strange to think about. It was a big change for her. She had never had her hair intentionally short. She didn't really care how it would look, this was for her. She had to do it. She had to make her own choice about her own hair. There was no disappointed father to send her a disapproving letter, no heartbroken mother asking how she would possibly find a suitor.

Just Ingrid.

Ingrid walked past a reflective wall, pausing and stepping back. It wasn't a mirror, but it would do. She looked at her new uniform, an Adrestian dress uniform. It was close enough to her school uniform to feel comfortable, but different enough to be something new. It looked like Edelgard's school uniform, but less flashy. The shorts were instead full pants, and the heels were much shorter wedges. This wasn't something to wear into all-out battle, it was something to exude quiet power. Lúin being affixed to a holster on her back and a scabbard with a steel sword on her hip only added to that soft power. She may have not been in full armour, but Ingrid was a knight.

Finally.

Ingrid began walking again, slightly faster now that she had taken the time to stop. She didn't want to miss Hubert, didn't want to be late. Her excuse would only work once. Otherwise she'd have to work up the courage to go alone, which would also mean working up the courage to tell someone where she was going. She didn't want anyone to know that she wanted to have her hair hacked off. She didn't want anyone to know in case she pulled out, couldn't bring herself to do it. Maybe she was being silly, maybe she would regret it.

No.

No, she wouldn't regret this. She had too many regrets already to get broken up over a braid she had desperately wanted off her head since her mother had first tied it. This was it. This was the day Ingrid would take control of how she looked. She would look how she wanted to, she just didn't know exactly what that meant. First she had to start fresh, short, new.

Ingrid reached the door, holding her hand up to knock before pausing again to take a series of deep breaths.

Hubert stood in his office, an almost empty cup of coffee in his hand. He stood up, walking over to the fireplace.

"I still can't get this damned smell out of my office. It was poetic, but did I really have to burn that painting inside?" Hubert tossed the remnants of his coffee into the fireplace in some attempt to calm the smell. "I suppose I should set off right about now. Perhaps I misjudged her desire." He heard a knock on his door, the same knock he had heard two days ago. "Or perhaps not. And just in time." Hubert chuckled to himself. He set his cup down and walked to the door. Ingrid stood at the door wearing a knight's dress uniform with Lúin on her back and a steel sword on her hip.

"The Emperor said I should accompany you today." Ingrid explained. "I was afraid I had missed you." Her face was stoic, but her eyes betrayed her nerves and her excitement. Hubert smiled slightly, feeling vindicated that he had asked Belimar about that extra time. He assumed she had in fact asked Edelgard if she could accompany him under the guise of protecting him, but that was perfectly fine by him.

"Oh? She didn't tell me as such." Hubert stroked his chin. Ingrid's face fell slightly. "No matter, I presume it was a last minute decision." Ingrid's eyes lit up. "Come along then, Ingrid."

Ingrid watched Hubert's black hair fall away from his head. The barbershop was not exactly what she had been expecting. She thought it would be busy, full of people waiting to have their hair trimmed off into the same style they always had. At least that's what she presumed when Hubert sat down and asked the barber, who she had learned was named Belimar, for the 'same as always'.

The same as always.

That was such an odd phrase for Ingrid to hear spoken. It was always unspoken during her haircuts from her mother and Mercedes. They just trimmed the ends because she never asked for something else after the first haircut.

'Stop it, Ingrid. You're here now. Stop thinking about what would have happened if you had done it before. You can do it now.'

"You're all done, Mister... Nay, Marquis Vestra." Belimar smiled at his work, removing the cloth that had covered Hubert. Hubert evaluated himself in the mirror, nodding with pleasure. His hair still hung in front of his one eye, but it was much shorter than it had been before.

"Excellent as always, Belimar." Hubert stood up adjusting his collar. He walked over and sat down next to Ingrid. Both he and Belimar looked at her.

They knew.

Belimar motioned for her to sit, the remnants of Hubert's hair still scattered at his feet. Ingrid stared at the chair, a chair where she could ask for what she wanted. She just had to walk over and sit down.

"Did I read your curiousity wrong, Ingrid?" Hubert asked.

"No, you... I mean..." Ingrid stammered. All she had to do was say yes. Why couldn't she say yes? "I don't want to impose."

"Not an imposition at all. I'm a barber. If you want a haircut, that's what I'm here for." Belimar chuckled. He gestured to the chair.

"Your choice, Ingrid," Hubert said.

Her choice.

Three words, and they meant more to Ingrid than Hubert would ever know. After years of people telling her how she should look, here were two people, one of them a total stranger, telling her that it was up to her.

Ingrid stood up, taking Lúin off her back and her scabbard from her hip, setting both down next to Hubert. She stepped over to the chair, letting Belimar throw the cloth over her body. Ingrid looked in the mirror, feeling utterly enveloped in the fabric. She looked small with only her head sticking out. Belimar removed the hair tie on her braid, letting Ingrid's long hair free.

"Ingrid, I believe Marquis Vestra said your name was?" Belimar asked. Ingrid nodded. "What would you like, Ingrid? A trim to keep it healthy?"

Her choice.

"No." Ingrid shook her head. She looked at herself in the mirror, steadying her jaw and lifting her chin slightly. "Short." Hubert's eyebrows shifted slightly, though Ingrid didn't think it was judgmental. No, this was a curious Hubert. He wanted to see how this would play out.

"Short means a variety of things. Which of them do you mean?" Belimar asked.

"I... Don't actually know." Ingrid chuckled nervously. "That's the first time I've asked for that out loud. I've wanted it since I was nine, but my mother always said no. And then when I had an actual chance, I never had the courage to actually do it." Belimar smiled at her, snapping his scissors in thought.

"Tell you what." Belimar picked up her hair. "I'll start cutting, and you tell me when to stop." Ingrid nodded. Belimar brought his scissors into her hair and...

Snip.

Ingrid watched as a two foot lock of hair hit the floor. She smiled. It was finally happening. No going back.

Ingrid and Hubert stepped out of the barbershop. Ingrid's hair now barely reached her chin. She had two small braids at the back of her crown to give her hair a hint of familiarity, but she didn't have to braid it anymore to keep it looking fine. This felt good.

"Do you like it, Ingrid?" Hubert asked.

"I love it." Ingrid smiled. "My neck feels cold. That's... That's so weird." Ingrid laughed. Hubert smiled slightly. This was the first time he had seen Ingrid truly happy since she came to Adrestia. "It's everything I've ever wanted. Thank you."

"You're welcome, but it's not quite everything." Hubert shook his head.

"What do you mean?" Ingrid asked.

"I'll explain later." Hubert waved a page over. "Run to the palace, tell them you have a message for Her Majesty from Marquis Vestra. Inform her that I have sufficient information on our discussion yesterday and my answer is yes. I will return to the palace before sundown. That is all."

"Yes, Marquis Vestra." The page bowed before running to the palace. Hubert turned back to Ingrid, who raised a brow.

"Now then. Would you care to join me for lunch? There is a lovely little butcher that many of the Black Eagles frequent. They have a delightful whitefish sauté, though I think you may find a particular enjoyment with their Daphnel-style stew."

"My mouth is watering thinking about it, honestly. Yes, I'd love lunch." Ingrid nodded, Hubert's vague words seemingly cast from her mind.

"I expect at least a few Eagles will be there." Hubert motioned for Ingrid to follow him. "Come now."

Hubert and Ingrid walked into the butcher, who bowed his head at Hubert.

"Marquis Vestra. Whitefish sauté, I presume?" The butcher asked.

"Two," Hubert replied. "And a Daphnel-style stew for my friend." Ingrid smiled at the term. It was nice to have Hubert refer to her as a friend.

"Hubie!" Dorothea yelled, waving at him. She sat at a table with Ferdinand, Marianne, Petra, Annette, and Linhardt. "You look so handsome! I forgot how nicely you clean up. Come sit with us, bring your date!"

"Oh, Dorothea." Hubert sighed. "She's not my date." Hubert and Ingrid walked over, with Ingrid smiling.

"INGRID?" Dorothea gasped. "Your hair!"

"I cut it." Ingrid stated the obvious.

"Hubie, where did you take her? This is art!" Dorothea grabbed Ingrid, making her turn so the group could see the back of her hair.

"You look very nice, Ingrid." Marianne smiled softly.

"You look positively ready for battle, Ingrid. The dress uniform, the hair, it's very nice. Like a model Adrestian knight." Ferdinand raised his glass to her. Ingrid blushed slightly at the group's praise.

"Come on, sit down!" Annette ordered. "Your food will be here soon, and I want to hear the story." Ingrid and Hubert sat down as requested.

"Story?" Ingrid asked.

"Yeah, where's your hair?" Annette asked. Ingrid smiled slightly, thinking about how she watched Belimar sweep the blonde hair away as she and Hubert paid and left.

"A barbershop floor." Ingrid shrugged.

"Hubert took you to his barber?" Linhardt asked. "Wow. That place is exclusive. They only handle the people directly responsible for safeguarding the Emperor. You know, House Vestra and the Imperial Guard." Ingrid looked at Hubert with shock on her face.

"She was assigned to guard me by the Emperor. I figured I should at least give her the option as a courtesy." Hubert looked over to a waiter, who delivered his and Ingrid's meals.

"How did you decide this choice?" Petra asked between bites of jerky.

"Oh, I've wanted my hair short for a while. Since I was a kid. Never had the courage to do it. My mother would only trim it, and Mercedes would always make me preen it." Ingrid looked at Dorothea and Annette. "As did two people here." Annette blushed while Dorothea took a long drink. "But when I had the option, when Belimar asked if I wanted a haircut, all that I could say was 'Short'. And now here we are." Ingrid ran a hand through her hair.

"If I had known how good you'd look with short hair... You know what, nevermind that. If I had known how much you wanted a haircut, I totally would have cut it for you, Ingrid!" Annette touched Ingrid's arm. "I'm sorry I made you feel like you had to keep it long."

"Not your fault, Annette." Ingrid gave her hand a pat. "Or yours, Dorothea. I wasn't really ready yet." She took a sip of the soup, sighing deeply at the taste. It felt right, all of this felt right. The hair she wanted, the uniform she wanted, the friends she had made. "I was still a Blue Lion. I was still too loyal to the Kingdom and my family to chop my hair off when my family thought it should be long." Ingrid smiled. "Now I have a chance for a new beginning." Marianne lifted her glass.

"To new beginnings. For all of us." Marianne raised her glass.

"Hear hear!" Ferdinand agreed, raising his glass as well. The rest of the group followed suit.

Ingrid stood in the Adrestian throne room, wearing her new armour. Hubert had told her to wear it, and the dusk iron glistened in the sunset light that flowed through the windows. Edelgard sat upon her throne, looking down at Ingrid. Every other former student, as well as the four instructors and Jeritza, were also in the throne room, all wearing various dress uniforms.

"Ingrid Brandl Galatea, step forward." Edelgard ordered. Ingrid walked slowly towards the throne, stopping when Edelgard rose. Edelgard walked down the steps of the dais that her throne was perched on. Edelgard held out her hand. "Lúin." Ingrid removed the spear from her back, kneeling as she offered it to Edelgard. Edelgard took the lance in hand, looking down at the kneeling Ingrid. "I have consulted with your friends, your peers, your former instructors, and my advisors. All agree you are worthy of the honour of being a knight." Ingrid closed her eyes and smiled slightly. "Before we begin, I have a question for you."

"Yes, my Emperor?" Ingrid asked, keeping her head bowed.

"I have consulted with those from Faerghus on how a knighting occurs in the Kingdom. I can administer such a ceremony if you so desire," Edelgard explained.

"No." Ingrid shook her head. "Thank you, but no." Edelgard smiled slightly. "If I am to be a knight of Adrestia, I would like to be knighted like one."

"As you wish." Edelgard nodded. "Are you right-handed?"

"Yes, my Emperor." Ingrid nodded. Edelgard took Ingrid's right hand, removing the glove from it.

"As the knight to be has no family present, we will..." Edelgard began.

"Your Majesty, if I may." Felix rose from his seat, walking over. "I am Felix Hugo Fraldarius. I will serve whatever role her family was to serve." Ingrid turned her head slightly to look at him, her eyes tearing up. Felix gave her a small smile. He knew how much this meant to her. Ingrid made a mental note to thank him for making this ceremony run as close to tradition as possible.

"Very well." Edelgard nodded. "Felix Fraldarius, has Ingrid Galatea served your family with honour?"

"Greater than any before her," Felix replied.

"Would she lay down her life in service of Emperor and Empire?" Edelgard asked.

"Without question." Felix nodded.

"Would you follow her into battle if she led the way?" Edelgard looked at Felix and then at Lúin.

"I would follow not just to battle, but to victory," Felix declared.

"Good. Thank you." Edelgard gestured for Hubert, who stepped forward. He handed Felix a sword, which Edelgard guided into the air above Ingrid. Ferdinand stood, walking over to the collective. He took a second sword from Hubert.

"Ingrid Galatea, I have fought beside you on multiple occasions. In every battle, I was never concerned about my survival because I knew you were keeping watch. You are vigilant, as all knights must be. In the name of the Prime Minister's office, I declare you worthy of knighthood." Ferdinand raised his sword, touching it to Felix's. Hubert stepped closer to the group.

"Ingrid Galatea. When offered the chance to side with your home or your beliefs, you chose your beliefs. You chose to fight for a brighter future despite it meaning the casting aside of both family and tradition. You are virtuous, as all knights must be. In the name of the Ministries of the Empire, I declare you worthy of knighthood." Hubert added his sword to the group above Ingrid. Edelgard tipped Ingrid's head up.

"Ingrid Galatea. You returned for me in the Holy Tomb against the might of the Immaculate One despite the risk to your own safety. You pledged fealty to me and my cause, and you have not broken that oath. You are loyal, as all knights must be." Edelgard removed her left glove, taking Ingrid's right hand in it. "In my name, the name of Emperor Edelgard, I declare you worthy of knighthood." She lifted Lúin into the air. "Before the Ministries of the Empire." Hubert touched his sword to Ingrid's right shoulder. "Before the Prime Minister." Ferdinand touched his sword to Ingrid's left shoulder. "Before your family." Felix touched his sword to Ingrid's head. Edelgard leaned down, kissing Ingrid's forehead. Those from the Empire in the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves, and both Hubert and Ferdinand had some level of surprise in their eyes. "And before the throne of the Empire." Edelgard had Ingrid take hold of Lúin with her ungloved hand, keeping her own grip on the lance. "I ask only one question. Do you wish to be a knight?"

"More than anything I have ever wanted," Ingrid replied.

"Then rise, Ser Ingrid Galatea. Knight of the Empire." The three with swords lifted them as Ingrid rose, the crowd erupting into cheers. Edelgard took her hand off of Lúin, putting her glove back on before handing Ingrid hers back. Ingrid put the glove on, bowing her head to the Emperor. Edelgard smiled in response, touching a pendant on her neck. Her voice went quiet, barely louder than a whisper. "You should have been here, Professor."

"Felix." Ingrid touched his shoulder. Felix smiled slightly as she hugged him. "Thank you."

"I know how much this meant to you," Felix whispered in her ear. Ferdinand nudged Edelgard's shoulder, with Hubert rolling his eyes slightly at the gesture.

"The Kiss of the Emperor, Your Majesty? That's quite the honour." Ferdinand watched as the rest of the former Blue Lions swarmed Ingrid with congratulations.

"After everything she's done, she's earned it." Edelgard smiled.

Adrestia

Hresvelg

Garland Moon, Day 22, Imperial Year 1186

"I'm guessing the Kiss of the Emperor is something to do with Ingrid being her bodyguard?" Shamir asked.

"Indeed." Hubert nodded. "It is done very infrequently during an the Emperor's rule. The kiss signifies that they trust the knight with their safety. Those who receive the kiss are named as the Praetorian Guard of the Emperor. There can only be one at any given time, and as such only the greatest of all knights in the Empire are chosen. It is a position held until death."

"That's quite the honour, especially for an outsider to the Empire. Why Ingrid and not Caspar or Jeritza?" Shamir pondered.

"Four years later, I'm not certain why Lady Edelgard kissed Ingrid. Only she knows the reason, but it is not a decision we have come to regret." Hubert smiled.

"None of that story answered my question, not really. Why do you specifically trust her?" Shamir pressed.

"Because she had chances to kill me at the armoury, at the barber, at the butcher, and yet she didn't. She would have been a hero to the Kingdom by killing me right there and she would have been able to escape." Hubert smiled. "But she didn't. She chose the Empire. That is why I trust her. Because she chose Lady Edelgard's cause no matter the cost."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 22, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid walked around her office aimlessly, sipping tea. The fire crackled, and a small snore came from her chair.

"I don't understand it. Making such a brazen attempt on the Emperor's life when almost the entirety of the Black Eagle Strike Force is there. Suppose you miss the Emperor. It takes all of ten seconds for me to get on a pegasus and chase you down. That's exactly what happened. The Emperor wasn't where the trebuchet was aiming at, and then we killed the traitors and took von Gimsteinn prisoner." Ingrid set her tea down. "What do you think, Augusta?" With a grumpy noise, a Hresvelgion Whisker poked her head up and looked at Ingrid. The black cat meowed at her before hopping onto Ingrid's desk, much to the knight's amusement. "No, I don't suppose you have any more answers than I do." Augusta rolled onto her back, mewing at Ingrid. Ingrid obliged, walking over and scratching the cat's belly.

Back at Garreg Mach, Ingrid had often talked about her desire to own a cat. Usually it was off-hand while feeding the various strays of the academy, though it did sometimes come up over tea or meals. As a girl, she had often begged her mother for a cute little Galatea Brown. They were named for their house, it was only right for her to own one.

"When you're older, Ingrid." Ingrid gave her voice a patronizing tone. No matter how old she got, that was always the answer. Ingrid had a sneaking suspicion that she would have gotten one when she finally got married. There was some old family tradition of a Galatea Brown being the first gift that newlyweds would would get. When she was very young, Ingrid didn't know why she had to wait. After Glenn died, Ingrid wanted a cat to remember him by. The two had never discussed any plans for their future other than the cat they would get.

It never came to pass. When Glenn was gone, Ingrid threw herself into training. She didn't feel she had time for a little furry friend, but she also felt she would never be worthy of one. Then came the academy, where strays were abundant. Ingrid often thought of sneaking one into her room, but they were so happy roaming free that it felt wrong to coop one up in her room just because she wanted something to cuddle close with on the days she felt loneliest.

Then came Augusta.

Enbarr

Great Tree Moon, Day 13, Imperial Year 1181

The previous day's events had been a whirlwind. Ingrid had woken up trying to give herself the courage to get a haircut, and she had gone to bed not only a Knight of the Empire, but the Praetorian Guard of the Emperor. She looked around at her new office, the walls barren and the only furniture being a desk. Hubert told her that any furnishings she wanted were hers, an offer she planned on taking him up on when she figured out exactly how one should decorate an office. Her only experiences in the matter were her father's study, her mother's reading room, and her professors' offices at Garreg Mach.

Ingrid walked slowly along the floor, the sounds of her boots creating a hollow echo. She was no stranger to spartan décor, that was what her room was at the academy. Then again, there was practicality to that. She knew she would only be at Garreg Mach for a certain amount of time, and it felt foolish to over-decorate. This was her office, though. According to Manuela, it would be until she died.

Maybe a rug. Her mother had a rug from Varley in her reading room, one she had gotten in a diplomatic trade. They were rare in Galatea, but one would be easy to get in Adrestia. The rug always reminded her of the feeling of walking through fresh snow in her warm boots, so perhaps she'd see about a white one.

Ingrid turned, hearing a knock on her door.

"Come in," Ingrid said. Edelgard entered, her hair down and her head without its crown. In her arms were a small wooden box and a medium sized paper bag. Ingrid kneeled, and Edelgard chuckled quietly.

"Ingrid, when I'm not wearing a crown, you don't have to kneel. I'd ask you to do nothing, but you can bow if you feel you should." Edelgard smiled softly. Ingrid rose and nodded.

"My apologies, my Emperor. It's a force of habit," Ingrid explained.

"I also ask that you just call me Edelgard. It's nice to hear my name when my day is filled with various nobles throwing themselves at my feet." Edelgard set the box on Ingrid's desk. Ingrid could have sworn she saw the box move, but she pushed that idea aside. Edelgard picked the bag back up, opening it. "Are you a fan of sweets, Ingrid?"

"Yes, I am. When I'm out in the capital, I like to stop and try a new one if I have time. I rather like the little square ones from Varley. What fruit are they made of?"

"Varley grapes. Very popular in candies because they're not right for wine or jelly." Edelgard smiled. She looked around the room for a moment. "No chairs?"

"I can fetch one if you'd like to sit." Ingrid straightened up slightly.

"I'm not above sitting on the floor, Ingrid." Edelgard waved the offer off before sitting down on the ground. Ingrid grabbed a tea tray from her fireplace mantel before joining Edelgard on the ground. "Ah, you read my mind with the tray. Thank you." Edelgard emptied the contents of the bag onto the tray, a variety of candies coming out. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything."

"No, my Em... Edelgard." Ingrid caught herself. "I am your Praetorian Guard. I serve where you need me."

"I apologize for giving you that responsibility so suddenly. Adrestian tradition states that a candidate must not know about their being considered for the role until the ceremony." Edelgard smiled sheepishly.

"Thank you for your trust." Ingrid bowed her head slightly. "I won't let you down. You have my word."

"Enough official business. I've come here to escape that. I can't handle another afternoon in a row dominated by Ministers and nobles inviting me to dine with them. I need to share an utterly unhealthy amount of sweets with someone and I can't do that at state functions."

"I'm happy to help." Ingrid smiled. She picked up a small orange one shaped like a slice of citrus fruit, and Edelgard tilted her head slightly. Ingrid put it in her mouth and chewed for a moment before her face contorted from the burst of sour flavour.

"Give it a moment, it gets sweeter." Edelgard giggled. Ingrid's eyes watered slightly, but she blinked them back into focus as the sweet flavour came through. "I never tire of people trying those for the first time. They hail from Aegir, made of a variety of their sourest fruits that hide a sweet aftertaste." Edelgard paused, smiling. "Hubert's reaction to them was disappointing. Yours brought me the most joy since Corrina."

"Corrina?" Ingrid asked, picking up one of the familiar purple candies she had grown fond of.

"An old friend and former lover of mine. Before I joined the academy. We were young back then, only just discovering what love meant. I had had crushes before then, like a young noble from Fhirdiad, but that was just puppy love. Corrina was the first person I truly understood my feelings for." Edelgard paused to eat one of the offensively sour orange sweets, savoring it for a moment. "She was lovely."

"She?" Ingrid asked.

"Oh, of course. I forgot." Edelgard's eyes widened. "As I understand from the other Lions, relationships in Adrestia are very different than in Faerghus. In Adrestia, it's not uncommon to have many lovers, especially for nobles. There is usually one love for political or familial purposes in order to pass down the bloodline, but the rest are for you to truly love as you so desire regardless of who they are."

"So that's what Dorothea meant by pouncing..." Ingrid thought out loud. Edelgard laughed in confusion.

"Dorothea what now?" Edelgard asked.

"Back at Garreg Mach, Dorothea was trying to get me to dress up for a function. She said that I'd have to forgive people for wanting to pounce and then said she'd ask for permission." Ingrid sighed. Edelgard suppressed another laugh.

"That's our Dorothea. She's one of a kind." Edelgard smiled.

"She's quite the friend." Ingrid smiled. "If I may, what happened to Corrina?"

"Oh, nothing awful if that's what you're afraid of." Edelgard assured her Praetorian Guard. "She and I just led different paths in life. I was destined to rule, she wanted to see the world beyond Fódlan one day. It wasn't meant to be, but not all love is. Sometimes a love that lasts for a few months will help us understand what we want in a love that lasts a lifetime." Edelgard smiled. "I'd rather like to loop back around to Dorothea talking about pouncing?" Ingrid blushed.

"As a little girl, I had always thought that love was a once in a lifetime thing," Ingrid explained. "When Dorothea talked about it so casually, I was rather thrown off. That and the ring I gave her..."

"You gave Dorothea a ring?" Edelgard's eyes widened.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Ingrid defended herself. "When you all helped me with that unpleasant suitor, I still had the ring that I was supposed to wed him with. I didn't want anything to do with it, so I gave it to Dorothea. When she talked about it being a proposal, I thought she was joking. I mean, she was, but I didn't really know that was really possible to her."

"Ah, of course. Cultural differences." Edelgard nodded. "I imagine the things that are much more casual in Adrestia have been a particularly odd change for you." Ingrid touched her hair.

"Yes," Ingrid said plainly.

"It looks nice like this, Ingrid. I know you didn't cut it for compliments, but I quite like it." Edelgard put her hand on her chin.

"Thank you. I've wanted it for so long, and I'm glad I finally had the courage to do it." Ingrid paused. "That's because of the Empire. Because of you. You welcomed me with open arms, promised me that you'd build a world where everyone could be who they dreamed of being." Ingrid looked at Lúin on a rack on the wall. "My dream is already coming true. Knighthood in service of a cause I believe in." The box on the desk moved dramatically, and both Ingrid and Edelgard turned to it.

"Oh, hell. I forgot!" Edelgard stood up quickly. She picked up the box. "I was taking another tour of the city, and I stopped by an animal shelter. They had just adopted out a litter of kittens, but there were two left. They were absolutely precious, and I didn't feel right picking just one of them, but I also didn't really want two cats." Edelgard opened the box, showing Ingrid a little black kitten. "I remember you saying you wanted a cat. She's a Hresvelgion Whisker. They called her Augusta, but you can change the name if you want." Ingrid picked the kitten out of the box, smiling down at her.

"Augusta is perfect."

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 22, Imperial Year 1186

Augusta gave a loud meow of complaint at Ingrid, who had stopped petting the cat.

"Sorry, baby. I got distracted." Ingrid scratched Augusta's belly again. "Distracted." Ingrid walked to the other side of her desk. She opened a drawer, pulling a piece of dried meat out and giving it to Augusta. "Thanks for the help, girl." Ingrid grabbed Lúin off of her wall and ran towards her door, opening it and sprinting out. Ingrid had to dodge around a few servants, but most moved out of the way when they saw the Praetorian Guard running at full speed towards the Emperor's study. Ingrid slid around a corner to slow herself down before barging into the study. She found Edelgard and Byleth having tea together over a map.

"Ingrid?" Byleth raised his eyebrow.

"Augusta helped me figure it out. The trebuchet was all a distraction. They assumed you'd survive somehow. This wasn't the real assassination attempt. Hell, assassination might not even be the goal," Ingrid rambled quickly. Byleth tapped his fingernail on his teacup.

"I think you have something there, Ingrid. Come look at this." Edelgard motioned to the map. Ingrid walked over, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"I know this isn't the time, but I almost thought you were growing out your hair. Hubert mentioned that you missed two appointments with... What's his name, Belimar?" Byleth noted. Ingrid smiled slightly.

"I needed to try something for a month." Ingrid explained vaguely. Byleth shrugged, turning back to the map.

"Note the site of the attack. It's directly opposite the armoury," Byleth explained.

"Felix took inventory. Nothing's missing." Ingrid shook her head.

"Who's to say that taking something was the goal?"  Edelgard asked. "There are currently four tombs containing the remains of past Praetorian Guards. There's a new one built every 300 years. We know where the second, third, and fourth ones are, but not the first. A story passed from Emperor to Emperor claims that the first is beneath the armoury, sealed with some ancient device that keeps it hidden."

"Is there anyone else who would know that?" Ingrid asked.

"Yes." Edelgard nodded. "My uncle."

"I'm going to ask Linhardt, Ignatz, and Hanneman to search every Imperial record they can for an answer on how they could get that potential crypt open." Byleth rose.

"Felix and Sylvain should hopefully be done with von Gimsteinn by now. I'll see what they have." Ingrid added.

"I'll see to it. Edelgard wants a word with you." Byleth turned on his heel and left the room. Ingrid watched the door close behind him before turning to Edelgard.

"He made this sound worse than it actually is." Edelgard chuckled, reaching up to her hair and pulling out two pins. She lifted her crown off of her head and set it on her desk, letting her tight buns loosen a little. Ingrid looked at the smiling Emperor, who looked like the definition of casual might. "I just want to test a little theory I have." Edelgard leaned back in her seat slightly. "I know Hubert doesn't just rush off for anything, especially taking Shamir with him. This is something major. I know you're involved, and I think I know why. You get your hair trimmed to the same length it's been for the past few years every two weeks. On occasion you go a little shorter or a little longer, but it's always about this length." Edelgard touched a strand of Ingrid's chin length blonde hair. "Except for last month. You let your hair grow. Your hair grows faster than mine, quite a bit so. You had an inch extra by the time you got it cut three days ago. Now you're back to normal. You said you had to grow it for something." Edelgard pushed Ingrid's hair behind her ear. "So I asked myself why. What could motivate you to grow your hair for a month against your four year routine?" Edelgard paused. "Or rather... Who?" Ingrid closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

Edelgard knew.

"You were finally going to give your father one last goodbye, the goodbye you couldn't bear to give him throughout the war. Cut off all ties like you cut off the braid he so loved. You were going to send him an inch of your hair." Edelgard looked at Ingrid, who nodded. "But he got to you first. He sent you a letter. Since Hubert isn't here right now, I presume he asked you to put a dagger in my back or Lúin through my neck." Ingrid hung her head in shame.

"I'm sorry," Ingrid whispered. She felt Edelgard's soft touch on her chin, and she allowed the Emperor to tip her head up. Edelgard smiled softly.

"You are not your father, nor are his sins yours." Edelgard spoke softly. "I'm sorry that I may have made you feel like I would hold you accountable for your father's deeds." She wiped the tear forming in Ingrid's eye away. "If our positions were changed, if my father asked me to use my position to kill you, I would feel the same guilt you are. But you've proven even stronger than I. You've sent Hubert to deal with your father. Nothing short of divine intervention can save a man from his wrath. I don't think I'd be able to do the same."

"Thank you, Edelgard. For everything." Ingrid embraced the Emperor, who returned the gesture.

"Ingrid, my beloved Praetorian Guard. You never let me down." Edelgard smiled into the the side of Ingrid's head.

Felix walked out of a cell, finding Sylvain waiting for him.

"He's not talking." Felix shook his head.

"I was about to ask how Hubert does this so easily, but then I remembered that he's inherently terrifying." Sylvain quipped.

"Really, jokes?" Felix sighed.

"Hey, it's part of my charm to make funnies in dire situations." Sylvain smirked. Felix sighed at his friend's antics.

"We need to crack this. We can't afford to wait until Hubert gets back because we don't know when that will be." Felix massaged his temples. "Think, Sylvain."

"Okay, what makes Hubert so... That dastard. I have an idea." Sylvain ran out of the room, leaving Felix behind. Felix sighed again.

"Okay, don't fill me in." Felix shook his head. Byleth walked in, a confused look on his face as he looked back over his shoulder.

"That is the fastest I have ever seen Sylvain run." Byleth turned to Felix.

"He said he had an idea, but he didn't tell me what it was." Felix shrugged. "Any news from upstairs, Your Highness?" Byleth sighed.

"Must you?" Byleth sighed as Felix grinned. "We have some ideas. Edelgard thinks that the goal was to break into the original Praetorian crypt that's said to be under the armoury while we were distracted with von Gimsteinn's attack."

"That's a pretty good play. Smart distraction." Felix nodded. "Ingrid sent you to check on us instead?"

"Edelgard wanted to talk to her. I needed to ask the historians about scouring Imperial records for evidence of the Praetorian crypt, so coming here wasn't out of my way," Byleth explained. Sylvain walked in.

"Professor, great timing." Sylvain held up a piece of paper and a quill. "I need you two to stand behind me and look menacing." Felix and Byleth nodded, following Sylvain into the cell. Uwe von Gimsteinn leaned back and sighed.

"Ah, His Highness, the Lord Consort Byleth!" Uwe taunted the three. "Need some oversight to see that I won't tell you anything?" Sylvain sat down across from von Gimsteinn and began to write on the paper.

"Uwe von Gimsteinn, you are charged with treason of the highest magnitude: Attempted murder of the Emperor of Adrestia. There can be only one sentence for this action, death. However, only the authority of five people in the Empire can sentence you as such. The Emperor, the Praetorian Guard, the Minister of the Imperial Household, the Prime Minister..." Byleth took a step forward. "And the Imperial Consort." Sylvain handed the paper to Byleth. "That is your death warrant. As soon as His Highness signs it, Ser Felix here can unsheathe his Sword of Zoltan and kill you.' Sylvain held onto his quill, not yet handing it to Byleth. "Unless you tell us who hired you."

"They don't care if I die, nor do I. Why do you think I let them put a Venomstone in my tooth?" Uwe leaned forward with a smug grin. Sylvain handed Byleth his quill, and Byleth signed the paper. He nodded at Felix, who drew his sword. Sylvain and Byleth walked out of the room, waiting for Felix outside. One scream from von Gimsteinn later, and Felix emerged as well.

"So what do you have?" Felix asked.

"Petra said that there was poison in his tooth, I wanted to know what it was. He said Venomstone. We know only one real way to get that," Sylvain explained.

"Monsters as created by Those Who Slither in the Dark." Byleth crossed his arms. "Good find, Sylvain."

"I mean, I'm more than a pretty face, Professor." Sylvain bowed slightly. Felix rolled his eyes as Byleth chuckled.

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 23, Imperial Year 1186

Dorothea sat at a table, brushing her hair to candlelight as the midnight moon shone into her bedroom. She heard a knock on the door and rose to answer it, finding Ingrid waiting outside still dressed in her armour.

"Mercedes and I make jokes about you sleeping in your armour. Please tell me you don't actually." Dorothea smiled slightly.

"No, no. I'm just coming off duty." Ingrid shook her head. "I wanted to talk. About... Romance things." Dorothea's eyes lit up.

"Get in here. Now." Dorothea ushered Ingrid into the room, sitting her down in an armchair by the fireplace. Dorothea summoned a faint red magical glow to her hands. "Fire!" A ball of fire flew out, igniting the logs in the fireplace. Dorothea sat down in the other armchair, putting her chin on her fist. "So. Romance things. Details please."

"I think I like someone. I think I've slowly started liking someone over the past few years," Ingrid explained. Dorothea grinned.

"Who is he?" Dorothea asked. Ingrid looked at her and slowly shook her head. "SHE?" Ingrid nodded. "Okay, you don't have to tell me who it is because that's a big step for you, but do you really like this girl?"

"Yes," Ingrid whispered.

"There's a 'but' there, isn't there?" Dorothea leaned over. "She's taken, isn't she?" Ingrid closed her eyes and sighed.

"A few years ago, Edelgard told me that it's not uncommon for nobles to have multiple lovers in Adrestia." Ingrid spoke slowly. "Is that true?"

"Yes, particularly with high-ranking nobles. Edelgard's father, Ionius, he had five consorts. Four women and one man early in his reign. Hubie's father had two wives. Ferdie's mother was married to his father and had a female lover." Dorothea paused. "You've fallen for a noble." Ingrid bit her lip. "Oh." Dorothea covered her mouth. "You've fallen for the noble."

"I don't know what to do, Dorothea. She loves him so much, they belong together. Even though the Emperor can take more than one lover, I don't want to intrude." Ingrid spoke quickly. "I'm supposed to be her Praetorian Guard."

"So was Ionius' male consort." Dorothea smiled. "There's precedent, Ingrid. But you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I think..." Ingrid sighed. "You had a crush on the Professor back at the academy, yeah?"

"A lot of people did, honestly." Dorothea shrugged. "Edelgard, me, Linhardt, Mercedes, I'm pretty sure Flayn and Rhea both had something for him." Dorothea paused. "Oh, I should add you to that list, hmm?" Ingrid sighed. "You've fallen for them both. Oh, this is such a wonderful story. The Emperor, the Professor, and the Knight. Beautiful."

"Slow down, Dorothea. Please," Ingrid pled.

"Sorry, I'm a sucker for this." Dorothea giggled. "When did you find out you had feelings for Edelgard?"

"Three days ago. My father sent me a letter asking me to kill Edelgard in the name of Faerghus and House Galatea. I was insulted and horrified that he'd ask me to use my position to do that, but there was something more. My first thought after reading it wasn't that it was though he was asking me to kill Dimitri, it was as though he was asking me to kill Glenn."

"That's where Hubie is. You asked him to kill your father."

"Not in those words, but yes." Ingrid paused. "I could have gone, I have just as much authority as Hubert to sentence my father to anything. But I asked Hubert, I asked for someone else to deal with it. Not out of love, not anymore. Because I know Hubert will make it quick. I know Hubert won't walk in and fly into a blind rage about being asked to betray everything he believes in. I know Hubert won't force Lúin through my father's sword arm and then unleash twenty-three years of pent-up anger and sadness and grief into him before finally killing him. My father will beg for mercy and Hubert will deny it, killing him after one speech. But Hubert being merciless will be a mercy."

"I'm sorry, Ingrid." Dorothea walked over, hugging her friend. Ingrid's tears dampened Dorothea's shirt. "I'm sorry your father still sees you as a political pawn after all this time. I'm sorry that him asking you to kill Edelgard is what made you realize you love her. I'm sorry that this world isn't calmer, better."

"Thank you, Dorothea. For everything."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 23, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid shot awake, hearing Edelgard's scream rip through the palace. She lept from her bed and slipped on a pair of shoes before grabbing Lúin from the wall, lacking the time required to change into her armour. She sprinted across the hall, pushing the door open with a strength she didn't know she had.

"Bolganone!" Byleth yelled. Four balls of fire converged on a man with skin and hair that were as white as ash and armour that was as black as soot. The balls of flame combined into one and exploded, but the man stepped forward unscathed. He summoned a ball of black magic to his hand, but Edelgard swung Aymr at him, causing him to transform the planned projectile into a shield. Ingrid ran forward, driving Lúin forward and nicking the man's cheek, causing it to leak a drop of sickly purple-tinted red blood.

"Finally. A drop of blood." The man grinned. He grabbed Ingrid by the face and hurled her across the room, picking up Lúin for the briefest moment to stop Aymr from striking him. The tip of the Sword of the Creator sailed past his head as he ducked out of the way. The man channeled dark magic into his hands once again, directing it into the ground. The floor beneath Edelgard and Byleth cracked and both were hit with dark energy. Byleth tried to get up again, but the man kicked Lúin into his hand one more time before driving it into Byleth's back. He then picked up Byleth, the lance still embedded in his back, and hurled him through a hole in the wall to the outside of the palace that had been opened up at some point. The man then grabbed Edelgard by the throat, dark energy gathering into his hand in an attempt to kill her. Ingrid groaned as she got up, and the man turned to her. "Still some fight in you, Ingrid Brandl Galatea?"

"I will always fight for my Emperor." Ingrid walked forward slowly, reaching down to the ground to pick up the Sword of the Creator. It was heavy in her hands, too heavy for her to safely use it at a distance. She didn't know how Byleth did it with such ease, but now was not the time to dwell on that. She swung the heavy sword at the man in a broad arc, but he stepped aside. Ingrid swung again, slicing just past the man's head. She then drove her blade forward, pushing it through the man's chest. She looked up, not seeing his face, but rather Edelgard's. The two had magically switched places just before her fatal blow.

She had been fighting an illusion.

The man laughed before vanishing, and Ingrid fell to her knees. She cradled Edelgard's body, tears falling from her eyes.

"No..." Ingrid whispered.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 23, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid shot awake, feeling something on her chest. She reached around, finding a soft furry mound shifting around. She pulled Augusta close, snuggling her tightly.

"Hey, sweetie." Ingrid whispered into the cat's fur.

Nightmares weren't new for Ingrid. She often dreamed of being at Duscur, being helpless while the Tragedy unfolded. She dreamed that she watched Glenn die. She dreamed that she got there just too late to stop the fatal blow.

This was the first time Ingrid had a nightmare where she was the one behind the sword. Where all she could do was lose. Where she fought so desperately, yet failed nonetheless. What had changed?

"That's a stupid question, Ingrid," She whispered to herself. She knew exactly what had changed. She had truly realized she was in love, and then she watched the two people she loved die. One of them died by her hand. Mercedes often talked about the meaning of dreams, the feelings that went into them.

Ingrid looked over to her window, the early morning sun beginning to shine through the window. She had work to do as the Praetorian Guard, but she needed to talk to Mercedes first. She gave Augusta a scratch on the head before rising fully from beneath the warm blankets on her bed. The duvet was made with some kind of bird feathers from Aegir, she recalled. Ferdinand had given it to her as a gift celebrating her appointment as Praetorian Guard.

All of the noble Eagles had given her some kind of gift from their homes, from their families. Hubert shared his family's barber with her. Ferdinand gave her the duvet. Bernadetta gave her a pair of rugs, one for her office and one for her room. Linhardt gave her a beautiful statue carved from blue-white stone that looked like the mountains she so loved. Caspar gave her the sword she wore when on duty, one with a blade made of a rare steel and a hilt inlaid with a glimmering ruby with the Crest of Daphnel engraved into it. Edelgard had given her Augusta, a cat whose breed was named for the Emperor's very family.

Ingrid smiled, looking around her room at the various gifts. She wasn't certain if it was tradition or to make sure that she would feel more welcome in Adrestia, but it didn't truly matter. As much as it pained what little respect she had for her family left, she had felt more at home for the past almost five years than she had her whole life in Galatea, and that was because of the people. To her friends, she wasn't an heiress or an object to be married off.

She was Ser Ingrid, Praetorian Guard.

Linhardt leafed through a book as Ignatz tapped the ground with a hammer.

"The floor here is definitely thinner than the rest of the room. There's something under it. Raph, a hand?" Ignatz explained. Raphael walked over with a bar of metal as Ignatz ran his hand along the stone. "There's a seam." Ignatz pointed at a faint line in the ground. Raphael forced his bar into the seam, prying up the piece of a floor as Hanneman walked in, a collection of unlit torches in his hands.

"Ah, you found something." Hanneman placed the torches on the ground next to the new hole in the floor. He conjured a small flame, using it to ignite the torches.

"Now it's a matter of what we found," Ignatz said before jumping down. He took a now lit torch from Hanneman and ducked under the ledge above him, approaching a door. Linhardt followed suit, running his hand along the door. It glowed faintly as the Crest of Cethleann flashed for a moment.

"It's a Crest Lock," Hanneman explained. "They require a Major Crest to open them, so they fell out of use around eight hundred years ago when those started to become rarer and rarer."

"So we need a major Crest of Cethleann. That's an issue. I don't know about anyone who bears a Major Crest of Cethleann." Ignatz sighed. Linhardt closed his eyes and groaned.

"There's one." Linhardt massaged his temples. "I asked her to marry me back at Garreg Mach."

"Who?" Ignatz asked.

"Flayn." Byleth leaned back in his chair. "Damn it."

The table before him was set for breakfast. The chair next to Byleth was empty, Edelgard evidently elsewhere. The chairs with the symbols of the Minister of the Imperial Household and the Praetorian Guard were also empty, but Ferdinand sat in the Prime Minister's seat with Marianne next to him. Dorothea, Bernadetta, Felix, Linhardt, Raphael, Hanneman, and Ignatz sat at various other seats around, with Dorothea and Raphael both snacking.

"Something wrong? Beyond the whole 'Seteth and Flayn vanished' thing." Raphael asked.

"Seteth and Flayn's relationship is not what they said it is. They aren't siblings. They are father and daughter." Byleth stroked his chin. "I also always felt this strange... Connection to both of them, the same connection I felt to Rhea. A strange, almost familial bond." Byleth paused. "Linhardt, you once mentioned that Flayn looked identical to Cethleann. I think there's something to that, but something much more."

"If I recall correctly, Seteth possesses the Crest of Cichol." Marianne piped up.

"Correct." Byleth nodded. "So the logical answer here is to assume one thing and one thing alone."

"Seteth is Cichol, and Flayn is Cethleann." Hanneman nodded. "Fascinating."

"Oh." Bernadetta's eyes widened.

"Linhardt had that same expression in the tomb." Ignatz gestured at Linhardt. "Did you ask Seteth to marry you like Linhardt asked Flayn?"

"Linhardt what?" Ferdinand looked over at his friend, who had buried his face in a bowl of fruit.

"I... I didn't ask him to marry me!" Bernadetta defended herself. "I just... Drew him as Cichol in a book of fables we were working on together."

"I want to hear both of these stories later. For now, we need to find Seteth and Flayn." Byleth crossed his arms.

"Hubert." Ferdinand cut in. "Nothing slips that man's gaze. If anyone has an idea where they are, it will be him."

"Of course there's an assassination attempt as a distraction that can only be solved via Hubert's information right when he's gone," Dorothea sighed.

"Those Who Slither in the Dark are playing us like a lyre." Ferdinand nodded.

"Dorothea, I need you and Petra to take her wyvern to inform Hubert. He's heading to Galatea, dealing with another budding plot against the Emperor. He needs to know because I have a feeling he'll come to the same conclusion that I will about the timing," Byleth ordered. "We also need everything he knows about Seteth and Flayn."

"I'll grab Petra and we'll head out immediately." Dorothea stood, leaving the room.

"Wait, you said Galatea?" Bernadetta asked. "Oh no. Ingrid..."

"She received a letter from her father. He asked her to kill Edelgard." Byleth folded his hands, leaned his chin on them, and sighed. Marianne slammed her hand into the table.

"How DARE he?" Marianne yelled. "After everything Ingrid's done? He really thought she would do that?" The room fell slightly quieter at her sudden burst of rage. Ferdinand ran his hand along her arm to calm her.

"Marianne and I will be visiting an orphanage today. We're looking to see what sort of funding they'll need with the influx of war orphans." Ferdinand explained, rising slowly. Marianne followed suit. Byleth nodded.

"Let me know if you need anything," He ordered. Ferdinand nodded, leaving the room.

"That's probably our cue to get back to work. We'll see what else we can dig up about that Crest Lock." Linhardt added. He, Hanneman, Ignatz, and Raphael left the room, leaving only Bernadetta, Felix, and Byleth.

"Byleth, there's something going on with Ingrid." Bernadetta spoke up.

"Something's off about her. She didn't show up to train with me this morning." Felix crossed his arms.

"Felix and I were on night watch last night. We saw her leaving Dorothea's room. Late." Bernadetta began.

"I expect this is more than gossip." Byleth quipped.

"It's gossip with a purpose." Bernadetta rubbed her hands together nervously. Byleth picked up his tea, letting them continue.

"She didn't see us, but she had this... Look on her face. A look I haven't seen on her since she was eleven," Felix explained. "A look that she had when she first truly met my brother. She was always annoyed about the betrothal, it followed her since birth. But then they met and something just..." Felix snapped his fingers. "Something just worked between them. She knew Glenn would be willing to at least try to help her achieve her dream of being a knight."

"She's in love." Byleth nodded slowly. "That paired with the letter from her father would be enough to throw her off her rhythm slightly. She was... Incredibly shaken by the letter."

"I know Ingrid. Bloodlines be damned, she's my sister." Felix exhaled. "She's not shaken about being asked to kill Edelgard. She's shaken because she wants to kill her father for asking her to betray Edelgard."

"Oh, Goddess." Byleth's face dropped. "As Praetorian Guard, she can execute anyone other than myself, Edelgard, Hubert, and Ferdinand if she feels it's needed."

"That's why she asked Hubert to deal with it." Felix nodded. "Because he'll make it quick." Byleth stood up.

"I need to scour the books we recovered from Seteth's office. I want to see if he possibly left a clue as to where he went." He walked out of the room, leaving Felix and Bernadetta alone.

"You didn't tell him who you think Ingrid is in love with?" Felix asked.

"No." Bernadetta shook her head. "If I'm right and it is Edelgard, that's Ingrid's story to tell. If I'm wrong, I don't want to bog him down with a bunch of complicated stuff about Adrestian marriage traditions for nothing."

Mercedes stirred her tea, picking up a novel as the tea cooled slightly. She heard a knock on her door, turning her head slightly.

"Come in." Mercedes picked up a second teacup for her unexpected guest. Ingrid walked in, wearing her armour and with Lúin in its usual position on her back. Mercedes smiled slightly. Ingrid was dedicated to her duty like no other before her. Most would crumble under the pressure of being the chief guardian of the Emperor of Adrestia, but Ingrid practically basked in the challenge. There were countless stories of her sheer ferocity in battle to defend her Emperor, endless tales of her capturing outposts on her own because one archer fired an arrow at her liege. Ingrid was one of the greatest knights that Adrestia, and perhaps all of Fódlan, had ever seen.

That Ingrid was not this Ingrid, not now. Something was wrong with this Ingrid this morning. This Ingrid looked shaken, as though something had entered her head and stirred all her feelings around.

"May I sit?" Ingrid asked.

"Of course." Mercedes smiled sweetly, gesturing to the chair across from her. Ingrid took Lúin off of her back and set it beside the chair before sitting down. "Are you alright?"

"I don't think so." Ingrid shook her head. "I had a dreadful nightmare last night." Mercedes smiled sadly at her. It was a sympathetic look that made Ingrid instantly want to open up more. "I had a nightmare about... People who mean more to me than almost any other. I couldn't save them." Ingrid took a series of deep breaths. "I killed one of them by trying to save them."

"You're afraid that you aren't enough. It's your deepest fear invading your sleep." Mercedes held Ingrid's hand. "You know you'll do everything you can, but deep down you're scared it won't be worth anything in the end."

"Yes." Ingrid nodded. "There was a man in my nightmare. I didn't recognize him, I've never seen him before. I tried everything, but all I could do was draw a single drop of blood. Then he used magic to make me kill the person he was holding." Mercedes pulled Ingrid in for a hug.

"Your mind created a villain you couldn't know, someone you couldn't fight. I promise you that you won't have to protect Edelgard alone. Not as long as I draw breath." Mercedes promised. Ingrid smiled, her eyes wet with tears. Another knock came at the door, and Mercedes rose. "Come in." A guard entered the room and bowed before Ingrid.

"Praetorian Guard, the Emperor requests your presence in her study." Ingrid nodded, rising from her chair, taking a moment to dry her eyes. She picked up Lúin and gave Mercedes a hug.

"Thank you," Ingrid whispered in Mercedes' ear before walking out of the room. Ingrid didn't believe she was late to her duty, but it was very possible she was. She couldn't get herself into the mood to train with Felix that morning, which was usually how she tracked the time.

The guards she passed bowed to her slightly, not nearly as deeply as the guard who had come to fetch her for Edelgard. Five years on, and that was still a strange sensation to have people bow to her. She knew that she was only one step below Edelgard in terms of authority, but that was... A scary amount of power for Ingrid. As head of the Imperial army as stationed in the palace, she could ask any soldier to do anything she required.

'Doesn't stop me from doing it myself because I still feel guilty about ordering people around.' Ingrid joked to herself in an attempt at a distraction. She reached the door of Edelgard's study, which was slightly ajar. Ingrid could sear she smelled eggs, cheese, and some kind of meat, but she dismissed the thought as she opened the door. She saw Edelgard crouching next to the fireplace, prodding at a pan.

"My Emperor?" Ingrid asked. Edelgard turned, showing that she wasn't wearing her crown. "Edelgard." Edelgard smiled at the use of her name.

"Good morning, Ingrid." Edelgard stirred the contents of the pan. "I'm making us breakfast. Felix mentioned that you didn't come to train with him this morning, so I presumed you also didn't get breakfast together."

"You presumed correctly." Ingrid nodded. As if on cue, her stomach growled at her. Edelgard chuckled, hearing the noise.

"Well, I'm no Bernadetta or Ashe, but I am trying to make omelettes today." Edelgard shifted the omelettes with her spatula. "Have a seat, Ingrid." Ingrid sat down, watching Edelgard work. She was dressed in a red button up shirt and black pants, not wearing either her beloved armour or her official court attire. Edelgard clearly felt safe in her palace again, unlike she had for the entire war. She had promised Ingrid that she was an excellent bodyguard, but Ingrid couldn't help but feel guilty that Edelgard never truly felt safe enough to shed all her protection in private. Now here Edelgard was, a thin cloth shirt the only thing between her skin and the air. Edelgard was relaxed, and Ingrid liked seeing that. It helped that the shirt had tight sleeves and Ingrid could see Edelgard's muscles shift with every movement.

Ingrid paused for a moment. Why had she jumped there so quickly? It felt out of character for her. She'd talk to Dorothea later and probably have to watch her best friend poorly stifle a laugh before launching into some ramble about how she couldn't believe Ingrid was so in love that she thought about how Edelgard's arms looked in a shirt.

"Focus, Ingrid. Dorothea would be laughing at you so much right now." Ingrid thought as she looked away from Edelgard. She looked up at a painting on the wall above the fireplace. It depicted a red and gold eagle with a ball of white fire in its talons flanked by a dark grey pegasus with a short blonde mane on its right, a black crow with pale gold markings around its eyes on its left, and a bronze horse with a flowing orange mane beneath it.

"Do you like it? Bernadetta painted it for me." Edelgard set a plate in front of Ingrid. "Almost five years of being Emperor, and I still had a painting commissioned by my father hanging there. Last week, Bernadetta brought me that lovely piece. She calls it 'The Court of the Emperor'. She had been working on it for almost a year. The eagle is me, as you may have guessed. The crow is Hubert, always watching over my shoulder. The horse is Ferdinand, always lifting me up and inspiring me to soar higher. The flame is Byleth. When Bernadetta began making it, he was still gone. He was the fire that I carried with me. Now that he has returned, he is the fire that guides me forward." Edelgard touched Ingrid's arm. "The pegasus is, of course, you. My right hand and my trusted guardian, you fly into every fight and every mission at my side."

Ingrid blushed slightly, taking a bite of the omelette. She chewed slowly, pondering the flavour. It was well cooked, and the flavours were balanced fine enough. It certainly wasn't like the ones Bernadetta or Ashe made, but it was palatable. At least it was better than Hanneman or Constance's cooking.

"Do you like it?" Edelgard leaned forward slightly. Her words shook Ingrid out of her thoughts. The look in Edelgard's eyes was one of hope and curiousity. The pause Ingrid took to answer made her face fall slightly. "Because if you don't, that's alright. I can send someone to the kitchen to get you-"

"It's delicious." Ingrid stretched the truth slightly. It wasn't a perfect tasting omelette, it was rather mediocre. However, it wasn't the taste or the texture Ingrid cared about right now. She was just happy to have food with Edelgard, food in the quiet so that she could fall deeper for the Emperor.

"Oh?" Edelgard leaned back, clearly surprised a little. The look in her eyes became relieved. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

"You might not be as good as Ashe or Bernadetta, but you're definitely ages beyond Constance and Caspar." Ingrid smiled.

"Thank the heavens." Edelgard let out sigh of relief.

"If you want to try to cook more, I'd love to taste your work." Ingrid smiled. Edelgard smiled back.

"That sounds lovely."

Byleth stood in front of the door of the First Tomb of the Praetorian Guards, leaning on the Sword of the Creator as he read from a book.

"It was long said that Crests were connected, intertwined by the emotions of their original bearers." Byleth read from the book. "The strength of the emotions empower the Crests, emotions negative or positive. History built on hate gives way for a future built on love." Byleth looked at the Sword of the Creator. "Legacies founded in anger, avarice, and aggression will come together in love, compassion, and hope."

"Still have to hit the books?" Caspar asked. Byleth turned, seeing him leaning on a pillar.

"You could say that," Byleth chuckled. "Caspar, what do you know about the relationship between the original Crest Bearers?"

"Not much, knowing things like that isn't really my thing. But I mean, we all know Seiros and Nemesis hated each other's guts. Since you and Edelgard have their Crests, I'd say that the whole 'History and hate becoming the future and love' something something ended up okay." Byleth let an amused puff of air out of his nose. "I mean, I don't believe you two only found your feelings for each other just because of an ancient prophecy. That stuff's just words on a page. You two chose each other."

"That's a lovely sentiment. Thank you." Byleth smiled slightly. "Caspar, I need your opinion on something."

"Sure." Caspar shrugged.

"We have just come off of a war that lasted for over four years. Do you believe it is wise for us to jump into another against Those Who Slither In The Dark so soon after it?" Byleth asked.

"Yeah." Caspar nodded. "Because if we let them think we won't fight them, they'll start their experiments again. We have to win. The Empire can survive another war, we can't survive if we don't fight them." Caspar jumped down, giving Byleth a nudge in the shoulder. "Besides. Half the reason the war went on for four years is because you weren't around." Byleth looked down at the Sword of the Creator.

"We must hope I can lead us to a swift victory again."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Varley

Garland Moon, Day 24, Imperial Year 1186

Hubert and Shamir stepped out of an inn, the sun hanging high in the sky. Hubert shielded his eyes for a moment, blinking to adjust them to the brightness. Shamir ran a hand through her hair, getting it out of her face.

"Good lunch." Shamir took in a deep breath of afternoon air.

"Mmm." Hubert nodded. A young woman ran over, a look of panic on her face.

"Marquis Vestra!" The woman bowed before Hubert. "Please, we need your help!"

"What seems to be the problem?" Hubert asked.

"Bandits! They're coming here, with cavalry! We don't have the soldiers to fight them!" The woman pled. Shamir walked to the carriage and grabbed her bow.

"I believe we can afford a detour." Hubert nodded. "Have everyone in cellars and away from the roads." The woman began to gather the people as Shamir pulled an arrow from her quiver.

"You don't think it's simple chance that there are horse riding bandits delaying us, do you?" Shamir nudged Hubert in the side.

"Not at all." Hubert scratched his nose. "Especially when our destination is Galatea, known for its horses."

Enbarr

Ingrid sat at the breakfast table with Edelgard, Byleth, Ferdinand, Marianne, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta, Felix, and Sylvain. She looked down at her food, fork in hand but meal untouched.

"We know Hubert will know where Seteth and Flayn are, at least to some extent. That's a start." Edelgard took a drink of water.

"What's the plan for when we find them, Byleth?" Ferdinand asked. Byleth's nose wrinkled for a moment.

"I'm not certain. I'm hoping that they can be reasoned with. Those Who Slither In The Dark will not let them live, let alone live a life of peace. I believe that they will be willing to help us against them for that reason alone."

"Do we have a second plan if they say no?" Felix asked. Byleth looked at him with a frown. It was a silent gesture that spoke volumes. Byleth had no Plan B.

Ingrid sighed silently. She had asked Hubert to step away in some cruel gesture of mercy to her father, so he wouldn't have his death come at the hands of the daughter who left him. Ingrid now knew for certain that she should have done it herself. Hubert was needed here, the newest plot against the Emperor too extreme to ignore.

"Ingrid." Sylvain spoke up, breaking Ingrid out of her thoughts. "You okay? You're not eating." Ingrid looked up at him, a fire burning in her eyes.

"I know that look." Felix looked at her. Byleth and Edelgard glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

"Ingrid, if there's something you need to do, you have my permission." Edelgard touched Ingrid's arm. Ingrid rose, taking Lúin in her hand before walking out of the room. Felix and Sylvain got up and followed her.

"Felix, Sylvain, don't bother trying to talk me out of this." Ingrid spoke without facing them.

"Ingrid, we're not going to." Sylvain jogged to catch up to her. "We're coming with you." Ingrid turned to face the two men.

"No, you're not. My biggest mistake in the past five years was not dealing with my father sooner. He still sees me as a tool, as a pawn for political power. If I had dealt with him sooner, he wouldn't have had the chance to ask me to kill the Emperor. Now I've asked Hubert to do my dirty work. No longer. I'm doing this myself." Ingrid paused, her expression darkening slightly. "I'm going to make sure he dies knowing exactly how I feel about him."

"Okay." Sylvain nodded. Ingrid smiled slightly. "Do you need us to do anything?"

"Until I return, you both are to be the Emperor's swords," Ingrid ordered. Felix and Sylvain nodded. "If I don't return..."

"Don't finish that sentence. You're going to return." Felix held up his hand to stop her. Ingrid chuckled quietly.

"Thank you, both of you." Ingrid spun on her heel and walked away. Felix and Sylvain stood together for a moment, looking down the hallway.

"She's changed." Sylvain noted. "All three of us have, though. I think it's for the better. The old Ingrid... Hell, even the Ingrid a couple years ago wouldn't have been able to openly decide that she's going to kill her father. She's not stronger, she's always been strong. She just has the confidence to use that strength now." Felix stared at him.

"That may be the most intelligent thing you have ever said," Felix deadpanned. Sylvain rolled his eyes.

"Way to kill the moment, Felix."

Ingrid walked over to her pegasus, stroking her mane.

"Hey, pretty girl. We're going back to Galatea one more time." Ingrid whispered to her beloved mount. The pegasus whinnied quietly, leaning into the touch. Ingrid pressed her cheek into the pegasus' soft coat for a moment, thinking of all that they had been through.

Ingrid had been thrilled when she passed the Pegasus Knight certification exam that she practically danced to the Black Eagles classroom with the news. Everyone celebrated with her, Ashe and Bernadetta had even brought cake. They had been so certain that she would pass that failure wasn't even considered. The cake was delicious, but that was as expected from Ashe and Bernadetta. It was the moment that Ingrid wanted to hold onto, the moment where she wished that every Black Eagle, whether born into it or having joined it, would hang onto each other. It was a happy memory, a quiet memory.

Byleth and Edelgard had gone with her to the monastery's stables, where she was told they had a gift for her. When they arrived, she found a brilliant white pegasus waiting for them. Her name was Olympia, and Edelgard had said she was an Imperial breed, fast and full of stamina. It was one of the moments that made Ingrid consider leaving the Kingdom entirely and join the Empire. It had just been a fantasy then. Here she was, living that fantasy.

Ingrid closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. This had been an event years in the making. Her father would finally see justice for all the times he had used her. She had the chance to deal with him before, but he had never pushed her far enough to justify it.

Enbarr

Great Tree Moon, Day 17, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid sat in her office, scratching Augusta's belly. The kitten mewed happily at her, causing Ingrid to giggle.

"You're a precious little baby, aren't you?" Ingrid poked Augusta's nose. Augusta sneezed in response, her head flailing from side to side. Ingrid heard a knock on her door, and she picked up Augusta so she wouldn't bolt at whoever it was. "Come in!" Ashe entered the room, a pair of parcels and a letter in hand.

"Ser Ingrid." Ashe grinned, bowing before her.

"Stop it." Ingrid joked, laughing at her friend's antics. "Are those for me?"

"Yep!" Ashe held out the parcels to her, but Ingrid's hands were full with the squirming Augusta.

"Sorry, she's frisky this morning." Ingrid sighed. Ashe set the parcels and letter on Ingrid's desk with a chuckle.

"Can I hold her?" Ashe asked. Ingrid offered the kitten to him with a smile, Ashe taking her gently. "I love her, she's adorable."

"Isn't she?" Ingrid smiled, examining the parcels. "Odd. I only ordered one of these." She looked around her desk for a letter opener, grabbing one out of a drawer. Ingrid removed the paper wrapping from the packages, revealing identical novels within. "Remind me when your birthday is, Ashe?"

"Day 17 of the Wyvern Moon. In half a year. Why?" Ashe asked.

"Well, I suppose you're getting a book just because then." Ingrid offered the second copy of the novel to Ashe. He set Augusta down on the desk, and the kitten began to clean herself. He took the book, examining the cover.

"The Three Heroes." Ashe examined the cover. "What's it about?"

"It's a fictional retelling of three of Adrestia's greatest warriors. Three sisters who fought to defend one of the Emperors. The oldest sister was one of the Emperor's lovers who picked up a sword and climbed atop a wyvern to defend him. The middle sister was a skilled brawler and axewoman who was forced to turn on her sisters by the enemy before finally returning to them. The youngest sister was a tactician and mage clad in armour that was said to glow like the sun." Ingrid smiled at the novel. "Mercedes recommended it. She said that she had read it when she was younger, so I thought I'd buy it."

"Oh, it sounds really interesting. I'll let you know what I think." Ashe opened the book, looking at the table of contents.

"Join me for tea next week. I expect you'll have made more headway than me." Ingrid chuckled. She then picked up the letter and sighed, seeing that the wax seal on the letter was emblazoned with Galatea's symbol.

"Oh, Goddess. I'm so sorry. I forgot to mention it." Ashe grimaced. Ingrid waved her hand at him to dismiss his concern, opening the letter.

"My dearest daughter, Ingrid. The shock of you betraying Faerghus to serve the Empire was shock enough, but hearing that you have become the Emperor's attack dog quite nearly killed me." Ingrid paused, massaging her temple. "I do hope that you will see reason and return to the Kingdom. King Dimitri has been hit hard by the loss of you, Felix, and Sylvain. Worse, I fear that Galatea may not survive this endeavor." Ingrid growled at the letter, standing up quickly.

"I'm sure it goes on and on about how disappointed he is in me, as usual. At least this time he's not disappointed about me still not having a husband." Ingrid walked over to her fireplace, ignoring the rest of the letter's contents. She tossed the offending paper in, watching as the way seal on it melted until the symbol of Galatea was no longer recognizable.

"Are you okay, Ingrid?" Ashe asked, touching Ingrid's shoulder. Ingrid stared at the fire licking at the letter, the edges of the paper curling as they burned. "Ingrid?"

"Yes." Ingrid lied. "Enjoy the book, Ashe. If you'll excuse me, I have Praetorian Guard business to attend to."

"Okay." Ashe walked towards the door. "If I can help with anything, don't be afraid to ask." Ingrid continued staring at the fireplace, but Ashe swore he saw a small nod. He closed the door behind him, and Ingrid let out a sigh.

"Damn it, Father."

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 24, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid kissed Olympia's neck quietly.

"I should have cut the tie off sooner." Ingrid whispered into the pegasus' neck. She sighed, massaging her temple. More than just sooner. She should have done it the day after she cut off her braid. The symbolism would have been fitting enough for a story about a knight in a novel.

Symbolism be damned, it would have saved her more grief.

"Ingrid." Byleth's voice came from behind her. Ingrid turned, seeing the Imperial consort with his arms folded.

"You can't talk me out of killing him." Ingrid climbed onto her pegasus.

"I know. I'm not here to try." Byleth looked up at her. "Before she and Petra departed, I told Dorothea to inform Hubert that he no longer needed to deal with your father. I had a feeling this was coming after a chat with Felix and Bernadetta." Ingrid paused, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "They saw you leaving Dorothea's room. Felix said you had the same face that you did when you formally met Glenn. The face of an Ingrid who has realized she's in love."

"Goddess." Ingrid sighed, leaning her head back. "Does anyone else know?"

"That I know of? Felix, Bernadetta, and I presume Dorothea. I'll not tell anyone else. That's your story." Byleth assured her. "I have my own hunches as to who you're in love with, but it doesn't matter right now. Go do what you need to do."

"Thank you." Ingrid urged her pegasus forward. The pegasus trotted forward before unfolding its wings, taking to the skies.

Varley

Hubert ducked under a swing of a cavalryman's sword, summoning magic to his hands.

"Mire," Hubert commanded. The magic surged forth, enveloping his foe in dark slime. He tipped his head to the side, allowing Shamir to fire an arrow past his head into the throat of another one of the bandits. Hubert kicked a lance into his hand, driving it into the chest of another bandit. He pulled it out, tossing it to Shamir. She twirled the lance before bashing the hilt into the side of an assailant's head, knocking him off of his horse.

"Nothing personal." Shamir stabbed the lance down, impaling him.

"Dark Spikes." Hubert summoned javelins of black magic, casting them at the second to last horsemen. An arrow from the sky felled the final warrior, and Hubert and Shamir looked up to see Petra and Dorothea atop Petra's wyvern. The wyvern landed, and Petra gave it a pat as Dorothea got off.

"Dorothea, Petra." Shamir nodded at them.

"Hubie, it's urgent," Dorothea began.

"Urgent enough to distract me from killing Count Galatea for his attempt at an attempt on Edelgard's life."

"Absolutely." Dorothea nodded. "Byleth believes Ingrid is going to kill her father."

"Ingrid? Kill her own father?" Shamir asked, crossing her arms.

"Do not doubt Ser Ingrid, Shamir." Hubert looked over his shoulder at her. "If there is any as dedicated to the Emperor's protection as I am, it is her. The only reason I was sent was because that was a mercy. Not for Ser Ingrid, but for her father. I would read him one letter, dump his daughter's hair at his feet, and then kill him with a snap of my fingers. It would impersonal, quick. He would not suffer if I were to kill him. Ser Ingrid will kill her father. There is no doubt in my mind." Hubert paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "But before he dies, he will be broken. Ser Ingrid will look at him and unleash every feeling she has kept bottled for her entire life. She will put a weapon in his hand and then take it away. She will take Lúin, her family's ancestral weapon, and make it the last thing he sees."

"Okay, point taken." Dorothea cut in. "We don't have time for this, Hubie. We discovered a Crest Lock on the Lost Tomb. It's the Crest of Cethleann. Byleth figured out that Flayn is Cethleann." Hubert's eyebrows lifted for a moment, his curiousity piqued.

"Remarkable," Hubert chuckled. "Such a simple solution that answers every question about both her and Seteth." Hubert began to walk to his and Shamir's carriage. "We will head to Galatea."

"I am not having understanding?" Petra questioned. "You were just saying a talk about how Ingrid will kill her father." Hubert turned to the three women and smiled slightly.

"Oh." Dorothea sighed. "Seteth and Flayn are in Galatea."

"It's the last major collective of Kingdom loyalists. The Four Saints are a major figure to them. Seteth and Flayn may be in disguise, but they are most certainly among allies." Hubert tossed a bag to Shamir, slinging one across his own back.

"I don't think Étaín can carry four people and still fly safely, Hubie." Dorothea grit her teeth.

"Wilhelm's Beard, I have no intent to fly." Hubert shook his head. "Dorothea, I need you to boost my magicks. I am going to use a teleportation spell." Shamir flashed him a confused look.

"You have a teleportation spell?" Shamir asked.

"Indeed." Hubert scratched his nose. "I utilized it in the Holy Tomb to get most of the Black Eagles away. The Emperor had insisted on being last, of course. That was when Ingrid saved her." Hubert began to channel purple magic into his hands. "It's both difficult and draining to use over long distances, and one of the spellcasters involved must have been to the destination at least once before." Hubert looked at Dorothea. "You've been to Galatea, yes?"

Faerghus

Galatea

Great Tree Moon, Day 22, Imperial Year 1181

A person in a dark cloak looked at the walls surrounding Galatea. The moon hung above in the sky, and the flames of the torches on the walls cast a faint orange glow into the night. They heard rustling behind them, drawing a sword with a ruby in the hilt from their hip and turning to face whoever it was. Dorothea and Petra put their hands in the air to show that they were no threat. Ingrid sighed, pulling her hood off.

"I didn't know you were following me." Ingrid returned her sword to her scabbard.

"I was keeping us from your seeing." Petra smiled slightly. Ingrid chuckled quietly.

"What are you doing here?" Dorothea asked. Ingrid sighed.

What was she doing here?

"Honestly?" Ingrid asked. "I don't know." Ingrid turned to the wall. "I'm not leaving the Empire. I know my father will ask me to. I'm not about to throw everything I've built myself away for what he wants. I'm not giving up the knighthood I've always dreamed of, the trust I've been given, and the cause I believe in for another braid that's half as long as I am, familial demands brought on by ridiculous traditions, and a status quo I despise." Ingrid sat down on the ground. "Maybe I came to say goodbye. Maybe I came to tell him to stop meddling in my life." Petra walked behind Ingrid and sat down, running her hands through Ingrid's hair. Dorothea joined the two on the grass as Petra took the braids at Ingrid's crown out, brushing the hair down.

"Are you ready to say goodbye?" Dorothea asked. Ingrid didn't respond, but her silence spoke volumes. "What do you want to do, Ingrid?"

Ingrid closed her eyes, leaning into Petra's touch slightly. She was remaking the braids now, slightly tighter than they were before, and styled slightly differently. They weren't the Rusalka-style braid that Belimar had styled around her crown, but rather a style of braid from Petra's home.

"I want to go home," Ingrid said. She looked at the wall surrounding Galatea. "And that isn't here anymore. It's Adrestia. It's with the Eagles."

Adrestia

Varley

Garland Moon, Day 24, Imperial Year 1186

"Dorothea." Hubert shook Dorothea out of her memory. "Have you been to Galatea?"

"I have." Dorothea nodded.

"Good," Hubert replied. "Then let us begin." He created a rune in front of him. "You are our map. Simply think of Galatea and channel your magic into me. I will handle the rest." Dorothea's hands glowed as she let loose her learned powers. Hubert closed his eyes as the rune began to pulse quickly. "There it is. Galatea." Hubert's eyes opened, now glowing purple. Hubert, Dorothea, Petra, Shamir, and Étaín then vanished in a flash of purple light.

Faerghus

Galatea

A man with greying blond hair entered an office, massaging his hand.

"Difficult day training, Nereus?" The voice of the white skinned man from Ingrid's dream asked. Nereus looked over to the source of the voice, seeing the man with black armour standing next to the window in the Count's office. The man turned to face Nereus.

"I'm not the warrior I was in my younger years, Thales." Nereus folded his arms behind his back. Thales chuckled.

"That is why you value your daughter such, isn't it, Count Galatea?" Thales began to walk around the office slowly. "Your cavaliers have failed to kill Hubert von Vestra."

"Damn it." Count Galatea sighed. "Then there is nothing stopping him coming here to get revenge for the Emperor's death." Thales laughed.

"Revenge? There is nothing to have revenge for. It seems that your faith in your daughter was... Misplaced. The Emperor of Adrestia lives. Additionally, my sources indicate that your daughter is coming here. It will not not be the friendly discussion or the family reunion you and your wife desire. It will be the last time you see your daughter."

"Are you threatening my Ingrid?" Nereus asked.

"No, no." Thales stopped, looking at a painting of Count Galatea in his prime above the fireplace. "I have not forgotten our deal, Count Galatea. Agarthans are people of our words. I will not harm a hair on your daughter's head." Thales turned to Nereus. "It will be your last meeting because she is coming here to tie off loose ends. Marquis Hubert von Vestra will not be your executioner. No, no. You will die at the hand of Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard."

"Impossible!" Count Galatea yelled. "My Ingrid would never-"

"Your Ingrid would never what?" Thales asked. "Your Ingrid would never cut off the braid your wife spent hours teaching her to care for? Your Ingrid would never cast aside tradition to become a knight? Your Ingrid would never leave the Kingdom to serve the Empire?" Thales paused, lowering his voice. "Your Ingrid would never fall for another woman?" Thales smiled, chuckling. "I have seen within her mind as she searched for her greatest joys in her slumber. Your Ingrid is long gone, Nereus. Your Ingrid died years ago. Now, the Ingrid she has decided to become is coming to kill you because you were foolish enough to believe you still had control." Thales' eyes glowed purple for a moment. "Perhaps you will meet your Ingrid again." Thales vanished in a flash of purple magic.

"My daughter..." Nereus fell to his knees. "My Ingrid."

Chapter Text

Faerghus

Galatea

Garland Moon, Day 24, Imperial Year 1186

Hubert, Dorothea, Shamir, Petra, and Étaín emerged from a glyph in a snow-chilled waste. The walls of Galatea loomed before them, only the evergreen trees of the forest concealing the group from the eyes of the Galatean guards.

"Well, it's certainly Galatea." Dorothea hugged herself to preserve the warmth. Petra pulled a coat from Étaín's saddle and wrapped it around Dorothea before pulling one on herself.

"I assume the place will be thrown into chaos as soon as Count Galatea is dead. How long do we have, Dorothea?" Hubert asked.

"Olympia's fast when Ingrid needs her to be. It took Ingrid five days to fly here with a distracted mind. If she left this morning, I give us three days at best," Dorothea explained.

"That quick?" Shamir's nose crinkled for a moment.

"Olympia's the fastest pegasus in the Empire, and Ingrid's scarily good at finding wind currents to make the flight easier on both of them." Dorothea nodded. Shamir nodded slowly, clearly shocked at the potential of the Praetorian Guard.

"Come then. We have no time to waste." Hubert led the group away.

Open Skies

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

The rising sun hung low in the sky as Ingrid soared through the air, a helmet like those of Falcon Knights on her head. Her helmet had a mask that covered her mouth and red lenses over her eyes to protect her face from the biting winds that came with flying as fast as she was.

The Praetorian Guard pulled Olympia to a stop for a moment, looking down at the ruins of Garreg Mach. She lifted her helmet from her head, though it remained affixed to the back of her armour with a pair of small chains. Ingrid ran her hand through her hair for a moment as she gazed down at the ruins where her life had truly begun again.

Garreg Mach

Training Grounds

Wyvern Moon, Day 13, Imperial Year 1180

Byleth and Edelgard walked into the training grounds of the monastery, finding Ingrid waiting with her arms behind her back.

"We're not late, are we?" Edelgard asked. "And where is everyone else?"

"You're on time. And I have no idea where the others are," Ingrid explained. Byleth's nose crinkled for a moment.

"Strange. It's not like everyone to skip class. Now we're alone out here, away from the eyes of the guards." Byleth spoke loudly. An arrow flew from the bush and soared towards him, just barely missing as Byleth slipped his shoulder out of the way. "Ah, assassins." The rest of the Eagles emerged from various points of cover, weapons at the ready.

"Fight for your lives, bluebloods!" Dorothea yelled, channeling magic into her hands. "Thunder!" She fired a bolt of lightning at Edelgard, who dove out of the way before grabbing an axe.

"Bluebloods, really?" Caspar asked.

"We're bandits, Caspie. Get into it." Dorothea rolled her eyes. Caspar shrugged before letting out a battle cry and charging at Ingrid. Ingrid ducked his punch before striking him in the back with the handle of her lance. Hubert and Petra held their weapons out towards Byleth, a lance and a sword respectively. Byleth maintained his stoic expression as he drew the Sword of the Creator. He held up the blade to block a strike from Petra before extending the sword in order to catch Hubert's lance.

"Miasma," Hubert commanded. A ball of black magic flew at Byleth, who channeled magic into his free hand.

"Fire." Byleth let loose a ball of fire in reply, the two spheres of magic colliding in the air and destroying each other with a small explosion. Caspar came running over and pulled an axe from his hip before jumping into the air, slamming the axe down onto the Sword of the Creator. The blade was forced from Byleth's hand, falling to the ground. Petra swung her sword at Byleth again, but he drew a steel sword to continue the fight. Ingrid backpedaled away from Ferdinand, who swung his lance at her chest. Ingrid ducked out of the way as Ferdinand slammed his lance into the ground near her foot. She, however, flipped backwards out of the way, landing next to the Sword of the Creator and drawing the attention of both Edelgard and Dorothea.

"That was attractive." Dorothea commented. Edelgard nodded in reply. Ingrid grabbed the Sword of the Creator, holding it in both hands due to the weight. She swung it forward with all her might, cleaving the handle of Ferdinand's lance in half with the sheer heft of the blade. She then dropped the sword and grabbed her own lance, pointing it at Ferdinand's throat.

"Welcome to the Black Eagles." Ferdinand grinned.

Open Skies

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid smiled at the memory. Ferdinand's only remarks on her kicking his ass were to formally welcome her to the house. No snide remark, no sarcasm, no complaints that the new girl had defeated him. Just respect.

Respect.

Ingrid pulled her helmet back on and spurred Olympia forward. She didn't plan to squander that respect.

Adrestia

Enbarr

"Byleth..." A voice whispered. Byleth shifted in bed, half waking up. "Byleth."

"El..." Byleth groaned and rolled over, reaching his arm out to feel for Edelgard.

"Not her, you fool. Have you forgotten me already?" Byleth realized the voice speaking to him was not Edelgard, but rather a voice he had thought had gone quiet years ago. Byleth rolled to the other side of the bed, opening his eyes fully to see the form of Sothis floating before him.

"Sothis?" Byleth shot up. His eyes darted to the Sword of the Creator's spot on the wall, finding it was missing. Sothis revealed the blade was in her hand, offering it to Byleth.

"This sword is my body, a body the Agarthans used to forge a weapon for a king they allied with. Wield it well against the Agarthans," Sothis ordered.

"Agarthans?" Byleth asked.

"What, you believed that 'Those Who Slither In The Dark' was their actual name?" Sothis' tone was that of good natured mockery. Byleth rolled his eyes at the remark. "Now get to work, you. I'll see you again when I need to."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Byleth woke up to the sound of a door being opened and Edelgard stepping into their chambers. She wore a robe and was drying her hair with a towel, evidently having come back from a bath.

"Good morning, my love." Edelgard smiled. "I would have invited you to join me this morning, but you were sleeping so peacefully."

Byleth watched her walk slowly over to the closet. Despite the chaos that the Empire was currently facing with a threat from Count Galatea and the danger of Those Who Slither... The Agarthans, Edelgard was calm. She was safe.

'I'm glad you enjoyed your alone time." Byleth rose, walking over to Edelgard. He moved her hair out of the way and kissed her neck, causing the Emperor to giggle softly.

"While that is true, I also enjoy quiet time with you." Edelgard leaned up to kiss him. "We fell in love years ago, but your disappearance, the war... I often think about what would have happened if you had been by my side all along."

"I do too." Byleth nodded slowly. "I think about the worlds where I chose to teach the Blue Lions or Golden Deer. I think about where the world would be if we never met. And then I remember that those timelines are a different Byleth and a different Edelgard, and I rather much like the Byleth I am and rather much love the Edelgard you are." Edelgard smiled, closing her eyes at the sentiment.

"I like the Edelgard I am too. And I most definitely love the Byleth you are." Edelgard took a deep breath of calm air, letting the silence hang for a moment. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did." Byleth nodded. "Just before I awakened, however, Sothis appeared to me in a dream. Do you remember her talking to me before?"

"You informed me of your past experiences with her." Edelgard nodded, beginning to brush her hair. "What did she say?"

"Well, she informed me that Those Who Slither In The Dark are called called the Agarthans." Byleth walked over to the wall where the Sword of the Creator hung with Aymr, pulling the sword from its rack. "The Sword of the Creator was made from her body by them for a king, I presume Nemesis. She wants me to use it to set things right." Byleth held the Sword of the Creator out to Edelgard, who set down her hairbrush and took it in hand.

"I often forget just how heavy this blade is." Edelgard shifted the sword from side to side. "I'm still shocked at the ease with which you whip it around the battlefield. You can hit an arrow out of the air barely a meter from someone's face. Do you remember when Leonie joined the Eagles?"

Garreg Mach

Training Grounds

Wyvern Moon, Day 16, Imperial Year 1180

Byleth watched as the Black Eagles trained. He had set up a mock battle, with his house divided into two teams. One side was composed of Edelgard, Ingrid, Bernadetta, and Dorothea, while the other was Hubert, Ferdinand, Caspar, Petra, and Linhardt. The addition of Ingrid to the house imbalanced the numbers slightly, but it would do the team of four good to learn to better fight while outnumbered in such close quarters. Byleth saw Bernadetta nock an arrow and aim at Ferdinand, who was busy fighting Ingrid.

"Yield!" Ingrid ordered as she kicked out at Ferdinand's gut, knocking him to the ground. Bernadetta let her arrow fly just as Ferdinand fell, the trajectory of it heading directly for Ingrid's eye. With a flick of his wrist, Byleth let the Sword of the Creator fly forward, snapping the arrow in half to stop its flight. Bernadetta clasped her hands over her mouth, running over to Ingrid.

"Oh, Goddess! I'm so sorry, Ingrid!" Bernadetta looked like she was about to break down into tears.

"That was a good shot, Bernadetta." Byleth put a hand on her shoulder.

"Agreed. You would have landed the killing blow had I not knocked him over." Ingrid smiled. "And don't worry about almost hitting me. The professor handled it." Bernadetta let out a small sigh of relief. Petra offered Ferdinand her hand, helping him to his feet again. Byleth turned, seeing Leonie approaching.

"Hey! Glad I caught you." Leonie jogged over to Byleth. "Could I ask you a favor? I'd really like to join your class. You're the only one who knows how to teach like Captain Jeralt. You get what I mean, don't you?" Byleth's eyes shifted over to Edelgard, who gave no notion of disapproval.

"Of course. You're welcome to join the Black Eagles." Byleth nodded. Leonie pumped her fist in joy.

"Yes! I knew you'd understand! Thanks to you, I'm going to be the best mercenary you've ever seen! Just watch!" Leonie declared.

"You couldn't have asked twenty minutes ago? Given us a balanced fight?" Caspar joked.

"Agreed. Six against four would have been more fair." Dorothea taunted him.

"Hey, Hubert totally threw his fight against Edelgard!" Caspar groaned.

"Disagree." Linhardt shook his head. "She won that fair."

"Alright!" Byleth yelled. The students turned to face him. "This next exercise is simple. As nobles and warriors alike, you will often find yourself defending an objective. Ingrid, Leonie, Linhardt, and Petra, you will be the defenders of said objective. The rest of you will be tasked with one goal: Defeat me." Byleth turned, walking away to the end of the field. "Both teams have five minutes to plan a strategy."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

"Yes, I do." Byleth smiled at the memory. "I can do it because the Sword of the Creator doesn't feel heavy in my hand." Byleth looked down at his hand, pondering it for a moment. "In my hand, it feels lighter than a steel sword."

"Aymr is the same weight as a steel sword. This is twice as heavy as Aymr." Edelgard looked down at the blade, confused. "Ingrid used it in battle before I did, and when she mentioned just how heavy it was afterwards, I was incredibly impressed." Edelgard sighed, biting her lip in mild shame. "And at least a little more attracted, honestly. The fact that you were slinging such an allegedly heavy weapon around without any difficulty? I wanted to know what it would feel like if you held me." Byleth chuckled as Edelgard lowered her face, blushing.

"I love you, El. You're wonderful." Byleth smiled. Edelgard offered the sword back to him, a smile forming on her face as well. "As for why it's light in only my hand... Perhaps it has something to do with my connection to Sothis. Perhaps she doesn't like anyone else holding her body."

"That would be a logical explanation." Edelgard shrugged. Her stomach let out a small, almost inaudible growl.

"I heard that." Byleth grinned, grabbing his scabbards from the wall. He slid the Sword of the Creator into his right scabbard and a rapier into his left. He offered Aymr to Edelgard, who took it. "Breakfast?"

"Yes, that would be wise." Edelgard nodded.

Faerghus

Galatea

Shamir slipped out of a shop, pulling a hood onto her head. She slipped into a carriage, where a similarly hooded Dorothea waited.

"What did you get?" Dorothea asked.

"The shopkeeper says that a man with green hair comes in to buy writing supplies once a week. Apparently he writes books for children for the local library," Shamir explained.

"Sounds like Seteth." Dorothea nodded slowly. "That has to be him, then."

"There's a lake about half a day's ride west from here. Apparently that's where he lives," Shamir continued.

"Let's go find Hubert and Petra."

Hubert, Petra, and Étaín sat in a cave by a fire. Meat cooked on skewers over the flame, and Étaín's soft rumbles could be heard as he slept.

"Petra." Hubert piped up. "If... When Adrestia goes to war again, be it against Those Who Slither In The Dark or against any other foe, you will not need to get Brigid involved if they do not want to be. Too long has Brigid been nothing more than a vassal of the Empire. It is time we become allies instead, and thus we will not force you into war."

"I am thanking for that, Hubert." Petra smiled before shaking her head. "But this is Brigid's fight too. If the world is needing us, we will get the victory." Hubert smiled slightly, giving Petra a somewhat awkward pat on the shoulder.

"Flirting with my partner, Hubie?" Dorothea joked as she and Shamir entered. Shamir held the leads for three horses in her hand, keeping them outside of the cave.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." Hubert chuckled.

"Good." Dorothea gave him a threatening smile. "We know where Seteth and Flayn are. Well, we know where they probably are. Apparently there's a cabin near a lake about half a day's ride west of the town. That's where they probably are."

"They'll see Étaín coming from kilometers away." Hubert looked at the dozing wyvern.

"I will be keeping him out of the vision." Petra nodded.

"We need to get moving. By the time we get there, we'll have a day and a half until Ingrid shows up if we're lucky." Dorothea motioned towards the horses.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Edelgard and Byleth sat in Edelgard's office, eating in relative silence.

"I forgot how good Ashe is at making stir fry." Byleth paused his eating for a moment. "I've missed this. Relative peace. Our battle isn't over yet, but there's at least some sort of respite for us to catch up on the years we lost."

Edelgard looked into Byleth's eyes. Her mother had often said that a person's life story was always on display in their eyes. Byleth's story was regret, sadness, and grief, but it was more than that. Behind the Ashen Demon, there was joy. There was hope. There was love.

'When everything is over, we will find a way to live together as long as possible. I swear that to you." Edelgard declared. She pulled Byleth in for a kiss, a gesture he happily accepted. The two heard a knock at the door, and the Emperor rose to answer it with a mildly annoyed sigh. Leonie waited outside, a letter in her hand.

"Hope I'm not interrupting. This came for you. It has an Almyran seal." Leonie explained. Edelgard raised a brow, taking the letter and walking over to her desk. Leonie followed her into the room as Edelgard opened a drawer. She retrieved a letter opener with a handle in the shape of Aymr from the drawer, much to Leonie's amusement. "Oh, I love that."

"Thank you, Caspar gave it to me along with an assortment of implements like it. Including a soup ladle, of all things." Edelgard chuckled as she cut open the letter.

"I need to see that at some point." Leonie's eyebrows shot up in curiousity, causing Byleth to chuckled.

"It's as strange as it sounds," Byleth commented. Edelgard pulled the letter from within the envelope.

"Your Majesty." Edelgard began to read the letter. "I think that's the title, at least. I've never been really good at things like that. Didn't really bother with it. Anyways, Valentine and I are in Almyra. We promised we'll stay out of your hair and neither of us intend to break that promise. If Fódlan needs us, though, we'll be there. You tend to get sucked into big world-changing events after all. Plus, you did ask me to lend you my strength." Edelgard paused. "From Khalid."

"Who are Khalid and Valentine?" Byleth asked.

"Valentine is Hilda's middle name," Leonie explained.

"That would mean that Khalid is Claude." Byleth nodded. "That would make sense, I used those exact words to ask him to join us. It's good to know he's willing to work with us in the event that the need is dire. Having a master tactician like him will be a great asset against the Agarthans." Byleth paused, looking at Leonie. "Besides, I imagine it will give at least a few of the former Golden Deer some comfort to know he is still alive."

"Yeah, my classmates will be happy to hear it." Leonie nodded. "We all wished that he and Hilda had joined us. At least they had the sense to retreat, though. You two and Ingrid absolutely tore through the Almyrans to get straight to Claude. When Ingrid told us that you spared them, we all had hope that they'd come back to us one day."

"Let's hope there comes a time for their strength, then." Edelgard gave a small smile.

Faerghus

Galatea

Hubert, Dorothea, and Shamir walked into a clearing in a forest, looking over the lake before them. the sun had begun to slowly set, and the birds sang in the trees around them.

"Yeah, this seems like a place where Flayn would be happy." Dorothea nodded.

"She is." A familiar voice came from nearby. The group turned, seeing Seteth. He had shed his churchly robes in favour of clothing suited to a commoner. A writer. A father. "And I would greater appreciate it if you didn't disturb that happiness."

"We need your help." Dorothea began. Seteth chuckled.

"My help? Our help? After your Emperor tore down everything we believed in?" Seteth rolled his eyes.

"After our Emperor let you live." Hubert spoke up. Seteth scoffed, walking over to an axe. He picked it up, and both spellcasters readied themselves in the event they would need their magic. Seteth, however, simply picked up a log and set it on a stump, chopping it with the axe.

"Maybe she let us live, but she also killed my friend."

"The Immaculate One? The same friend that set Fhirdiad ablaze? Do you know how many innocent people died then that could still be with their families if your friend hadn't done that?" Shamir asked.

"I ordered Fhirdiad evacuated!" Seteth raised his voice, turning to point at Shamir.

"She didn't let them leave!" Shamir snapped back. "So it doesn't matter what you ordered, because Rhea countered you right away by sealing the gates!" Shamir pulled her quiver off, dropping it on the ground. "Do you know how many little kids Sylvain and Felix had to tell that their parents didn't make it out? How many heartbroken mothers and fathers Mercedes and Annette had to look in the eyes and tell that their little angel wasn't coming home to them? Countless! There were tens of thousands of people that didn't make it out of Fhirdiad, Seteth! The Black Eagle Strike Force prided itself on minimum civilian casualties, but more than half of all civilian deaths after we broke the deadlock were at Fhirdiad! The only reason they weren't even higher was because Marianne and Constance managed to use some magic to cool the flames!" Shamir took a deep breath. "And this may come as a shock to you, but we didn't kill any civilians in Fhirdiad. Rhea, Seiros, the Immaculate One, friend of Seteth, whatever the hell you want to call her. She killed them."

"Leave," Seteth ordered.

"We need-" Dorothea began.

"I said LEAVE!" Seteth's eyes flashed for a moment. Dorothea recognized the glow for a moment. It was the same one that Rhea had had in the Holy Tomb before transforming into the Immaculate One. She grabbed Hubert and Shamir by the shoulders and pulled them back.

"Let's go." Dorothea's words were quiet. Shamir picked up her quiver and walked away, followed closely by Hubert and Dorothea. Seteth sat down on the stump he had been cutting wood on, looking down at the discarded axe.

"Father?" Flayn's voice came from behind him. "What did they want?"

"I do not know." Seteth shook his head, unable to look at her. "I do not care. We are here because of them, Flayn."

"Here? You mean alive?" Flayn asked. Seteth paused, putting his head in his hands. "Edelgard, the Professor, they could have killed us. Easily. Dozens of times over. But the Professor let you and I leave. He let us live. We owe him a debt. We need to pay it." Seteth sighed, standing up.

"I suppose you're right." Seteth jogged off in the direction that the three from the Empire had left in, Flayn close behind. The two Nabateans caught up with the group quickly.

"Hello, Flayn." Hubert smiled slightly. "Or is Cethleann more appropriate?" Seteth held out an arm to protect her.

"What do you want?" Seteth asked.

"We found a tomb beneath the Imperial Palace. It has a Crest Lock on it with the Crest of Cethleann," Dorothea explained.

"I know the one." Flayn nodded. "Tomas... Solon, when he had me, he said that he needed my blood for a lock."

"Do you know what the lock is protecting?" Hubert asked.

"Yes." Flayn nodded. That crypt isn't just for Praetorian Guards. The first one was built on another tomb, one designed to contain Nemesis."

"We need to get in." Dorothea explained. "Which means we need your-"

"No." Seteth cut her off. "You aren't taking her blood."

"Brother, I-" Flayn piped up.

"No more secrets." Seteth shook his head. "We're coming with you. We will unlock the tomb personally."

"Yes, that would be most helpful." A voice came into the clearing. Hubert, Dorothea, Shamir, Seteth, and Flayn turned, seeing a Great Knight in black armour. His helmet was off, allowing them to look at his white face. He had tightly braided white hair and a piece of black metal over his left eye socket. In his hand rested a weapon made from the same material that Aymr was. It appeared to be an axe, but the blade was circular and toothed, almost like it could spin around an axis.

"And you are?" Shamir asked.

"My name is Chilon. I represent the Agarthans. I'm here for the girl." Chilon pointed his weapon at Flayn.

"You'll have to go through us to get her." Dorothea drew her Levin Sword.

"Gladly." Chilon grinned. "My weapon and I both thirst for a good battle. It's been too long." He grabbed a helmet with two horns on the side and two horns in the front from his saddle, putting it on. The front two horns shifted, forming a plate to protect his mouth and nose. Hubert pulled a lance from his back and offered it to Seteth, who took the weapon. Seteth held out his arm, the Ochain Shield manifesting onto it. Chilon set his horse charging forward, the beast making odd mechanical noises as it moved. He raised his weapon above his head, swinging it down at Seteth, who dodged out of the way.

Shambhala

Citadel of Spite

Thales entered a laboratory, arms folded behind his back. A woman in a dark cloak stood up from her workbench, turning. She reached up to her cloak, undoing the buttons. Beneath the cloak was a well built woman wearing a sleeveless top and leg armour. She had white hair that was shaved on the right side to reveal a massive burn scar as well as a prosthetic right arm that looked to be made with the same methods as Aymr.

"Are you in need of fun already, Thales?" The woman asked, stepping closer to him as she made her hips sway slightly. The right side of Thales' mouth curved into a grin that quickly faded.

"Unfortunately, Pittacus, no." Thales sighed. "Count Galatea is not long for this world, his daughter will ensure that."

"A shame. He was a fun pawn. At least we got Cichol's location out of him before his deawest Ingwid commits patricide." Pittacus' voice took on a mocking tone. Thales laughed.

"Yes, that is good. Chilon should have engaged the Nabateans by now. Labrys will hold up to the test, yes?"

"Labrys will do what I designed it to, Thales. Don't doubt my craftsmanship." Pittacus chuckled. "After all, I built Aymr, and that helped kill a much stronger Nabatean."

"I don't doubt you, Pittacus. I would just hate to lose another of our number due to the actions of someone desperate for revenge." Thales looked around the room. Pittacus scoffed at the idea.

"I'm no Kronya, Thales. Solon, rest his life-spark, knew the risks of working with an unstable little girl desperate to prove herself. She killed the wrong Eisner and then died for it. Besides, if not for Bias sensing the interference of that damned goddess, the ritual would have failed regardless." Pittacus examined her prosthetic arm. "Chilon will survive just fine. Bias is ready at a moment's notice."

"Hmm." Thales pondered for a moment. "Perhaps that promised fun would be a good idea, Pittacus." He heard the metallic clang of Pittacus' leg armour hitting the ground as the scientist chuckled.

"I thought you'd never ask." Pittacus reached up, dragging the substantially taller Thales down to her level for a rough kiss.

Chapter Text

Shambhala

Citadel of Terror

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

Pittacus walked into a tower, a box-shaped object made of Agarthan technology under her arm. She looked around the room, clearly irritated that she couldn't find what or who she was looking for.

"Myson! Where are you?" Pittacus sighed as she tapped her fingers against the object in her hand.

"Down here." An unimpressed voice can from beneath a table topped with chemistry equipment. A man without a lower body slid himself out from beneath the table before propping himself up on his hands and moving towards her.

"Need a hand?" Pittacus joked. Myson looked down at himself and then back up at her.

"I would much prefer a foot, actually," Myson deadpanned. He balanced himself on his right hand before using his mouth to help pull his left arm through the sleeve of his shirt. He pulled the clothing off, revealing a harness also forged from Agarthan technology underneath. Pittacus set the box on the ground, letting Myson pull himself onto it. The box clicked onto his harness, the technology unfolding into legs. Myson rose, bringing himself face to face with Pittacus. "Much better. Thank you." He picked up his shirt from the ground and put it back on, walking over to the table he had been underneath.

"You're welcome." Pittacus smiled. She turned to the chemistry set. "Experimenting again?"

"Indeed." Myson tipped a vial of poison into another, swirling it around. Pittacus tipped her head in curiousity.

"An aerosol, I presume. One you have become immune to." Pittacus noted. Myson nodded with a chuckle. A chamber on his left shin opened and he poured the chemical into it, the chamber closing around it. Myson sighed, turning to Pittacus.

"Do you mind if I monologue for a bit? I have things I need to say, and it would be foolish to save it for the heat of battle. Imagine. I start expounding my motives to the Fell Star and the Praetorian Guard puts her spear in my back." Myson stroked his chin.

"By all means. I do enjoy hearing you ramble." Pittacus smiled. Myson smiled back.

"How long has it been since we were forced into darkness, Pittacus?" Myson began. "Hundreds of years. We are forced to slither in the dark because of the actions of the Empire and the Saints. They deemed us sinners and cast us out. The Empire celebrates our downfall, their greatest heroes are those who laid us low. Augusta, Rhiannon, and Orla, the Three Imperial Sisters. Everything in Adrestia is named for them. Our greatest shame is something children call their cats." Pittacus scoffed. "But the greatest mistake of the Saints was that they damned us sinners. Cursed us to live for hundreds of years. Did they really believe we would lay down quietly? Forget what they did to us? Stand by as they held humanity back for their... Religion. What beautiful irony there is."

"Irony, Myson?" Pittacus raised a brow. Myson chuckled.

"The Church of Seiros was the architect of its own destruction, as was the Kingdom of Faerghus. Adrestia's greatest warriors are Edelgard von Hresvelg, Byleth Eisner, and Ingrid Galatea. Edelgard was turned against the Church by the death of her family and the manipulation of the Nabateans. Byleth was granted power by Seiros, power he turned against her when he gained gained loyalty to and fell in love with Edelgard. Ingrid was forced into Faerghus' hierarchical system and then rebelled by joining the Empire for a chance at a choice. Seiros was killed by the the three of them, and her church crumbled around her." Myson laughed. He walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. He held one of the glasses out to Pittacus, who took it and begin to drink. He poured her a drink before pouring one for himself.

"And you haven't had to do anything, besides of course instigate the Tragedy of Duscur." Pittacus grinned between sipping her drink.

"I felt, frankly, useless for years. My whispers weren't needed to sow discord between the ruling powers, they handled it themselves with their thirst for war." Myson chuckled against the rim of his glass before taking a drink. "Now that said war is over, though, my talents are once again required."

"Nereus Galatea was a lovely pawn for us. You did well to keep him. It's a shame he became a loose end." Pittacus pouted. She finished her drink, holding out the glass to Myson.

"And that's the beautiful thing about all of this. I don't have to tie up that loose end. There's a much better solution that keeps my work hidden. All I've had to do is give Ingrid Galatea a little extra push." Myson ran his hand along a crystal ball. "You know how I take nightmares away from our people? It's a simple ritual, but the energy cannot be destroyed. Normally I push it into some random civilian who will experience a great trauma while they sleep. I chose my target, and I chose them well. Ingrid Galatea saw a mysterious man with skin and hair as white as ash and armour as black as soot kill the two people she loves most. So soon after her father sent a letter asking her to kill her Emperor, her beloved." Myson refilled Pittacus' glass, topping his own off as well. "Then comes the best part. He's convinced it was his idea. He won't even try to tell his daughter about my whispered words because he know she won't care. She's come to kill him."

"It's the cleanest assassination you've managed in centuries." Pittacus smiled. Myson bowed slightly, a smirk plastered on his face. The two turned to see another man walking into the room, his arms behind his back.

"Pittacus, Myson." The man nodded.

"Odesse, hello!" Pittacus grinned at him. Myson offered him a freshly poured glass of liquor. Odesse held up his hand and shook his head.

"As much as I do enjoy your homebrew, Myson, I require a clear head for my mission. I came because I am in need of your meticulous records," Odesse explained, folding his arms behind his back.

"What grave to you intend to rob today, Odesse?" Myson chuckled, walking over to his desk.

"Dimitri Blaiddyd." Odesse scratched his nose. "I intend to claim the lance Areadbhar for our purposes. I require one with his Crest to do it."  Myson pulled out a map and handed it to Odesse.

"According to my studies, he is buried with his vassal in this area." Myson gestured to a spot on the map. A mechanical arm deployed from Odesse's back and took the map in hand.

"Thank you. Enjoy your afternoon, you two." Odesse turned on his heel and walked out.

Faerghus

Charon

Ingrid sat against a tree, resting for a moment while Olympia took a quick nap. Her stamina was unmatched among pegasi, but it wasn't limitless. Ingrid reached over to the fire next to her, poking at the logs with the tip of Lúin for a moment. She closed her eyes as the smell of game cooking wafted through the air. The Praetorian Guard sighed slightly, standing up and walking over to Olympia. She stroked the resting pegasus' mane before reaching down to a long saddle bag, one that was almost as long as the animal it was attached to. Ingrid opened the bag, pulling Areadbhar out.

The weapon was long, built for the abnormally tall Blaiddyd and his equally tall descendants. In her hands, the lance would be difficult to use as a lance. She would need to use it as a glaive, relying on the weapon's weight to strengthen its swings.

Ingrid twirled Areadbhar around, embedding its head in the ground for a moment. She pulled Lúin from her back and leaned it gently against Olympia. She then removed her scabbard, setting it on the ground, before pulling off her gauntlets and unfastening her chestplate. She removed the armour, revealing her undersuit beneath it. She put the armour on the ground before unfastening her undersuit,  and putting it next to her pegasus. Beneath everything, she had a sleeveless shirt that exposed her well-built forearms to the air. Ingrid paused, feeling the afternoon breeze on her bare arms.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Harpstring Moon, Day 3, Imperial Year 1181

Dorothea, Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe stood at Ingrid's door, waiting for the knight. They were all dressed to swim, towels over their shoulders.

"Ingrid, come on." Dorothea teased her through the door.

"Dorothea, I don't know how to swim. In Galatea, if you fell into the water, you just had to hope you didn't freeze." Ingrid's voice was muffled by the door.

"It's indoors, it's got people watching, we won't let you get hurt." Dorothea assured her. "Besides, it's a good work out. Similar muscles to using a lance." Dorothea mouthed 'I think' to Mercedes, who stifled a laugh.

"I'm not good at swimming either, Ingrid. We'll learn together." Annette offered.

"Yeah, I love swimming. I'm happy to teach you both." Ashe offered, his voice filled with smiles. Ingrid groaned and opened the door. She wore a one piece swimsuit in the same colours as her armour. For the first time, Ingrid's friends saw just how well built she was under her uniforms. Dorothea and Mercedes both went wide-eyed at the sight of her, while Ashe and Annette gave each other shocked looks.

"What?" Ingrid asked, looking at herself self-consciously. She was about to cross her arms to cover herself up more, but Dorothea reached out to stop her. She forced Ingrid's arm into a flex, and Mercedes gave an approving nod.

"You're telling me you've been absolutely jacked this whole time?" Dorothea asked, squeezing Ingrid's bicep slightly. "And didn't tell me? I'm hurt."

"I don't really like showing it off," Ingrid said softly. "Some people always told me that a woman shouldn't look like this."

"They were wrong." Annette crossed her arms and frowned. "You deserve look however feels comfortable and people should shut up about it being wrong."

"I agree. I think you look great because this is how you want to look." Ashe nodded. Ingrid blushed.

"Thank you, Annette. Thank you, Ashe." Ingrid smiled.

Faerghus

Charon

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid smiled up at the sky, cracking her back. Before that conversation, Ingrid always felt like she had to cover everything up. When she was still under his thumb, her father often scolded her for working on making herself stronger. Said that no man would want a woman strong enough to put him through the table.

Glenn had approved of it, but his approval was always quiet. Brief touches of her arms, a slight smiled whenever she hurled a javelin clean through a target. When he had died, Ingrid just felt shame. She wore long sleeve shirts, covered everything up. She never left her room at the academy or let anyone into it unless every inch of muscle was hidden away.

One conversation with her friends was enough to give her some confidence back. The afternoon of the day she tried swimming, she snuck into Dorothea's room and stole a short sleeved shirt to wear to lunch just to test the waters a bit. It was oversized on her, so it gave her a little bit of extra cover. However, her arms were absolutely on full display.

Caspar immediately challenged her to arm-wrestle him when she got to the mess hall. Dorothea demanded that the two go shopping so they could find more clothing to show Ingrid off, not that she minded sharing her clothes. Balthus asked if she wanted to join him and Alois for a workout that evening. Ignatz and Linhardt began debating whether or not she would be able to lift the mess hall tables. Edelgard spilled soup onto herself out of shock from seeing her Praetorian Guard was, to quote Yuri, giving Raphael a run for his money.

Ingrid snorted at the memory. It was why she had joined the Black Eagles in the first place. They made her feel like she belonged. They saw her showing vulnerability and immediately jumped onto it in a way that made it clear they wanted to normalize it. Some of the offers were more awkward than others, but the good intentions were all that mattered.

Though they had been at war, those were good times. To some extent, they still were. Perhaps her father was to die, but at least she had made that choice about her destiny. That was the difference between her life in the Kingdom and her life in Adrestia. Her future was in her hands.

Ingrid walked over to Areadbhar, pulling it out of the ground where she left it. She felt the glaive's weight in her hands, closing her eyes for a moment as she shifted it around in the air. She was trying to find the weapon's center and align it with her own. Ingrid opened her eyes and swung the weapon forward, slashing through the air. She paused, holding back for a moment as she shifted the blade back and forth slightly. It was a similar principle to both a sword and a lance. She knew both well, so it would be easy enough to learn. She ran forward, slashing the weapon upwards. The Praetorian Guard twirled slightly, bringing the blade down in a rotating stroke.

Ingrid paused, hearing movement behind her that absolutely wasn't a pegasus. She twisted around, bringing Areadbhar to bear. She saw a young girl a foot shorter than her with a giant mane of green hair. The girl had a mildly distressed look on her face at the weapon being pointed at her, an expression that was identical to one Byleth made on the rare occasion he was surprised.

"And you are?" Ingrid asked.

"Careful with the pointy stick." The girl spoke a... Bylethism, as Sylvain called them.

Odd.

"I'm a friend of Byleth's. Something more than a friend technically, but that's needlessly complicated for you," The girl explained.

"And your name is?" Ingrid asked.

"Oh, it's Sothis." Sothis shrugged. Ingrid lowered Areadbhar.  She wasn't particularly religious by anyone's standards, but here she was now. She had just pointed a spear at the Goddess.

Ingrid was about to drop to her knees when Sothis held up her hand.

"Me damn it, please don't kneel," Sothis sighed. "I get quite enough of that. I came to give you a couple of gifts." Sothis produced a necklace with an embedded blue stone emblazoned with the Crest of Blaiddyd. "That is the Grim Dragon Sign. It is a piece of the Nabatean energy that granted Blaiddyd his Crest. Wearing it will allow you to more effectively use the Grim Dragon's bones, as though you bore his Crest."

"Thank you." Ingrid put the necklace on. She wasn't much for jewelry, but she would make an exception for this.

"My other gift is time. Formally speaking, that is the main thing I am a goddess of. I am the Progenitor, yes, but there is nothing to be the progenitor of if there is no time." Sothis waved her hand. In an instant, Ingrid was wearing her armour again, Olympia was standing up and looking rested, and Ingrid's stomach felt full. Her scabbard and sword were once again on her hip, and Lúin and Areadbhar sat in twin holsters on her back. "I wish you well, Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard." With another wave of Sothis' hand, Ingrid vanished.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Annette sat on a bench, looking up at the sky. The young woman was deep in thought, a book off to the side.

"Annette?" Ashe's voice came from behind her. Annette turned her head, seeing her friend standing by. "Hey." He gave an awkward smile and half wave. She motioned for him to come over, moving her book so he could sit. He obliged, walking over and joining her on the bench. "What's on your mind?"

"A lot, honestly, Ashe." Annette sighed. "Mostly I'm worried about Ingrid. She has a lot of weight on her shoulders. I think we might have made it worse."

"How so?" Ashe asked. Annette sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"Dimitri and Dedue's funeral," Annette began.

Faerghus

Tailtean Plains

Great Tree Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

Felix, Sylvain, Annette, Ashe, and Mercedes stood together over a pair of holes containing the bodies of Dimitri and Dedue. Ingrid walked over, Lúin on her back and two swords in her hands. She offered the swords to Mercedes and Annette, who accepted them with nods. Ingrid took Lúin off of her back and leaned on it for a moment. She looked around at her friends, her fellow Lions, before looking down at Dimitri and Dedue. In some semblance of a comfort, they finally looked at peace in death. None of the Lions wanted to be here, but they were glad they had a chance to send Dimitri and Dedue off to a peaceful rest. Sylvain had found a Crest Stone in Dedue's armour. His soldiers had transformed into beasts during the battle, evidently he was prepared to damn himself to a similar fate to protect Dimitri.

Suddenly Ingrid was glad that Hanneman had mortally wounded Dedue before he had the chance to use the stone. It was hardly a comfort watching her former almost friend die, but she at least took solace in the fact that he had died as himself.

"We have ten minutes," Ingrid explained.

"Six of us, two of them. Three of us for both." Annette noted. The former Lions looked at each other for a moment, mentally deciding who would say what. Sylvain, Ashe, and Mercedes walked over to Dedue's body, taking up a guard around it.

"Dedue, when you came to my defense when people were saying that I was... Indefensibly worthless... I asked you why. You told me it's because I saw you as a person, not as someone from Duscur. I promise you that I'm going to make sure that everyone I know remembers you for the valiant and honourable man you were." Sylvain touched the spot on Dedue's chest where his heart sat with the Lance of Ruin. "May Loog greet you with open arms."

"Dedue, one of the last times we talked, you talked about how you didn't want the food of Duscur to sow seeds of discontent. I said I wanted to try more. You didn't get time to teach me, but I'll find some way to learn. I swear that I won't let Duscur's culture be forgotten." Ashe brought an arrow from his quiver and touched the tip to Dedue's chest. "May Loog greet you with open arms."

"Dedue, we often discussed the gods of Duscur, and I promised myself I would find out more about them. When I was searching, I found a poem for the dead from your people. You deserve to have it said to you. As you walk into Geb's embrace, away from Nunut's sight, know that you are not forgotten. As the song of Wusa guides you into Usire's court, may you find your name in his book. As Kheper and Khensu rise with the dawn and dusk, I pray that your soul is in the stars with them." Mercedes touched her sword to Dedue's chest. "Inpu protect you, and may Loog greet you with open arms." The three took their weapons away before picking up Dedue's body together and lowering him into his grave.

Annette, Felix, and Ingrid looked at Dimitri's body. Annette opened her mouth slightly before looking at Felix. He nodded at her.

"Dimitri, before the war, we talked about feeling like we were brother and sister. When I joined the Empire, I hoped that maybe you would understand that I knew what I was doing was right. I know now that I should have told you about my concerns sooner. If you knew how I felt, maybe you would have understood why I was doing what I did and not just felt like I had betrayed you. I'm sorry I couldn't help you, big brother." Annette touched her sword to Dimitri's chest. "May Loog greet you with open arms."

"Dimitri, I always called you the Boar Prince. You were stubborn, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. There's so much I wish I could have told you. The animalistic look on your face in battle, your ability to destroy any weapon in a haze. So many regrets I wish I could have told you about. Maybe if I had, we wouldn't be burying you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Boar Prince." Felix touched his Sword of Zoltan to Dimitri's chest. "May Loog greet you with open arms."

"Dimitri, we were friends for as long as I could remember. Growing up, the Prince of Faerghus being willing to speak to a girl like me gave me confidence that I did indeed deserve to follow my dreams. When we talked, you told me about a just world where Glenn was alive. Maybe that world was just for another me, but it's wouldn't be for this me. I needed to fight for justice, and I wish I had found a way to fight for justice for you. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a just world, old friend." Ingrid touched Lúin to Dimitri's chest. "May Loog greet you with open arms." The three took their weapons away and moved Dimitri into his grave. Felix walked away from the grave and picked up Areadbhar, examining it.

"Areadbhar is more than just the lance of the rightful ruler of Faerghus. It's the lance of the one who will lead the people of Faerghus into the future." Felix ran his hand along the blade before turning to Ingrid. "When you were being knighted, I said I would follow you to victory. I meant it. We joined the Black Eagles for the professor, we joined the Empire for Edelgard's mission, but we stayed in both because of you. Because you knew what you were doing was right." He kneeled, offering her the lance. "The future of the people of Faerghus is in your hands, Ser Ingrid Galatea." The rest of the former Blue Lions joined him in kneeling as Ingrid touched the handle of Areadbhar. Ingrid took hold of the lance of Blaiddyd and felt the weight of both the weapon and the future in her hands.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

"We put the fate of Faerghus on her shoulders," Annette continued. "Do you think we gave her too many expectations?"

"Good question." Ashe ran his tongue along his upper teeth as he pondered the question for a moment. "I don't think we put anything on her that she wouldn't have taken on herself. Even if we didn't give her Areadbhar, she would have still fought as though everything in Faerghus depended on her. We just gave her our blessing to do it and the knowledge that we would fight by her side."

"That's a good way of thinking about it." Annette smiled. She turned to Ashe. "When this is all over, what do you think you're going to do?"

"Carry on as I am, just in a time of peace," Ashe explained. "I've got a knighthood here, and that's a dream come true. I'm paid well, I've got an apartment here that I just have to share with my siblings and a certain someone else." Annette rolled her eyes at Ashe's comment. "I don't want to uproot them again if I can help it." Ashe paused to sigh. "What about you?"

"I want to teach, I think. I don't know what or where or who, but I want to be a teacher or a professor or something like that. I want to make sure that the world doesn't forget its history." Annette explained. Ashe looked at her with some kind of new emotion in his eyes. Annette wasn't certain what it was, but she liked the joy behind it.

"Maybe I can help you there." Ashe smiled. "Someday."

Faerghus

Galatea

Hubert lept backwards as Chilon embedded Labrys into the ground in front of him. He swung the axe at Seteth, who strained to block it with his shield. Chilon chuckled as his axe's head began to spin. The Agarthan shifted his leverage, bringing the blade closer to Seteth's face.

"Agnea's Arrow!" Dorothea summoned a mighty beam of light from the sky that smashed into Chilon and forced him to pull back from Seteth for a moment. An arrow then flew from the sky and struck Chilon's armour, breaking on impact. Petra flew down, swinging her hammer at the Agarthan. Her weapon made impact, leaving a very shallow dent in Chilon's armour but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Chilon raised his axe to strike Petra.

"Excalibur!" Flayn commanded. A blade of wind shot forward, but Chilon sliced the magical attack apart with his weapon. He turned his attention away from Petra and towards Flayn, pointing Labrys at her.

"My axe is made of the bones of the Kalpa Dragon, Cichol. I wonder what weapon Pittacus could make from your daughter." Chilon taunted Seteth. Seteth's expression shifted to one of sheer rage, going on the offensive against Chilon. Chilon was pushed back slightly by the sheer rage of the Saint.

"Banshee!" Hubert yelled. A series of energy balls shot forth with a screech, surrounding Chilon before exploding. The Great Knight shook off the attack and charged at Flayn. He raised his weapon at her, but Seteth jumped between them. Chilon embedded Labrys in Seteth's back, and the Saint let out a small yet powerful noise of pain. He dragged Seteth alone the ground before stopping, letting the blade of Labrys spin for a moment. Seteth screamed in pain as the blade cut into him, much to the delight of Chilon.

"FATHER!" Flayn yelled. She tried to rush forward, but Dorothea and Shamir held her back. "Let go of me! Father!"

"Die, like your brothers." Chilon laughed. He released his axe and drew a sword, moving slowly towards Flayn. Hubert put his arm out in front of her, intent of ensuring that Chilon would have to go through him.

"Sothis... Help me. Please." Seteth pled quietly into the dirt. Evidently Sothis heard his plea, as the Crest of Cichol flashed in front of him. Seteth's eyes glowed a bright yellow as his body began to morph. A yellow light enveloped his entire form, and when it dispersed, a bipedal dark blue dragon stood before the group. Cichol reached up to his back and pulled Labrys out, casting it aside.

"YOU WILL NOT HARM MY DAUGHTER!" Cichol roared. He swung his arm down at Chilon, who lept from his horse. The beast was shattered upon impact from Cichol's mighty hand, revealing that it was forged from Agarthan technology. Chilon ran over to Labrys and picked up his axe, intending to die with a weapon in hand. Cichol's mouth filled with the energy of the earth, and he unleashed a beam of yellow energy surrounded by rocks at Chilon. The Agarthan held up his weapon, but was teleported away by magic. Cichol fell to his knee before transforming back into Seteth.

"Thank you..." Seteth whispered before collapsing with a groan. Dorothea and Flayn rushed over, beginning to use their magic to tend to his wounds. Hubert touched Dorothea's shoulder.

"As soon as you ensure he won't die, we need to get back to Enbarr. He requires more than battlefield healing," Hubert instructed. Dorothea nodded.

Ingrid appeared at the gates to the Galatean Estate. She looked around, seeing the people of Galatea in shock that the Praetorian Knight of the Empire and their lost heir had suddenly appeared before them. Ingrid dismounted from Olympia and gave a whistle to the pegasus, who took off into the air. Ingrid looked around at the familiar town that she had grown up in. She walked over to the same food stall she had loved going to as a young girl. She looked at the vendor and smiled slightly.

"Hello, Chryseis." Ingrid nodded at the woman. She pulled a handful of gold coins from her armour and set them on the stall. "Just one sweet bun today, I think. Don't worry about change." Chryseis handed Ingrid the bun with some hesitation. Ingrid took it and smelled the pastry, biting into the sweet bun. She closed her eyes and sighed with happiness. "Excellent as always." Ingrid turned away from the stall, continuing to eat her food. The air remained tense as no one said a word, simply watching the Praetorian Guard. A group of guards emerged from the castle and pointed their weapons at the knight.

"You, Imperial! State your business!" A guard ordered. Ingrid smiled slightly.

"Those who have forgotten me, those who have hoped I would return, and those who have only heard my name as the Emperor's sword; I am Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard of the Emperor!" Ingrid pulled Lúin from her back, slamming the butt of the lance into the cobblestone pathway. "I am the daughter of Nereus and Doris Galatea, and I have come to see my father. He is charged with treason against the Empire for his attempt to have the Emperor killed." Ingrid paused, returning Lúin to its holster on her back. "He is charged for asking me to commit this crime."

Chapter Text

Faerghus

Galatea

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

The people of the Galatea Estate stood in shock at Ingrid's declaration of her father's intentions.

"Count Galatea wouldn't order his daughter to do such a thing!" An old man yelled. Ingrid turned to face him.

"Pontus." Ingrid's mouth remained flat, but her eyes shone with joyful memory. "I remember you. Growing up, you taught me to read." Ingrid pulled a letter from inside her armour, the very same letter that she had shown Hubert almost a week prior. "Read this." Pontus took the letter, examining it.

"It is the Count's handwriting!" Pontus declared. The people began to whisper among themselves. "My dearest daughter, Ingrid. You have found yourself in a position of great opportunity for your home. You stand beside the Emperor of Adrestia, a place that gives you a chance to..." Pontus froze, his mouth refusing to close as he felt his world shattering. "Avenge our murdered king." The whispers halted. Pontus offered the letter back to Ingrid, his hand shaking. She took it, folded it back up, and returned it to her armour.

"Then there is no way to save Count Galatea from his fate." Pontus accepted the truth.

"He has been sending me letters begging for my return for years now. Asking me to break my oath of fidelity to my Emperor and my Empire." The moment the words 'My Empire' left Ingrid's mouth, the faces of the people around her changed. They finally realized just how different this Ingrid was to the one they had lost. When she was a Lion, Ingrid had never quite used such terms. She referred to her family, but she never referred to Faerghus as her Kingdom. It was always simple the Kingdom. There was no spoken personal connection. Ingrid hadn't noticed the change until Felix pointed it out to her when they spared one morning six months into her service as Praetorian Guard.

"What's going to happen to us?" A little girl asked her mother. She had meant it to be a whisper, but she had spoken too loudly out of fear. Ingrid smiled with sympathy, walking over to the girl. Ingrid kneeled down to get on eye level with her.

"I'm Ingrid. What's your name?" The Praetorian Guard asked.

"Thalia." The girl hid behind her long blonde hair. Her voice became even quieter. "I like your hair." Ingrid smiled sweetly, shifting Thalia's hair out of her face.

"How old are you, Thalia?" Ingrid took two small locks of Thalia's hair from the girl's crown and began to braid them into an Adrestian tiara style like her own.

"Eight," Thalia said.

"Eight." Ingrid nodded. "I remember when I was your age. I was already pledged to be married to a man named Glenn. I never really met him until I was eleven. Unlike a lot of arranged marriages, we did truly fall in love. But two years later he was gone. I had always wanted to be a knight, and Glenn promised he would help me. When he was gone, I knew I had to fulfill that dream. I couldn't do it here in Galatea. My father wouldn't allow me that choice, that chance." Ingrid plucked a hairpin from her own hair, using it to fasten Thalia's. "Emperor Edelgard gave me that chance, that choice. She let me be who I knew I should be instead of what someone else wanted me to be." Thalia touched her hair, giving Ingrid a hesitant hug. Ingrid returned the gesture before standing up. She looked around at the quiet crowd. "That is what I intend for everyone in Galatea. I know that none of you have seen Crests in your bloodline for centuries. You are locked into your way of life." Ingrid looked at Thalia's mother. "What is your daughter's lot in life?"

"A seamstress, and then a wife, and then a mother, and then a seamstress again," The mother explained.

"Is that what you want to be, Thalia?" Ingrid asked.

"I'm not very good at sewing." Thalia shook her head. Ingrid let out a slightly amused huff.

"Neither am I." Ingrid assured her. "And I'm not a good heiress either. Years ago I would have felt shame at not being able to achieve those goals set out for me by my family. But the past years as a Knight of the Empire have taught me I never needed to achieve them, be good at them. I just need to be good at being true to myself. Whether that truth is a seamstress, a wife, a mother, a knight, an heiress, or an Emperor, everyone deserves that chance to be themselves."

"What happens to us when the Count is... When you have exacted justice for his threat?" Pontus asked.

"Simple." Ingrid smiled. "You will be allowed to carry on as you do now, but with the new factor that you are directly under the law of the Empire. I have come here to deal with my father, but none of you will face retribution for his crimes. I guarantee it. Years ago, I asked the Emperor to spare Galatea any danger, any sanctions, and she obliged. As long as Galatea does not attempt to harm her, no harm will come to Galatea's people. She has allowed me to come deal with my father, the only person who currently endangers Galatea's people."

"Then, all this time, the Count lied about the threat of coming attacks?" A man about Ingrid's age asked.

"Yes." Ingrid's response was blunt, factual. Her plain words barely concealed her rage at the lies her father had told the people of Galatea. "There has not been since I took office as Praetorian Guard. Count Bergliez and I are the joint heads of the Adrestian Army. No attack goes forward without our unanimous approval, and I would never approve an attack on the people of Galatea." Ingrid heard a metallic clang behind her. She whipped her head around, seeing that the guard that had spoken to her upon her arrival had dropped his sword and shield. Ingrid watched as he kneeled before her. The rest of the guards with him followed suit. A moment later, Thalia kneeled as well. Seeing the guards and the girl kneeling, the rest of the townsfolk joined them. The square went completely silent, allowing Ingrid to hear approaching footsteps. She turned to the gate of the estate, seeing a woman that looked like an older version of her approaching. The woman looked around at the kneeling crowd, closing her eyes and sighing for a moment.

"Rise, people of Galatea," The woman ordered, her tone irritated. The crowd didn't obey, and the woman stopped dead in her tracks.

"Stand, please," Ingrid instructed, her tone calm. The crowd obliged, returning to their feet at Ingrid's command. The woman watched, her eyes flicking around with an incensed air to them. "Hello, Mother."

"Ingrid, my darling." Ingrid's mother stepped close to her, putting on a forced smile. She looked like she wanted to pull her daughter into a hug, but she also seemed to realize that the gesture would be unwelcome. She instead touched the chest of Ingrid's armour, running her hand along the Imperial banner painted on where one's heart would be. She looked up into her daughter's eyes, sighing slightly. "You've grown so... Tall." Ingrid's eyes narrowed. She hadn't grown at all since coming to the Academy. Ingrid turned her foot slightly. She didn't have much heel to her armour, only about an inch, which was enough to catch the saddle of a pegasus. Most of the mounted fighters in the Empire wore them for practicality.

Ingrid paused her train of thought.

Her mother wasn't talking about physical height. She was talking about Ingrid's presence. She stood taller now. Her posture had always been good, that had been drilled into her from a young age when her father said that you should be able to slide a sword down the back of your shirt when you sat. Though she had gained a willingness to relax, even to slouch, on occasion during her time with the Empire, she still stood with her head...

Ah.

Ingrid now truly held her head high, higher than she had ever before. She had confidence from her friends that she didn't possess with her family.

"I had room to grow," Ingrid said, a small yet fake smile on her face. "Father didn't come see me himself?"

"He's waiting for you inside," Ingrid's mother explained.

"And I'm waiting for him here," Ingrid countered.

"Ingrid, please-"

"Doris Galatea, your husband is charged with treason against the Emperor and against Adrestia." Ingrid's voice hardened as she shed the false pleasantries. Doris was clearly taken aback by her daughter's manner of referring to her parents. "Count Nereus Galatea will meet me here. He will meet me now." Doris sighed, turning around and walking back towards the estate. Ingrid looked around at the townsfolk.

"Blood will be shred in accordance to the tradition of Dreyri-Dolg," Ingrid explained. The parents and elders nodded, ushering the young and innocent out of the square. Ingrid drew Lúin, embedding the tip into the ground behind her. Areadbhar followed suit, and finally her sword joined the two lances. She then began to unfasten her armour as she had done to train with Areadbhar. Moments later, she once again stood in her sleeveless shirt, arms exposed to the cold Galatean air, the Grim Dragon Sign given to her by Sothis on full display. She heard her parents' footsteps, and she turned to face Count Nereus and Countess Doris Galatea.

"My dearest daught-" Nereus began.

"Nereus Galatea!" Ingrid cut him off. "I am Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard of the Empire. You are charged with treason against Her Majesty, and I am your executioner." Nereus sighed. Thales had been right. His daughter was here to kill him. "I could put a weapon into you now and have you die quietly and without honour, but I will give you a chance to die with a weapon in your hand."

Nereus and Doris examining Ingrid's attire, her discarded armour, and the weapons in the ground behind her. The two realized exactly what Ingrid was about to do.

"No..." Doris whispered.

"Count Nereus Galatea, I offer you the ancient ritual of Galatea. I challenge you to Dreyri-Dolg." Ingrid folded her arms behind her back, allowing her father a better look at just how much stronger, both physically and emotionally, she had become. She stepped away from the weapons behind her. "In accordance with tradition, I offer you weapons if you require one."

"Nereus, don't do it," Doris whispered into her husband's ear.

"I will die today, Doris, let me die with honour." Nereus shook his head. He looked at Ingrid before closing his eyes. "That is not our daughter anymore." Doris stepped away sadly as Nereus began to remove his shirt. He shrugged it off with some noticeable pain, massaging his sword hand. He drew his own sword, leaning on it.

Ingrid eyed her father's sword. It was an blade older than her, forged and reforged dozens of times over its owner's life. It was as much a symbol of her father's rule of Galatea as his title of Count was. As a little girl, she dreamed of one day wielding the blade.

Now she dreamed of breaking it.

Ingrid turned back to her weapons, examining her choices. The rules of Dreyri-Dolg declared that each warrior could only use one weapon in combat, with the fight lasting until the weapon broke... Or the warrior did.

Ingrid ran her hand along the pommel of the sword Caspar had given to her. It was the best of the best Bergliez craftsmanship, a beautiful and deadly blade. It cut through flesh as though it was nothing. Ingrid remembered cleaving a Church soldier's arm off with ease during the battle at Fhirdiad. It was an instrument of swift justice in Ingrid's hand. It was, however, innately Imperial. It wasn't right. Ingrid was here as Praetorian Guard, but she was also here as Nereus' daughter.

Ingrid gripped the handle of Lúin. Her beloved lance, her trusted partner. The weapon, after all her time wielding, felt like it spoke to her. Generations of Galatean warriors, generations of the bearers of the Crest of Daphnel. It was a symbol of Galatea itself. She knew she could kill her father within seconds with it. The bards of the Empire had written an entire ballad about her speed with the lance. 'The Praetorian's Lightning', they called it. It would be a good death for her father, a quick death. Ingrid had no interest in providing a quick death.

That left her with Areadbhar. She touched the handle of the mighty glaive of Blaiddyd. It was the symbol of Faerghus, the symbol of all her choices. Her friends had trusted her with this weapon, it was their way of showing just how much faith they had in her. Edelgard and Byleth credited Ingrid for their victory at the Tailtean Plains, she had gotten the two of them to Dimitri to end the fight as quickly as possible. If not for Ingrid's joining the Empire, perhaps the Relic would still be in the hands of someone from the Kingdom.

Ingrid pulled Areadbhar from the ground, twirling the glaive for a moment. She turned back to her father, who was staring sadly at Lúin. Ingrid flicked her eyes over to one of the guards and twitched her face slightly. The guard nodded, picking up his shield and sword. He waited for a moment before slamming the flat of his blade into the shield.

Ingrid and her father began to move in a circle like two caged animals, each waiting for the other to make the first move. A knight in her prime with nothing to lose against an old soldier who could lose everything.

Nereus could feel the eyes of his people on him, he could feel their disgusted glares. He know that Ingrid had revealed everything. Every letter, every claim he made about how he had constantly negotiated their safety with the Empire. He growled slightly. Thales was right. His Ingrid was dead. This Imperial monster, the Emperor's lapdog, was all that remained.

He would avenge his daughter.

Nereus charged forward, swinging his sword at Ingrid's face. She sidestepped the attack, holding Areadbhar in a defensive stance. Nereus swung again, but Ingrid blocked the attack with Areadbhar's handle. The bones of the Grim Dragon, as Sothis called them, held firm against the Galatean steel. Ingrid pushed her father off of her, forcing him to stumble back. He rushed forward again, returning to his attack. He attempted to stab Ingrid in the gut, but she twisted herself to the side to avoid the strike. Ingrid stepped back, twirling Areadbhar to taunt her father, who grunted in anger.

"Fight back, damn you!" Nereus yelled. Ingrid smiled slightly.

"But Father, it's improper for a lady of Galatea to fight." Ingrid took on a mocking tone. "How will suitors like it if I come to them grimy and dripping with sweat?" Ingrid touched her short hair, holding out one of the locks to examine. "After all, I would hate to get blood and gore in my beautiful hair."

"Silence, you brute!" Nereus swung for Ingrid's neck, but she deflected the strike.

"Yes, that's what you've always wanted, isn't it?" Ingrid grabbed her father's sword arm by the wrist. He flinched for a moment before putting on a brave face once again. Between the adrenaline flowing through her and the five years of war, Ingrid was easily able to overpower her father. "A silent daughter, an heiress who listened to you." Nereus' arm quivered as he tried to free himself, but Ingrid's arm held firm. "You wanted me to be a little Countess, a tool to bring power to Galatea on your terms. The minute I tried to do it my own way, you hated it. You tried to claw back control." Ingrid finally released Nereus, and he stepped back to massage his wrist.

"I tried to save our House, and you chose to damn us!" Nereus roared.

"Did I?" Ingrid tilted her head. "Galatea was minor County in the Kingdom. Your only hope to achieve anything was to marry me off to the son of the King's right hand." Ingrid rolled her eyes. "After Glenn died, you had to settle. Minor nobles, tiny crumbs of power. That's all you were able to achieve." Ingrid began to circle her father like a lion circling a goat. Nereus tried to keep Ingrid in his sight. She responded by moving slightly more quickly, forcing him to turn more often.

"And what have you done?" Nereus growled. Ingrid paused.

"What have I done?" Ingrid chuckled. "Do you know what the name 'Galatea' represents in the Empire? A mighty warrior. Marianne and Ferdinand pop into my office at least once a month to tell me that another family has named their new little girl in my honour." Ingrid smiled fondly at that almost constant source of joy. "Imperial soldiers compete to have the honour of training under my command. They pledge that they will serve their Emperor as valiantly as I do." Ingrid twirled her glaive. "The Emperor gave me the honour of being her Praetorian Guard on the same day she knighted me. In an instant, I became one of the most powerful people in the Empire." Ingrid pointed Areadbhar at her father. "But I suppose that isn't enough for you, is it?"

"YOU BETRAYED THE KINGDOM!" Nereus screamed.

"The Kingdom!" Ingrid yelled. He voice then became a quiet growl. "Is dead." Ingrid approached her father slowly, causing him to backpedal. "If I had done as you wanted, I would be dead with it. The Galatea name would have died alongside me."

Ingrid finally made an offensive move at her father, swinging Areadbhar at him. He held up his sword to block the strike, but struggled against his daughter's strength. Ingrid swung again, smashing the mighty glaive against her father's sword. The metal in his blade groaned under the pressure, as did Nereus. The Grim Dragon Sign around Ingrid's neck then flashed as Areadbhar began to glow. Ingrid spun around, putting as much momentum as she could behind her next strike. Areadbhar impacted her father's blade with an atrocious power, and Nereus could only watch in horror as the blade shattered.

Nereus looked down at the broken blade in his hand before slumping his shoulders. He dropped the handle to the ground before falling to his knees. He looked up at his daughter, who embedded Areadbhar into the ground next to him before walking over to her armour again. She slowly put it back on, leaving Nereus on his knees against the rough cobblestone. She grabbed Areadbhar and her sword, returning them to their respective holster and scabbard. Once Ingrid had her uniform back on, she picked up Lúin and returned to her father, a look of pride on her face.

"Do it," Nereus ordered.

"Not yet." Ingrid looked down at him. "I'm going to end you on my terms, and that means you hear everything I have to say first." Nereus hung his head in shame. "Do you want to know why I joined the Black Eagles? Because Byleth Eisner respected my skills. Do you want to know why I joined the Empire? Because Edelgard von Hresvelg gave me a choice. Do you want to know why I became a knight of the Empire? Because Hubert von Vestra trusted me." Ingrid forced her father to look at her. "Do you want to know why I'm here? Because you gave me none of that. Every little thing you made me do just built up hate inside me. Not hate for you. Hate for myself. I covered up my body because you said no woman should have as many muscles as I did. I cast out any notion of having short hair no matter how much I wanted it because you said that no one would be willing to love me without long and pretty hair." Ingrid took a deep breath. "I thought I was horrible for falling in love with a woman because you hammered that into my head. Every morning I woke up and every night I fell asleep, I looked at myself and felt nothing but shame." Ingrid released her father's face. "Surprise, I don't feel ashamed about any of that anymore. I wear whatever I want to when I'm off duty now. It's mostly sleeveless shirts because I'm proud of how much work I've put into myself. I cut my hair every two weeks because my friend Belimar cuts it however I want. It's short because it feels so nice having a light head and a breeze on my neck."

Ingrid paused. She was about to say something out loud that she hadn't vocalized it to Dorothea or Byleth or anyone.

"My friend, Dorothea, teases me about my love life, but the difference between you and her is that she actually cares. She didn't try to marry me off to some noble or another. She didn't force feelings onto me. No. She helped me develop my love organically, starting by helping to teach me how to love myself. All of my friends taunt me to love myself. And do you want to know what came from that? I finally fell in love with a noble, just like you wanted." Ingrid smiled. "Not the noble you expected, of course. Her name is Edelgard von Hresvelg. She is the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, and I love her. She is not the only one in my heart. In Adrestia, you can have more than one beloved. Love for one is not enough for some people, and that includes me. Edelgard von Hresvelg and Byleth Eisner hold my heart in their hands. Do you know how they did it? Do you know how they succeeded where every noble you chose failed?" Nereus nodded. "Because they didn't try. I fell in love with Edelgard because she did nothing but offer me a shoulder to lean on and a cause to believe in. I fell in love with Byleth because he did nothing but give me a choice as to my place in the world and someone to rally behind."

Nereus looked up at his daughter on his own accord. The look of grief in his eyes was one of acceptance.

"What have I done?" Nereus asked.

"I am not your dearest daughter Ingrid anymore." Ingrid examined Lúin. "And that is your fault. With every push, you pushed me away. With every pull, you pulled further away. Now I have returned, and what happens next is because of your actions." Ingrid brandished Lúin at her father. Her persona shifted, her voice taking on an official tone. "Nereus Galatea, speak your last."

"What happens next is for House Galatea," Nereus said. Ingrid pushed Lúin into his chest, killing him with one clean blow. Ingrid pulled the weapon out and guided Nereus onto his back. She set Lúin down and closed his eyes, letting him die with honour.

"May Loog greet you with open arms," Ingrid whispered. She took her father's circlet from his head and looked at it before turning to her mother. Ingrid offered Doris the circlet, but Doris shook her head.

"The circlet belongs to the head of House Galatea." Doris' words were simple, but they carried great weight. Ingrid turned to the people.

"Are there any messengers here?" She asked. A few of the townsfolk raised their hands. "Dispatch word to all ends of Galatean territory. Galatea is now part of the Adrestian Empire."

"Yes, Praetorian Guard." The messengers used her Imperial title. Ingrid smiled at the gesture. The townsfolk slowly returned to their business, giving her respectful nods whenever they passed her. The blacksmith walked over to the shattered remains of Nereus' sword, gathering up the pieces in order to reforge it for burial with its master. Ingrid grabbed Pontus by the shoulder.

"Pontus, help my mother give him a good burial." Ingrid gestured to her father's body. Pontus nodded, waving a pair of young men over. They picked up Nereus' body, leaving with him. Doris followed closely, looking back at her daughter one last time before leaving with her husband's body.

Ingrid then heard the sounds of teleportation magic, turning to see Hubert and Byleth waiting for her.

"Fascinating," Byleth noted. Ingrid walked over to her friends, pulling them both in for a hug. The surprised men returned the gesture, embracing the pegasus knight.

"How did you get here?" Ingrid asked.

"Well, you left some of your hair with me. It just so happens I have a spell that can transport me to someone if I have a piece of them," Hubert explained.

"Useful." Ingrid nodded. Ingrid pulled a cloth from her outfit, cleaning the blood off of Lúin. "Did something happen?"

"Not anything in particular. I had a strange feeling that I talked to you, and then I felt the Divine Pulse. I thought that was something," Byleth explained.

"We found Seteth, but Those Who Slither In The Dark did as well. He and Flayn were hiding out here, in Galatea," Hubert explained. Ingrid whistled for Olympia to land. The pegasus soared down, touching down next to the three. Hubert stroked the animal's muzzle with a slight smile.

"I presume you're hear to bring me back." Ingrid swung Lúin onto her back.

"Indeed, but not yet. I need a moment to rest." Hubert held up his hand. "And maybe a bite to eat."

"Talk to Actea and Dione." Ingrid gestured to two middle-aged women. "They have an excellent fish and turnip stew." Hubert's eyebrows perked up and he walked over to investigate. Ingrid saw Thalia staring at Olympia, and she waved for the girl to come over. "Could you please keep an eye on Olympia? I need to talk to Byleth."

"That's Byleth?" Thalia asked. Ingrid nodded. "She loves you!" Byleth raised an eyebrow as Ingrid massaged the bridge of her nose. Thalia walked away with Olympia, leading the pegasus to her mother.

"I cannot believe she managed to hear that." Ingrid sighed. Byleth chuckled.

"Why don't we talk?" Byleth gestured to the Galatea home.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Edelgard walked slowly down the halls of the palace, guards bowing as she moved past them. In her hands were a bag that emanated steam. Edelgard paused at a door, stopping to knock slowly. The door opened, with Mercedes on the other side. The healer waved the Emperor into the room. Edelgard looked down at Flayn, who was holding Seteth's hands tightly.

"Is it alright if I have some time with them alone?" Edelgard asked Mercedes. She nodded, giving Flayn a kiss on the head before leaving the room. Edelgard sat down across from Flayn, setting the bag down next to her. "Hello, Flayn."

"Your Majesty," Flayn whispered.

"He'll have the best care the Empire can provide. I promise you that," Edelgard said. She held the bag she came with to Flayn. "Two-Fish Sauté. I know you liked it back at the Academy. I thought you might want to try some from where it comes from." Flayn took the bag, opening it to pull the food out. She began to pick at it with the included fork, smiling slightly as she smelled it.

"Thank you." Flayn began to eat slowly. The two sat in silence for a moment.

"You're wondering why I'm helping you and your father." Edelgard spoke up. Flayn paused to nod. "People have often called me a monster. Your father was among them. There was a time I wanted revenge for that, but my friends kept me grounded. I lost one love, but I believe I may have slowly found another. I feel I have room for both, and room for many more." Edelgard looked at Seteth and sighed. "I realized that your father saw me as a monster because that's all I let him see. That's all I let every one of my enemies see. My friends saw an Emperor who was working to achieve her dreams in honour of her lost family, those fighting me saw a power-hungry Conqueror who wanted the world under her thumb." Edelgard rubbed her knee. "I don't hate your father. I don't hate you. The Immaculate One used both of you as well."

"I know." Flayn finally spoke up. "I know you don't hate us. You let us live. You could have killed us both easily. You didn't, though. You let us leave. Hubert kept an eye on us, but you didn't do anything with that information until there was no other option but to look for us." Flayn smiled sadly at Seteth. "He'll survive. I know it. He always comes back to me." Edelgard let out a small puff of air from her nose.

"If you need anything, let me know. Raphael and Balthus will be by later to bring you a bed so you can sleep here with him." Edelgard gave Flayn's hand a small pat before standing up. Edelgard walked out of the room, finding Constance and Yuri waiting for her.

"Hello, you two. What did you find?" Edelgard asked.

"Well, we obviously found something. However, it may not be up to my standards. I suppose it will have to do, sadly," Constance said. Yuri rolled his eyes and handed Edelgard a scroll.

"That's everything the Abyss had on the Lost Tomb. Sorry there's not more." Yuri shrugged. Edelgard examined the scroll, her mouth twisting in mild annoyance.

"Thank you both. If you'll excuse me." Edelgard nodded at the two Ashen Wolves before walking away. Ferdinand came to join her as she walked back to her office.

"I've begun mustering the Imperial Guard in Ingrid's stead. I presume she'll be back soon, Byleth and Hubert went to get her from Galatea," Ferdinand explained. "I have a feeling that Those Who Slither In The Dark or the Agarthans or whatever they're called will come back for Flayn."

"Wise of you, Ferdinand." Edelgard gave him a relieved smile. "It will be good to have Ingrid back soon."

"Yes, it will be good for you, I think," Ferdinand chuckled. "I'm certain you'll have much to discuss, Edelgard." Ferdinand gave the Emperor a good-natured pat on the arm with a smile on his face before leaving. Edelgard gave her retreating Prime Minister a confused look before massaging her left temple.

She needed a drink.

Chapter Text

Faerghus

Galatea

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid and Byleth stepped up to a door in the Galatea house. Ingrid turned the knob, and the two walked into Ingrid's childhood bedroom. The walls were barren, and the air smelled stale. A layer of dust covered everything, and Ingrid shielded her face as she walked over to the window. She forced the unused lock up and opened the door, letting fresh air into the room for the first time in what they both assumed was years.

"Well, it was clean when I left it." Ingrid joked. Byleth smiled slightly walking over to a painting. He dusted it off, examining it. In the picture were Ingrid's parents, two boys that looked a little older than her, and a young Ingrid.

"Your brothers?" Byleth asked.

"Yes." Ingrid sighed. "Alpheus and Nilus. Both born without a Crest." Ingrid walked over to the painting, touching it. "And so they got to do whatever they wanted. They never had to fight to be what they wanted to be, they never had to leave everything they knew because they knew it was the only thing that would feel right." Ingrid touched the taller of the two brothers' face. "Alpheus fell in love with a fisherman's daughter. He left House Galatea behind to be with her. I presume he's still in former Alliance territory with her." She moved her touch to the younger brother's face. "Nilus wanted to explore. He wanted to discover ancient ruins, find out the stories behind them. He wanted to see the world beyond Fódlan. He sent word back that he found a woman in Albinea. That was the last I heard of him because it was right before I came to the Academy."

"Do you resent them for it? Being able to do everything you wanted?" Byleth asked.

Ingrid paused, staring at the painting. She wasn't certain about how she felt, but it wasn't hatred or anger or resent.

"No." Ingrid shook her head. "No, I can't bring myself to hate them for doing what I wanted to do. I was jealous, but I never despised them for it. If it had been up to me, we all would have gotten a chance to live the lives we wanted to." Ingrid bit her bottom lip, pondering for a moment. "I suppose that was my first real moment of wanting to change the system. Find a way for us all to have everything we desired." Ingrid rubbed the back of her neck. "Especially when it came to marriage. It took me five years to accept that I could love more than one person, let alone love a woman." Byleth smiled slightly.

"A woman. Then I suppose my hunch was right." Byleth folded his arms behind his back. "And evidently wrong, as it also includes me." Ingrid nodded. "For how long?"

Garreg Mach

Dormitories

Wyvern Moon, Day 13, Imperial Year 1180

Ingrid sat in her room, looking at a mirror on her desk. Her shirt was off, revealing an undergarment that only covered her breasts. She examined her abdomen, poking the muscles. She sighed, seeing her biceps bulge as she moved her arm. Maybe her father as right. Maybe he could only find the suitors he did because of how Ingrid looked. She didn't understand what was wrong about it, what scared the suitors. She thought muscles on women were a perfectly fine thing. Catherine and Leonie, Shamir and Petra, they were all very well built and they all looked quite nice. What was different about Ingrid?

Ingrid grabbed her hair, holding it back from her head to make it look like it had been cropped short. She released the long blonde hair, putting her head in her hand. She looked at an unopened letter nearby, picking it up. She opened a drawer in her desk, tossing the letter in for her to deal with later. She eyed a pair of sewing scissors on her desk, touching the bottom of her hair. She shook her head before casting any associated thoughts out of her mind.

"Don't be an idiot, Ingrid," She whispered to herself. Her hair was one of the few things her father said attracted suitors. Her voice was too deep, she should try raising it a bit when talking to men. Her body was too much, she should calm down with the training.

Ingrid ran her hands down her face, letting out a tired groan. She heard a knock at her door, and she began to look around for a shirt or a sweater or anything to cover up her body.

"Who is it?" Ingrid asked, running to her closet.

"Professor Eisner." Byleth's voice came from the other side of the door. "May I come in?"

"Just a moment!" Ingrid yelped as she yanked a robe from her closet. She pulled it on before tying it up. She collected herself for a moment and walked to the door. "Hello, Professor. I apologize for the wait. I wasn't decent." Byleth maintained a flat expression, but shifted the covered plates in his hand for a moment. "Please, come in." Ingrid ushered Byleth into the room. He set the plates down on the desk and looked around at the room.

"I see you don't care much for interior decorating either." Byleth noted the lack of décor.

"The room will only be mine for so long, I don't wish to waste time," Ingrid explained. "What brings you here, Professor?"

"I thought I might bring a snack by to celebrate your first day as an Eagle. If you don't mind me joining you, of course." Byleth uncovered the plates, revealing beast meat teppanyaki. Ingrid's mouth began to water.

"Oh, my favourite. Thank you, Professor! Yes, I'd love to join you." Byleth handed a plate to her along with a fork and knife. Ingrid set them down on a table next to her bed before shifting the table. She sat on her bed while motioning for Byleth to take the chair from her desk. The table was just barely large enough to fit both plates, but it worked well enough.

"I wanted to see how you were feeling after your first class. Hubert suggested you may have been having second thoughts, but that man is too paranoid for his own good sometimes." Despite Byleth's sarcastic comment, his voice remained relatively flat.

"No, no second thoughts." Ingrid shook her head. "I very much enjoyed class today, Professor."

"I know you aim to be a Pegasus Knight. If you need help preparing for the certification exam, do not hesitate to ask me," Byleth offered.

"Oh." Ingrid paused, her face shocked.

"Did I misjudge your interest?" Byleth asked.

"No, no!" Ingrid shook her head frantically. "I just wasn't expecting your to jump right to figuring out what my goals are right away, Professor. Thank you for your offer. I'll be certain to take you up on it. I took the practice exam last week because I was too nervous to take the real one, and then I didn't do as well as I hoped. I just barely passed. I'm very good at the animals in practice, but I don't really know how to explain the theory in the way the adjudicator wants me to."

"See me after class tomorrow. I will talk with Seteth at the staff meeting in the morning about any books he has on the hypotheticals of flying," Byleth instructed. "When is the next chance for a real exam?"

"The end of next week," Ingrid explained.

"We will get you ready by then, Ingrid," Byleth said before returning to his food. Ingrid smiled widely before taking another bite of her own teppanyaki.

Faerghus

Galatea

Garland Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 1186

"Frankly, years. Since you showed up at my door the night after my first class as an Eagle," Ingrid explained. "You immediately dove into helping me study to become a Pegasus Knight. And then you and Edelgard were so sure that I would pass my exam that you immediately sent for a pegasus from the Empire. It was all of that month that made me develop a crush on you. Thinking back on it, I think that's when my feelings for... Well, her developed." Byleth nodded. "Who did you think it was?" Ingrid had a feeling she knew the answer already, but she asked anyways.

"Edelgard, who I also presume is the 'her' you mentioned just now," Byleth said.

"No use lying in a moment of honesty. Yes, I've fallen in love with both you and Edelgard." Ingrid nodded.

"I know of the Adrestian custom for multiple partners. I would have been happy to simply share Edelgard's love with you, but it appears the three of us will share each other's love." Byleth offered. Ingrid froze.

"What if Edelgard doesn't feel the same way about me?" Ingrid's face was the most nervous Byleth had ever seen her look.

"Ingrid, please. Whenever you walk into the room, she has the same look in her eyes that she gives me every morning. Deep, unconditional love. I'm fairly certain I found her drawing a portrait of you the other night," Byleth explained. Ingrid let out a sigh of relief, letting her whole body relax. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders with a single conversation. She closed her eyes and smiled. She felt a presence in front of her followed by the sensation of her face being tilted up. She then felt Byleth's lips on hers for a brief moment before he pulled away. She grabbed his head, pulling him in again for another kiss.

"Well, well." Hubert's voice cut in. The two broke apart and found the Minister of the Imperial Household leaning against the door. "The Royal Consort and the Praetorian Guard." Ingrid briefly had a look of fear in her eyes before she saw that Hubert had a genuine smile on his face. "I suppose I will need to have the historians advise the Hresvelg family tree to include a branch from Galatea." Byleth and Ingrid chuckled. "Now then. I feel rested enough. Shall we return to Adrestia? I assume the Emperor would also like to steal a kiss from her Praetorian Guard."

Byleth walked out of the room, but Ingrid waited at the painting. She pulled it from the frame, setting the wood down nearby. She reached over to Byleth, taking his dagger from its sheath on his belt. She ran her hand along the painting to smooth it out before cutting the paper just above her brothers' heads, removing her parents' faces from the image. She left the half with them on the desk in the room, taking the half with herself and her brothers. She handed the dagger back to Byleth before slipping past Hubert and out of the room, a vindicated smile on her face. Hubert turned to Byleth.

"Do you know where she got that necklace?" Hubert asked. "I've not seen it before, and I'm fairly certain it has the Crest of Blaiddyd on it."

"Perceptive, Hubert. However, I do not. Though it feels oddly familiar," Byleth answered.

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Chilon sat with his chest armour off as a woman in dark robes with a mask forged from Nabatean bones that covered her entire face examined him.

"Bias, I'm fine. You could have let me keep fighting him." Chilon gave her a sour look.

"Perhaps you would have killed the monstrosity, but Hubert von Vestra was there. You would not have survived his unbridled wrath." Bias' speech was slightly slurred and slightly muffled, evidently by her mask.

"You have a disturbing obsession with that man." Odesse commented from the side.

"He is a sorcerer without parallel. He twists dark magic to his will and his whims. His skills would do us well if he would just see reason." Bias rubbed her hands together. "Have you not somewhere else to be, Odesse?"

"I'm waiting for him." Odesse gestured at Chilon. "I'd appreciate having one of our muscles along, and I'd rather like the actually muscular one for my purposes."

"Fine, fine. Take him. He's unharmed, other than his pride." Bias waved Chilon away. He reached down to his armour, slipping into it. The Agarthan technology involved caused the plates to join together into their proper shape, and he picked up Labrys before following Odesse out of the room.

"How long until you think she starts pleasuring herself over the mere thought of von Vestra?" Chilon nudged Odesse in the shoulder. Odesse chuckled.

"I give it five minutes," Odesse replied. He deployed one of his extra arms from his back, showing Chilon the map that Myson had given him. "This is where we're heading. The burial site of Dimitri Blaiddyd."

"I imagine you're going to make use of his cadaver for some dark artistry?" Chilon asked. Odesse grinned.

"Is there any other use for a dead king?"

Adrestia

Enbarr

Byleth, Ingrid, and Hubert walked into the Imperial Palace, finding Dorothea and Mercedes waiting for them. The two women walked over to Ingrid, pulling her in for a hug. Dorothea let her friend go before turning to Byleth and Hubert.

"Edelgard wants to see you two." Dorothea said. The two men nodded, walking away. Dorothea turned back to Ingrid, who Mercedes had wrapped her arm around. "How are you feeling?"

"He's dead." Ingrid confirmed. "And I feel... Free." Ingrid smiled, laughing a little. "I feel free!" She pulled Dorothea and Mercedes in for another hug. Dorothea and Mercedes laughed with her, their smiles bright. "I challenged him to Dreyri-Dolg, shattered his sword with Areadbhar, and unloaded everything I had to say. Everything I've ever wanted to say."

"We're happy for you, Ingrid." Mercedes smiled.

"And I told Byleth everything. Some of it he had figured out himself, but I still told him," Ingrid continued. "We kissed."

"YES!" Dorothea squealed. "About damn time! I'm going to lose it, it's perfect. When are you going to tell Edelgard. I mean, you are going to tell Edelgard, right?" Dorothea took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm just so excited for you. I know that it's the massive internal thing and you should do it at your own pace and-"

"The first chance I get." Ingrid cut her off. "I'll tell her the first chance I get." Dorothea rubbed her hands together with glee.

"That takes a lot of bravery, Ingrid." Mercedes smiled. "But you deserve to have your feelings known."

"I'm just so swept up in the fact that you're telling people about it, Ingrid. I mean, I've had a gut feeling about this for years, and it's finally paying off. I've just so happy to see you happy." Dorothea rambled for a moment.

"Thank you, both of you." Ingrid smiled. "Honestly, I owe a lot of my courage to both of you. You've helped me come out of my shell. Dorothea, you being so casually okay with having feelings for women has gotten me past a lot of mental blocks about love. Mercedes, you've been a massive part in showing me that I can be who I want to be, no matter what family says."

"Ingrid, you're going to make me cry." Dorothea's eyes began to water. Ingrid giggled, touching her Grim Dragon Sign absentmindedly.

"What is that?" Mercedes tilted her head, examining the necklace.

"It's called a Grim Dragon Sign. Believe it or not, Sothis appeared to me. She got me to Galatea faster, and she gave me this. It lets me use Areadbhar as though I have Blaiddyd's Crest," Ingrid explained.

"I think I heard Hanneman and Linhardt mention those the other day." Mercedes noted.

"I'll have to ask them about it." Ingrid nodded.

"I heard my name. Ask me what?" Linhardt poked his head into the conversation. His eyes widened when he saw Ingrid's necklace, dropping his books and touching the necklace.

"Careful," Ingrid scolded.

"Yeah, yeah." Linhardt brushed her off. "Where did you get a Dragon Sign?"

"Sothis gave it to me." Ingrid repeated her explanation.

"Oh, Goddess." Linhardt ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, okay. You have to come to Hanneman and my lab RIGHT NOW!" Linhardt began to drag the confused Ingrid away.

"I need to talk to Edelgard." Ingrid steadied herself, resisting Linhardt's pull.

"She's in a meeting with the Ministers. She'll be a bit. You've got time." Linhardt had a pleading look in his eyes. "Please?"

"Fine." Ingrid sighed. Linhardt resumed leading her away. Ingrid turned to look at Dorothea and Mercedes, who waved at her with grins on their faces.

Shambhala

Citadel of Vengeance

Myson, Bias, and Pittacus sat around a table. Bias twirled a sphere of magic in her hands, tilting her head from side to side as she whispered incantations to herself. Pittacus tampered with her prosthetic arm, her elbow resting on the table and fist in the direction of Myson. Myson looked up from his book and gave Pittacus an annoyed look.

"If you turn that screw and make some obscene gesture at me, I will throw something at you," Myson said. Pittacus smiled, turning a screw and flipping him off. Myson rolled his eyes and conjured a shard of dark magic in the shape of a dagger, tossing it at Pittacus' head. She tilted it to the side, letting the dagger soar past her and impact a wall.

"If you lot are done." Thales sighed as he walked in.

"Almighty Thales, glorious leader of the Agarthans." Myson bowed his head to Thales. Pittacus gave him a salute with a grin on her face. Bias dissipated her ball of magic, but continued to stare off into space.

"Odesse and Chilon are out retrieving the body of the dead king of Faerghus, I presume." Thales took a seat.

"Indeed, my lord." Myson nodded.

"Remind us why we need his corpse again?" Pittacus asked.

"Did you space out during the last discussion?" Myson gave her an annoyed look.

"I just want to make sure Bias heard it." Pittacus stroked her chin.

"We need to use his mortal form as a means to transport relics to our hand, starting with Areadbhar. Without Edelgard, we have no Crestbearers to do it." Bias spoke, not taking her attention away from the air she was staring into.

"Nevermind then, she did remember." Pittacus grinned. Thales sighed.

"Myson, I presume that Count Galatea's help in finding those monstrosities in his territory has been dealt with?" Thales turned to Myson.

"The Count is dead, my lord. His daughter drove her spear into his chest." Myson smiled. "I would call that dealt with."

"I would as well. I do not want the Empire knowing just what games we are playing with them yet." Thales chuckled slightly. "All will be revealed on our own terms."

"Speaking of on our terms, I think I may have a workaround in mind if we can't get Areadbhar." Pittacus piped up.

"Finally, something intelligent," Myson quipped.

"I built your legs, I can unbuild them. Don't get snippy, you have no leg to stand on," Pittacus replied.

"Alright, that was funny." Myson acquiesced.

"Focus." Thales growled. "Pittacus, what is your workaround?"

"If I can get my hands on a fresh body of one of those damned demons, I believe that I can make replica relics for each of the Heroes. Maybe even Nemesis. They won't be the same, some might be stronger or weaker, but I think I can do it." Pittacus paused. "I think I'll need the big one, though." Thales nodded before turning to Myson.

"Myson, send word to Odesse and Chilon. Tell them that they will need to locate the remains of that so called Saint Seiros," Thales ordered. Myson rose and bowed before leaving the room.

Faerghus

Tailtean Plains

Odesse and Chilon trudged through the ruins of the Tailtean Plains as rain pattered down around them. The two limbs that sprouted from the Relic on Odesse's back held his hood in place so it wouldn't be ripped off by the wind and the water.

"What exactly are we looking for? I doubt they're in coffins or anything like that." Chilon cleaned a massive raindrop from his face that had slipped past his helmet. He deployed his battle mask in response, causing Odesse to chuckle.

"You'd be correct, I assume. From Myson's studies, the grave is marked by a single axe, the blade of which is buried in the ground. Additionally, I assume the earth will have been lightning hardened by one of their mages. It's Faerghus tradition." Odesse looked around. He pointed at a patch of ground that remained dry despite the torrent of weather from above.

"There?" Chilon asked. Odesse nodded, summoning pale blue magic to his hands.

"Fimbulvetr!" Odesse yelled, casting a mighty gust of winter's wrath forward, freezing the ground to weaken it. Chilon grabbed Labrys from his back, kicking the blade up to full speed. He dug it into the ground, tearing it up. Odesse looked down into the grave, finding Dimitri's slowly decaying body. Odesse chuckled, stepping into the crevice that Chilon had created. Odesse began to whisper incantations to himself, his lips and hands glowing a sickly green. Odesse moved his hands over Dimitri's body, the decay slowly fading away as his body began to repair itself. Dimitri's skin, however, remained pale and colourless.

"Prince of Fate, King of Hate, you died a warrior's death. Death, however, is not the end for you. You will live on in service of me. You were once called the Saviour King. Now you are to be a mere piece of my game. Your new life is given by me, and you will use it in service of me." Odesse whispered into Dimitri's ear. "Your eyes, closed in death, are opened by me." Odesse opened Dimitri's eyes. Despite his being dead, the eyelids stayed open. The eyes beneath had no pupil, iris, or sclera, but were instead a solid mass of glowing green. "Your voice, silenced in death, is given words by me." Odesse opened Dimitri's mouth, which appeared to begin to whisper indecipherable words. Green smoke escaped with every motion, as though leaking from some unknown source within his body. "Your body, broken in death, is restored by me." Odesse rose, pulling Dimitri's corpse with him. The revenant, rather than collapsing when Odesse let go, stood firm on its feet. Odesse tilted his head to the side, and the resuscitated corpse mirrored the action.

"Nice work as always, Odesse." Chilon gave an approving nod.

"I do try." Odesse smiled, the corpse mimicking his movements again. "The direct mirror will wear off shortly. When it does, I will be able to command my new soldier directly."

"Excellent," Myson said from behind the group. The two Agarthans turned to face him. "Thales has another job for you. Pittacus needs the bones of the demon that led the church. She thinks she can create replicas of the Relics. They may be equals, they may be better, they may be slightly worse, it's apparently a mixed bag. However, that demon's bones are the only ones that will do." Myson vanished again with a wave of his hand, leaving Odesse, Chilon, and the revenant Dimitri in the bluster.

"Well, I suppose we should find it." Odesse sighed. "More of this weather. Lovely." Odesse lifted his hand into the air, and the three vanished.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Ingrid tapped her fingers on her knees, the metal of her gauntlets clicking against her kneepads.

"It's truly fascinating, Linhardt," Hanneman gushed. "The power of an entire bloodline of Crests condensed into one necklace. Why, I would absolutely love to test the limits of our skills in this realm. Imagine if we could duplicate it. Hypothetically, we could equip the entire Black Eagle Strike Force with enough of them. It would open up so much potential for the use of Relics in battle."

"Edelgard's going to love this. Crests in material form. We could dismantle the system by turning Crests from a commodity into something anyone can have," Linhardt continued. He turned to Ingrid. "You said you were able to tap into the full might of Areadbhar with this, right?"

"It glowed." Ingrid nodded. "It let me shatter my father's sword."

"Remarkable!" Hanneman yelled. "There's word of the late Dimitri doing the same with it. It thus stands to reason that you indeed were able to channel the full power of Blaiddyd."

"Are you feeling ill at all?" Linhardt asked.

"No. Maybe a little more sore than usual, but I did just duel my father to the death in Galatea without any real clothes on my top half." Ingrid shook her head. Hubert knocked on the open door, looking at the ongoing scene with curiousity.

"Ah, Hubert! Excellent timing. Come here, put this necklace on." Hanneman waved Hubert over. Hubert took the necklace from Hanneman and put it on, looking down at it. "Thank you. Ingrid, hand him Areadbhar."

"Have you gone quite mad?" Hubert demanded.

"Hanneman, are you sure?" Ingrid hesitated.

"Trust us, both of you." Linhardt assured them. Hubert sighed, holding out his hand to Ingrid.

"If something goes wrong, I'll take it back." Ingrid assured Hubert before handing him the glaive. Hubert closed his eyes, expecting to be hurt by the Relic. He opened his eyes, looking down at the weapon.

"Hmm." Hubert nodded, examining Areadbhar. Edelgard walked in and stopped dead in her tracks.

"HUBERT!" Edelgard shrieked. She rushed forward, grabbing Areadbhar in order to wrench it from Hubert's grip. Ingrid jumped in, trying to hold Edelgard back.

"Your Majesty, it's alright." Hubert assured Edelgard. "I'm unharmed, thanks to a gift from our Praetorian Guard." Hubert gestured to the Grim Dragon Sign on his neck.

"It's called a Dragon Sign" Linhardt explained. "It bestows the abilities of a particular Crest onto anyone. For someone with a Crest, it grants them the ability to channel the Dragon Sign's Crest in addition to their own. Ingrid used it to tap into Areadbhar to fight her father."

"In an incredible turn of events, it also allows someone without a Crest to safely handle Relics." Hanneman assured Edelgard. She released her grip on the glaive and leaned back into Ingrid's arms.

"I apologize for distressing you, Your Majesty." Hubert offered Areadbhar back to Ingrid, who took it and swung it onto her back.

"It's alright, Hubert. I'm just a tad jumpy about seeing my Crestless advisor holding a Relic." Edelgard took a deep breath to calm down. Hubert removed the Grim Dragon Sign and handed it to Ingrid.

"That's enough testing for today, I think." Ingrid tilted her head and widened her eyes at Hanneman and Linhardt. The two nodded, and Ingrid ushered Edelgard from the room.

"I came looking for you. Byleth said you had something to tell me, and Hubert had this coy smile when he said it. It was unnerving." Edelgard looked at Ingrid. "What do you wish to discuss? Is it about your father? Galatea?"

"No. None of that." Ingrid shook her head. "It's about us. About our relationship." Edelgard tilted her head slightly. "Edelgard, I love being your friend. You're kind and smart and charming and beautiful. But..."

Ingrid paused. She was about to cross a line she couldn't uncross. She was about to tell Edelgard exactly how she felt. She was about to tell Edelgard just how much she loved her.

Was she ready to have that question answered? What if Byleth was wrong? What if Edelgard didn't feel the same way that she did? Was this a mis-

No.

No, this wasn't a mistake. Ingrid knew what she had to say. No matter the outcome, she had to be true to herself.

"But?" Edelgard asked, breaking Ingrid out her train of thought.

"ButIwanttobemore." Ingrid rushed the words out of her mouth. She began to curse herself internally.

'Calm down, Ingrid! Get a hold of yourself!'

"I'm sorry, could you say that again? Slower this time." Edelgard raised a brow. Ingrid took a deep breath. It was time to be honest.

"But I want to be more." Ingrid slowed down. "I want to be more than friends, Edelgard. I've fallen for you. I've been falling for you for years." Ingrid closed her eyes. "You've helped me achieve every dream I've ever had, you accepted me for me, you gave me a place where I could be the truest Ingrid I could find." Ingrid began to tear up a little. "I love you, Edelgard." Ingrid pulled the Emperor in for a kiss. Edelgard returned the gesture, grabbing the back of her Praetorian Guard's head and making her lean backwards a little. When the kiss was released, Edelgard was dipping Ingrid like one would a dance partner, and both of them were smiling widely.

"I've wanted to do that since I kissed you on the forehead to make you my Guard." Edelgard chuckled.

"I've wondered how your lips would feel on mine since you kissed me on the forehead," Ingrid replied. "That was such a strange thought for me at the time. Faerghus... Faerghus didn't allow love like that. I would sometimes admire a woman, but I didn't understand it. I thought it was jealousy. I realize now it was attraction. Thank you for helping me realize that." Edelgard wiped away Ingrid's happy tears.

"You're welcome, Ingrid." Edelgard smiled. "I'm glad my feelings were requited. You don't know how many times in the lonely past years I wanted to knock on your door, tell you I love you, and then ask you to join me in bed because I wanted to hold someone I cared about close." Ingrid blushed.

"I'm glad you waited. It took my father asking me to kill you to get me to realize my feelings for you." Ingrid looked up into Edelgard's eyes. "It's one of the few things I'm thankful for regarding him." Ingrid leaned her head back into Edelgard's hand. "And now his shadow is gone, and I finally feel free to be the Ingrid I want to be. That includes loving you and loving Byleth."

"As romantic as this moment is, I'm going to let you up now." Edelgard helped Ingrid to her feet again. "A hallway is perhaps not the most appropriate place for an Emperor to dip her Praetorian Guard."

"Perhaps not." Ingrid laughed. "Though it is a shame to end the moment."

"End it, or pause it?" Edelgard grinned. "You know, my offer to get you to crawl into bed with me so I can hold you close still stands." Edelgard ran her hand along Ingrid's cheek. "Byleth won't mind. Our bed has room for three." Edelgard paused, dropping the flirty persona. "No pressure, of course. I know this is all a big thing for you, it's five years in the making, I understand if you want to take things slow. Set whatever boundaries you need."

"Thank you. I'll figure out what those boundaries are. But tonight?" Ingrid smiled. "Tonight I'll bring my pillows."

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid laid awake in bed in Edelgard and Byleth's room. Augusta purred against her chest, curled up into a cuddly ball of fluff. Edelgard's own cat, Rhiannon, slept between Edelgard and Byleth's legs.

The group had just gone to bed after a shared cup of tea to calm down after a long set of days and a few declarations of love. Just as Edelgard had said, Byleth hadn't minded at all that they had added another person and another cat to the bed. Edelgard was between Byleth and Ingrid, her chest facing Ingrid's back. Ingrid shifted slightly, bringing herself closer to Edelgard.

"Ingrid?" Edelgard whispered. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Ingrid smiled. "I'm where I belong."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid sat next to the fireplace in the Emperor's quarters, a book in her hand. She was still wearing the short-sleeved shirt and loose pants she had slept in, and there were no braids or accessories in her hair. She was sipping tea as Augusta purred in her lap, napping contentedly. She had had the best night sleep in a long time the night before, and she credited the truth about her feelings coming out for it.

Ingrid finally felt like herself, like everything in her life was just right.

"Good morning, Ingrid." Edelgard smiled as she walked into the room. Ingrid smiled back, setting her book down and waving two fingers at Edelgard. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. It was new, different. But a good new. In Faerghus, couples weren't allowed to share a bed until the first night after marriage. It was one rule I dared to break, though. One night, the last night before Glenn passed, I was to spend the night with him and his family." Ingrid paused, thinking back on the memory. Edelgard smiled sadly.

"You don't need to tell me more if you don't want to." Edelgard walked over to Ingrid, sitting down in the chair across from her. "I told you that you can set whatever boundaries you need, and that includes waiting until you're ready to tell any stories."

"No, it's... It's good to talk about. But thank you." Ingrid shook her head. "When night came, Glenn and I were having tea. I didn't understand it then, but we both had a strange feeling about the mission he was going on. We decided that, just one night, we wanted to be together, just two young people in love helping each other feel safe as they slept. It was calming to hear him breathe. It's a memory I'll always hang onto." Ingrid leaned her cheek on her free hand. "Last night was the first time in a long time I don't remember the dreams from. I remember waking up, but I heard you and Byleth breathing, I felt Byleth's hand on my side and your breath on my neck." Ingrid closed her eyes and smiled, sighing happily. "And then I fell back asleep."

"Good." Edelgard smiled. "Very good." She nodded slowly, and Ingrid realized she wanted to ask her something.

"Is something wrong?" Ingrid asked.

"The Dragon Sign you have. It's Dimitri's Crest." Edelgard began. Ingrid nodded, raising an eyebrow. "How does it... Feel? Using it."

"It's very different from when the power of my own Crest activates. Instead of feeling the power throughout my whole body, I just feel it in my hands and my heart. It's weaker," Ingrid explained. Edelgard leaned back, looking relieved. "Are you alright?"

"I haven't told you this part of my life yet." Edelgard dried her hands on her pants. "And I should." Edelgard looked into Ingrid's eyes. "I possess two Crests. I was born with three things: Brown hair, the Minor Crest of Seiros... And siblings. Eight older, two younger." Ingrid's face fell, knowing that there was most definitely a dark reason that she had never met Edelgard's siblings. "However, a Minor Crest was not enough for some in the Empire. The Prime Minister and his noble friends conspired with dark forces to create a perfect future Emperor. They experimented on my siblings and I. I was the only survivor. The lives of my siblings were traded for my second Crest, the Crest of Flames. It drained the colour from my hair and much of the feeling from my heart. I found it hard to love again for some time. My body was in constant pain, and my soul was heavy. I am still not healed from the damage they did, not fully." Ingrid set her tea down and put Augusta on the floor before standing up and walking over to Edelgard, slipping between her and the armrest of the chair to gently lift Edelgard up. The Emperor curled into Ingrid's embrace, smiling slightly.

"I'm sorry." Ingrid held Edelgard close.

"I've accepted it," Edelgard said. "It gave me the strength I needed to defeat the Immaculate One. I know, in my heart, that if my siblings could see me, they would be proud of what I was able to do in their name."

"I'm certain they would be too." Ingrid kissed the top of Edelgard's head, causing the mighty Emperor to giggle happily. Edelgard's shirt slipped up, and Ingrid saw a large scar on her stomach. Ingrid averted her gaze to preserve Edelgard's modesty, but Edelgard smiled gently.

"It's alright. I don't want to hide myself from you." Edelgard sat up, lifting her shirt over her head before dropping the garment next to the chair. She swung her leg around Ingrid so that she could still sit in Ingrid's lap while facing her.

Ingrid looked at the body of the Emperor, seeing that it was covered in scars. The Praetorian Guard traced her finger alone one that was as wide as Lúin's handle that stretched from just beneath Edelgard's left breast to her right hip. She felt the jagged scar that ran just above Edelgard's waist, one that looked like it had been made without any planning. She touched the glyph of the Minor Crest of Seiros that sat on Edelgard's sternum, the same place where Ingrid had a glyph of Daphnel. Edelgard then turned around, and Ingrid's eyes widened. If Edelgard's chest was marked with scars, her back was completely littered with them. There was more scar than skin. Most of them were cuts, but the largest scar was the Crest of Flames. Ingrid knew from seeing Byleth's bare back the night before that he also had the Crest of Flames on his back, but this...

This Crest was unnatural, just as Edelgard had said.

Instead of the calm glyph like Byleth's, the skin around Edelgard's was burned. The place where the Crest itself sat was not a solid patch of skin, but multiple pieces that looked like they had been grafted onto her from different sources. Ingrid touched the scar tissue gently, feeling the source of Edelgard's suffering.

"My scars sting sometimes, usually when I keep them covered for too long. I can only imagine what this is like." Ingrid spoke quietly.

"I've largely grown used to them," Edelgard replied.

"Would you like to see mine?" Ingrid asked.

"Only if you're willing to show me them." Edelgard nodded. She moved back so Ingrid could navigate her shirt off. Edelgard tilted her head, examining the knight's body. She looked at a dagger scar just below Ingrid's left ribs, frowning slightly. "Is this from what I think it is?"

Blue Sea Moon, Day 17, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid stifled a yawn with the final bite of her fox meat skewer, opening the door to her room. It had been a long day, and the Praetorian Guard was ready to sleep. She was wearing casual attire, her hair was down, and her weapons were away. Before she had the chance to, however, she leaned her head back, eyeing a suspicious looking man looking around aimlessly. Ingrid weighed whether she had time to run into her room, grab Lúin or her sword, and then take off after this potential danger. Deciding that the skewer in her hand would have to do, she took off after the man. He noticed and started to run away from her. The Praetorian Guard, however, was fast enough to catch up.

"Block the door!" Ingrid ordered the guards at the end of the hall. They obliged, drawing their swords and stepping in front of the door. The suspicious man skidded to a stop before finding himself tackled by Ingrid. "Who the hell are you?"

"An envoy of the Saviour King, here to slay the Emperor." The man pulled a dagger from his sleeve and drove it at Ingrid's neck. She reached out, grabbing his wrist to stop the attack and digging her knee into his chest. The assassin retaliated by punching Ingrid in the jaw, stunning Ingrid for a moment. He then drove the dagger into her chest just beneath her left ribs. Ingrid grunted in pain as the assassin pulling the dagger out. He was about to drive it into her again when he was hit in the head with an arrow. The assassin collapsed as Ingrid got off of him, leaning against a wall. She turned to see her help, finding Bernadetta with a bow and arrow. Bernadetta set the weapon aside and came down next to Ingrid, examining her stab wound.

"I'm pretty sure you'll live. It doesn't look too bad. I'm not really certain, though. Don't worry, I'll get Linhardt," Bernadetta explained before running off. Hubert then came over, glaring at the assassin's body. He gave Ingrid a nod, congratulating her on a job well done. Ingrid gave him a pained smile in reply.

"May I?" Hubert asked, summoning a bit of healing magic to his hand. Ingrid nodded, allowing him to use it to slow the bleeding.

"How many more of these do I need to get to catch up with you?" Ingrid joked to distract herself from the pain.

"Seven, though I think the Emperor would very much like you to stay at just the one." Hubert gave her hand a comforting pat.

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

"Yes. It's from the dagger of someone who came to assassinate you." Ingrid nodded. Edelgard looked at the dagger scar sadly before leaning down to kiss it. Ingrid giggled at the feeling.

"Are any of the other ones from protecting me?" Edelgard asked.

"A few. Mostly from battle, and all minor." Ingrid lifted her right arm, revealing a scar shaped like a tree branch on her right side. "This one is from a mage during the Battle of Garreg Mach, just before Byleth disappeared. I blocked most of the spell with Lúin, but it left me with this." Edelgard touched the scar, tracing the twig-like contours. "As far as scars go, I find it strangely beautiful."

"Hmm." Edelgard pondered before kissing the electrical scar.

"This one is from an arrow courtesy of Claude during one of our skirmishes with the Alliance two years ago." Ingrid pointed at a small but jagged scar on her right collarbone. "He fired an arrow at you, I cut it in half, part of the arrowhead hit me." Ingrid chuckled slightly. "It was so minor that I honestly didn't notice until Linhardt gagged at the sight of my blood." Edelgard let out a small but relieved laugh before kissing that scar as well. Ingrid then turned around, showing a back that was the opposite of Edelgard's. Ingrid's was mostly free of scars, with the exception of one along the small of her back. The scar was the about the size of Edelgard's hand, and she recognized it as a scar caused by dark magic.

"Who gave you this?" Edelgard asked.

"Cornelia. It's my most recent scar," Ingrid explained.

"You said that attack wasn't major." Edelgard rested her forehead between Ingrid's shoulder blades.

"It wasn't. Not really. I was alright again within a few hours." Ingrid assured Edelgard. The Emperor let out a sigh from her nose before leaning down to kiss the latest scar.

"Dare I ask?" Byleth spoke up, leaning against the door. Ingrid blushed slightly, grabbing her shirt from the ground. Edelgard gave him a wave, a gesture that caused Byleth to chuckle.

"We were comparing scars," Edelgard explained.

"May I?" Byleth asked Ingrid. She nodded. Byleth unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a burn scar shaped like a left hand on his chest. "Seiros. A scar I've had since before I could breathe." Ingrid placed her left hand on it. Her hand didn't quite fit, but she could feel his heartbeat through his skin. Byleth tipped his head down, moving Ingrid's thumb with his finger so he could kiss it. Ingrid smiled at the gesture of affection. She took her hand away, allowing Byleth to do his shirt up again.

"Flayn is going to unlock the tomb later this morning," Byleth explained. Edelgard and Ingrid both nodded.

"Then it's time to see just what the Agarthans are after." Edelgard eyed Aymr.

Shambhala

Citadel of Spite

Pittacus slammed a hammer into an anvil, the smell of heated bone wafting through the air. The scattered bones of the Immaculate One laid nearby, the flesh and muscle peeled from her body. The engineer turned her head as she heard Odesse enter, followed closely by the undead Dimitri.

"Ah, you got a new pet." Pittacus chuckled before returning to her work.

"Indeed I did. A brute, certainly, but a useful brute." Odesse crossed his arms, looking over Pittacus' forging. "A replica of the Aegis Shield, hmm?" Pittacus ran her prosthetic arm along the still rough surface of the shield.

"Yes." Pittacus nodded. "I decided it would be easiest to start with forging a simple slab. Creating new Relics is one thing. Attempting to perfectly replicate old ones is another." Pittacus turned to Odesse. "I assume you will be sending your pet into battle against the Adrestians in order to claim Areadbhar?"

"Possibly." Odesse looked at his revenant. "I'm reconsidering the value of the Saviour King as a weapon. Why reduce him to a simple courier if you can replicate Areadbhar?" Odesse touched the zombie's cheek. "Think of the psychological damage that deploying a soldier like this on the battlefield will inflict. The Emperor and the Fell Star will see a failure, the Praetorian Guard will see the shadow in which she lives, and the Blue Lions will see their friend fighting them again."

"The shock of their old friend appearing to simply stealing a weapon would pale in comparison to what you would gain by forcing him to fight them." Pittacus smiled. "Delightful plan, Odesse. As always, of course. Myson is a political schemer, yes. But you? You understand battle. Your tactics are unmatched. You understand exactly what makes an enemy tick. Myson will make our enemies fight each other, but you will make any direct conflict a victory."

"You'd think I were a dinner roll with the butter you are applying. Trying to bed me, Pittacus?" Odesse smirked.

"While the praise is legitimate, I wouldn't object." Pittacus shrugged.

"I will pass on that offer for now, but thank you." Odesse chuckled, causing Pittacus to pout overdramatically. "Still, I'm glad you agree with the plan being sound." Odesse folded his arms behind his back. "As soon as the Adrestians unlock the seal on the Lost Tomb, I will have Bias transport myself, Dimitri, and some of my other unusual soldiers into the tomb. In the chaos, I will summon Chilon to recover the body that the tomb was designed to hide."

"Nemesis will live again." Pittacus giggled.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Edelgard, Byleth, Ingrid, Ashe, Raphael, Jeritza, Hanneman, and Ignatz watched as Linhardt and Flayn stood by the Crest Lock. Everyone was equipped with their armour and weapons, though Ingrid and Jeritza lacked their mounts.

"Whenever you're ready, Flayn." Ignatz nodded. Flayn touched the Crest Lock, and the door quivered before becoming unsealed. Raphael and Jeritza jumped into the hole and walked over, trying to force the door open. They managed to get it open a crack, but they were unable to force it any further.

"Anyone have an idea?" Ashe asked.

"Edelgard, do you think you can break it?" Byleth leaned over, gesturing to Aymr. Edelgard pulled the axe from her back, jumping into the hole. Jeritza and Raphael moved out of the way, allowing Edelgard to breathe in deeply. A faint glow from beneath her armour in the shape of the Crest of Seiros could be seen as Aymr similarly lit up. She spun around, bringing Aymr down in a raging storm against the door. The unsealed door shattered against her might, and Edelgard returned Aymr to her back.

"Yes. I can break it," Edelgard joked. Byleth and Ingrid both laughed, following her into the tomb. The rest of the group followed suit, with Byleth, Flayn, and Raphael all conjured small flames to their hands to light the way forward. Byleth's eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the low light environment, and he could see rows and rows of sarcophagi, all with carvings of their inhabitants faces on them. Ingrid touched a sarcophagus, looking at the delicate features of the Praetorian Guard recorded on it.

"You will one day rest in a crypt like this." Jeritza said as he walked by. Ingrid gave him a mildly annoyed look before following the group again.

"It's far more ornate than the current tomb." Edelgard noted. "And far more secure. Most crypts are designed to keep people out. This seems built to keep something in."

"The question is what." Raphael crossed his arms.

"No." Ingrid shook her head, drawing Lúin from her back. "The question is who."

"Perceptive." Odesse's voice cut through the darkness. A surge of light flowed through the crypt as his mages lit the torches around the tomb. The Imperials were surrounded by the Agarthan forces, with Odesse standing atop a Demonic Beast. "My name is Odesse. I represent the Agarthans. The monstrosity among you has already met my comrade, Chilon. Introductions out of the way, your Praetorian Guard has correctly deduced that this tomb was locked away to contain someone. I intend to recover that someone. You will be too busy to stop me." Ignatz let an arrow fly quickly, but the undead Dimitri appeared with a wave of Odesse's hand. The revenant took the arrow for its master before tumbling to the ground with a crack. "Enjoy your fight." Odesse then vanished behind his Demonic Beast as the Adrestians looked at Dimitri's crumpled body in horror. The zombie rose again, its limbs bending unnaturally until it stood. It pulled the arrow out of its head and snapped it, the wound healing over with sickly green flesh.

"Dimitri?" Ingrid felt the hair on her neck stand up. "We buried you!" The revenant tilted its head, muscles twitching. It then unhinged its jaw and screeched, causing Ashe to let loose an arrow in panic. The beast caught it, snapping the arrow in half. Byleth flashed a look to Jeritza, nodding. Jeritza put on the helmet of the Death Knight, his voice deepening behind the metal.

"Death Knight, Raphael, Ignatz, take out the soldiers. Edelgard, Ashe, you two and I will handle the Demonic Beast. Hanneman, Flayn, and Linhardt, support."

"Dimitri is mine." Ingrid's voice was filled with venom.

Ingrid ran at the zombie, sliding under a punch from it. She drove Lúin forward, but the monster caught the lance and pulled, attempting to either wrench it from Ingrid's grip or dig its teeth into her neck. Ingrid resisted its pull as best she could, but Dimitri's own unnatural strength combined with whatever that sorcerer had done to it made it a losing fight. She released Lúin, and the revenant fell backwards because of its own strength. The beast rose, swinging Lúin at her as though it were a glaive. The Praetorian Guard rolled out of the way of the strike and studied her options. Ingrid was about to reach for Areadbhar, but she didn't think she could risk the beast getting its hands on the weapon it had trained to use while it still had some motor control. She instead drew her sword, deflecting a strike from her own lance. Ingrid then spun her sword in her hands, grabbing it by the blade and using the hilt as a hammer to smash the zombie in the side of the head. She then returned the sword to a proper grip, slashing at the undead Dimitri's chest. She then spun around, hitting him in the nose with the back of her boot in a roundhouse kick. The undead Dimitri was knocked off balance for a moment, giving Ingrid a chance to stab him in the left underarm, making it drop Lúin when its muscles were severed. In retaliation, it grabbed Ingrid by the neck in its right hand. The zombie lifted her into the air while growling before hurling her across the room. She was about to impact a pillar when she vanished with a wave of Flayn's hand, appearing next to the Saint in disguise. Linhardt then waved his own spell at the Praetorian Guard, warping her back into the fight against Dimitri. The monster was examining its left arm, which was healing. Ingrid took the opportunity to draw a dagger from behind her cape and drive it through the zombie's head. She then stepped back, drawing Areadbhar from her back. The Grim Dragon Sign flashed and Areadbhar began to glow, with Ingrid twisting herself around and aiming at the undead Dimitri's neck. With atrocious might, the glaive of Blaiddyd cleaved straight through the revenant's neck, sending its head to the floor with a thud. No blood leaked from any of the inflicted wounds, a sight that surprised Ingrid. She stepped back, returning Areadbhar to her back as she picked up Lúin.

Odesse landed in an even deeper cavern in the crypt. Only one sarcophagus sat in this chamber, surrounded by statues of the Ten Elites. Odesse smiled, snapping his fingers. Chilon appeared before him, with the Great Knight looking around.

"Am I missing a battle?" Chilon frowned.

"Sadly, yes." Odesse nodded. "However, we have a vital role here. We must complete the ritual on the body of Nemesis."

"Fine." Chilon grunted, walking over to the sarcophagus. Odesse's extra arms shot from his backplate, conjuring Fimbulvetr to create a massive piece of ice to block the door and delay any interruptions. Odesse summoned energy to his real hands, closing his eyes.

"Lost King of Liberation, my ancient ally, I have come for you now." Purple magic flowed around Odesse. "I feel your soul, your power. It flows through this room, but it is scattered and broken. The blessings of the Saints have deemed you a sinner. I will help those living blessings see beyond that judgement."

The Death Knight swung the Scythe of Sariel at one of the Agarthan soldiers, cutting them down with a single strike.

"You suffering sustains me, your demise fuels me." The Death Knight chuckled. He pointed his scythe at another soldier, growling. "Come, little lamb, come! Come to the slaughter! Die by my hand!" An arrow soared past the Death Knight, slamming into the soldier's chest. The Death Knight turned to growl at Ignatz, who was already drawing another arrow from his quiver.

"Stop toying with them," Ignatz ordered. The Death Knight tilted his head at this little man trying to tell him what to do.

"No, no. He will live for now. He is right, this battle must be won quickly," The Death Knight said to himself.

"Bolganone!" Raphael yelled. Four balls of fire converged on another soldier before combining into one and exploding, killing the Agarthan. He then turned to the Death Knight. "You want to try that idea I came up with earlier?"

"Fine," The Death Knight replied. Raphael then picked up the Death Knight and hurled him into a group of soldiers. The soldiers were distracted by the knight clad in nightmares smashing into the ground nearby, causing them to make no move in their own defense. The Death Knight rose, brandishing his scythe. With a swift cut, he slashed the throat of one of the Agarthans, chuckling with delight. "Bleed for me!" He picked up another solder by the throat, crushing their neck with a single clench of his fist. "Thunder!" The Death Knight fired a ball of electrical energy at an armoured foe, electrocuting them as they screamed within before suddenly falling silent. The Death Knight then jumped on top of another assailant, smashing their face with his fists. The sounds of bones cracking against metal could be heard as the Death Knight obliterated the Agarthan's skull. He then picked up the axe of the armoured Agarthan that he had just killed, hurling it at the final victim of his rage in this group, killing them as the blade impacted their back. The Death Knight rose, brandishing the Scythe of Sariel.  An assassin charged at Ignatz, but the soldier was hit by a bolt of Thoron from Hanneman. Raphael slipped his hands into his gauntlets and charged forward, punching through a soldier's shield to allow Ignatz to shoot an arrow through their neck. The Death Knight picked up an archer, snapping their back over his knee. He dropped the archer at Ignatz's feet, tilting his head slightly as a threat. Ignatz's eyes darted to the side in discomfort, which gave a swordsman a moment to strike. Raphael threw a hand axe at the swordsman, hitting him in the side of the head. Ignatz regained his composure and fired another arrow, impaling the final Agarthan soldier before he could strike Raphael with his hammer.

Odesse continued to conjure magic at the foot of the sarcophagus, Chilon watching. Glyphs that resembled the Crests of the Ten Elites and the Crest of Flames swirled around Odesse, and he began to chant. Chilon drew Labrys from his back and leaned against it, watching his friend work.

"Blessings of the Saint which sealed this tomb, your creator is slain by the blood of Nemesis. Bend to my command and your suffering shall cease. It is hard for a blessing to remain with no conjurer. Release yourself from your contract, there is no reason to fight me." Odesse gently ran his hand along the sarcophagus.

"No reason to fight..." The voice of Seiros came from the sarcophagus, though it was no louder than a whisper.

"Your duty is completed. The threat has left. One worthy of Nemesis' remains has arrived. I will take up your duty of protecting the body of Nemesis." Odesse continued to coax the seal.

"You will take up our duty..." The ward on the sarcophagus then vanished, causing both Odesse and Chilon to smile with glee.

"When I give you the signal, break the lid," Odesse instructed. Chilon nodded, cracking his neck.

Edelgard twirled Aymr around, smashing it into the Demonic Beast's back. It turned around to lash out at her, but she blocked the attack with her shield. Byleth whipped the Sword of the Creator forward, slashing the best in the face with the tip of the blade. He then ducked under a swipe from the Demonic Beast's claws, summoning light energy to his offhand. A glyph appeared in front of his hand as he charged the spell.

"Aura!" Byleth commanded. A pillar of light enveloped the Demonic Beast, causing it to roar in pain. Ashe fired a series of arrows into its back, and the beast turned to breathe fire at him. Ashe rolled out of the way of the blast before shooting another arrow at it.

"Cutting Gale!" Flayn set a blade of wind flying forward, distracting the beast for a moment. Ingrid ran over to Linhardt.

"Could the Dragon Sign let someone without a Crest use Lúin?" Ingrid asked. Linhardt nodded, and Ingrid charged at the Demonic Beast with Areadbhar. She slid beneath it, cutting into its chest with the glaive. The beast swung at her, but she blocked the strike with Areadbhar. She strained against the attack, gesturing for Ashe to come closer. "Take my necklace. It'll let you use Lúin. Go for the throat while the rest of us keep it busy." Ashe nodded, unfastening the Grim Dragon Sign. He put it on, taking a deep breath before grabbing Lúin. He half-expected to transform into a Crest Stone-powered monster himself, but he found that he was perfectly fine. Edelgard braced herself before swinging her axe out to the side, twisting her body around into a sideways twirl that almost resembled flickering petals of a flower in order to drive Aymr deep into the beast's left shoulder. She pulled on it, giving Ingrid some respite against the Demonic Beast's pressed claws. Byleth flicked the Sword of the Creator into a whip-like state, wrapping the tip around the monster's right hand. He pulled, twisting a lower part of the blade around the monster's left foot before releasing his grip on the weapon. Without its intended wielder bearing it, the sword began to retract, pulling the beast's limbs together and knocking it off balance. Ashe took advantage of this opening, driving Lúin into the monster's neck. Ingrid joined him, and the two combined their strength to hold the lance in place in the struggling monster's neck. Raphael came rushing over with a hammer he had grabbed from a death Agarthan, smashing it into the pommel of Lúin. The Demonic Beast shrieked in pain as the lance was driven in like a nail. It stopped struggling, and Ingrid ripped her beloved spear from the dead monster's neck. She shook droplets of black blood from the tip, running the spear along her gauntlet to clean it as best she could. She swung it onto her back again, allowing Ashe to hand the Grim Dragon sign back to her. The two knights nodded at each other, and Ingrid put the necklace on again.

"That's all of them." Flayn noted. The Adrestians looked around as purple energy rose from the dead Agarthans and the Demonic Beast, surging into a deeper part of the tomb.

"The mage." Edelgard growled. She, Ingrid, and Byleth set off running, followed closely by the rest of the Adrestians.

"I will raise you up, your body cleansed, your armour restored, and the arms of the people of the world will be in adoration of your return. Nemesis, the Agarthans are set in the place you left them. Unique king, there is none beside you, you alone have the strength of humanity. Mold Fódlan to your wish, King of Liberation, your wish alone. You yourself have lived a lifetime, and through my work, may you live again." Odesse commanded an incantation forward. The purple energy that came from his army flooded into the room, surrounding the sarcophagus. Odesse nodded at Chilon, who slammed Labrys into the lid of the sarcophagus. The cover cracked, and the energy began to enter it slowly. Chilon struck again, the fracture turning into a fissure and this allowing more energy in. "Lead humanity into an era beyond gods, an age of elites again. You will be our soldier once more, the blade in your hand will be our design, your mission will be our decree." Chilon shattered the lid with a third strike, and every bit of energy that Odesse absorbed flew inside. A hand shot out of the sarcophagus, grasping for the edge. Chilon held out his hand to the scrambling man within, and it was gripped. Chilon helped Nemesis out of the sarcophagus, and the King of Liberation leaned on the Agarthan General.

"Odesse, Chilon, my old friends." Nemesis smiled. His smile faded as he looked around at the tomb. "Where are we?"

"A tomb designed by Seiros a millennia ago to keep you from rising again," Odesse explained. "She damned the Agarthans to live with their sins. We chose to live for centuries, waiting for our vengeance."

"Hubris of the would-be Saints." Nemesis chuckled. The sound of ice shattering as Aymr and the Sword of the Creator made impact with its surface could be heard, and Odesse and Nemesis turned to the door. Edelgard, Ingrid, and Byleth burst into the room, weapons at the ready. "You lot... You lot I don't know." Nemesis paused, tilting his head as he looked at Byleth. "That sword... You bear the Crest of Flames, just as I do." He then turned his attention to Edelgard, his eyes filling with fire. "And you possess it as well, but you defile my legacy! You bear the blood of Seiros as well!" Ingrid pointed Lúin at him, stepping between Edelgard and Nemesis. Nemesis halted his tirade, intrigued. "I am Nemesis, King of Liberation, Hero among Heroes! You wear the armour of a knight, and I can smell the blood of Daphnel in your veins! Tell me, knight of Daphnel's spawn, who are you to stand against me?"

"Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard. No harm will come to my Emperor as long as I draw breath," Ingrid declared, preparing to attack the resurrected king. He looked at the weapon of his Elite, impressed by Ingrid's defiant stand.

"You are young, but you are not inexperienced. A true warrior must command a powerful presence. I praise yours. You are an ant to a boot, but you still stand." Nemesis smiled. "I will almost regret killing you, Ser Ingrid Galatea." The rest of the Adrestian force then arrived, and Odesse narrowed his eyes. He waved his hand, and the head and body of Dimitri appeared at Chilon's feet. The Great Knight swung Labrys onto his back and grabbed both parts of the Saviour King.

"Bias!" Odesse yelled. The Agarthans and the undead they created then vanished.

"What the hell just happened?" Ignatz asked.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid sat in her office, leaned back in her chair as she stared at Areadbhar. She had long since stopped having nightmares of killing Dimitri, but she knew they might begin again. The fear had been with her since joining the Adrestian Empire. Perhaps one day she would need to put Lúin through her childhood friend's heart.

Now here she was, less than two months after she buried him, having sliced his head off with Areadbhar.

No.

No, whatever that was, it wasn't Dimitri anymore. Her childhood friend may have become nigh unrecognizable to her during the war, but the Agarthans had turned him into this monster, turned him into their pawn.

She was going to kill them for it. For Dimitri's honour in death, and for Edelgard's dream of peace.

Honour. Peace.

These had been pipe dreams for Ingrid for the longest time. It was ironic that her finding honour was founded on betrayal, that her finding peace was founded on conflict. She abandoned everything she knew, every shred of honour she once held dear, in the name of something new. The Ingrid who first came to the Academy would be horrified at how readily she had brought herself to the Eagles.

That Ingrid didn't know the chance at a future she was missing.

Harpstring Moon, Day 7, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid ducked under Ferdinand's swing of the Spear of Assal, twirling Lúin in her hand. Ingrid's hair was tied up in tighter braids than usual and a stubby ponytail, while Ferdinand's hair still hung loose. Ingrid jabbed the lance forward, nicking the side of Ferdinand's training armour. She then swept his left leg with a swift kick, knocking the Prime Minister to the ground. She put her foot on his weapon hand gently before bringing Lúin to his throat. Ingrid grinned as Ferdinand tapped the floor. She offered him her hand, pulling him back to her feet.

"You are a terrifying force, Ingrid." Ferdinand groaned.

"Thank you. You're a nice sparring partner. You fight similar enough to me that I can figure out my own weaknesses." Ingrid smiled.

"Perhaps I should take a page from your book then." Ferdinand stretched to calm down from the training bout. Ingrid undid her ponytail, letting her hair loose while laughing. "Would you care to join me for tea after we've cleaned up?"

"Sounds lovely." Ingrid nodded.

Ingrid walked into Ferdinand's office, hands behind her back. She wore a sleeveless shirt like she had come to do in the past few days as well as comfortably loose pants. She looked around at the office. It was similar in shape to hers and Hubert's, likely because they were all in the same hallway. She took a deep breath of the tea brewing, smiling slightly.

"Mint leaf tea?" Ingrid asked.

"Ah, Ingrid. Just in time." Ferdinand looked up from the kettle. "And yes, it is. I understand from Marianne that it's one of your favourites."

"Ooh, Marianne?" Ingrid smirked, She paused, a confused expression spreading over her face. "My apologies, I don't know where that came from."

"Perhaps too much time with Dorothea." Ferdinand offered Ingrid a seat. She took it, picking up the teacup in front of her. She breathed in the tea, smiling at the familiar scent.

"Perhaps." Ingrid nodded.

"I must say, I'm a fan of your new dress sense. It's more practical in the heat. I'm rather glad you found the confidence in yourself to get some fresh air." Ferdinand sipped his tea. Ingrid looked at her left arm.

"Thank you. Growing up, my father never approved of my training or what I looked like because of it. When everyone here just accepted it instantly, it meant more to me than anyone could ever know." Ingrid stirred her tea. "Still, I..." Ingrid paused, thinking about how to say what she wanted to say. "I've been in Adrestia for three months. People know me as the Praetorian Guard, it's not as if my loyalty is in question to most of the populace. But I still feel strange being here, even if I had been thinking about it in the back of my head since before I joined the Eagles."

"Oh?" Ferdinand asked. "Do tell. If you feel comfortable of course."

"It's very difficult for a woman to live her own life in Faerghus. She will always be defined by the men in her life. That's just the culture. It's patriarchal. Adrestia is very different. I always knew it was. Growing up, my mother always told me that women from Adrestia were lacking in honour because they weren't quiet aides to their husbands. Hell, I didn't even hear the queen's name very often. We just knew her as Lambert's queen," Ingrid explained. Ferdinand's eyebrows shot up in shock.

"Elaine or Patricia?" Ferdinand asked. Ingrid stared at him, confused.

"Patricia. Who's Elaine?" Ingrid asked.

"Lambert's first queen, Dimitri's mother," Ferdinand explained. Ingrid set down her tea and threw her hands up.

"This is what I mean. I never even knew the name of one of my oldest friend's mother." Ingrid picked up her tea again. "That would have been my life in the Kingdom. That's what I thought my life had to be. But then I met the Eagles. Bernadetta was the heir to her family's house no matter what her marriage status was. Dorothea could forge her own life. Petra was the future Queen of Brigid. And then Edelgard. Edelgard was to be Emperor. It didn't matter that she was a woman." Ingrid sipped her tea. "I wondered what life would feel like if I was Adrestian. That was a strange thought. I believed myself a traitor to my King and my Kingdom just for having it. Felix can confirm that I was very rough on him during our training match the next morning." Ferdinand chuckled. "But then the Professor came and chose to teach you all. You flourished under his tutelage. You destroyed the Lions and Deer during the House sparring match after barely learning under him for any length of time. And then you all just kept learning. And I just had this... This moment. The day before I asked the Professor to join the Eagles."

Garreg Mach

Dormitories

Wyvern Moon, Day 11, Imperial Year 1180

Ingrid paced around her room, the Blue Lion brooch Dimitri had given her when she first came to the Academy set on her desk. Every time she passed the desk, she gave it a look. She had asked Felix and Sylvain to come to her room to talk after dinner. She hadn't told them what the conversation would be about because she wasn't certain she should go through with it.

No.

No, she had to do it. She had already had the treacherous thought. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't follow through. If she was to hang herself out of guilt, she might as well commit the crime.

"Felix, Sylvain, I'm leaving the Black Lions. I'm going to ask Professor Eisner if I can join the Blue Eagles." Ingrid paused. No, that wasn't right. "Goddess, Ingrid. You can't even say it to the empty air. How are you supposed to say it to them?" Ingrid turned, hearing a knock at her door.

Felix and Sylvain stepped up to Ingrid's door, knocking on it. Their old friend opened it with a faint smile, letting them both in.

"Ingrid, you said you needed to see us after dinner. It sounded urgent." Sylvain crossed his arms. Ingrid stared at him like a frightened deer, evidently trying to decide what to say. "You okay?"

"I'mleaving." Ingrid rushed the words out.

"Come again?" Sylvain asked. Ingrid took a deep breath. She needed to tell them this. She didn't want to blindside her best friends, her brothers.

"I'm leaving." Ingrid slowed down.

"The Academy?" Sylvain asked, his eyes widening. Felix remained stoic by his side.

"No, no." Ingrid shook her head. "I'm leaving the Lions. I'm going to ask Professor Eisner if I can join the Black Eagles tomorrow."

"Okay." Felix nodded. Ingrid paused. She was certain she would have had to do more to convince him. "If that's what it takes to achieve your dreams, do it."

"A month ago you said I was wasting my time with my dreams and that I should find a husband." Ingrid crossed her arms.

"I did." Felix nodded. "I said you were wasting time, I said I hated blind obedience. I didn't tell you the whole story because it wasn't time for you to hear it yet. I think you're wasting your time in the Lions. I think you're wasting your time in the Kingdom, honestly. We all know where it goes when you ask the Professor to join his house.

"I'll be branded a traitor to the Kingdom for fighting under the Empire's banner." Ingrid closed her eyes and sighed.

"May I add something?" Sylvain asked, his tact unusual. Ingrid nodded. "Good." Ingrid was taken aback by his declaration. "You aren't meant to be in the Kingdom, Ingrid. You're meant to be something more. You don't need me or Felix to tell you that. We all know that this isn't just you telling us you're not coming back to the Lions, this is you telling us that you're not coming back to Faerghus when this year is over."

"I mean... Perhaps if I still act as though I am a Lion despite walking under the Empire's banner, our people will see that I am doing what I believe is best for Galatea." Ingrid hesitated. Sylvain pulled her in for a hug, causing her to yelp in shock.

"Just do what's right for you, Ingrid. That's what matters." Felix gave her a pat on the shoulder.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Harpstring Moon, Day 7, Imperial Year 1181

"So that's why you kept wearing the Blue Lion uniform." Ferdinand nodded slowly. Ingrid smiled slightly.

"Adrestia presented me with more freedom in a single day than I had ever experienced before. I was honestly overwhelmed." Ingrid massaged her face. "All of you took me in. Caspar challenging me to eating contests, tea with you, a friendship with Hubert that I never believed was possible."

"You and he are certainly thick as thieves." Ferdinand chuckled.

"I'm shocked the rumor mills aren't flowing with whispers that we are romantically involved." Ingrid leaned back and let out an amused sigh. Ferdinand paused.

"Ah, you haven't found out yet. Odd. He's uncharacteristically public about his romantic and sexual orientations," Ferdinand said. Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe he'll mind if I tell you. He's demiromantic and asexual. Words I suppose don't exist in Faerghus vernacular. He only forms romantic attraction when he has the right emotional connection, and he experiences no sexual attraction in general."

"Oh." Ingrid nodded. "It's good he understands himself like that." Ingrid's voice dropped to a whisper as she looked into her teacup. "Not everyone does." Ferdinand raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue. Ingrid looked back to him. "I presume he didn't tell me because he didn't want to swamp me with so much new information right away." Ingrid chuckled. "Hell, I'm fairly certain he knew just how close I came to breaking down when he told me that my haircut was my choice."

"It's shorter than usual. Keep it up and you'll be competing with Leonie." Ferdinand joked. Ingrid laughed, touching her hair. She had it cut an inch shorter than usual because she wanted to play around with the feeling.

"Maybe at some point I'll go full Leonie. Hell, maybe full Raphael. Honestly, I don't know what I'll do with it. I like this general length, this general style, but I know I'm free to experiment. That's my life now. Free." Ingrid paused. "Not to say I'm free of regrets. I have some here and there. My biggest one is that Dimitri and Dedue won't see the reason behind Edelgard's mission, behind why I stand with her. I've known Dimitri for years. He was a prince, I was a lowly noblewoman, but we were friends to some extent. I know it hurts that I left, that Felix and Sylvain left. But I know that they can't see that. They just see..."

"Betrayal," Ferdinand said. Ingrid nodded.

"I know I might face them. I know I might have to kill them. If that day comes, I will do my duty as Praetorian Guard and strike down those who stand in the way of my Emperor. But my duty as Ingrid means that I won't find solace in their deaths."

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Felix stood in a crypt, looking over a pedestal that lacked a sarcophagus. The room resembled the First Tomb of the Praetorian Guard, but it had a more modern touch to its architecture. Sylvain walked in slowly, looking around.

"So this is the... What, fourth Praetorian Guard tomb?" Sylvain asked. Felix nodded, putting his hand on the slab he was standing by. Sylvain walked over, looking down at the slab, touching the words engraved above where the head of its future inhabitant would lay. "Ser Ingrid, Praetorian of Emperor Edelgard." Sylvain looked up at Felix. "Ah."

"This is where Ingrid will be someday." Felix rubbed his thumb along her name. "Adrestian tradition states that the bodies of Emperors, Consorts, and Guards must be kept a certain way. She'll be embalmed, preserved, remembered. It's a thing about how they remain loyal to their Empire and their people even in death." Felix looked up at Sylvain. "It's the burial she's earned."

"Damn right." Sylvain nodded. "You're thinking about the Royal Mausoleum back in Fhirdiad, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Felix nodded. "Perhaps if we had tried harder to get there, we could have buried Dimitri in there. We could have buried Dedue with him."

"We didn't have time, Felix. Vultures and wolves would have gotten to them. It's not like we could guard their corpses during the battle against Rhea." Sylvain sighed.

"You remember what happened when Ingrid told us she was joining the Eagles?" Felix asked.

"Yeah. We both knew it wasn't a temporary thing, no matter what she said." Sylvain smiled. "You remember what happened a couple days later?"

"Yeah." Felix nodded.

Garreg Mach

Dining Hall

Wyvern Moon, Day 15, Imperial Year 1180

Dimitri, Dedue, Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette sat at a table together, eating lunch. Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid walked into the Dining Hall, stepping into line for food. Dimitri sighed, scratching the side of his head.

"Are you alright, Dimitri?" Mercedes asked, touching his shoulder.

"Mmm." Dimitri nodded slightly. He saw Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid leave the queue for food and seperate. While Felix and Sylvain walked towards the Blue Lions, Ingrid walked over to the Black Eagles. It wasn't a shock, Dimitri knew full well that she had transferred classes. He just hadn't expected her to transfer so much. It had only been a few days and yet it felt like she was already gone.

"That's my sister you're glowering at, Boar Prince." Felix's voice cut through Dimitri's thoughts as he and Sylvain sat down.

"She didn't actually marry your brother, Felix." Sylvain nudged Felix's shoulder.

"Don't care, she's as good as my sister." Felix rolled his eyes. "Care to explain the scowl, or is that just your resting face?"

"Watch your tongue." Dedue glared at Felix. Felix gave him an annoyed look.

"Very well, Felix. She is your sister. Are you not worried about your sister's future?" Dimitri crossed his arms.

"In general, no. She's good at doing that herself." Felix took a sip of his soup.

Dimitri sighed. He couldn't help but feel that Felix was being flippant to antagonize him. Dimitri knew Ingrid had committed social treason in Faerghus by crossing the line to the Eagles. She would be lucky to end up as anything beyond an outcast. Yet here was Felix brushing off those concerns.

"Then why would she do something like what she has? You know it will make life in Faerghus harder for her when she gets back." Dimitri leaned forward. Felix put his hand in front of his mouth as his chest began to shake slightly. He then started laughing, hitting his hand against the table in joy. The room looked at him with confused expressions.

"You think..." Felix struggled to speak through his laughter. He took a deep breath before drinking some water. His voice dropped quieter so that the Eagles wouldn't be able to hear him. "You think she'll come back to Faerghus? Are you serious, Boar Prince?" Felix leaned forward, looking Dimitri in the eyes. "The Eagles love her. Watch them."

Dimitri looked up, trying to watch the Black Eagles table discreetly. Ferdinand was currently telling some kind of dramatic story, much to the joy of Dorothea, Petra, and Ingrid. Caspar then walked over to the Black Eagles table with two small plates in hand. He set one in front of Ingrid and gave her a look of challenge. Dimitri recognized it as some dish that he didn't know the name of, but he knew it was obscenely spicy. Ingrid cracked her knuckles and stretched, grinning at Caspar. The two both picked up the dish, putting it in their mouths in one bite. Both Caspar and Ingrid chewed slowly, with Ingrid nodding as she chewed. Dorothea, Edelgard, and Ferdinand all began to chant Ingrid's name quietly. Ingrid swallowed, throwing up her hands as she did, and the Black Eagles table erupted into cheers. Linhardt handed her a flask of vulnerary, which she took a drink from.

"She's happy with them like she's never been with us." Felix said as Dimitri turned back to him. "Do you know the Empire's policy on women knights is? They don't have one because anyone can become a knight over there no matter what. The Princess and von Aegir are already discussing getting her the best pegasus they can find in the Empire in time for her exam. I heard them talking about it in a seminar earlier today."

"Ingrid's taking the pegasus exam?" Ashe asked.

"Yeah." Felix nodded. "Professor Eisner's helping her prepare, Petra's doing flying practice with her, she's planning to go to Seteth for a couple pointers. She's going to pass that exam with flying colours. And they know it, so they're getting a pegasus ready for her."

"So they've bought her loyalty." Dedue scoffed. Felix rolled his eyes.

"Listen, lapdog." Felix turned to Dedue. "They didn't have to buy her loyalty. She doesn't even know about the pegasus because it's a surprise. No, she gave her loyalty to them for free. What would she have been known as in Faerghus? Count Galatea's daughter, my brother's not quite widow, someone else's wife. Never Ingrid. But in Empire? Maybe they'll be suspicious of this girl from Galatea for a while in the Empire, but they'll know her as Ingrid there. She won't be defined by anyone else. That's all she's ever wanted." Felix turned back to Dimitri. "What do you have to offer that they can't give her?"

"I will be king. If she proves her worth as a knight, I will make her one." Dimitri defended himself.

"You give her a position despite public views on her being a traitor, she's only got something because of your graces." Felix sighed. "Besides, Boar Prince. You still don't get it. You just said 'if' she proves her worth as a knight. How long will it take until your advisors will accept her a knight? Until some other knight takes her on as a squire? Years? Decades?"

"Then maybe someone made a mistake!" Dimitri slammed his fist into the table as he stood up. The Dining Hall all turned to look at him. Dimitri sighed, sitting down slowly.

"I doubt she'll be the last to make it," Felix said vaguely before returning to his lunch in silence.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Mercedes sat in her room, stirring a cup of tea. Chamomile. It wasn't her favourite, but it was palatable. The taste didn't matter, however. It was Dimitri's favourite tea. Ingrid remembered their fallen friend by taking up his glaive. Felix remembered their friend by fighting for a peaceful future in his stead.

This was how Mercedes remembered. She remembered the good times. She remembered tea time with Dimitri and Dedue, chatting about their lives, their dreams, their hopes. Dedue would share bits and pieces about Duscur with her. She was eager to learn about his culture, his religion. She wanted him to feel like he wasn't alone.

But then she left him. Him and Dimitri both.

Mercedes had long hoped that perhaps her leaving the Kingdom and returning to her birthplace would show them that she knew Edelgard's cause was just. Dimitri and Dedue couldn't see that reason, though.

Mercedes picked up her tea, a lock of hair slipping from behind her ear and into her face. She returned it to its proper position with a quick gesture, sipping the tea. She let the smell and taste seep into her body, trying to bring back memories of happier times. Failing that, she wanted a memory of hope.

Verdant Rain Moon, Day 31, Imperial Year 1181

Mercedes brushed her hair slowly. It was a sad day among the Blue Lions. In a better time, they would be celebrating Dedue's birthday. Perhaps they wouldn't be in the same house, but they could still all be cordial. It was only right.

Today was not that better time. Today they were not cordial. Today was not right.

Mercedes shook her hair out, lifting it off of her neck for a moment. She let it fall against he back with a quiet slap, bowing her head. She heard a knock at the door, turning to it.

"Come in," Mercedes said. Marianne entered, a pair of scissors made from shining silver in her hand. Marianne's hair was more put together now, evident that she was sleeping for better. Her bangs were also cut short, kissing her eyebrows instead of hanging in front of her eyelids.

"I was right, Ferdinand's mother did own a pair. He said we could borrow them," Marianne explained. "He did note that it was a... How did he put it? A fascinatingly specific request. Pure silver scissors, that is."

"I know." Mercedes nodded. "But I want to get this right." Marianne raised an eyebrow. "I have been looking into Duscur's culture. They had a ritual for when you lose a dear friend. It feels like losing part of yourself, so you give up a part of yourself. Khensu is the protector deity of Duscur, and silver is his sacred metal. To call upon him, you need an instrument made of his sacred metal."

"I understand." Marianne nodded. Mercedes wrapped a shawl around herself to keep the hair off of her clothes. Marianne stepped behind her friend, running her hands through Mercedes' hair. Mercedes held out her hand.

"I need to make the first cut," Mercedes explained. Marianne handed Mercedes the scissors. Mercedes put them just below her chin, closing her eyes again. "Hail to thee, Messenger of the Gods, Protector of Travelers. I pray to thee, as my friends journey lost in the world. Bring them safe travel and protection, bring them sound vision and enlightenment. Safeguard them from pain, sickness, and disease. Protect them from decay, madness, and death." Mercedes cut the lock of hair off, sending the soft blonde stands floating to the ground. "I offer part of myself to you. Accept my offering, oh great and eternal Khensu." Mercedes opened her eyes, offering the scissors back to Marianne.

"Cut the rest the same length?" Marianne asked.

"Yes, please." Mercedes nodded. "And bangs like yours." Marianne nodded, beginning to cut.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Annette sat with Ashe's head in her lap, running her hands through his hair. Both of their eyes looked watery, evidence that they had been crying. The sun was setting behind them, casting the balcony they sat on in calm orange light.

"We just buried him, and now he's back and Those Who Slither in the Dark or the Agarthans or whatever the hell they're supposed to be called are controlling him. It's not fair. He deserves to rest." Annette took a hand out of Ashe's hair to dry a tear.

"I just..." Ashe sighed. "When Ingrid gave me the Dragon Sign, I felt this weird thing in me." He looked up at Annette. "With your Crest, do you ever feel this sort of... I don't know, spirit kind of thing? Like there's another soul in your body." Annette touched her sternum, the place where the Crest of Dominic's glyph sat on her body.

"Every time I channel its power." Annette nodded. "Hanneman thinks its the bloodline of a Crest coming together to help the people with it currently."

"I think I felt Dimitri's presence," Ashe explained. "And I know that sounds crazy, I wasn't even using Areadbhar. By all reason, I should have felt one of Ingrid's ancestors. But no. I felt Dimitri. And I know it was him. There's just something about him that you can feel."

"No, no. I get it. He's unmistakable," Annette agreed.

"He was." Felix's voice cut through the air. Annette and Ashe sat up, looking over to see the silent swordsman leaning against the door. Sylvain loomed behind him. Mercedes and Ingrid walked out onto the balcony as well, bringing together the entirety of what was left of the former Blue Lions.

"I assume all of you have also been thinking long and hard about what Ashe and I saw in the tomb." Ingrid stepped forward, drawing Areadbhar from her back. "About how, after everything, Dimitri earned his quiet epilogue. About how those monsters violated his epilogue."

Faerghus

Tailtean Plains

Great Tree Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

Edelgard, Byleth, and Ingrid stood opposite of Dimitri, all four of them with their Relics in hand.

"You will not kill one more soul. You will not steal one more thing. I will not allow it. Here and now, I stand against you!" Dimitri yelled. He pointed Areadbhar at Edelgard. "Must you continue to conquer? Continue to kill?"

"Must you continue to reconquer? Continue to kill in retaliation? I will not stop. There is nothing I would not sacrifice to cut a path to Fódlan's new dawn!" Edelgard readied Aymr and her shield for Dimitri's rage.

"Enough of this madness! This future of yours is built upon a foundation of corpses and tears!" Dimitri's face quivered with rage as he gripped his glaive tighter.

"Dimitri, you're alone. Stand down," Ingrid ordered, pointing Lúin at him. Her voice became quieter, softer. Her eye began to plead with Dimitri. "You don't have to die here."

"Silence, woman!" Dimitri roared. Ingrid dropped her attempt at pleasantries and let out a small growl in response. "Why am I alone? Because of you! Because of Felix and because of Sylvain and because of Mercedes and because of Annette and because of Ashe! You didn't stop at betraying me! Not only have you become the emperor's lap dog, but you have turned against your own people. From the depths of hell, you will regret tainting the land of Faerghus!"

"Dimitri, Rhea will not get here in time to help. Dedue is dying. In his name, live on. Surrender." Byleth brandished the Sword of the Creator. Dimitri let out a huff of air that quickly turned into a series of huffs that became a laugh.

"Surrender? To you and this damned creature and her damned traitorous wench?" Dimitri laughed, an almost crazed look in his eyes. "Why did you choose Edelgard, Professor? Why did you choose to walk this savage, bloody path? I cannot shake this feeling of regret... Regret that I must kill you now."

Dimitri charged forward at Ingrid, intent on killing who he saw as a traitor and a coward first. He swung Areadbhar up at her head, but she twisted out of the way to avoid the strike. She felt cold air from the glaive's swing whip past her neck, knowing that the attack would have sliced off her braid if she still had it. He was about to swing it again when Byleth grabbed the handle of the Saviour King's weapon, struggling to hold the man's unnatural strength back. Byleth loosened the Sword of the Creator, flicking it around Dimitri's right ankle before pulling with everything he had in order to knock the king off balance. Edelgard swung Aymr at Dimitri, but Dimitri pulled back on his leg. Byleth fell forward into the path of Aymr, but Ingrid rushed in and blocked the axe with Lúin. She then jumped into the air, kicking off of Edelgard's shield to gain extra height. She plunged her lance towards Dimitri's chest, but he kicked the now retracted Sword of the Creator into his hand to deflect the attack. He then grabbed Ingrid by the neck and snarled, a crazed look in his eyes. Ingrid struggled as he lifted her into the air, attempting to choke the life out of the Praetorian Guard. Edelgard ran forward, before swinging her axe out to the side, using the momentum to twist her body around into a sideways twirl that almost resembled flickering petals of a flower. She embedded Aymr into Dimitri's left shoulder pad, breaking through it and piercing his skin. Dimitri released Ingrid from his grip, causing her to cough in pain as she hit the ground. Edelgard ducked under Dimitri's arm and grabbed the handle of Aymr from behind, trying to dislocate his shoulder. Byleth ran over, joined her attack. The efforts of both the Emperor and the Fell Star proved to be enough, and Dimitri's shoulder let out a sickening pop as it gave way, causing the king to growl in pain. Ingrid rose, massaging her neck as she mustered the vocal strength for a whistle. Olympia came swooping down, and Ingrid gave a second command of a whistle before driving Lúin down into Dimitri's leg. Dimitri grunted as she forced the lance into his shin. With another whistle she commanded Olympia forward, and the pegasus kicked Dimitri in the chest. He slammed into the ground, reaching for Areadbhar. Byleth kicked the lance away, stomping on Dimitri's right hand. He then drew his rapier and stabbed downward at Dimitri's right elbow, the thin blade of the sword slipping past his armour and cutting into his muscles. Dimitri finally yelled in pain as he felt the tendons in his dominant arm tear. Byleth and Ingrid both removed their weapons from Dimitri's flesh as Edelgard pulled Aymr from his armour. Dimitri used his still good leg to prop himself up against a rock, staring deep into Edelgard's eyes with hellfire in his own.

"Edelgard! You... I will kill you! You will know the regret of my father, who was killed for you! Of my stepmother, who was slain by her own daughter! You will bow your head before all the lives you trampled for your ideals before you die in misery!" Dimitri ground his teeth together so hard that it almost appeared as though they would shatter.

"Your obsession with me is appalling. If you were a normal human, you would most certainly have died already. Farewell, King of Delusion. If only we were born in a time of peace, you might have lived a joyful life as a benevolent ruler." Edelgard raised Aymr. Dimitri bowed his head, expecting Edelgard to use her axe to claim it. Instead, he heard the sound of the axe impacting dirt. He opened his eyes, finding Aymr embedded into the ground. Edelgard then reached into her armour and drew a dagger that Dimitri knew all too well.

It was the dagger he had given her a lifetime ago.

"To the fires of eternity with you... El..." Dimitri growled. Edelgard drove the dagger into his chest. She lowered Dimitri to the ground. pulling the dagger from his chest. She set it down next to him, returning his gift to her. She and Byleth then walked away to find the state of the rest of the battle, Edelgard giving Ingrid a nod as she left. Ingrid stepped back, closing her eyes. She intended to bear witness to Dimitri's final moments, but she wanted to give him the privacy of death's embrace.

"Not now. Not before...that woman's blood is spilled." Dimitri tried to sit up as he reached out to the retreating Edelgard, but he crumpled back to the ground. He heard the sound of a man limping towards him. He looked up, seeing Sylvain and Felix helping Dedue over. Annette, Ashe, and Mercedes trailed close behind. Felix and Sylvain released Dedue, and he fell to his knees by Dimitri's side.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty!" Dedue lifted Dimitri out of the dirt, cradling his head in his lap.

"Stop calling me that." Dimitri looked into Dedue's eyes, finding it hard to focus as he slowly died. Dedue had a small smile on his face when he heard Dimitri's voice.

"Ah, thank the..." Dedue's face fell as he looked at the stab wound in Dimitri's chest. "No..."

"Dedue... It seems I will die... Before I can get revenge for everyone..." Dimitri groaned. Dedue said nothing in reply. "My family, my friends, my home... Everything that truly mattered to me... I couldn't..."

"You're wrong!" Dedue spoke with as much force as he could. Hanneman's spells had destroyed him. Dedue knew he was also not long for this world, but he was determined to ensure his lord and liege died at peace. "Because of you, I was able to live on until today. You saved me. These past nine years... I am proud to have been at your side. It was a joy I never could have hoped for. Despite all, I count myself a lucky man."

"Is that so? I see... I am glad..." Dimitri smiled.

"You must be weary, Your Majesty. Please..." Dedue touched his forehead to Dimitri's. "Rest in peace."

"Only if you..." Dimitri let out one more laboured breath. "Rest with me..." Dimitri's body fell limp.

"I pray I will... See you again... Dimitri..." Dedue collapsed as well.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid examined the mighty glaive of Blaiddyd in her hand. Areadbhar glistened in the sunset, the beauty of the craftsmanship of the Hero's Relic shining through.

"Felix, when you put Areadbhar in my hand, you told me that it belonged to the one who will lead the people of Faerghus into the future. You put the weight of what happens next in my hands and onto my shoulders." Felix nodded slowly. "I still don't know what that means, how I'll do that." Ingrid looked around at her friends, her family. "But I will. I will find a way to fulfill the promise I made to all of you. And I'm going to start by getting Dimitri's body back. We are going to lay him to rest again, lay him to rest for the final time." Ingrid examined Areadbhar. "And when I find who did this to him, when I find out exactly who defiled him, I am going to kill them." Ingrid pulled her father's old circlet from her armour. "My mother gave me this. It was my father's. I offered it to my mother, but she wouldn't take it. She told me it belonged to the head of House Galatea."

"May I?" Sylvain asked, holding out his hand. Ingrid nodded, handing him the circlet. Sylvain began to examine it. The gathered group with the exception of Ingrid then looked around at each other before nodding amongst themselves. "In lieu of the crown."

"What?" Ingrid asked.

"In lieu the crown." Annette began. "An ancient tradition in Faerghus, one that has never been invoked before. In the event that the bloodline of Blaiddyd is lost, another will be chosen to serve in its stead until a time when a more worthy heir is found." Felix drew his sword.

"In the name of House Fraldarius, I invoke the tradition." Felix took the circlet from Sylvain.

"Felix, I-" Ingrid began.

"Faerghus needs something, Ingrid. Faerghus needs you." Felix cut her off. Ingrid bowed her head, allowing Felix to put the circlet on her head. "Before the gathered nobility of the Kingdom, I make this declaration. Until a brighter dawn stretches over Faerghus, Ser Ingrid Galatea of Adrestia, Praetorian Guard of Emperor Edelgard, will serve as her queen." Ingrid felt the light touch of the circlet resting against her hair, taking a deep breath. She watched as the former Blue Lions stepped back, kneeling before her.

"Shall I dispatch messengers to Faerghus about this new development?" Edelgard's voice cut through the air. Ingrid looked up, seeing the smiling Edelgard. Felix, Sylvain, Ashe, Annette, and Mercedes rose, turning to the Emperor. "May I have a moment with Ingrid?"

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid watched as Edelgard stepped closer, her muscles tensing up slightly.

"Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea of Adrestia, Knight of the Throne, Praetorian Guard of Emperor Edelgard, Queen Regent of Faerghus." Edelgard nodded, smiling. She turned to look at the sunset, her face now hidden from Ingrid's view. "You gain more and more titles as time goes on."

"Edelgard, I-" Ingrid began.

"Do you want to rule Faerghus, Ingrid?" Edelgard asked. Ingrid froze in her tracks.

Did she?

"No. Yes. I don't know." Ingrid sighed. "I am incredibly happy with my position as Praetorian Guard, with my place in your heart. I would trade neither of those for any throne, any crown, any country." Ingrid's eyes began to water. "But the people of Faerghus need someone to lead them in some way. In time, a more permanent solution can be found. The Kingdom once broke away from the Empire, it can join it again. Until a peaceful day when we can figure out how to do that, Faerghus tradition is the only thing that will keep the people together." Ingrid touched the circlet on her head. "I'm sorry, Edelgard. If I am forced to pick between being your Praetorian Guard and being the Regent of Faerghus, I must choose-"

"Ingrid." Edelgard whipped around, cutting Ingrid off. She walked over to Ingrid, a look of sympathy on her face. "Ingrid, my knight, my Guard, my love. I still love you, no matter how many titles you hold. I will not ask you to pick between me and people who need your leadership." Edelgard took Ingrid's face in her hands, pulling the taller woman down into a kiss. After a moment, she pulled away and smiled widely. "Your Majesty."

"Thank you." Ingrid smiled and laughed, drying her eyes.

"Come. I have something to show you." Edelgard led Ingrid away.

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Odesse, Chilon, Nemesis, and the body of Dimitri emerged from a portal into Bias' laboratory. Waiting for them were Thales, Myson, Bias, and Pittacus. Chilon kicked Dimitri's head up into Bias' hands, lifting the undead king's body up.

"Yes, if you could put him back together, that would be useful." Odesse looked at Bias, who nodded. Nemesis then looked at Thales, pulling him in for a quick embrace.

"It's good to be back, old friend." Nemesis smiled slightly.

"It's good to have you back." Thales nodded.  Pittacus smiled, crossing her arms. Nemesis gave her prosthetic a curious look.

"You all have been wounded greatly in my absence." Nemesis noted.

"Cichol took Pittacus' arm, Indech took Chilon's eye, Cethleann took Myson's legs, and Macuil took Bias' face." Thales sighed.

"And Seiros snapped my spine." Odesse deployed his extra limbs. Nemesis nodded with sympathy, looking at Thales again.

"Did those demons take anything from you?" Nemesis asked.

"My friend," Thales replied. Nemesis smiled. Pittacus then walked over to the door, taking a package from an Agarthan who entered.

"What happened to Solon?" Nemesis asked.

"Murdered." Odesse explained. "By the Fell Star, the one who holds your sword."

"Then I am further motivated to reclaim my blade from his corpse." Nemesis sneered.

"This should help you get started." Pittacus opened the package, revealing her recreation of the Aegis Shield.

"Fraldarius' shield." Nemesis took the Dark Aegis Shield in hand, turning it in his hands. "Your craftsmanship is excellent, Pittacus. You've not lost your touch since I've been gone."

"Myson, Odesse, I leave things in your hands. I must return to my meditations." Thales folded his arms behind his back. "Nemesis, you will find that many of the Agarthan magicks have sadly weakened in your absence. We have begun mastering them once more. Your sword and our sorcery will finally triumph over the people aided by the demons." Thales left the room. Nemesis turned to Myson and Odesse.

"I presume your machinations are not a part of you that has been weakened by time." Nemesis slipped his arm into the Dark Aegis Shield.

"Indeed." Odesse smiled. Myson projected a hologram from his left knee, displaying a fortress in Fraldarius. "This is the Great Fraldarius Mausoleum. Their greatest heroes are entombed within, and that includes Fraldarius herself. I need to get in there, which means I need a distraction. That's where Myson comes in. He's going to spout one of his infamous speeches, and they're going to send a small party of guards to capture him. Bias will then warp you in, Nemesis. You will unleash hell, forcing them to call out more aid. While that happens, I can slip through one of their emergency tunnels."

"Here's the location of that tunnel. Pulled straight from the head of one of their guards, who you will be in disguise as." Myson handed a map to Odesse, who evaluated it.

"Excellent. Shall we?"

Adrestia

Enbarr

Edelgard and Ingrid walked into a circular room with a spiral staircase in the middle. The walls surrounding the staircase stretched upwards and were covered with portraits recording the Emperors of Adrestia and their various courtiers. Next to the first step of the staircase was a slab of stone that had a portrait of dedicated to the current Emperor. Ingrid looked at the painting for a moment, gazing upon the various figures. Edelgard sat upon a throne with the Sword of the Creator embedded into the ground by her right hand. Behind the throne stood Hubert and Ferdinand, Hubert on the right with magic gathering to his fingertips and Ferdinand on the left with the Spear of Assal in hand.

The final person in the painting was Ingrid.

The painting depicted Ingrid holding Lúin and wearing a uniform she almost never wore: Her formal attire. It was similar to the armour she normally wore, but the red highlights on it were covered in gold. The black furs and short red cape that typically graced her shoulders and back were respectively replaced with golden collar details designed to look like eagle wings and a full-length cape that reached over her chest and connected in the middle of her crest with a large golden emblem that depicted the Adrestian coat of arms with the Crest of Daphnel emblazoned in front of it. Ingrid always felt the uniform was too flashy for her position, it didn't quite fit for a knight. She knew that every Praetorian Guard before her wore something similar, it just never felt right for Ingrid.

"I do like that armour on you." Edelgard stood on her toes so she could more easily kiss the back of Ingrid's neck. Ingrid melted into the gesture with a happy sigh, something which caused Edelgard to giggle. "Not as much as I like hearing you happy." Edelgard took Ingrid's hand and led her up the staircase. Each floor of this Tower of the Emperors had 10 portraits, with seven fully filled floors already. Edelgard was the seventy-sixth Emperor, and Ingrid led her up to the eighth floor where her portrait would one day hang. The two paused at the portrait of Edelgard's father, the name on it reading Ionius Liebefriedrich.

Great Tree Moon, Day 20, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid sat in her chair, reading a novel to the light of her fireplace as she pet the purring Augusta who sat curled in her lap.

"Augusta, the person you're named after just showed up." Ingrid smiled at the cat. Augusta perked up, rolling onto her back and meowing happily. Ingrid giggled, scratching Augusta under her chin. Ingrid turned as a knock came from the door. She closed her book and set it down on her table, lifting up Augusta. The cat mewed in protest as Ingrid set her on the bed before walking over to the door. She opened it, finding Edelgard standing behind it with a solemn expression on her face. It contrasted with her sleeping attire and relaxed hair, though her crown was firmly on her head. The golden rods that were normally concealed by the Emperor's buns glimmered in the light of the late night. Most notable to Ingrid, however, was that the sadness in Edelgard's eyes that she always tried her best to hide was on full display.

"Get Lúin and your sword. No time for armour. Come with me," Edelgard ordered. Ingrid nodded, running over to her weapons and pulling them from the wall. She followed Edelgard down the hallway, the two walking briskly. Ingrid handed Lúin to Edelgard so she could wrap the belt of her sword's scabbard around her waist. She then took the lance back, looking at Edelgard closely as she did.

"My Em-" Ingrid cut herself off. Despite the crown, Edelgard hadn't come to her door dressed like this to act like an Emperor. "Edelgard." The white haired woman let out a sigh that sounded like a mix of sadness and relief. "Is someone hurt?"

"Yes." Edelgard nodded. "Me." Ingrid's face twitched in rage. She instantly began making promises of vengeance and justice against whoever hurt-

"Ingrid." Edelgard snapped Ingrid out of her moment of anger. "I am not hurt in a way you can protect me from. I am hurt in a way that I knew was inevitable since I learned what death was. You can't stop the hurt, but I need someone beside me to help me get through it."

The two reached a door, and Ingrid knew exactly why they were there.

It was the door to Ionius IX's chambers. Edelgard's father's chambers.

Edelgard's dying father.

Edelgard opened the door and walked in slowly, gesturing for Ingrid to follow. Linhardt was waiting for them, his arms crossed.

"How long does he have?" Edelgard asked.

"Could be any minute now, honestly." Linhardt walked towards the door. He gave Edelgard a side hug and a sympathetic look before leaving. Edelgard and Ingrid walked deeper into the room, finding a man with grey hair tied up in a tight bun sitting next to Ionius' bed, holding the hand of the dying Emperor emeritus. He looked up at Ingrid and Edelgard, smiling sadly.

"Edelgard, Ser Ingrid," The man said, bowing his head.

"Ser Friedrich." Ingrid bowed her head to him.

"Father?" Edelgard asked. Her voice was small. This was no Emperor. This was a woman watching her father's flame burn out.

"Edelgard..." Ionius' weak voice came from the bed as he reached out to his daughter. "My darling daughter, please come closer. I am afraid I cannot see you well." Edelgard came over, sitting on her father's bed. She leaned down, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, Father." Edelgard smiled warmly at her father. through the tears that were slowly developing in her eyes.

"Your hair... White." Ionius smiled. "I have lived long enough to see you live a life?"

"You've lived long enough to set me out on my own." Edelgard nodded. Ionius squinted at Ingrid. He pointed at her.

"You. Come here," Ionius ordered. Ingrid stepped forward. "You are a knight."

"I am Ser Ingrid. I serve as your daughter's Praetorian Guard," Ingrid explained, though her tone indicated it wasn't the first time. Ionius' expression became confused.

"Praetorian?" Ionius shook his head. "No, no. Friedrich is the Praetorian Guard, only an Emperor has a Praetorian Guard." Ionius whipped around to face Ingrid with what little speed and strength as he could muster. "Edelgard, we must conduct the ceremony. You have the title passed to you before I am dead. There cannot be a succession crisis."

"Father." Edelgard put her hand on her father's shoulder. "The ceremony is done. Months ago now. You passed the title already."

"No, no! The ceremony!" Ionius yelled. He tried to rise, but Ingrid held him back. "Unhand me, knight!" He thrashed out, trying to escape Ingrid's grip. "Friedrich, help me! The knight has me! Knight, you will be executed for this!" Friedrich gave Edelgard a sad look.

"Ingrid, can-" Edelgard began.

"Yes. Do what you need to." Ingrid cut her off. Edelgard and Friedrich rose and walked away from the bed, getting out of earshot from Ionius.

"That's the first time he's had a violent reaction to that explanation." Friedrich sighed. "I fear he will die tonight."

"How are you with it?" Edelgard asked.

"As his chosen knight? It is both the dream and the nightmare of a Praetorian Guard to outlive their Emperor. We hope we protected them until old age carried them away, but we fear that we may one day fail at our great duty to the throne," Friedrich replied. He let out a sad sigh. "And as his consort? I am watching the man I've loved for thirty years fall apart. There are mornings he forgets even me."

"I'm sorry, Friedrich." Edelgard pulled him in for a hug.

"Friedrich, where is Friedrich?" Ionius asked.

"He's coming, Your Majesty." Ingrid assured him. Friedrich rushed over to the Emperor emeritus, offering Ionius his hand.

"Friedrich, my knight, my Guard, my love." Ionius held Friedrich's hand. "I fear I am not long for this world. I must... See my daughter one more time."

"Father." Edelgard stepped forward, returning to her father's side.

"Edelgard..." Ionius reached out to his daughter again. "My darling daughter, please come closer. I am afraid I cannot see you well." Edelgard froze hearing her father's repeated words.

"Hello, Father." Edelgard smiled through the tears that were slowly developing in her eyes.

"Your hair... White." Ionius smiled. "I have lived long enough to see you live a life?" Edelgard closed her eyes and touched her forehead to her father's hands.

"Yes, Father," Edelgard said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It is time for your last rites, Ionius." Friedrich kissed Ionius on the forehead. Edelgard nodded at Ingrid.

Ingrid had performed this duty a handful of times already. In her short tenure as Praetorian Guard, old soldiers had requested that the new chosen knight of the Emperor be the one to help guide them out of this world. She drew her sword, holding it close to her face, the center of the hilt in front of her right eye.

"My name is Ser Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Praetorian Guard of Emperor Edelgard and Knight of the Throne of Adrestia." Ingrid turned her sword around, holding the hilt with both hands and pointing it towards the ground. "What name do you wish to be known as for time eternal?"

"Ionius Liebefriedrich," Ionius declared. Friedrich smiled despite the tears. In death, Ionius desired to be known as his love, not as an Emperor.

"Ionius Liebefriedrich, when you sit at the table with Wilhelm, what virtue do you wish to be remembered for?" Ingrid asked.

"Above all else, the love for my family." Ionius coughed, taking hold of both Edelgard and Friedrich's hands.

"Then you will journey into the next world, Ionius Liebefriedrich, remembered as a man of love," Ingrid declared. Edelgard picked up a bow made of silver and an arrow made of gold, laying both of them on her father's chest.

"In your youth, you held a bow which fired to the heavens. In death, may you find those arrows in whatever realm lays beyond. The span of human life is fleeting like a dream, but a fair welcome is given to those who reach eternity. May you reach eternity, Ionius Liebefriedrich." Edelgard closed her eyes. Ingrid lifted her right arm into the air, touching her sword to Ionius' forehead.

"May you reach eternity, Ionius Liebefriedrich." Ingrid closed her eyes.

"May we meet once more in eternity, Ionius Liebefriedrich." Friedrich closed his eyes. Three three remained still for a few moments until they could no longer hear Ionius' laboured breathing. They opened their eyes, looking down at the now dead Emperor emeritus.

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid and Edelgard stepped away from the portrait with their moment of respect for the late Emperor complete. Edelgard brought Ingrid down a floor, leading her around the decades of Imperial history before stopping at a portrait. The sixty-first Emperor, with her name remembered as Isabella von Wäldern. The Emperor in question had short brown hair styled away from her forehead and had fingertips that sparked with lightning. On her right stood a tall woman with a rapier in hand and long golden hair braided in a style Ingrid knew well, a style she had worn for most of her life. Behind the throne were a woman who looked somewhat like Hubert holding an axe and a man that resembled Ferdinand holding a bow, people Ingrid assumed to be their ancestors.

"Ieabella is remembered for a few things. Her thirty-two year long reign, her love of the Empire's forests, her skill with magic, and her wife. She was one of the few Emperors who had only one love. The family line was continued through her younger brother's son." Edelgard touched the painting. "Do you recognize her wife?"

Ingrid stared closely at the painting. The familiar braid, the pale skin, the green eyes...

"She was a Galatea." Ingrid realized.

"Yes." Edelgard nodded. "Her name was Clara. She came to the Empire seeking help for her sick brother. He bore the Crest of Daphnel, but no one in the Kingdom could help. She sought out the Sorcerer Emperor of Adrestia, asking for help though she had nothing to pay the Emperor except a promise to pay her back in some way. Isabella and her mages healed her brother, and he returned to Galatea at Clara's request."

"Clara stayed. That was her payment." Ingrid tilted her head slightly.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not," Edelgard replied. "History says that they never made an agreement as to payment, that Clara simply stayed because they fell in love." Edelgard took Ingrid's hand. "The stories of Adrestia remember their feelings for each other, the forest clearing they were buried in together." Edelgard looked at Ingrid. "The journals of the Emperor, meanwhile, discuss how Clara often dreamed that they could perhaps unite Adrestia and Galatea one day not through conquest, but through that love they shared."

"Then maybe it's our duty to make that dream come true." Ingrid turned on her heel, descending down the staircase. Edelgard watched her go, a smile on her face.

Faerghus

Fraldarius

A man in a suit of heavy armour walked across the top of a wall towards a older man in a robe. He had an axe and a shield on his back and a finned helmet in his hand. The older man leaned against the wall while stroking his beard.

"Father Peres." The armoured man nodded.

"General Viator." Father Peres nodded back. He pointed into the field before the fortress where Myson waited. "He's been there for a few minutes. Hasn't done anything yet." Viator walked towards the edge of the wall.

"You there! I am General Viator of Fraldarius! State your-"

"Hear my words, heed my warnings!" Myson yelled. "I am Myson, son of Agartha! I am here before you with a dire warning, a message from the shattering of your ideals! I represent the new rising power in Fódlan! Surrender your arms and your city to me now, and perhaps you will be granted a place in this new rising power!"

"Shut him up," Viator ordered an archer. The archer fired an arrow at Myson, who gathered magic to his hand.

"Eltoxin." Myson sent forth a ball of poison, blocking the arrow. The metal arrow melted from the acid contained with the ball before the ball popped, sending acid into the ground around Myson.

"Bring him in." Viator drew his axe from his back, readying himself for combat by slipping on his helmet. Four guards walked out of the gates and towards Myson, who smiled.

"Bias, if you'd please?" Myson requested. Nemesis then appeared in a flash of light, Dark Aegis Shield at the ready, a sword on his hip, and a lance on his back. The guards paused in their tracks at the sight of him, a sight which caused Myson to grin.

"Look upon Nemesis, reborn once more!" Myson yelled. "Your King of Liberation, the God Shattering Star!" Myson laughed. "Humanity's greatest hero stands before you, and you bear arms against him? Brave of you, but there is a thin line between bravery and foolishness! It's a line you've crossed!"

"As much as I enjoy your speeches, are you quite done?" Nemesis asked. Myson chuckled.

"By all means."

"Thank you." Nemesis hurled the Dark Aegis Shield forward, the sharp end of it embedding itself into one guard's chest. Nemesis charged at the other three guards, picking up one by the throat and smashing them into another before crushing the first's neck in his hand. Viator gave the signal for his garrison to mobilize at the sight of Nemesis tearing apart the small party while Nemesis drew his sword and drove it into the back of the the last standing guard. He then turned the guard he had hit with their comrade and punched them repeatedly in the face before pulling the Dark Aegis Shield from the first guard and smashing the front of it into the final guard's head.

Odesse emerged from a tunnel within the fortress, his disguise as a guard on. His green eyes, a shade oddly similar to Felix's, flicked around for a moment as the tactician got his bearings. He locked eyes on the mausoleum in the distance, his eyes narrowing as he smiled with a mix of sly joy and a flash of hope. He found his train of thought interrupted by a woman's voice behind him.

"Lucius?" The woman asked. "Why aren't you with the garrison?"

"I am where I need to be," Odesse replied.

"You..." The woman stepped back. "What have you done to my husband?"

"Husband. That feels like a contrived coincidence." Odesse rolled his eyes. "No matter." He channeled magic to his fingertips, mystical snowflakes gathering around his hand. "Skadi's Spear." A blade of ice shot from his hand and impaled the woman. Odesse watched the woman for a moment. He had a fleeting moment of remorse for killing this nameless woman who thought she was her husband, but he didn't truly care in the end. Odesse was willing to trade any lives to complete his mission, this mission he had been on for over a millennium. He then turned on his heel and left his victim to die alone. He walked towards the mausoleum, dodging scared townsfolk along the way. Odesse dropped a small disk discreetly in the crowd before continuing on his way. He approached the mausoleum, but the two people standing guard tried to stop him.

"Lucius, is that you?" One guard asked.

"No." Odesse deployed his extra arms, with both of them summoning magic. "Miasma." A ball of dark magic flew from each hand and struck both guards in the head, killing them instantly. He then ventured up the steps and into the mausoleum, looking around for his query. He found a sarcophagus in the center of the room, strolling over to it. Odesse pushed on the lib with all four arms, shoving it off. He looked down at the body within, her blue hair faded with time, but still tied tightly in a braid next to her skeleton.

"Hello, Bluebird. I've missed you." Odesse began to twist green magic around his fingertips.

Nemesis kicked an archer in the chest, sending her flying back into a rock with a wet crack. He then gripped a second archer by the wrist and dragged him into the path of a javelin, letting the man in his arms die. The King of Liberation plucked the javelin from the corpse and hurled it at the spearman, impaling him. Nemesis blocked a strike from an axe with the Dark Aegis Shield, tilting his head at his opponent with irritation.

"Swarm." Myson commanded a horde of insects made of magic forward, killing the axewoman. He then performed a roundhouse kick to the neck of a swordsman, his foot deforming into a claw that he used to drag the man down to the ground. The claw closed, taking the man's head off in a clean stroke, as Nemesis snapped an archer's back over his knee. Viator charged at the King of Liberation, axe and shield raised. Viator swung his blade at Nemesis, who blocked it with ease with the Dark Aegis Shield. He then grabbed Viator's wrist, twisting it until he dropped his axe before twisting it further. Viator felt his wrist pop, causing him to yell in pain. Nemesis then picked up the discarded axe, smashing it through Viator's shield.

"Die, like your brothers!" Nemesis demanded. He tore Viator's helmet off, slamming it into the ground. "Look upon me as you become nothing more than chaff in the wind!" Nemesis kicked Viator to the ground, sending his sword through the general's neck with one clean swing. Myson walked over to Nemesis, handing him a small piece of technology. Nemesis pressed it to his face, forming a mask that covered his mouth and nose. Myson's shin then opened and a gas surged out, surrounding the two. They heard screams and coughs from the terrified soldiers as they began to choke on the deadly fumes. Myson began to laugh maniacally at the suffering around him.

"Come, come! Like sheep to the slaughter!" Myson's uproar was deranged, causing Nemesis to chuckle along with him. The gas then dispelled, and the two turned to see Father Peres waiting for them. The bodies of his comrades lay around them, all dead in various gruesome manners from Myson's poison gas. "What, are you here to lay down your arms?"

"I shall not surrender to you," Father Peres declared.

"Then you will die on your feet," Nemesis replied.

"Sothis will protect me." Father Peres summoned wind magic once again.

"Sothis will die with you! Nemesis snarled. Myson conjured a magic dagger and hurled it into Father Peres' chest, knocking the priest back. Nemesis walked over, picking up the old man by the throat. The three then watched as a magical explosion of blue fire and lightning came from within the city.

"Apparently Odesse laid the trap." Myson grinned.

"And now the last thing you see is your people, your protectorate, die." Nemesis snapped Father Peres' neck.

Odesse channeled green magic around his natural hands while his artificial ones conjured purple magic.

"Beautiful Bluebird with you broken wings and sunken eyes, I have come to teach you how to fly again." Odesse whispered. "Fly free and unchanging as you once did." Dark magic began to seep into her body. "I grow tired of standing cold and alone in this world when I promised I would chase you to the ends of it." Odesse snapped his fingers, a pulse of blue embers and sparks surging from it. "I can no longer live without you, go without the touch of your hand in mind. Come back from the west winds and dance once more with me." Lights like those from the Lost Tomb of the Praetorian Guard began to filter into the room, surrounding Fraldarius' sarcophagus. Her body began to heal as flesh surrounded her bones, pulling the skeleton back together. Her hair regained its deep blue colour and reattached to her head, the braid shifting slightly as the magic flowed around it. Fraldarius' eyes flew open, revealing dark purple eyes. She looked up into Odesse' green eyes, looking much happier than they had for some time.

"Hello, my lovely Bluebird." Odesse smiled.

"Hello, my darling Magpie." Fraldarius reached up to poke his chin. She grunted against the hard stone of the sarcophagus. "Where did I..." She looked around at the mausoleum. "Ah. I see."

"Yes, you've been dead. I have worked for the past 1029 years to bring you back, though I was able to avenge your death." Odesse took Fraldarius' face in his hands.

"You kept an exact count?" Fraldarius smiled.

"Every hour, every minute." Odesse declared before kissing her. The two broke away as Nemesis and Myson entered the mausoleum. Nemesis took the Dark Aegis Shield from his arm and the lance from his back and offered them both to Fraldarius, who took them with a nod.

"It feels stronger." Fraldarius noted.

"It's new. Pittacus recreated it," Myson explained.

"Bias, now's a good moment." Odesse called out. The four then vanished in a flash of light.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Edelgard sat on her throne, flanked by Byleth, Hubert, and Ferdinand. The entirety of the Black Eagle Strike Force san Ingrid was gathered together.

"So did she tell anyone what this was about?" Dorothea asked.

"No." Edelgard shook her head. The group then heard the sound of cavalry heels clicking against the ground, and Edelgard smiled. The group turned to see Ingrid enter wearing her formal armour and the Galatean circlet while Lúin, Areadbhar, and her sword rested in their respective positions on her.

"My name is Ser Ingrid Galatea, Praetorian Guard of Emperor Edelgard," Ingrid said. "In the name of the ancient traditions of Faerghus as invoked by the heir of House Fraldarius, I declare my intent to serve as Queen Regent of Faerghus in lieu of the crown." Ingrid looked Edelgard in the eye. "Should Her Majesty allow it, I also declare my intent to unify what was once torn apart. I seek to bring the Kingdom of Faerghus back into the Adrestian Empire."

Edelgard stood up from her throne, taking Aymr in her left hand and Byleth's left hand in her right. The two descended the stairs to the throne and approached Ingrid. Byleth tilted Ingrid's head to the side and kissed one of her cheeks while Edelgard kissed the other.

"Did you two coordinate that?" Ingrid asked, blushing slightly at the public display of affection.

"Perhaps." Edelgard grinned widely. "Your Majesty."

"Your Majesty." Ingrid smiled back. Felix smiled before gritting his teeth and touching his chest.

"Long live the Imperial Family!" Hubert declared. "Emperor, Consort, and Queen!"

"Long live the Imperial Family!" Everyone except the Imperial Family in question and Felix replied.

"Felix, are you okay?" Sylvain put his hand on Felix's shoulder. Felix coughed and clutched his sternum before collapsing. Ingrid, Byleth, and Linhardt rushed over to him.

"Felix, Felix!" Ingrid picked up his face. "Stay with us, damn it!"

"My Crest," Felix groaned. "There's something wrong."

"Hanneman!" Linhardt yelled as he unbuttoned Felix's shirt, revealing that his Crest was glowing an angry green, while the skin around it had a purple tint.

"Oh, Goddess," Hanneman said as he stared at it.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 26, Imperial Year 1186

The group stared at Felix while Hanneman and Linhardt felt around the inflamed Crest on Felix's chest.

"I don't know what..." Hanneman's voice was filled with uncharacteristic confusion.

"I do." Flayn piped up, walking over and laying her hand on Felix's Crest. "Crests react poorly when their bloodline is tampered with." Lorenz and Lysithea gave each other a knowing look. "Which means that someone, I assume the Agarthans, did something to a past bearer of the Crest of Fraldarius."

"Shouldn't Nemesis being resurrected have affected Byleth and I then?" Edelgard asked.

"No, Your Majesty. You have two Crests, the blood ties balance out. When the power of one bloodline is harmed, the other kicks in to save you. That also means that Lysithea won't be affected by Charon or Gloucester's bloodlines being altered," Flayn explained. "As for the Professor, his Crest didn't come from blood, it came from a Crest Stone."

"If they're resurrected Nemesis, I presume they're going to try to do the same to the Ten Elites and potentially the Four Apostles. Whether the Apostles would join them in the first place or not doesn't matter, we all know what happened to Dimitri. It stands to reason that Fraldarius was the first and will not be the last. Now, all of that means anyone without two Crests is in danger other than Marianne and Anna or those with the Crests of Saints." Byleth looked around at the group.

"Two Crests." Ingrid's eyes widened. She pulled the Grim Dragon Sign from her neck and wrapped it around Felix, who was now starting to convulse. As soon as the necklace closed, his spasms stopped. Felix coughed, breathing normally again. Ingrid and Sylvain then crushed him in a hug, much to his mild chagrin.

"Thanks, let me go." Felix grunted. Ingrid and Sylvain laughed, still hanging on.

"The Dragon Sign. Genius." Hanneman gave Ingrid a pat on the shoulder. Ingrid nodded before helping Felix to his feet.

"Flayn, would you happen to know where we can get more Dragon Signs?" Byleth asked.

"Grandmother made them. They were the original form of the Crests before humans drank the blood of the Nabateans," Flayn explained. "Father helped Grandmother make them, he showed me some of how to do it. However, any of them we make today will likely be weaker than they were in the past. The Crest bloodlines have been diluted. We'll need Major Crests to replicate them, and we can only do one of each. The Crest of Flames and the Crest of Fraldarius will be out of the question. Too much has been done with Fraldarius' blood already, and the Crest of Flames is... Difficult. I don't want to endanger you and Her Majesty."

"So that leaves us with Gloucester, Cethleann, Cichol, the Apostles, and Ernest. Nine Dragon Signs total when you include the Grim Dragon Sign we already have." Linhardt noted. Flayn stared off into the distance for a moment.

"Flayn?" Ingrid asked. "There's more Crests, aren't there?"

"Yes." Flayn nodded. "My uncles, Indech and Macuil, have their Major Crests." Flayn took a deep breath. "But beyond those two, there were four more Nabateans. Four more who would have been Saints, those as close to Seiros and my father as the other Saints. Ones who were never able to pass their Crests onto humanity because they perished before they had the chance."

"Who were they?" Shamir asked.

"The Sun Dragon Áine, the Silver Dragon Nuada, the Moon Dragon Ethniu, and..." Flayn paused again.

"Your mother?" Sylvain realized. Flayn nodded.

"My mother. Tlachta. The Deluge Dragon," Flayn finished. "Each of the surviving saints pledged to protect the blood of one of the Lost Saints. Macuil took Ethniu's blood, Indech took Nuada's blood, my father took my mother's blood, and I-" Flayn pulled a Dragon Sign from within her robe. "Took Áine's blood."

"The question is who we give each Sign to." Sylvain piped up. Flayn turned to him, holding up the Dragon Sign. "Ah."

"Áine was a spearwoman without peer, but her fire magic was what truly tore the enemies of the Nabateans apart." Flayn handed the Sign to Sylvain, who put it on. "Seems right for you."

"Thank you." Sylvain put the Sun Dragon Sign around his neck.

"We need to get started on acquiring the other Dragon Signs as soon as possible." Byleth folded his arms behind his back. "Hubert, can you teach Dorothea, Marianne, and Annette teleportation magicks?"

"I already know them. Hubert taught me just before the Battle of Fhirdiad." Annette spoke up. Byleth's eyebrows flicked up for a moment.

"Good to know." Byleth nodded.

"I know of only one person to ever possess Macuil's Crest. Orla, one of the Three Sisters." Edelgard turned to Flayn. "Flayn, do you know where he is?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He's in Sreng. There's a temple dedicated to him there. Temple of the Wind Caller, I believe." Flayn nodded.

"I've been there." Raphael piped up.

"Macuil's Crest is associated with empowering magic spells. It will mesh well with Annette," Hanneman explained.

"Good." Byleth nodded. "What about Ethniu?"

"Felix, frankly," Flayn replied.

"Alright. Annette, work with Raphael. Teleport yourselves to Sreng," Byleth ordered.

"Important thing. Macuil hates the Crestbearers of the Ten Elites. Annette should stay hidden," Flayn added.

"Noted." Byleth nodded. "Take Alois, Ferdinand, Ashe, Leonie, and Caspar with you then. you depart in the morning" Annette and Raphael nodded. The chosen team left the room to collect their weapons and mounts for their departure the next day. "And Annette?" Annette turned away from her group. "As soon as you get Macuil's Sign, you put it on and then get back here with Ethniu's Sign."

"I will," Annette replied. She then left the throne room.

"Flayn, who will mesh best with Indech and Nuada?" Byleth asked.

"Nuada will be good for Balthus. And Indech?" Flayn sighed. "Claude."

"Claude and Hilda, yes. We need to get them here. The time has come for that favour they owe us, I think." Byleth nodded. "Marianne, you've been to Fódlan's Throat, yes?"

"I have." Marianne nodded. "I'll bring Shamir, Sylvain, and Anna."

"Good. Get ready." Byleth nodded. The four departed the room. "Dorothea, once Hubert is finished with you, you're on Indech. Take Petra, Bernadetta, Balthus, and Manuela."

"Of course, Your Highness." Dorothea gave him a mock salute. Byleth rolled his eyes slightly

"Everyone else." Edelgard looked around the room. "Group up. I don't want a single Elite or Apostle Crestbearer alone until everyone has a Dragon Sign." Edelgard sighed. "Get dinner, get some rest. We're all going to need it." The Black Eagle Strike Force trickled out of the throne room. Felix left last, gazing back at Ingrid with a sad expression. Soon all that remained in the room were the Imperial Family.

"Ingrid?" Byleth touched her arm.

"I'm afraid." Ingrid's voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Not just for myself, but for my friends. My family." It was an emotion that the mighty Praetorian Guard almost never showed. She was a woman who took up a throne because her friends asked her to. She was a woman who rode a pegasus through heavy arrowfire on an almost monthly basis. She was a woman who challenged the undead corpse of her once friend to a battle to the death.

She was a woman who left everything behind for her dreams.

"You're going to be alright. I swear to every god, every hero." Byleth promised.

Ingrid looked into his eyes. He had an expression of avenging rage she had only seen in his eyes before as the three of them saw Fhirdiad burn. She then closed her eyes to try to stop the tears from leaking out. Ingrid felt two pairs of arms around her, feeling the comforting squeeze of both of her partners. Ingrid buried her face in Edelgard's neck, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm her nerves.

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Thales, Bias, and Pittacus stood together before a rune on the ground with the Crest of Flames in the middle and the Crests of the Elites surrounding it. With a flash of light, Nemesis, Odesse, Myson, and Fraldarius emerged.

"Pittacus, Bias, Thales!" Fraldarius smiled. She gave Bias a hug, patting Pittacus on the shoulder on the way. She gave Thales a nod, a gesture which he returned.

"I presume the goal is to resurrect the other Elites?" Fraldarius asked.

"And to take control of the Four Apostles if possible." Thales added. "Bias and Odesse managed to find a way to bring back those without ties to us."

"I'm impressed." Fraldarius rubbed Odesse's hand. He smiled at the gesture. "Who's next?"

"My original intent was to target Daphnel in order to take the Praetorian Guard out of play, but I expect that the Adrestians will expect me to do so and thus will put all of their efforts into finding a way to shield her from her bloodline fighting back. Ergo, I intend to target someone close to her. Annette, the descendant of Dominic, someone she views almost as a little sister," Odesse explained.

"Praetorian Guard?" Fraldarius asked.

"Her name is Ser Ingrid Galatea," Nemesis said. "A knight who serves her country and her ruler with strength and courage. It will be a shame to crush her beneath our boot."

"She is a Falcon Knight whose prowess matches your own." Pittacus noted.

"She is no Hubert von Vestra," Bias said, her tone wistful.

"Lust over him on your own time, Bias." Chilon gave her an annoyed look. Bias turned to face him, her faceless mask hiding her emotions.

"Back on topic." Odesse sighed. "Myson, if you'd please?"

"Of course." Myson nodded. "While I have not yet located the Tomb of Dominic, I have a lead on someone who will. A man by the name of Gilbert Pronislav, born as Gustave Dominic. He is Annette Dominic's father. The Adrestians spared him during the Battle of Fhirdiad."

"How unfortunate for them." Pittacus chuckled.

"I will capture the asset as quickly as possible." Myson continued. "I predict it will take no more than two days."

"Good." Thales nodded. He looked at Pittacus. "Crusher will be your next relic to recreate, it seems."

"Joy." Pittacus walked out of the room.

"Due to the time Myson needs to locate Dominic, I intend to recover another body, though not one of our ancient allies. Fraldarius and I will take the Saviour King with us to Nuvelle in order to recover the body of Noa." Odesse said, folding his arms behind his back. "That comes tomorrow, though. I require rest."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 27, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid laid in bed, Edelgard snuggled into her chest. Ingrid's eyes were closed, but she was anything but at rest. She toyed with a lock of Edelgard's hair, feeling the Emperor's calm breaths against her body. Byleth had stepped out to get tea for the three of them, leaving Ingrid with Edelgard. The two had done their best to distract her that evening, getting her some of her favourite foods from the same butcher Hubert had taken her to years ago after her first haircut in the Empire.

"Mmm, don't stop," Edelgard purred as Ingrid brushed her hand against her scalp. She lifted her head up, giving Ingrid an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I know I should be comforting you right now."

"It's alright," Ingrid replied. Edelgard then sat up, turning to face Ingrid.

"Lay down." Edelgard ordered gently. Ingrid obeyed, and Edelgard flipped her leg over the knight's body. The Emperor reached down, gripping Ingrid's shoulders and beginning to massage them. "I picked this up from some of the massages Hubert tried to give me when I was recovering from the experiments. I wasn't a fan of it, mostly because I was ashamed of my scars. I knew he wouldn't tell anyone, so I tolerated it."

Ingrid lay still, feeling Edelgard's hands dance over her tense shoulders. Despite the callouses she had from wielding her beloved axes, the Emperor's hands were soft and tender. It was a moment that Ingrid wanted to last, a moment that made her forget about the danger that she and her fellow Crest Bearers were in.

"Thank you." Ingrid whispered. Edelgard smiled sadly at her.

"Of course, Ingrid." Edelgard leaned down to kiss Ingrid's forehead. "You're not alone. You never will be again. I swear that to you." Edelgard took her hands off of Ingrid's shoulders and placed them on her cheeks. "You have lived enough of your life trying to push your way through by yourself. In the end, you became the knight you desired to be. I know there were unexpected results, you didn't join the Black Eagles knowing you would fall in love with me or knowing that I was falling in love with you, but that is where we are. That love I feel for you means that, no matter what name you were born with or nation you were raised in, you are part of my family."

"I love you, Edelgard." Ingrid smiled. "And I don't want to lose you, no matter what that could mean. The thought that the Agarthans could rip us apart with a single flex of their dark magic terrifies me in a way I haven't been terrified since I saw the Immaculate One coming at you in the Holy Tomb."

"So that's why you came to my aid so quickly." Edelgard tilted her head, putting her hair behind her ear and returning to the shoulder massage. "I was always curious. You've always said that was your moment that changed everything, that was the moment where you could never return to the Kingdom."

Ingrid looked into her Emperor's eyes. She was right, that was the choice Ingrid held above all others. She could have let the Emperor die. Hell, she could have helped the Immaculate One kill the Emperor. She would have been hailed as a hero in Faerghus, welcomed back with open arms and cheers. But she knew it was the wrong choice to make. She knew it wasn't the choice she wanted to make. Edelgard had given her trust and friendship and hope, and Ingrid had wanted to begin paying that back with loyalty and honour and respect.

Saving Edelgard was the moment Ingrid truly chose to forge her own destiny.

"Mmm." Ingrid melted at Edelgard's touch. "Yes. Ferdinand and Hubert were going to get you, but they were too slow. When I heard you were in danger, I prayed to everyone who would listen that I could help you. I needed to save you, I needed to repay you for the faith you had in me, everything you offered me. I knew that your ambitions were the future I was desperate for, and I that had to stand beside you to make them real." Ingrid paused. "Beyond that, I... I think I was already slowly falling in love with you. Seeing you fight, seeing you lead, I didn't understand what I felt. I thought it was awe, respect, but looking back on it, it was love." Ingrid smiled. "In the moment I had to think in the Tomb, I looked at Byleth and I swear I felt time slow. I rushed onto Olympia and I came for you as fast as I could."

"Maybe time did slow." Edelgard smiled. "That is one of Byleth's many skills. The Divine Pulse, he calls it. It comes from Sothis."

"I met her," Ingrid said. "Sothis. She gave me the Grim Dragon Sign and got me to Galatea faster."

"Byleth said he thought he talked to you, said the Dragon Sign was familiar," Edelgard explained. "It's nice, knowing that the Progenitor is on our side." Edelgard paused. "I know I don't need to ask, your loyalty is unquestionable. But hearing you say it will help my nerves." Ingrid's eyebrow perked up. "When we go to war, will you follow me?"

"Yes." Ingrid nodded.

"Thank you, my love." Edelgard leaned down to kiss Ingrid again, this time on the lips. Ingrid wrapped her hand around the back of Edelgard's head, leaning into the kiss.

Hubert walked into Seteth's room, folding his arms behind his back. The Nabatean laid on the bed, the healers of the Empire having finally woken him up. It had taken the best efforts of Mercedes, Flayn, and Linhardt, but he was alive.

"So." Seteth spoke from the bed. "You intend to create Dragon Signs."

"Indeed we do." Hubert nodded. "I presume your daughter came for your blood already, she said that you needed to see me."

"Yes." Seteth nodded. "And she told me she would send you along as I requested. Which is prudent, as you are vital to what I must do. With the use of all our resources, there are enough Signs for those with the Crests of the Elites to be protected." Seteth held out his hand. "Help me up. I require your teleportation magicks. We need to go to Garreg Mach."

"Explain." Hubert helped Seteth to his feet, handing the man a walking stick. Seteth nodded in thanks.

Hubert evaluated the man for a moment. The mighty advisor of Rhea, the second in command of the Church of Seiros, a Nabatean warrior. Here Seteth was, needing a stick to stand, needing Hubert to help him to his feet.

If anything showcased the danger of the Agarthans, it was this display.

"I knew this day might come when one would need to bear multiple Crests, when those born without would need to take them up," Seteth explained. "I kept the Sacred Weapons of the Lost Saints along with a Dragon Sign I made with Seiros' blood." Seteth paused. "And... The one I made with my wife's." Seteth blinked, refusing to let anyone see the tears in his eyes. "I stood against the Empire alongside Seiros. I see now that was a mistake. She made you into demons because she was afraid of you. I was too foolish to understand that all her propaganda was simply a woman desperate to hang onto her power. Flayn and I will join your cause." Seteth leaned against the cane Hubert had given him, offering the Marquis Vestra his hand.

"Thank you, Seteth." Hubert smiled slightly, shaking Seteth's hand. "We depart for your office, I presume?" Hubert summoned magic to his hands. Seteth nodded. After a brief moment of Hubert conjuring his spells, the two vanished.

Garreg Mach

Seteth's Office

The two appeared in Seteth's office. It had been relatively untouched by the violence of the war. Only Hanneman, Linhardt, Yuri, Ignatz, and Hubert himself had ever truly stepped foot in it during the war. None of them had disturbed much, seeing the place as a vital resource for the war effort.

"Just as I left it." Seteth smiled. "Well, perhaps with an extra layer of dust." Hubert smiled slightly. Seteth touched his hand to the wall at the far end of his office, revealing that it was guarded by a Crest Lock. The door parted, opening into a secret room. Within, Hubert saw a collection of four weapons and a pair of Dragon Crests. Seteth grabbed one of the Dragon Signs, slipping it into his pocket. He then began on the Sacred Weapons by pulling out a pair of gauntlets forged from pink-tinted silver.

"Airgetlám, the weapon of Nuada." He slipped them into his bag. "Good for Balthus, I think."

"Flayn said as much." Hubert nodded. Seteth's eyebrows flicked up as his nose crinkled, a gesture that Hubert recognized as a...

'Bylethism, damn that Sylvain.' Hubert cursed the Dark Knight mentally.

"Sleátine, the weapon of Áine." Seteth handed Hubert a spear that looked as though it was forged of magma. The head of the spear was shaped almost like a plume of fire erupting from the shaft, a triple-bladed design that looked like it was meant to be used on horseback.

"Yes, this is a Sylvain weapon." Hubert chuckled.

"Doubtlessly." Seteth chuckled. He pulled a long platinum sword with a blue hilt in the shape of a crescent from the room, placing it into the bag. "Ethniu's Lannmensis will suit Felix nicely."

"That it will." Hubert evaluated the sword.

"I need to tell you something, Hubert." Seteth leaned against his desk, the last Sacred Weapon seemingly forgotten for the moment. "You remind me of someone I once knew. They were not quick to trust, but within they were someone who truly wanted for people to see them for who they are. When they found the family they needed the most, they truly came into their own self. They learned to trust, to care, to love, to laugh."

"Hmm." Hubert tilted his head, pondering Seteth's words. "Tell me, when it all went wrong, what was their course of action?"

"They forgot who they were, but they regretted every minute of it. The life they built up was thrown away in an instant," Seteth answered. "But the sacrifice was worth it for who it saved. The regret was of the life they lost, but never for the life they saved."

"I would have liked to have met them." Hubert gave Seteth a knowing look.

"Perhaps in a quieter future, you may yet have the chance." Seteth walked back over to the hidden room, taking a bracer made of gold and inlaid with aquamarine gemstones from within. "Your arm." Hubert held out his arm. "We have enough Dragon Signs to save the Crest Bearers. Flayn and I agreed that we wish to entrust Tlachta's heart, her beloved Croífarraige, to you. You both have the soul of a protector, one who would give anything for your family." Seteth affixed the Sacred Weapon to Hubert's arm.

"Thank you." Hubert smiled at the vambrace. Seteth then offered him the Deluge Dragon Sign. Hubert put it around his neck, feeling the power of a Crest touch his blood. "How do they work? What power do they hold?"

"They grant you access to a lost school of magic." Seteth leaned on his cane. "Water magic. Potent in both causing damage and healing wounds."

"I believe I should test it back in Adrestia." Hubert conjured another teleportation rune. Seteth picked up the bag containing Airgetlám and Lannmensis before taking hold of Sleátine. The two then vanished with a flash of light.

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Fraldarius leaned against Odesse on a long sofa, the man reading a book to himself as Fraldarius tapped her fingers on her abdomen.

"It's strange," Fraldarius said. "How familiar everything is, yet how different it has all become." Odesse looked over to her, looking into her dark blue eyes. She touched Odesse's face, feeling his short beard. "I do like this change, however. I always thought you would look even more handsome with a beard."

"Well, I finally had the time to grow one after being cursed with immortality." Odesse chuckled.

"This took you a thousand years?" Fraldarius stroked the whiskers.

"Thankfully no. Only three." Odesse kissed her hand. Fraldarius pushed herself to her feet, accidentally digging her fist into Odesse's leg. Fraldarius gasped when she realized, touching the spot gently. "It's alright." Odesse smiled sadly. "When Seiros broke my back, I lost all feeling in my lower half." Odesse motioned to his backplate. "Tveirvápna gave me a little bit back, it lets me walk, but it's all just... Numb."

"I'm sorry." Fraldarius looked into Odesse's green eyes. "I should have come to help you. But when I saw Felicia, when I saw our daughter..."

Adrestia

Galatea

Horsebow Moon, Day 20, Imperial Year 91

Fraldarius spun under an arrow before hurling the Aegis Shield forward, slamming the offending archer in the face. Her gauntlet flashed for a second, the shield flying back to her arm.

"Frald, move!" A man's voice came from behind her. "Thoron!" Fraldarius twisted her body out of the way to allow the bolt of mystical lightning to streak past her and impact a member of Seiros' army.

"Thank you, Blaiddyd." Fraldarius nodded at the Dark Knight. "Could I borrow that for a moment?" She gestured at Areadbhar. Blaiddyd tossed her the lance as Fraldarius whistled. Her pegasus, its fur as black as the night, descended from the sky. Fraldarius ran forward, leaping off of a rock and onto her mount's back, brandishing Areadbhar. The pegasus charged towards a group of Seiros' warriors. Fraldarius lept from the pegasus' back and slung Areadbhar forward, the glaive cleaving through an axeman before embedding itself in the dirt. She then curled up behind the Aegis Shield, smashing into a horsewoman and sending her flying. Fraldarius pulled Areadbhar from the ground and twirled it around, slashing through a man with a sword. Blaiddyd's horse came charging through as he summoned magic to his hands.

"Swarm!" Blaiddyd commanded dark magic in the shape of insects forward, killing a mage. Fraldarius tossed Areadbhar back up to him, and Blaiddyd twisted the glaive into a proper grip. An arrow flew between the two warriors, the source a man on horseback holding Failnaught.

"Riegan, what news from the western front?" Blaiddyd asked.

"The western front no longer exists. The Adrestian Empire shattered our defensive line." Riegan shook his head.

"My husband!" Fraldarius' eyes widened.

"Mother!" A younger woman's voice cut through the chaos of battle. Fraldarius turned, seeing a head bearing a close cropped shock of dark blue hair the same shade as her own and green eyes the same colour as Odesse and Felix. Fraldarius grit her teeth in rage when she saw the swordswoman before her.

"Felicia!" Fraldarius screamed. She turned to Blaiddyd with a crazed look in her eyes. "Find. Odesse." Blaiddyd nodded before riding off.

"Mother, please." Felicia pointed her sword at her mother. "Don't make me do this. Surrender. Come meet your grandson. His name is Moralta."

"I don't care about your treason-spawn, you treacherous leech." Fraldarius drew her sword. Riegan gave her a horrified look. "Stay out of this, Riegan. She's mine." Fraldarius charged, twirling around in the air and bringing her sword down against her daughter's. Felicia strained against her mother's furious attack before breaking the blade lock and channeling magic to her hand.

"Thoron!" Felicia called out, a beam of electrical energy rocketing forth from her hand. Fraldarius ducked behind the Aegis Shield to block the attack, twirling her sword around and slashing at Felicia's chest. Felicia deflected the attack with her own sword, kicking her mother in the knee. Fraldarius swung the Aegis Shield at her daughter, but Felicia channeled a ball of electricity to her hand and slammed it into her shield, slowing the attack. The two women pushed against each other, both straining to push through the other's defenses. Felicia slammed her head into her mother's face, pulling on the Aegis Shield. Fraldarius' grip on the shield loosened, and Felicia slipped it onto her arm, tightening the straps. "Mother, please!"

"You will die, traitor!" Fraldarius screamed. She lunged at her daughter, tackling her and forcing her to the ground. Fraldarius swung her sword at Felicia, who hid behind the Aegis Shield. Throwing her sword aside, Fraldarius pulled a dagger from her waist. She slipped past the Mortal Savant's defenses and dug the dagger into her collar, causing Felicia to grunt in pain. "I rise, you fall. Thus is the fate for all who aid those demons."

"Mjolnir," Felicia groaned. A surge of lightning exploded from within her. The electricity surged through the dagger embedded in her, shocking both her and Fraldarius with mystical power. Fraldarius and Felicia both yelled in pain. Riegan ran forward to aid Fraldarius against her wishes, but was knocked back by the ball of lightning surrounding the two. Fraldarius fell off her daughter, with Fraldarius paralyzed and Felicia dying even faster that the dagger wound alone would have killed her. A man who looked vaguely like Hubert sprinted into battle, smashing his hammer into Riegan's chest and slamming him into a piece of rubble, Failnaught flying out of his hands. He was followed closely by Seiros, her sword and shield in hand.

"Bolganone!" Seiros yelled, summoning four balls of fire that flew toward Riegan before combining into one and exploding. Blaiddyd returned, Odesse on the back of his horse. Blaiddyd brandished Areadbhar at Seiros while Odesse channeled magic to his hands. Seiros went to work fighting the two enemies while the man that looked like Hubert ran over to Felicia. He picked up her head, cradling it gently.

"Felicia, what happened to your plan?" The man demanded.

"Bertram... My love," Felicia said, her dying words laboured. "This was my plan." She went limp in Bertram's arms. The Hero set her down, standing up. He pulled the axe Hauteclere from his back, walking slowly towards Blaiddyd and Odesse. Seiros deflected an attack from Areadbhar with her shield, pushing Blaiddyd back a step. Bertram continued forward, his eyes glazed over by sadness and rage. He swung Hauteclere at Blaiddyd, surprising the Dark Knight and cleaving into his shoulder. Blaiddyd screamed in pain, dropping Areadbhar. He summoned a glyph in front of him, channeling magic into his good hand.

"Sagittae!" Blaiddyd yelled. Seiros pressed her shield against his hand, and four explosions of light magic destroyed Blaiddyd's limb. He crumpled to the ground in pain as Bertram drew a rapier, burying it in Blaiddyd's chest. Odesse looked around at the dead Riegan and Blaiddyd before casting his eyes towards the paralyzed Fraldarius.

"Do you see now the cost of your treachery? The cost of you turning against Sothis?" Seiros asked him. Odesse snarled, summoning ice magic to his hands in what he believed would be his final stand.

"Skadi's Spear!" Odesse hurled a blade of ice forward in an attempt to impale Seiros, but Seiros simply raised her shield to block the attack. Bertram picked up Felicia's body, the Aegis Shield still affixed to her arm. "Unhand my daughter, you spineless heathen!"

"When we married, she declared that I was the only family she had left." Bertram spat at Odesse. Odesse snarled again, summoning more magic.

"Íshamar!" The rune in Odesse's hand became a colossal hammer of ice, which he swung at Bertram. Seiros blocked the attack with her sword, twisting around Odesse and slamming him into the ground.

"Agnea's Arrow." Seiros summoned a mighty beam of light from the sky that smashed into Odesse as he weakly conjured two runes to protect himself even a little from the spell that promptly turned the ground beneath him into a small crater. Bertram picked up a discarded axe from the ground and raised it above his head, ready to cleave Odesse's clean off. "Leave him be. Let him suffer." Bertram growled quietly at the Saint's orders, but obeyed. He threw the axe down next to Odesse's head, the metal clanging against the dirt. He and Seiros stepped out of the crater, with Seiros picking up both Failnaught and Areadbhar as Bertram tenderly scooped up Felicia's body, the Aegis Shield still affixed to her arm. The two left, with Bertram casting one last gaze back at the paralyzed Fraldarius, believing that Felicia's final attack would be fatal for her too.

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Garland Moon, Day 27, Imperial Year 1186

"I thought I failed you on that day, that I had let you die. When I woke up in Bias' laboratory, I feared that I had outlived you because I had been foolish enough to fall for our daughter's trap. I feared the price of my arrogance was your life." Fraldarius leaned her forehead against Odesse's hand.

"It wasn't your fault, Fraldarius." Odesse shook his head. "I survived. That is what matters." Odesse paused, talking Fraldarius' hand in his. "Before that damned Seiros cast us down, she said that I would languish in loneliness, live with the fact that I would never see you again."

"I am glad we proved her wrong again, my Magpie." Fraldarius smiled.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Nuvelle

Red Wolf Moon, Day 17, Imperial Year 1182

Hubert, Ferdinand, and Marianne stood in the town square of Nuvelle, a small crowd gathered around them. Ferdinand and Marianne laughed and chatted with the people while Hubert stood by in silence. One mother brought her new baby forward and presented it to the Prime Minister, who took it with a happy coo. Marianne offered the infant her finger, which the child gripped tightly.

"He is so very darling." Marianne smiled, adjusting the baby's blanket slightly.

"We are planning on naming him Bernard. We are a family of archers and very much admire Lady Bernadetta," The mother explained.

"She will be thrilled to hear that." Ferdinand rocked the baby gently.

Hubert felt one of the townsfolk grip his hand, looking down to see a young girl with a platter of dango in her hands. Hubert lifted one up to examine it, taking a small bite. His eyebrows flicked up in enjoyment, finishing the rest of the spicy fish and tomato dumpling. He took the platter from the child and gave her a set of gold coins from within a pouch in his jacket. She ran back to her parents' merchant stall, happily exclaiming that she sold all of the food to the visitors. Hubert offered Marianne the platter, which she took.

"This tastes like the dango they had the academy. I presume it's based on these?" Marianne inquired.

"Indeed." Hubert set the platter down on a nearby table, folding his arms. He felt the cold sensation of metal against his arm, a foreign sensation. He looked down at his arm and saw the golden vambrace and aquamarine gemstones of Croífarraige resting happily. It was a weapon he should not have now, a weapon that he would not receive for another four years.

This was no dream, no memory.

Hubert scanned around the town to see if anything else was out of place. In the crowd he saw someone that he should not have seen, someone who should have been in Enbarr at this moment in time.

Hubert saw Felix.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 28, Imperial Year 1186

Hubert shot awake in his quarters, reaching for a robe as he got out of bed. He covered his sleeping attire up, adjusting his hair slightly. He grabbed the Deluge Dragon Sign, putting it around his neck before slipping his hand into Croífarraige, the vambrace fitting snug on his arm. Hubert massaged his temples and picked up a log to put into the charred coals of his fireplace. He pulled aside the grate that covered it for safety, placing the first log in. He added a second and then a third before grabbing his fire-starter. Hubert tossed some tinder into the fireplace, igniting it with the second spark from his fire-starter. He stood up as the fire slowly grew, slipping the grate back over the mouth. Hubert stood up and sighed, setting the fire-starter down and watching the flames lick at the logs. He walked towards the door, slipping into a pair of shoes. He stepped out of his quarters, the guards stationed at the door bowing their heads as he emerged. He walked away, moving swiftly despite his eyes being closed. He navigated the palace as he always did, his route memorized. A series of turns later and he finally arrived at his destination, a door that he knocked on.

"Come in." Mercedes' voice came from the other side. Hubert turned the knob, stepping inside to find Mercedes enjoying a morning cup of tea. "What can I do for you, Hubert?"

"You know how to interpret dreams, yes?" Hubert asked, folding his arms.

"Yes, I do. Have a seat." Mercedes gestured to the free chair across her table. Hubert obliged, taking a seat. "Tea? It's a blend of my own design, cinnamon and apple." Hubert's eyebrows flicked up, his intrigue captured. He nodded slightly, Mercedes pouring a second cup. He took the cup from her and sipped the hot beverage slowly, taking care not to scald his mouth.

"Delightful. I did not know you made tea blends, Mercedes." Hubert took another sip.

"Well, not all of us can make assassination and political intrigue our hobbies." Mercedes joked. Hubert let out an amused puff of air from his nose. "Now then, tell me about this dream you've had."

"I was in Nuvelle with Ferdinand and Marianne, it was a repeat of events from four years ago. Ferdinand convinced me to step away from the palace and join him and Marianne on a goodwill tour to the smaller territories. Her Majesty agreed that it would be good to have me there, she wanted a direct look but she also had ongoing duties in the capital." Hubert leaned back in his chair. "It's remarkable, honestly, that I agreed to go on that trip."

"Ingrid becoming Praetorian Guard put you at ease." Mercedes noted. Hubert nodded. "I still find it fascinating how fast you two became friends, but it's not all that surprising to me. Both of you are so dutiful to your Emperor. It's only natural that you two settled into what I think Annette best described as platonic life-partners."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Lone Moon, Day 9, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid twisted under the sword of an Imperial soldier, adjusting her grip on Lúin slightly as she did. She slipped the handle of her lance behind his legs and swept them out from beneath them, sending him to the ground with a thud. A second Imperial soldier swung her axe at Ingrid, but she twirled out of the way to avoid the attack and kicked the soldier in the chest to wind her. Lúin was then driven into a piece of cloth that hung from the soldier's chest to pin her to the ground. Ingrid then drew her sword and twirled it around to taunt a third soldier into attacking her. He responded exactly how she hoped, charging at her with gauntlets at the ready. She ducked two punches, backpedaling away from him to give herself the opening she wanted.

Moments like these were when Ingrid felt properly in her element. There was paperwork associated with being Praetorian Guard, there were strategy meetings with Count Bergliez before battles against the Kingdom or the Alliance, but she forgave those parts of her job because of these moments. Moments where she got to show off why the people of the Empire had recently taken to referring to her as the Wings of the Empire without any risk of someone getting terribly hurt.

She was without her armour because she knew she did not need it, showing off both her toned arms and the small training scars that decorated them. Markers of pride, demonstrations that she had survived battle after battle and maintained her service for her Emperor... For the Emperor.

The clashing of steel in her ears, the flash of blades before her eyes, this was where she was at her most powerful. This was where everything was simple. There was no war here, just a knight and her trainees. Here there were just new soldiers that Ingrid saw potential in become famed warriors for the Empire.

Ingrid finally stopped toying with her opponent and found a slip in his defenses, dodging back from a punch and pinning his arm in a bar hold. She then brought her sword to the soldier's neck with a small smile.

"Any particular reason you're tearing through your subordinates right now?" Hubert's voice cut through the air of the training grounds. Ingrid let go of the soldier she was holding, giving him the opportunity to massage his arm. She returned her sword to the scabbard on her hip and pulled Lúin from the ground to let the pinned soldier up. The three most recent trainees joined their other thirteen compatriots who had also apparently been participants in Ingrid's training exercise. The trainees collected their weapons and made their way out of the room with murmurs and mentions of thanks to Ingrid, giving her space to talk with the ever-terrifying Marquis Vestra.

"They need some work, but they have potential." Ingrid picked up a towel to wipe the sweat from her face.

"Not everyone can train as hard as you can, Ingrid." Hubert chuckled. For most in the Empire, it would have been a bone-chilling sound. For Ingrid, however, it was oddly pleasant. Felix and Sylvain were often called her best friends, but she would more consider them brothers. They weren't replacements for Alpheus and Nilus, but they helped fill the void. No, Dorothea and Hubert were probably who she would class as her best friends. She had often heard whispers at the academy about Edelgard's attack dog slash lapdog, but none of the rumors were quite as founded as she thought they would have been.

"Besides, New Year's is coming within the moon and I want as many soldiers at the ready in the event that someone tries something." Ingrid picked up her chestplate and clipped it on, the dark metal shining in the sunlight pouring into the training grounds. "Is there something you needed or am I late for lunch?" Hubert pulled out a letter with a broken blue seal with the Kingdom's insignia on it. Ingrid quickly fastened the clasps on her chestplate and stepped forward to take the letter. "From my father?"

"No, intercepted by a spy on its way from Fhirdiad. It's encoded in some cipher the likes of which I am unfamiliar with. I hoped you might have better luck," Hubert explained. Ingrid pursed her lips slightly as she scanned the letter. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to decipher it, growling to herself at what was the equivalent of chicken scratch.

"It's not a code I recognize, it's in no way even close to any existing Kingdom cipher." Ingrid shook her head. "That would be the smart thing to do, throw out every old cipher. We have all of the former Lions here. Codes were practically Sylvain's only hobby besides flirting when he was younger, he dreamed of cracking mysteries and uncovering plots. Changing everything stops him."

"I'll have a word with him just to see if there is something he can do." Hubert nodded slowly. "If not, we have two possible futures here. If they are in fact orders or communication, we have intercepted them and may delay other plans of theirs."

"If it is nothing but a love letter, we have wasted time." Ingrid nodded. "But that is a risk we have to take."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 28, Imperial Year 1186

Hubert smiled fondly at the memory. He had never expected himself to become friends with the knight from the Kingdom, but Ser Ingrid Galatea surprised him by saving Edelgard in the Tomb. Ferdinand could have done it, he himself should have done it, but Ingrid was the one who chose to do it.

"Now, as you were saying about that dream. What made it different from what really happened?" Mercedes brought Hubert back to reality.

"This was on my arm, that is what really alerted me that I was dreaming." Hubert held up his arm to show Croífarraige to Mercedes. "It was a gift from Seteth and Flayn, given to me along with the Deluge Dragon Sign so that I might wield their late wife and mother's water magic." Mercedes reached out to touch the golden metal, dancing her fingers across the aquamarine gemstones. "It's a fascinating artifact." Hubert paused. "There was another change in the dream. Felix was there."

"His ancestor is in Nuvelle." Mercedes shot to her feet. "We need to get Constance to Hanneman and Linhardt now." Hubert nodded, sprinting out of the room.

Adrestia

Nuvelle

Fraldarius ducked beneath a partially collapsed pillar in the Tomb of Noa, plucking a cobweb out of her hair with a brief glare at the sticky silk. She flicked it aside, watching as the revenant that followed her grabbed the pillar she had gone under and pushed it aside, letting the aged stone shatter on the ground.

"Careful, brute." Fraldarius rolled her eyes. "I miss when Odesse's monsters did not have human faces, the Demonic Beasts' stupidity was at least charming." Fraldarius looked up at the cracked archway above her that led into one of the tomb's other antechambers. She held up her fist to command Dimitri to stop moving, a command the beast obeyed. Fraldarius scanned her eyes around the dark room, drawing one of her short spears from her back and brandishing it. "Who's there? Show yourself or face my wrath!" A young man emerged from behind a pile of rubble, his hands out to show that he wasn't a threat.

"Please don't hurt me, I'm just here to try to find some kind of treasure or something, make some money for my family." The young man explained. "My wife, we just got married. Her parents are sick, really sick. I want to help them like they helped me when I was younger."

"What is your name?" Fraldarius asked.

"Julien. Please, I just, I didn't see you here, I promise." Julien pled for his life. Fraldarius stepped aside, motioning for him to leave. "Thank you, thank you, I swear you won't regret this." Julien ran towards the entrance of the tomb, but Fraldarius raised her spear. She hurled it after him, nailing him in the back. Julien crumpled to the ground with a thud, a noise that made the corner of Fraldarius' mouth raise just a little. She turned on her heel, continuing on her pathway deeper and deeper into the crypt. Dimitri's corpse followed close behind her, an undead shadow for the similarly resurrected but still sentient Fraldarius.

The irony was not lost on her, someone who had been so recently dead in a place of demise and aided by another of her husband's revenants. Death was a spectre that hung over her and her husband both. He had always been driven to overcome it that the two of them might be able to live together for eternity, shaping the future as it happened. Fraldarius herself never truly feared death until...

Until the day she saw Odesse broken.

Adrestia

Tailtean Plains

Ethereal Moon, Day 25, Imperial Year 91

Fraldarius soared above the battlefield atop her ebony pegasus, silver lance at the ready and the Aegis Shield raised. She deflected an arrow from an archer, bringing her pegasus down towards the din of the raging war. She touched down next to Odesse, who was casting spell after spell against Imperial and Nabatean soldiers.

"Skadi's Spear!" Odesse commanded a blade of ice forward, impaling the archer that had fired at Fraldarius. He turned to his wife, touching his cold hand against her. "Where's Nemesis?"

"Nearby. There's a wall of flesh and blood between us and him," Fraldarius explained. The two looked over as the clashing of steel got louder and louder before finally seeing Seiros smash through the crowd. Odesse summoned magic to his hands again as Fraldarius readied her lance for combat.

"You!" Seiros brandished her eponymous sword at the pair. "You, who slew Felicia! You, who stand with those who murdered my mother! I made a mistake not ensuring you died! I shall not make that mistake again! On this day, I will bathe the earth in your anguish!"

"Fimbulvetr!" Odesse yelled, winter's wrath surging forward from his hands to engulf Seiros in frozen fury. Fraldarius urged her mount forward, holding out her lance to impale Seiros while Odesse had the so-called Saint distracted. Seiros' eyes glowed pure white, her body morphing and changing against the buffeting gale of Fimbulvetr. The same light in her eyes enveloped her body, expanding ever larger until it faded to reveal the imposing form of the Immaculate One.

"FALL BEFORE ME, INFIDELS!" The Immaculate One let out a bone-chilling screech. Odesse's eyes flicked over to his wife, summoning a massive rune in front of her. The Immaculate One swung her tail at the Falcon Knight.

"Beira's Barrier!" Odesse commanded as the Immaculate One's tail impacted the rune. The rune burst, creating a massive wall of ice to protect Fraldarius. The Immaculate One roared with rage, practically unhinging her jaw to spew fire so hot that it burned white to break the barrier. Odesse ran forward, summoning another pair of runes. "Skadi's Spear!" One of the runes transformed into a blade of ice which was promptly hurled at the Immaculate One's stomach. "Íshamar!" The second rune became a colossal hammer of ice. As Skadi's Spear pierced the outer scales of the Immaculate One, Odesse twirled around to put as much momentum behind Íshamar as possible to drive the spear in like a nail. The Immaculate One let out a roar of pain as the golden blood of the goddess leaked from her wound, the heat of her internal fire melting the mystical ice.

"You're the one who keeps them all alive! You're the one who makes the plans! You're the one who defiles my mother's Crests!" The Immaculate One turned her attention away from Fraldarius and onto Odesse. "I will damn you, defiler, and you will face eternity alone!"

"Not as long as I draw breath." Odesse surrounded himself with large runes. The Immaculate One unleashed another plume of flame at him, with all of Odesse's runes flashing. "Beira's Barrier!" Odesse was surrounded by the same icy barrier that he had protected Fraldarius with. Inside of the frozen shell, Odesse produced an artificial Crest Stone from his robes. His irises turned from their natural dark green to a bright and sickly green, a slight glow to them. "Take your head, gather your bones, gather your limbs, shake the earth from your flesh. I set before you a spirit, this imperishable star." Odesse pressed the artificial Crest Stone into the ice. It quivered and cracked, shifting around Odesse. He stepped out of a crevice in the back as the barriers of ice finished transforming into a griffin, the head of which contained the artificial Crest Stone. Odesse held his hand out, commanding his created beast to attack the Immaculate One. The griffin lunged forward, tackling the Nabatean dragon. It swiped at her with its claws, opening more gashes into her that leaked golden blood. The Immaculate One struggled for a moment in its grip before a stomping sound grew closer. Odesse and Fraldarius looked over to see the dark blue form of Cichol racing to the Immaculate One's aid. The bipedal dragon smashed into the griffin, freeing the Immaculate One from its grip. He then grabbed the griffin's mouth, pulling it open as the Immaculate One rose from the ground. The Immaculate One spewed fire down the griffin's throat, destroying it from within with her divine fury. Cichol picked up the artificial Crest Stone from the ground and crushed it between his fingers, scattering the dust into the wind.

"Odesse-" Fraldarius began.

"Run," Odesse ordered. Fraldarius remained frozen. "Now!" Fraldarius shook her head. "Please, I'll catch up. Just go." Fraldarius growled before urging her pegasus away from the battle. Odesse stood alone against the two Nabateans, summoning another pair of runes to his hands in an attempt at a last stand. The Immaculate One and Cichol both glowed again, the light surrounding them shrinking as they returned to their almost human forms. Cichol drew the Spear of Assal and the Ochain Shield from his back as Seiros leaned on her sword.

"You sent her away because you didn't want her to see you die." Seiros noted. Odesse squared his jaw, calculating his next move. "You misunderstand our purpose, defiler. I do not intend to kill you. I intend to make you live forever with your failure." Seiros waved her hand, channeling warp magic to bring Fraldarius back. "You will live as she dies, damned to feel your choices forever. Forgotten. Alone. As you deserve." Cichol took hold of the Falcon Knight, keeping her in his grip despite her struggles to break free. Odesse grit his teeth, manifesting a dagger from his cloak and stabbing towards Seiros' throat. The Saint saw the world around her shatter like glass and then freeze, the air developing a purple haze. She plucked the dagger from Odesse's hand, dropping it. "You seek the power of the goddess? Here it is." Time unfroze as, with another wave of her hand, Seiros commanded chains of golden light to emerge from the ground and wrap themselves around Odesse's wrists, pulling him down to his knees. "You will not die. This I pledge. You and your rebel friends will be damned to slither in the dark for all of eternity, forced to watch from the shadows as everything you've built falls. This l swear, Seiros, last daughter of Sothis." A ball of light formed in Seiros' hand, which she pressed into Odesse's chest. "Only the blood of my slain family will kill you. This I decree, Seiros, last daughter of Sothis." Odesse screamed in pain as his eyes flashed gold before returning to their normal green. Seiros walked around behind him, tipping her head to the side. She stomped downward at his back, a sickening crack echoing around them as she snapped his spine. Fraldarius screamed as she watched him crumple, but her scream was cut off quickly as Seiros whipped her sword forward and into the Falcon Knight's chest. "Thus always to traitors." Seiros and Cichol vanished in a flash of warp magic, Odesse's chains shattering as they left. Fraldarius crumpled to the ground dying, Odesse trying to drag himself over the rubble-laden ground to get to her.

"Bluebird, Bluebird, please don't leave me!" Odesse pled, cursing his paralyzed legs as they lay limp behind him. Fraldarius' neck went limp, all the life gone from her eyes. "NO!" Odesse reached her a moment too late, the only thing left of his wife her warm corpse.

Adrestia

Nuvelle

Garland Moon, Day 28, Imperial Year 1186

Fraldarius took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was not her own death that had hurt her that day, it was Odesse's anguished scream as she perished. She had hope he might save her one day, but she knew that there was no resurrection that would make the loss hurt any less.

She would kill them, all of them. The Crest Bearers, the remaining Nabateans, the Fell Star, each and every one of them would suffer.

Fraldarius and Dimitri's corpse arrived at a massive coffer. Fraldarius pointed at the stone box, the revenant grabbing the lid to wrench it off. The ancient lid cracked against his now even further augmented supernatural strength, allowing the zombie to shove it aside in two pieces. Within the coffer was a sarcophagus made of mystical metal, guarded by a magical lock.

"Where is Odesse now?" Fraldarius folded her arms.

A crowd stood around a cart, hooting and hollering as a ball of magic rained little snowflakes down upon them. Odesse emerged from the cart with a wink, snapping his fingers. The ball of ice magic burst in the air, sending a gust of cold mist into the sky. The crowd applauded for him, Odesse bowing with a smile.

"Thank you, thank you, you are all entirely too kind to a simple travelling magician such as myself!" Odesse took another bow. Multiple people came forward with bag of coins. "No, no! Keep your gold, keep your silver! I ask not for money! I ask only that you pay me with your eyes and your attention for this, my final trick. Now, for this particular ploy, I plead for a passionate and plucky participant from this peck of pleasant people! Perhaps you can patronize this particular purpose, perchance?" Excited children and adults alike raised their hands, with Odesse picking a little girl with long blonde curls. She practically sprinted to Odesse, stopping just short of tackling him in excitement. "And you, my dear, what might your name be?"

"I'm Flurina!" The girl declared. Odesse gasped, clutching his chest.

"Oh, joy! A name which means 'Flower'? Why, it must be fate, for this next trick involves flowers!" Odesse declared. He handed Flurina a leather bag. "Now, show them all that the bag is empty." Flurina looked inside before holding it out to the crowd, who murmured and nodded amongst themselves to confirm there was nothing in it. "And now, behold, in my hands, this rose." Odesse produced a rose from within his robe, the petals as red and as bright as a fire. "Into the bag it goes, and my wonderful assistant here will ensure the bag is sealed." Odesse raised his arms, letting his sleeves fall down to expose his arms. "No tricks up my sleeves, nothing hidden within." As he spoke, the arms of Tveirvápna emerged behind his back and came close together, creating a series of light blue runes. The bag in Flurina's hand began to shake violently, making the girl drop the bag. "No, no! You must open it, my valiant understudy!" Flurina gingerly undid the latch on the bag, stumbling backwards as glowing blue roses the same colour as the magical explosion Odesse had created in Kyphon City shot forth. "Ah, behold! Enough flowers for everyone!"

"Thank you, Great Odesse!" Some of the children in the crowd yelled as people started to gather up the beautiful roses. They glowed gently with mystical power, enrapturing everyone who gazed upon them. Odesse took an overdramatic bow with a wide grin before returning to his feet. He stroked his beard slightly, pursing his lips.

"I'm afraid I gave a little bit of a mistruth, I have one more trick after all." Odesse raised his hand above his head, summoning magic to it. "Poof." Odesse vanished in a burst of ice magic.

Odesse appeared in Noa's tomb before Fraldarius and the corpse of Dimitri. Odesse gestured to the sarcophagus with a raised eyebrow. Fraldarius' eyes flicked to the mystical lock, Odesse clicking his tongue in response. Odesse summoned green energy to his hands, glyphs and runes conjuring around himself and the sarcophagus.

"Seal of Noa, hear my decree. Your ancient mages sought to defend you from those who may have desired revenge, but it is that very defense that shall destroy you. Mystical lock of preservation, you keep this mortal form intact, the sacred apostle's last wish. From bones and dust come flesh and blood, from flesh and blood come your new life. Odesse flung his arms outward, allowing the glyphs and runes to spin freely around him. He snapped his fingers, the spark of blue lightning coming from him. A mystical explosion was heard, the souls of those Odesse killed with his exploding rose trick flooding into the tomb. "Life and death, oblivion and creation, order and chaos, sides of the same coins, bend to my will now." The souls joined the glyphs and runes surrounding them, Fraldarius looking on in awe. "Noa, hear me, once Apostle of Magic. You are no longer needed in Seiros' service, you are no longer needed by the Church of Sothis. There is a new cause for you, a more valiant cause. Serve me, heed my orders, rise as a champion of man and not a champion of the divine." Odesse touched his hand to the sarcophagus, the runes shattering as the glyphs and souls surged forth into the sarcophagus. The body of Noa was revealed inside, Odesse smiling slightly. It was perfectly and magically preserved, making his job infinitely easier. "Your new life is given by me, and you will use it in service of me." Odesse leaned over to whisper into Noa's ear. "Your eyes, closed in death, are opened by me." Odesse opened Noa's eyes like he had Dimitri's, exposing the solid mass of glowing green. "Your voice, silenced in death, is given words by me." Odesse opened Dimitri's mouth, indecipherable words escaping from her throat along with the green smoke. "Your body, broken in death, is restored by me." Odesse pulled Noa to her feet, guiding her out of the sarcophagus.

"Was..." Fraldarius paused. "Was saving me like that?" Fraldarius asked.

"No." Odesse released Noa's forearm, gesturing for Dimitri to support the other corpse at it grew used to standing again. Odesse took Fraldarius' hands in his, leaning his forehead against hers. "You were... Something different, something unique. While it should have been harder to restore you from nothing but bones, necromancy is easier the more passionate the sorcerer is to save the one they are saving. One thousand years without you and it took no time at all, I was that desperate to have you in my arms again."

"I love you, Odesse." Fraldarius smiled. Odesse replied by pulling her in for a kiss.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Hubert and Ingrid watched as Hanneman and Linhardt affixed the Craft Dragon Sign around Constance's neck. She took a deep breath as the feeling of a second Crest surged into her body, rising to her feet.

"I know it worked on Felix, but I was still... Uncertain." Hubert noted. Ingrid nodded. "We need to intercept them. Now." Ingrid shifted her shoulders slightly, feeling the comforting weight of both Lúin and Areadbhar resting on her back. "Small team. You, me, Jeritza."

"Agreed. I'll go get him." Ingrid nodded, leaving the Crest laboratory. She ran down the halls, dodging guards and servants as she did. She arrived at Jeritza's office quickly, knocking on his door twice.

"Come in," Jeritza said. Ingrid entered, leaning against his door frame. "Is Constance alright?"

"Yes," Ingrid replied.

"Good." Jeritza stood up. "I... I feared what might have happened to her." Jeritza tilted his head to the side, apparently listening to the demonic voice in his head. "We both feared it."

"Hubert and I are going to Nuvelle. We think that the Agarthans are there, that's why Constance needed a Dragon Sign. We want you to come with us." Jeritza's hand flew to the Death Knight's helmet, gripping it tightly. "I take that as a yes." Jeritza slipped the helmet on, his voice deepening behind it.

"I will join you, Praetorian Guard. Those who endanger dear Constance will die by my hand," The Death Knight growled.

Adrestia

Nuvelle

Odesse, Fraldarius, and the revenants emerged from Noa's tomb, the smell of mystical fire still permeating the air around them. Somewhere around one hundred people had been sacrificed to break the seal on Noa's sarcophagus, a worthy sacrifice in Odesse's eyes. Odesse's eyes flicked over as a teleportation rune appeared on the ground, with Hubert, Ingrid, and the Death Knight materializing. Hubert summoned magic to his hands as Ingrid drew Lúin and the Death Knight drew the Scythe of Sariel.

"Ah, you found us," Odesse sighed. "Fimbulvetr!" Icy gales shot from his hand towards the trio.

"Banshee!" Hubert countered, summoning a series of energy balls that screeched as they flew. The two spells collided in the air, exploding with a burst of magical fury. Ingrid charged forward at Fraldarius, driving Lúin forward at her. Fraldarius slipped behind the Dark Aegis Shield to block the attack, drawing her own lance from her back. The two Falcon Knights took turns swinging back and forth at each other, both dodging the other's jousts expertly. The Death Knight charged at Dimitri and Noa, tackling the larger of the revenants as he grabbed the smaller one. He swung the Scythe of Sariel at Noa's face, slashing into it. Green gas leaked from its face as Dimitri found its grip and shoved the Death Knight aside.

"Skadi's Spear!" Odesse hurled a blade of ice at Hubert. The Deluge Dragon Sign around Hubert's neck glowed as Croífarraige flashed with divine power.

"Arctorrent!" Hubert held out his hand, a jet of water gushing forward and destroying the ice blade before impacting Odesse. "Surge of Scylla!" Tentacles of water former around Hubert's arm, lashing out at Odesse. Fraldarius stepped between Hubert's attack and her husband, bracing against the water magic behind the Dark Aegis Shield. Ingrid charged forward again, impaling Noa on Lúin before drawing Areadbhar from her back. She swung it at Odesse, who summoned a large rune in front of him.

"Hubert, now!" Ingrid ordered. Hubert snapped his fingers at Lúin, the lance glowing slightly as it was engulfed in magicks. It, along with the impaled corpse of Noa, vanished with a flash. Odesse snarled, glaring at Ingrid. She brought Areadbhar up to her defense, the wide glaive at the ready. Odesse and Fraldarius weighed their options, the sound of the Death Knight brawling with Dimitri's corpse behind them slightly distracting. Odesse looked directly into Ingrid's eyes.

"Say hello to our descendant, that dear Felix." Odesse grinned, giving Ingrid a clear look at the eye colour he shared with Felix. Odesse snapped his fingers, causing himself, Fraldarius, and Dimitri's corpse to vanish.

"He's Felix's ancestor." Ingrid felt the hairs on her neck stand straight up.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 28, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid sat in the empty dining room of the palace, hand tangled in the hair atop her head. Her usual crown braids had been let down and she was wearing her dress uniform rather than her dark armour. She picked at the food in front of her slowly, taking a bite every few seconds rather than her typical eating style of finishing as quickly as possible. Everyone else had already finished their dinner and gone off to work on whatever their plans for the evening were. Hubert was helping Linhardt and Hanneman with studying the revenant that had been Noa, most of the Black Eagle Strike Force was off looking for Dragon Signs, and Byleth and Edelgard had decided to take a walk around the city. They had asked her if she wanted to come, but she asked if it was alright if she stayed behind. Edelgard assured her it was, she could afford an evening without her Praetorian Guard if it meant that her beloved Ingrid could rest alone like she clearly needed.

Ingrid leaned her head back and let out a long and groaning sigh. Off to her side leaning on the chair next to her was Areadbhar, with Lúin having been left in the care of the Crest researchers. When she helped them pull the spear from Noa's corpse, Ingrid could have sworn that Lúin was still glowing a little from Hubert's warping magicks, but she knew that was nonsense. It was not the lance that was glowing, but rather the spectre of revelation hanging over her. Felix, her friend, her brother, he was a descendant of both an Elite and an Agarthan, the Agarthan necromancer no less.

Ingrid shot to attention when she heard the door open, reaching over to grip the handle of Areadbhar. She saw that the cause of the disturbance was Byleth, a flower in his hair. Ingrid let Areadbhar go, sitting back down. Byleth folded his arms behind his back, walking over to her slowly.

"Edelgard and I had a lovely walk to the gardens." Byleth noted, sitting down across from Ingrid. "Good sauté?"

"It's fine." Ingrid shrugged. "It's not the sauté that's bothering me, honestly."

"The last time I saw you with this look was..." Byleth paused. "Years ago."

Garreg Mach

Training Grounds

Red Wolf Moon, Day 21, Imperial Year 1180

Ingrid let out a battle cry as she thrust Lúin forward into a training dummy, impaling it and lifting it over her head to slam it into the ground behind her.

"Careful, Ingrid, those things can break." Claude commented from the sidelines. Ingrid flashed him a glare. "Right, right, I haven't forgotten what you said about restructuring my face into a permanent smile."

"Haven't you somewhere else to be?" Ingrid asked.

"Oh, probably." Claude chuckled. "Here's the thing though, your Teach keeps poaching my house members. I'm down to, what, Hilda and Raphael? Hell, Dimitri's down to just him and Dedue. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think that Teach is building an army for Her Imperial Princessship." Claude laughed. "Hey, if you ever want flying tips, we should chat. I'm wyvern trained, it's not the same thing as a pegasus, but it's something. Don't worry, I won't try to make you into a Deer. You seem happier with the black wings." Claude turned on his heel and left the training grounds, passing Byleth on his way out.

"Professor." Ingrid nodded.

"Ingrid." Byleth nodded back. "I came to see how you were feeling. I understand today is of historical note in the Kingdom."

"With all due respect, Professor, I'm trying to ignore that as much as possible." Ingrid shifted her shoulders around, reacting back to make sure her braid was still secure.

"My apologies." Byleth rested his hand on the hilt of the Sword of the Creator. "Would you like to spar to help you ignore it?"

"I would, Professor." Ingrid nodded. Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator from its hilt, holding it out at Ingrid. She adjusted her stance and brandished Lúin, shifting her footwork a little to properly fight a swordsman.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 28, Imperial Year 1186

"This look means you're thinking about something that's weighing heavily on your heart." Byleth's nose twitched slightly as he reached for Ingrid's hand. Ingrid sighed and nodded, putting her hand in Byleth's as she leaned back in her chair.

"Hubert and I met the necromancer from the Tomb of the Praetorian Guard again." Ingrid sighed. "The same necromancer who brought back Fraldarius, Noa, and Nemesis and turned Dimitri into that... That thing, he's Felix's ancestor. Even if he hadn't said that Felix was his descendant, I know Felix's eyes, I knew Glenn's eyes, and the necromancer has them. That beautifully deep green that looks like grass after a rainstorm, he's the source of it because Fraldarius doesn't have them." Ingrid stood up and slammed her fist into the table. "And even if those eyes weren't enough to convince me, he fired off ice magic at me. That carries in a bloodline, Byleth." Ingrid squeezed her eyes shut before tipping her head back. Her voice became quiet, small, unlike Ingrid. "Glenn could do ice magic."

"I'm sorry, Ingrid." Byleth pulled her in for a hug, cradling her forehead against his chest. "Does Felix know?"

"No." Ingrid shook her head, looking up into Byleth's eyes. "Hubert didn't tell him and I don't know how to." Ingrid squeezed Byleth a little tighter. "I know I have to. I know that he deserves to know."

"But you also know that Felix is going to try something stupid if he finds out." Byleth smiled sympathetically. Ingrid closed her eyes in a wordless gesture of confirmation.

Garland Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

Felix played with the Dragon Sign around his neck, the numb ache of whatever had been done to Fraldarius still causing small spikes of pain in his chest, as he walked through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Every guard he passed gave him a salute, gestures he failed to return due to his racing thoughts. He finally reached Linhardt and Hanneman's lab, opening the door quietly to find the pair standing inside with the revenant corpse of Noa contained within a cell of magic. Lúin laid on a table next to some of Hanneman's equipment, still coated in disgusting green ichor. Hubert and Constance stood nearby, Hubert's arms folded behind his back and Constance's hand on her chin.

"It's so strange to think that I'm descended from this... Monstrosity." Constance scoffed.

"Their necromancer does... Fascinating work," Hubert commented. "Horrifying work, but fascinating."

"One has to wonder why Nemesis and Fraldarius have all of their mental faculties while Dimitri and Noa are reduced to these... Shambolic revenant beasts." Hanneman noted.

"I'm inclined to think it has something to do with whatever magicks that the necromancer used," Linhardt explained. "Different incantations, different results."

"It would mesh with what I've seen of their necromancer, he has a variety of spells at his disposal. He wields ice magic that I've only ever read about," Hubert said. "He cast Fimbulvetr, yes, but then he cast Skadi's Spear. Searching my own family's archives, a brother of a distant ancestor of mine made note of an enemy mage with dark green eyes who commanded that spell among other bits of ice magic and the lightning spell Thoron. He also noted that that same mage was close to Fraldarius of the Elites."

"That would be him then." Hanneman nodded. "Did this relative of yours record his name?"

"No." Hubert shook his head. "Unfortunately not." Hearing everything he wanted to, Felix slipped out of the room again. Hubert's eyes flicked over to the now open door as he looked over his shoulder. His eyebrows perking up slightly.

Felix slammed the door behind him as he stepped into his quarters, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He walked over to his bed, putting his head in his hands as he flopped down onto it. Dark green eyes, his dark green eyes. That alone would have been too much of a coincidence for Felix to stomach, but that was without the detail of the necromancer's magicks. His own command of Thoron matched with the necromancer, but the ice magicks confirmed it.

They were the same kind of spell that Glenn had wielded, the same kind of spell that their father could use.

Glenn had long trained in mounted combat to become a Holy Knight like Rodrigue. He had gotten close, developed much skill in ice magic and lances before his death at Duscur. He always talked about his ice spells with pride, said that he would protect the Kingdom with them. Promised that he would make sure that Ingrid and Felix would be able to have peaceful lives because he would make sure that anyone who wanted to hurt them had to go through him first. Ingrid would always complain, saying that she could protect herself and didn't need her future husband to do it. Felix would always roll his eyes and tell Ingrid to let Glenn do his job. Glenn never minded, though. He was simply happy to let loose spells that almost no one else in Fódlan could use. Glenn could cast Blizzard and Fimbulvetr like they were nothing, like their father could, but he also had a secret spell that he had only told Felix and Ingrid about.

He said it was called Skadi's Spear.

Felix remembered the day that Rodrigue had told him and Ingrid that Glenn was dead. He said that Glenn had died valiantly for his king, unleashing every spell he possibly could. Rodrigue talked about how there were Duscurans scattered all about where Glenn made his last stand, frozen and pierced by icy spells.

Rodrigue only ever talked about the valiant last stand.

Faerghus

Arianrhod

Lone Moon, Day 31, Imperial Year 1185

Felix twirled around, cleaving through a Kingdom soldier with his Sword of Zoltan. He twirled his blade for a moment as a motion to keep himself grounded. His eyes flicked around the battlefield, keeping tabs on everything around him. He saw Dorothea on the back of Petra's wyvern, casting spells down into the Kingdom's defenders. Somewhere on the field were the Emperor and the Professor fighting in tandem, carving a warpath through the heaviest resistance to allow for the rest of the Adrestian forces to have some breathing room. Above him was a quick flash of white feathered wings, a sign of morale for the Adrestians and a reason for fear for the Faerghusians that the Praetorian Guard was in play and moving swiftly along the battlefield to stop anyone that got in her way. Felix watched the woman in dusk iron armour leap off of the pegasus and onto the rampart of a wall, sweeping her lance around to disable the archers laying down fire on the battlefield. Felix watched her fighting almost expectantly before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as he heard the sound of incoming hooves.

"So, my foolish son... You took it upon yourself to leave your family behind," The disappointed voice of Rodrigue sighed. Felix opened his eyes and turned to see his father on the back of his horse. "And for what? To fight me here and now, that one of us will strike down the other? What would your mother say about this? Your brother? You can still come back, Felix."

"I'm not coming back. I won't serve the boar." Felix shook his head. "I've never been one for causes, but I serve one now."

"It's a father's duty to settle his child's failures. Felix..." Rodrigue took a deep breath. "You must die here and now!"

"I cannot allow that to happen." A woman's voice cut through the air as Felix's backup finally arrived on the back of her pegasus, Ingrid with Lúin in hand. "Ser Felix Fraldarius is my fellow knight and my brother. You will not strike him down while I still draw breath." Ingrid's glare softened as she looked into Rodrigue's eyes. "Please don't make us do this, Rodrigue."

"You both turned your back on everything and everyone you were meant to stand for." Rodrigue spat on the ground in front of him. "Glenn would be ashamed of you, of both of you. You've spat in the face of everything he ever fought for."

"In case you haven't noticed it somehow, Glenn can't be ashamed because he's dead!" Felix snarled. "Because this dying Kingdom of Faerghus that you are so desperate to fight for killed him! He died in the dirt because he was too blinded by your dogma to survive and you only care that he was an honourable knight!"

"DO NOT ACCUSE ME OF NOT LOVING MY SON!" Rodrigue roared. "I loved my son, I loved both of my sons, more than anything else in this world. Now that they're both gone, now that their mother is gone, all I have left is this Kingdom. This Kingdom. That is all I have left to love." Rodrigue paused. "Glenn loved this Kingdom too. I know he would be defending it too if he was still with us."

"But he isn't!" Felix snarled. "So we don't know what he would do."

"He made his choice." Rodrigue took a deep breath as he steeled himself. "So have you."

"You still have one you could make." Ingrid lowered Lúin, sitting up taller on Olympia's back. "In the name of Emperor Edelgard, I, Ser Ingrid Galatea, Praetorian Guard, offer you a chance at clemency. Rodrigue Fraldarius, lay down your arms and live on in memory of your son." Ingrid offered Rodrigue an out. "Please. Come home with Felix. Come home with your son."

"My only son died years ago." Rodrigue growled. “You, who would destroy the Kingdom he fought for! I will strike you down!” Rodrigue commanded his horse forward, thrusting his silver lance at his now disowned son. Ingrid urged Olympia forward so she could deflect the lance strike, giving Felix a chance to step into a better position. Light magic flooded to Rodrigue's hand, a glyph appearing as his hand glowed bright. "Aura!" A pillar of light shot from the ground beneath Ingrid, but a flick of Olympia's wings brought the two out of the way of the attack just in time. Felix channeled magic of his own to his hand, the crackling power of lightning magic.

"Thoron!" Felix commanded the beam of electrical energy forward, striking his father in the shoulder. Rodrigue grunted, bringing his shield up to deflect an attack from Ingrid and Lúin. He thrust his lance at her pegasus, but Felix darted between them and blocked the strike with the Aegis Shield. With a single whistle from Ingrid, Olympia kicked out at Rodrigue as Ingrid lept from her back. Lúin glowed as the light of the Crest of Daphnel flashed from Ingrid's chest, bringing her lance down with the might of a burning quake against the armour protecting Rodrigue's saddle. The armour buckled against the power as Olympia's kick knocked Rodrigue off balance. Felix reached up, grabbing his unstable father and dragging him from the back of his mount, the Holy Knight hitting the ground with a thud as Felix stepped aside. Rodrigue scrambled to his feet, readying his lance and shield. Felix brought the Aegis Shield up and twirled his sword in a taunt as Ingrid brandished Lúin once again. Rodrigue slammed the butt of his silver lance into the ground as he stood tall against his son and almost daughter-in-law.

"I am the king's shield, devoted to protecting the Kingdom, as well as the king's lance, who kills his foes! In the name of House Fraldarius... I will destroy you both!" Rodrigue charged forward, sweeping his lance forward in an arc. Ingrid twirled under the strike as Felix deflected the lance with the Aegis Shield. Ingrid sprung back at Rodrigue in an attempt to cleave through his own armour with her lance, but the elder knight brought his lance behind him to parry the strike as he blocked an attack from Felix's sword with his shield. Rodrigue then summoned ice magic to his shield hand, casting a wave of chilled wind forward. "Blizzard!" A small icy explosion engulfed Felix, but he blocked some of the fury of the attack with the Aegis Shield. As Ingrid rushed Rodrigue again, he summoned a massive rune to his hand. As Lúin made impact with the rune, the Holy Knight yelled another incantation. "Beira's Barrier!" The rune burst, creating a massive wall of ice that Lúin became embedded in. Ingrid, taking it in stride, used the shaft of the lance as a springboard, leaping over the wall and drawing her sword as she landed. She swung it up at Rodrigue, taking him by surprise and slashing into a weak spot in his armour. Taking advantage of the distraction, Felix spun his sword around and gripped it by the blade, his gauntlets protecting his fingers. He twirled around, clubbing the crossguard of his Sword of Zoltan into his father's chest. Rodrigue was knocked back into the ruins of a pillar, the armour under his robes in the back clanging loudly as the wall of ice he created shattering. Ingrid drove her sword down into the ground near him, piercing the robes in order to pin him down. She then kicked Lúin up into her hand, stepping back over to Rodrigue as Felix paced like a caged animal. "So, this is it..." Rodrigue groaned, trying to stand. "Your Majesty... Please bring us victory!" Rodrigue fell to his knees, grunting as he hit the ground. Ingrid pointed Lúin at him, looking over to Felix with a raised eyebrow. She knew from personal experience that killing one's father was hard, she had been unable to do the deed herself thus far, so she wanted to give him the option to have her be the one to strike Rodrigue down. Felix sheathed his sword and put the Aegis Shield on his back, picking up the silver lance that Rodrigue had dropped.

"I'm sorry it had to end like this, Father. I'm sorry we couldn't see each other's way." Felix whispered as he kneeled down next to his father. "Say hello to Glenn for me." Felix tightened his grip on his father's lance, a lance that Glenn had once dreamed of wielding before the dogma cut him down, and ran Rodrigue through. "Tell him I'll see him again someday." Felix pulled the lance out and took his dying father's hand in his. Ingrid stowed Lúin on her back and kneeled down as well, taking Rodrigue's other hand. Felix felt his father's fingers shifting around, feeling cold metal press into his palm before the movement stopped.

"Glenn... Riona... Lambert... Is that... You?" Rodrigue let out one last sigh as he closed his eyes. His weak grip on Felix and Ingrid's hands went fully limp as the Shield of Faerghus breathed his last. Ingrid reached around Felix's shoulders, hugging her chosen brother tightly. Felix turned his hand around, finding a signet ring with the insignia of the Duchy of Fraldarius engraved into it that had once adorned Rodrigue's little finger in his hand.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

Felix stood up from his bed, squaring his jaw. He walked over to a nearby cabinet, opening it up and pulling out a small box of keepsakes. Inside were a set of four items, items that Felix brought over to a desk in the corner of the room. He pulled out the first, his father's signet ring. It had been used to stamp every official document that Rodrigue had authorized, the seal of approval from the Duke and the king's right hand. It was to be passed on to Felix when he took up his father's position as the king's right hand, but deep down Rodrigue had to have known that Felix wouldn't have been able to stand by him the way that Rodrigue had stood by Lambert. Felix turned the cool gold ring around, gripping it tightly and taking a deep breath. As the ring was too large for his little finger, he slipped it onto his left index finger.

The next item he pulled out was a necklace made from a wedding ring with a chain fed through it, his mother's ring. It was a family heirloom almost as old as the Aegis Shield itself, dating back to the Age of Heroes when his namesake ancestor Felicia had been given the weapon by her beloved, a brother of the then-Adrestian Prime Minister. It was meant to be the one that Glenn gave Ingrid, but it had been given to Felix after Glenn's death. The unspoken understanding was that he was to find a Crestbearer to marry so that the bloodline of Fraldarius would live on, something he had never done and something he never truly intended to do. The Fraldarius bloodline would die with him.

The third item was a piece of a shattered chestplate, a chestplate that was supposed to have protected Glenn. It had failed at that task, buckled under the pressure of the manipulated Duscurans and their Agarthan allies. Glenn, the ever honourable knight who believed in a just cause, was felled by dishonourable tactics at the hands of a cause that just wanted to burn the old world down. It was everything Glenn swore to fight against, but everything that he couldn't fight against. Glenn was too honourable, too willing to lay his own head on the executioner's block so that another might not die in his place.

The final item was a single hair ribbon, one of a few like it that Ingrid had once used to keep her braid in place. They were part of a set given to her by Glenn, a set of ribbons that she distributed to her friends after her whirlwind day where she chopped off her hair, was knighted, and was given the Kiss of the Emperor to ascend to the rank of Praetorian Guard. By Felix's understanding, he and Sylvain both had one, the other former Blue Lions all got one, and Hubert and Dorothea both got one. The remaining four remained with Ingrid, though Felix suspected that Edelgard and Byleth were likely to get one of those. Ingrid would most probably keep the last two for herself, one for her and one in lieu of Glenn.

These keepsakes of his family, these treasures, they were some of the only things that Felix kept around solely out of sentimental value. Each was a gift with a history that stretched far beyond him, memories he had been entrusted to keep. They were the family he loved, the family of which he only had one member left. His not-quite-sister-in-law turned chosen sister. The woman who he handed Areadbhar to, the woman who he put a circlet on the head of in lieu of the crown of Faerghus.

Ingrid was the only family Felix had left, and he was going to move the skies and seas to save her if he had to.

Shambhala

Citadel of Terror

Myson sat at his desk, scribbling down notes in coded gibberish as he scanned a map of the Itha territory in Faerghus. The inhospitable plains were rife with monsters and marauders, the perfect place to hide out for a man as experienced at hiding as the so-called Gilbert. All it took was cross-referencing reports of travelers being saved by a mysterious man with time and he could have a perfect idea of Gilbert's path. 

Myson's focus on his work was broken by the sound of the clang of metal boots against the floor at his doorstep. He summoned dark magic to his hand and turned his head to see just who had invaded his sanctum. Before him he saw the revenant form of Dimitri, causing Myson to roll his eyes and dispel the forming spell with a snap of his fingers. Myson stood up and walked over to his liquor cabinet, pulling a bottle of whisky out along with two glasses.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Myson offered despite knowing that the creature with the face of a man would not respond. Myson chuckled as he poured himself a drink, leaving the second glass alone on the counter. He sipped his whisky slowly, making his way over to Dimitri. He tipped his head to the side, examining Dimitri's face carefully. "I do miss when Odesse's creations could not just wander into my abode." Myson extended his legs upward, the sounds of the dragon bones that composed Corffdur whirring as they shifted and brought Myson eye to eye with the revenant. "You're a fascinating creature, though, I applaud his work. The effect you must have had on your surviving friends... It's remarkable." Myson grabbed Dimitri's chin, forcing it to look up so he could examine the place where its head had been reconnected after Ingrid cleaved it off. Myson released Dimitri's chin, letting the creature's head straighten out again. "I suppose I'm monologuing to a corpse now. Oh well. Better than becoming a corpse because of a monologue." Myson brought his legs back to a more rational height. "I'm eager to put you to another test, monster. I know that Gustave Dominic, Gilbert Pronislav, whatever other name he may be going by now... He valued you. He saw you as the son he never had. The big brother for his darling daughter. I imagine it tore him up inside to outlive yet another king of your bloodline." Myson chuckled. "I cannot wait to play into that fear, to force him to see what you have become."

"I must say, Myson, I have missed your speeches." Nemesis' voice interrupted Myson. Myson let out an amused huff as the King of Liberation entered. "Might I have the drink that this beast cannot?" Myson smiled and returned to the glass he had left out, pouring a drink for Nemesis. He handed it to the giant of a man, who inhaled the fumes with a satisfied noise.

"It does resemble Blaiddyd, at least from some angles. It has the same nose as he did." Myson noted. "It is remarkable what passed down from the Elites to their blood-born."

"An affront is what it is." Nemesis growled. "The blood of the Elites serving alongside the Church as this so called Saviour King did? Disgusting." Nemesis gripped Dimitri's face, twisting it around. "I cannot kill this one, that was stolen from me, but the others?" Nemesis released the revenant. "I will anoint the ground upon which they tread with their screams."

"You may get your chance yet today." Myson chuckled. "I see no reason to keep Gilbert Pronislav alive after he gives us the location of the Tomb of Dominic. He may lack a Crest, but he is a devote follower of the great demon herself." Nemesis grinned to himself.

"You've located him then?" Nemesis asked.

"Indeed I have." Myson walked back to his desk and grabbed the map, bringing it over to show Nemesis. "If reports are to be believed, this is his current path. I believe we can intercept him with ease, I just need to put our little weapon here to use to do it."

"And then Gilbert Pronislav will be ours." Nemesis chuckled.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Felix stepped up to Ingrid's office door, knocking once before entering without an invitation. Ingrid sat at her desk, her mouth full of fruit and herring tart and a half-empty plate of more off to the side. She gave Felix an indignant look for being disturbed while she was stress-eating, but the look faded quickly when she saw Felix's somber expression. Ingrid chewed quickly and swallowed, setting the bitten tart in her hand down and standing up. She grabbed a napkin and wiped the crumbs from her face before walking over to Felix.

"Are you alright, Felix?" Ingrid asked.

"Are you?" Felix countered.

"I am." Ingrid nodded, confused. "What is this about?" Felix reached up to his chest, pinching the Grim Dragon Sign between his thumb and index finger.

"I want you to take this back," Felix said. Ingrid scowled at him.

"No." Ingrid shook her head and turned away from him, walking to her fireplace. She pulled a log from the wood holder next to it, tossing it in to keep the flames alive. "No, I'm not going to take it back. Not until Linhardt and Hanneman can look me in the eyes and tell me you'll be fine without it or until we have another Dragon Sign for you."

"Give me a break, Ingrid, we both know you deserve this more than me." Felix rolled again.

"Excuse me?" Ingrid spun around, stomping over to Felix and getting into his face. The height difference of three inches was almost mitigated by the heels on Ingrid's boots, leaving only a little more than an inch of difference between the two of them. Felix leaned back slightly from the angry Praetorian Guard, gritting his teeth to square his jaw.

"I said you deserve it more than me." Felix repeated himself. "I'm replaceable with any damn swordsman on the battlefield. You and Byleth can use the Aegis Shield as well as I can, hell you're as close to my ancestor's using of it as we have."

"How dare you?" Ingrid pushed him back and growled. "How dare you call yourself replaceable? And how dare you try to give me back that Dragon Sign when it's the only thing keeping you alive?" Felix growled, reaching behind his neck to unfasten it himself. Ingrid lunged forward, slamming her knee into his chest as she grabbed his wrists.

"I know you know about my other ancestor, Ingrid. That necromancer," Felix said. Ingrid gave him a confused glare. "I had theories. You were avoiding me, sulking. I was going to ask Hubert, but then I didn't have to. I overheard him talking about ice magic." Felix's expression softened. "Where Glenn and my father got it from."

"He has your eyes, Glenn's eyes," Ingrid whispered.

"That's why I want to give this to you again. I'm not letting my ancestors put you in danger." Felix pled with Ingrid.

"I'm not about to let you lay down on the sword meant for my neck!" Ingrid yelled.

"JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" Felix yelled. Ingrid lessened her hold on him slightly. "You're not just the Praetorian Guard, you're not just the Emperor's lover, you're not just the Queen-Regent of Faerghus, but you are all of those. Beyond those, and more importantly, you are my sister." Felix and Ingrid's eyes both began to fill with tears. "I am not going to stand by and let another sibling, another member of my family, die. I couldn't save my mother from that damned disease, I couldn't save Glenn from Duscur, I couldn't save my father from himself, but I can save you." Felix squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears stream down the sides of his face and onto the ground. "Please. Please just let me." Ingrid's tears hit Felix's face, intermingling with his own.

"Let me get you to Hanneman and Linhardt first, please." Ingrid hugged her chosen brother tightly. Felix nodded into her shoulder, hugging her back.

Chapter Text

Sreng

Sreng Desert

Garland Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

Annette, Raphael, Ferdinand, Ashe, Leonie, Caspar, and Alois trod through the desert, with Ferdinand and Leonie leading their horses along the route. Annette shielded her eyes from the billowing sand as Ashe spat some of the sediment out of his mouth with a grimace.

"How much longer, Raph?" Caspar yelled over the sandstorm.

"Not too far!" Raphael answered. He was proven right when Alois' foot found stone rather than sand, his heavy metal boot clanking quietly against it. As the party stepped up onto the stone, the sandstorm almost seemed to clear as they found themselves in a ruined temple with the iconography of the Four Saints upon it. Annette shrugged her hood off, looking around with awe.

"You can feel the arcane energy here. Raphael, you can hear it too, right?" Annette's eyes filled with wonder, Ashe watching her with a small smile.

"Absolutely. It's so loud but so peaceful." Raphael grinned widely. "You should hide. We're going to find Saint Macuil." Annette nodded and ducked inside what looked like a ruined shrine. Ashe hesitated for a moment before following her inside. He slipped his bow off of his back so he could sit more comfortably, getting situated next to Annette.

"I didn't want you to, you know, be alone in a place like this and all that," Ashe explained quickly.

"I wasn't even going to ask." Annette giggled. "Thank you."

Ferdinand took the lead on approaching the altar, the Spear of Assal in hand and the borrowed Ochain Shield affixed to his arm. Seteth had stopped him via a messenger just before the group left the palace, saying that he needed to loan the Prime Minister something. Seteth reasoned that since the Ochain Shield was bound to him in a way like no other weapon, vanishing from existence itself if Cichol was dead and unable to find a home on any arm that the Saint did not approve of, it would serve as a symbol to Macuil that Ferdinand and his party were friends of his brother.

"Noble Saint Macuil, hear my words! I am Ferdinand von Aegir, Prime Minister of Adrestia, old friends of the Saints! Look upon my arm, I bear the shield of your brother Cichol! He has entrusted me with his trusted defense in hopes that it would show you that we are to be aided by you!"

"Cichol, hmm?" A mighty voice as powerful as a typhoon rang out through the temple. "Cichol came to me for aid not too many moons ago. I told him then that I would not assist him. I have lived apart from the world of man, which disgusts me. This war disgusts me also. I presume that is what you here about, yes? What made Cichol think I would answer differently this time?"

"Circumstances have changed, Saint Ma-" Ferdinand held his arms out.

"I AM NO SAINT!" Macuil roared, finally emerging in the form of a massive dragon. He stomped over to Ferdinand, exhaling hot air from his nose into the Prime Minister's face as he flapped his wings. "There is only the Wind Caller now, mortal man. The saint your kind has claimed is nothing of the sort, none of the saints are. We were used as symbols, slaughtered when we were no longer useful, and then turned into weapons by your human kin. Why would I aid such humans in their constant desire to slaughter?" Macuil turned away from the group and chuckled quietly to himself. "You have had your fun. If you are going to flee, now is your chance." The group stood unmoving with the exception of Ferdinand and Leonie, who both got on their horses and readied themselves for a fight. "If you are not going to flee... I shall take your life as payment!" Macuil spewed a gale from his mouth at the group, who all dodged out of the way as best as they could. Leonie nocked an arrow and let it fly at Macuil, striking him in the shoulder. He glared at her, whipping his tail around to send a wave of sand flying at her. Alois charged at Macuil with his Axe of Zoltan, slashing into his scales with the mighty blade. Macuil was about to retaliate when he was punched in the face by Raphael wielding his Dragon Claw gauntlets. He swiped at Caspar, but was intercepted by Ferdinand and the Ochain Shield. Caspar took advantage of the assist and swung Hauteclere at Macuil's chest. Macuil roared in anger and flapped his wings, a massive gust of wind blowing everyone back. He then pounced at Caspar, pinning him down and preparing to bite the man's head off.

"Cethleann sent us!" Annette shrieked as she and Ashe emerged from their hiding place. Macuil froze and the mention of his niece, staring at Annette. He stepped off of Caspar, stomping slowly towards Annette. "That's why we're here. Because she said that you were the only one we could ask."

"Cethleann is engaged in this mortal war? Impossible." Macuil scoffed.

"This is no mere mortal war, not anymore." Annette shook her head. "This is much further beyond that. The war Cichol asked you for help with is over. Seiros lays slain after burning down a city of innocents and refugees in a desperate attempt to stop the vessel of Sothis herself." Macuil's eyes widened. "We now fight against the same group that Seiros once damned to slither in the dark, the Agarthans." Macuil snarled at the mere mention of their name. "They're using the Crests given by the Nabateans to defile the dead and destroy the living. They will finish what they started if we do not stop them." Annette stepped closer. "They're trying to kill me. They're trying to kill my friends. None of us asked for our Crests. We're trying to make a future with them, but the Agarthans are using them to hurt us." Annette's eyes filled with tears as she put her hand on Macuil's head, running her hand along his Crest. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she closed her eyes. "Please." Macuil sighed quietly as his eyes glowed purple before light of the same colour enveloped his body. The light shrank slowly before coming to a stop at a human form. The light dissipated, revealing a human with green hair that almost would have matched Seteth's own shade if not for the white streaks that populated it. He wore a long coat which was such a dark blue it almost appeared black with yellow lining, a lighter blue shoulder covering, and gold epaulettes along with golden boots and greaves. The Sword of Begalta sat comfortably in a scabbard on his hip and a gauntlet glowing with the same purple energy of his transformation found its home on his left wrist.

"Take me to my niece, only then will I give you the Dragon Signs you require." Macuil tipped his chin up, looking down at Annette. Annette conjured her teleportation spell, summoning a rune in front of her. Her eyes glowed an identical purple to Macuil's own magicks, something that made Macuil's eyebrows perk up in curiousity. The group, with the new addition of the Saint, vanished at in a flash of light.

Adrestia

Enbarr

The group appeared in the Adrestian throne room where Edelgard, Byleth, Ingrid, Hubert, and Flayn waited. Flayn lit up upon seeing Macuil, sprinting over to hug her uncle around the abdomen.

"Ah, that face takes me back in time... You have not changed one bit, Cethleann," Macuil chuckled, embracing her back with a pat on the shoulder.

"I would ask you keep quiet about that name, Uncle, but these are all friends who already know my secret. Our secret," Flayn giggled.

"I understand there is a rush, Cethleann. That your friends require my aid." Macuil raised an eyebrow.

"Your Dragon Sign, and that of dear Ethniu." Flayn nodded. "One of our own is infirmed, being kept alive by the Grim Dragon Sign of-" Macuil's nose crinkled, looking at Ingrid.

"No, no." Macuil cut Flayn off. "that should be her Dragon Sign, it will not keep one meant to bear Ethniu's alive for long." Macuil clicked his tongue, summoning both his own Wind Dragon Sign and the Moon Dragon Sign of Ethniu to his hand. He offered his own to Annette with a blank glance that wasn't quite a glare. Annette slipped the Dragon Sign on, attempting to thank Macuil before he slipped away through the doors with Flayn.

"Welcome back." Edelgard finally spoke up. A quiet chuckle rippled through the room. "It seems it went well enough."

"Annette made certain of such." Ferdinand held his arm out, the Ochain Shield vanishing from it to return to its master. "That's two more signs and potentially a powerful new ally. He hates the Agarthans quite a bit, thankfully. His magicks are... Unlike most I've seen."

"Macuil is said to be the pioneer of the arcane arts. It was he who taught our ancestors how to turn their faith into healing and their reason into might. He is the one who gave man the first sparks of Thunder, the first embers of Fire, and the first breezes of Wind." Hubert smiled fondly at the concept. "Perhaps he did not invent every school of magic, but he showed us how to find the schools." Edelgard leaning over in her throne slightly, coming closer to Ingrid. Ingrid lowered her head so that Edelgard could whisper in her ear.

"Ingrid, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to get the Grim Dragon back as soon as possible." Edelgard smiled slightly. "As Macuil said, it's meant for you."

Seteth sat in his newly acquired room in the palace with Macuil and Indech, all three of them holding cups of tea. Indech's human form was similar to that of his brother-in-law and Macuil, but with Flayn's hair colour rather than their darker green. He was clad in thick armour so dark a blue it appeared black bearing golden trim and a skirt made of lighter silver strips.

"I was actually quite surprised when a descendant of mine arrived, the Inexhaustible in hand. I remember having some fun with some of these Adrestians some time ago, though this was not the exact same group of course. I do wish that... Oh, I think I heard that their names are Leonie and Linhardt, had come, but oh well." Indech sipped his tea. "And what of you, Macuil? I thought you had abandoned humanity."

"I am here not for mortal men, but for our massacred fellows, friends, and family." Macuil swirled his tea slightly, watching the faint spiral form in the hot liquid. "Indech, Cichol, there is a matter of interest to me. My friend and your respective sister and wife, her Dragon Sign and her heart are being wielded by a mage with no Crest of his own. Why?" Macuil looked directly at Seteth. "Tell me, Cichol, what makes him worthy over any of those other mortals which have the blood of the Nabateans in their veins already?"

"He reminds me of me, Macuil," Seteth explained. "Everything else to him is secondary besides defending those he cares about. He would toss his own life aside in a second if it meant saving his Emperor or his friends." Macuil's eyebrows flicked up slightly. "I would ask you the same question, Macuil, about your treatment of Nemain's Dragon Sign. Cethleann indicated you declared it was the Praetorian Guard's to bear without having even met her before that moment."

"Perhaps I have not met her, but my darling wife's bones have. Remind me, my brothers of blood and of sword, why my wife earned the title of Grim Dragon?"

"She was war incarnate, our greatest fighter, the first of our number on any battlefield no matter who we fought against." Indech's voice became a chanting song. "As I believe it went, 'Her horns were formed of slaughter, her claws were bathed in wrath. She charged headfirst to battle, her foes would shriek their last'." Indech smiled fondly at the ballad composed in an ancient Nabatean mead hall. "Your wife's spirit reacts fondly to this Ingrid Brandl Galatea then?"

"Nemain had only one final regret, that she could not keep fighting. When I discovered that mortal men had transformed her remains into a weapon for the one who she gave blood to, I was enraged. I attempted to strike that Crestbearer down, but Nemain's voice stopped me. She said she felt every drop of blood spilled for a cause believed in, that it brought her late flames of spirit joy. I let that Crestbearer live, I have continued to let them live, but then the last one was struck down with no viable heir to his bloodline. I thought my wife's spirit would die again in ignominy, but them someone new took up the glaive formed from her body. Perhaps the Crestbearer of Aerfen's blood is not the one who was originally intended to carry on Nemain and her spirit, but she most certainly has Nemain's fight in her," Macuil explained. "Wielding this slaughterer, this Areadbhar, she struck down her own treacherous father and shattered his blade." Macuil chuckled. "Nemain was thrilled when she told me the story, she said it was a good fight and a good death."

"Well, if the Grim Dragon herself approves, I see no reason for us to not." Seteth raised his cup of tea.

"Still, I believe I shall test her myself on her own mortal terms. In the Nabatean tongue, her middle name means sword. I will test hers in her family's tradition today." Macuil rose. "I have missed these chats, blood-brother and sword-brother, but I must conduct that test now."

"Try not to break her, Macuil." Indech scoffed. "I don't believe our hosts would much appreciate that." One side of Macuil's face curled into a scheming smile before he left the room.

Ingrid watched over Felix's sleeping form, the Grim Dragon Sign in her hand. Ethniu's Dragon Sign hung around Felix's neck, the angry flesh around his torso having calmed down. Ferdinand sat in the chair on the other side of the bed, massaging his chin with his hand. He watched the Grim Dragon Sign in Ingrid's hand, almost expecting her to put it on at any moment.

"Macuil said it himself and I am rather inclined to trust his judgement," Ferdinand said quietly. "That Sign, it rightfully should be yours, that it wouldn't have helped Felix for long. You did everything you could, you fought for him to stay alive at your own severe peril. He is not laying here because you failed him, Ingrid."

"I know that." Ingrid's voice was low in both volume and pitch. "But I still feel at fault. Perhaps if I had been faster in the Tomb of the Praetorian Guard..."

"Perhaps Nemesis would have snapped your neck." Ferdinand sighed, leaning forward. "You are enough, Ingrid, you are always enough in any moment. When you were knighted, I made a vow before the throne that you watch my back during any battle, that you are vigilant. You are always looking to keep everyone else safe, no matter what it may cost you. That trust is something that you have never abused in anyone. Felix will agree with that when he wakes up."

"If."

"When." Ferdinand reached into a small bag stashed next to his chair, pulling out a pair of mugs and a bottle of mead. He poured a mug, offering it to Ingrid who took it without looking at the mug. "Do you remember the first time we shared a mug of mead?"

"After the raid at Airmid." Ingrid nodded.

Hrym

Airmid

Blue Sea Moon, Day 7, Imperial Year 1181

Ferdinand cantered along the battlefield on his horse, looking around at the carnage with a grim expression on his face. Soldiers Adrestian and Leicesterian alike lay dying or dead on the battlefield, with the healers overwhelmed with the sheer number of people who had been injured or needed their last rites. He approached a chaplain praying over a dying man, who closed his eyes peacefully upon the prayer's end. The chaplain rose, turning to the Prime Minister.

"Prime Minister, I'm afraid the situation on this line is dire. This is where our newest troops were stationed. This man was their commander." The chaplain gestured to the dead man before turning to an embankment where dozens of soldiers were stationed. Ferdinand's eyes scoured up and down the line, taking in the depressing sight. This was not the well-trained army that Ingrid and Count Bergliez maintained in Enbarr, these were men and women who were about as green as soldiers could come. Many of the fighters looked far younger than they may have claimed to be when enlisting and all of them looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of facing the upcoming battle. "They're known as the Shrike Battalion and they are now without leadership and without motivation." Ferdinand nodded and ushered his steed over to the Adrestian line, tapping the Spear of Assal against his horse's armour in order to get the group's attention.

"Warriors of Adrestia, defenders of the Emperor's dreams and protectors of the Empire's creed!" Ferdinand's voice carried across the entire line, with the battle itself almost seeming to quiet as his words rang out. "Members of Shrike Battalion, my brothers and sisters! I see on your faces and hear in your words the fear that is inevitable with any battle! That fear may be rooted in truth, but it is not rooted in fact! The fact is this: There may come a day when the armies of Adrestia fall, when all of her swords are broken, when the great black eagle is forced to land and never take flight ever again, but today is not that day! Today we fight as one, today we go on to the end! Today, in the name of the future and those who shall live in it, we charge together! The time has come to show these soldiers of Leicester who you are and why you're here!" Ferdinand raised the Spear of Assal above his head, with the rookies he was motivating drawing their weapons and readying their spells. "I bid you rise, soldiers of Shrike Battalion! Rise together with your Emperor, with your Praetorian Guard, with your Minister of the Imperial Household, and with me!" Ferdinand ordered his horse towards the Leicesterian line, leading the charge as his now motivated troops rushed in after him. A flurry of wyvern riders came soaring down upon the charging battalion, but they were slowly picked off by the rallied soldiers' arrows, javelins, hand axes, and spells. With a storm of white feathers, a pegasus cut through their line as the sun glimmered off of Ingrid's armour, driving Lúin into one of the wyverns. Olympia turned around in the air and kicked one of the riders off as Ingrid yanked her spear out and made a gesture to Ferdinand. Ferdinand hurled the Spear of Assal up to her as Ingrid sent Lúin sailing at him, Ingrid jumping back off of Olympia as she caught Ferdinand's weapon, slashing its axe-like side blades into the reins of another rider before kicking him off of his mount. Ferdinand twirled Lúin around, impaling a charging cavalier and forcing her body from her horse. This act, however, revealed another wyvern rider surging towards Ferdinand.

"Fimbulvetr!" Marianne's voice came from behind Ferdinand. He ducked out of the way, allowing his friend's ice spell to slip past his head and into the wyvern rider. The rider, disoriented and injured by the icy magicks, was helpless when Ingrid swooped down and drove the Spear of Assal through his neck. Ingrid then flew down and brought Olympia to a stop next to Ferdinand and his horse, the Prime Minister and Praetorian Guard trading their weapons back again. The trio turned their attention towards Shrike Battalion carving quite a path through the Alliance strike team, sharing nods of approval amongst themselves.

"Good speech, Ferdinand," Ingrid said as she reached over to Ferdinand's saddle, grabbing a javelin from it and hurling it at a particularly brave archer who was aiming for the trio. "You would motivate even Her Majesty with that one, I think." Marianne turned her attention towards another skirmish in the distance, touching Ferdinand's arm as a temporary farewell before riding off to help.

"And I think I need a drink after this fight." Ferdinand chuckled, running his hand along his arm tenderly, Ingrid raised an eyebrow at Marianne's gesture, but simply decided to listen to Ferdinand's idea better. "Something to wet that speech's whistle. We got some mead from that town we passed through the other day, I think Hubert took possession of it ostensibly to make sure it's not poisoned, but beyond that he does love a good mug of mead."

"I'll set up my field office when this is done, tell Hubert to bring mugs." Ingrid chuckled.

Ingrid leaned back in her field office's chair, lounging slightly more than the ever-professional Praetorian Guard probably should have been. Her upper armour sat in a chair nearby, with Lúin and her scabbard-clad sword leaning against the same chair. She pushed her hair out of her face, the locks still damp from the post-battle bath she had taken in her personal tent. She turned her head towards the sound of a knock at the pole set up next to the door flap of the tent, standing up and walking over to a nearby table as she did.

"Come in!" Ingrid pulled a pair of chairs out from under the table, setting them up properly before grabbing the chair she had been sitting in already. Ferdinand walked in, a bottle of mead in his hand and one side of his hair braided back in a manner that made it almost look shaved. Ingrid's eyebrows flicked up, gesturing to the same spot on her own head.

"Marianne did it. She says she likes my hair longer but that my ears are... Oh, what was the term she used..." Ferdinand sat down in one of the free chairs.

"I believe the phrase I overheard was 'Cuter than a foal's first steps'." Hubert chuckled as he entered with three mugs, closing the flap to the temporary office behind him. "Praetorian Guard, Prime Minister."

"Minister of the Imperial Household." Ingrid and Ferdinand spoke almost in unison, putting on the most flowery accents and fake bows they could. The trio laughed, bringing their chairs in closer to the table. Hubert undid the stopper on the mead and poured three mugs, setting the bottle down and reclining slightly in his chair. Ingrid looked down into the mug, slowly picking it up. She smelled it for a moment, letting the smell of fermented honey snake its way up her nose.

"Are you alright, Ingrid?" Ferdinand asked.

"I don't know how it's never come up and I assume that Hubert here already knows it-" Hubert let an amused huff of air out of his nose at Ingrid's jab. "-but I've only ever had alcohol at Academy functions and religious ceremonies."

"We can get you another drink if you'd like." Hubert offered.

"No, no." Ingrid shook her head. "Drinking age in Faerghus is twenty unless with family, but my father always thought alcohol was improper for a noblewoman to drink." Ingrid scoffed at the mention of her father. "But I already committed treason, so my drinking with you two shouldn't come as a shock to him." Ingrid let out a happy sigh. "Besides, I'm drinking with the family I chose." Ingrid raised her mug, Ferdinand and Hubert clicking theirs against it.

"Hear hear." Ferdinand smiled. The trio drank the fermented honey, all letting out varied noises of satisfaction.

"So cuter than a foal's first steps, hmm?" Ingrid asked, turning to Ferdinand. "Is there something going on between you and Marianne that we should know about?"

"Yes, that." Ferdinand sighed and shook his head. "Ingrid, I distinctly recall us discussing Marianne and I once before and you made the joke that too much time with Dorothea meant she was rubbing off on you." Ingrid rolled her eyes as Hubert scoffed quietly into his mug. "Yes, Marianne and I have been talking, naturally. Two riders, the professor naturally paired up my spears and her sorcery on missions and skirmishes. We've slipped into a routine, we know each other's fighting styles. We talk outside of battle, take Otto and Dorte out for little gallops daily." Ferdinand sighed happily. "She's lovely, you two. Compassionate, sweet... And entirely at the mercy of circumstance. Margrave Edmund is a charming and charismatic fellow, I've had the pleasure of negotiating with him regarding treaties in his territory already, but his honeyed words cannot counteract the rumors about his adoptive daughter. I will admit, I was myself somewhat skeptical about her once, I was mystified that she had no interest in her noble status until I learned about the story of her Crest, the whispers that surround her on the street any time she steps outside."

"She seems different now, happier. Her hair is neat, her wardrobe organized, there is less shame in her voice," Hubert noted.

"Yes, and that's the most wonderful thing about her. She despises the pity and the mockery and chooses to rise up from it." Ferdinand smiled. "Two nights ago, we met under the stars. She had been the one to cook the week before that day."

"I remember that meal quite well, it was delightful." Ingrid noted. "The bear was so flavourful and yet so delicately cooked, some of the best I've ever had."

"It was. I stopped by the field kitchen afterwards to talk to her about it. We discussed... Things, prior conversations. I asked her if maybe she would consider making something for me, just me, at some point. She surprised me with a picnic just after sunset. Foods we both love; sautéed pheasant and eggs, onion gratin soup, saghert and cream, all of it so delightful. When the meal was done we... Kissed." Ingrid's mouth dropped open with excitement as Hubert smiled a wide Hubert smile.

"Oh, that's wonderful for both of you!" Ingrid beamed, pouring herself a little more mead.

"Love blossoming in a time of strife is much needed good news, my friend." Hubert gripped Ferdinand's shoulder. "Though I do hope nothing too lavish will come about in the midst of a war."

"What could possibly make you think I would do anything of the sort?" Ferdinand scoffed in mock offense, making both of his friends laugh.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 29, Imperial Year 1186

"Good memories." Ingrid looked down at the table next to her and realized that she had set her mug aside at some point while reminiscing. She looked down at her neck, her eyes widening when she saw that she had absentmindedly put the Grim Dragon Sign on, much to Ferdinand's amusement.

"You did it about two minutes ago by my count. I was wondering when you'd notice." Ferdinand grinned.

"You're a good friend, Ferdinand. I appreciate it." Ingrid smiled. The door to the infirmary opened, revealing Macuil. He locked eyes onto Ingrid and rested his hand against his sword's pommel, sizing her up for a moment.

"Praetorian Guard, I challenge you to a ritual of your people." Macuil looked down upon the rising Praetorian Guard. "Dreyri-Dolg." Ingrid stepped over to him, smiling slightly.

"I accept your challenge." Ingrid adjusted her armour slightly before slipping out of the room. Macuil followed her, the two of them heading towards the training grounds.

After a few passing moments of silence, the two arrived. The members of the Imperial Army within stood at attention as their supreme commander walked in with the saint. Ingrid made a single sweeping gesture with her hand that caused the group of soldiers to vacate the training grounds. Ingrid and Macuil took their respective places on either end, with Ingrid setting aside her sword, Lúin, and Areadbhar before removing the upper half of her armour. With a wave of his hand, Macuil's upper robes vanished and revealed human skin dotted by both dragon scales and battle scars. Ingrid kicked Lúin into her hand, looking upon Macuil with curiousity. He put his hand out in front of him, a sword materializing from purple magic with the appearance of glass. He pointed the blade at Ingrid, whose eyes flicked toward one of the soldiers standing nearby. After a moment of confusion, the soldier realized what was being asked of them and clanged their axe against their shield.

Macuil dashed forward, swinging his blade at Ingrid's shoulder. She ducked out of the way of her towering opponent, driving her spear towards Macuil's hip. He dodged out of the way by spinning around in the air with surprising agility for a man who was almost seven feet tall. Macuil then swung his sword thrice at Ingrid, who blocked the first two strikes before deflecting the third. She slid against the ground, the dusk iron of her greaves scraping quietly in the dirt as her attempted strike to Macuil's abdomen slipped just past its target and merely grazed the Wind Dragon's flesh slightly. Ingrid rose with a twirl, bringing her lance up into a chest strike that Macuil deflected with a twirl of his blade. Macuil twisted around, gripping Ingrid's lance by the handle and hurling her back a few feet. Ingrid used the blade of Lúin to skid to a stop before rising to her feet again. Macuil hurled his sword forward, which Ingrid batted away with ease, Macuil held out his hand to call his sword back to him, slicing off a few strands of Ingrid's hair as she moved her head out of the way. The two warriors clashed weapons a few more times with blazing speed that those watching the ritualistic duel could hardly keep up with. After what felt like almost a minute of exchanged blows, the Crest of Daphnel flashed from Ingrid's relatively exposed chest as Lúin glowed with divine light. She lept in the air and brought Lúin down upon Macuil's blade with the might of a burning quake. The mystical glass finally shattered as a smile crept onto Macuil's face. Ingrid brought her lance to his neck in a wordless command to yield, which Macuil did with a snap of his fingers that returned his and Ingrid's armour as well as Ingrid's other two weapons to their rightful places.

"Well fought, Praetorian. You are indeed a worthy bearer of my Nemain's Dragon Sign." Macuil held out his hand to shake Ingrid's. She accepted it with a smile of her own, looking to the door to see Byleth standing there with his arms crossed. He gave Ingrid an approving nod before looking at Macuil. "And you, I understand your name is Byleth. You have a certain power I have not witnessed in... How long has it been? Hundreds of years? Thousands?" Macuil inhaled deeply. "You have the stink of Sothis upon you. I hope to find out whether you share her power." Macuil walked out of the room. Byleth and Ingrid watched him leave as the gathered soldiers returned to their drills before their squad commander showed up. Byleth and Ingrid also made their way out of the room, heading towards the Emperor's chambers.

"Ferdinand sent you?" Ingrid asked.

"Ferdinand told me where you were, I was looking for you regardless of your being challenged to ritual combat by a saint," Byleth replied. "El and I received something for you, a letter from Elbiny, a barony on the coastline of Edmund in the former Alliance territory." Ingrid's brow furrowed at the mention of Elbiny.

Silence dominated the pair's walk, not a word more spoken as they arrived at the door to the chambers. Ingrid pushed the door open, finding Edelgard inside in her court attire but with her crown discarded on a desk nearby. Hubert loomed nearby, stirring his cup of coffee while staring out the window. Edelgard held up the letter for Ingrid, smiling at both of her beloveds.

"I've not opened it, nor did Hubert." Edelgard assured Ingrid, earning a quick glance from Hubert.

"It's not poisoned, I've checked." Hubert added. "At least not the envelope." Ingrid took the letter from Edelgard, turning it over to look at the seal. She smiled fondly when she saw the Crest of Daphnel stamped into the yellow wax sealing it shut, a seal she broke open with quiet delight.

"My dearest baby sister." Ingrid read aloud. "I am absolutely thrilled to hear of your position in the Empire. From the moment I first saw you, I always knew that you were destined for greatness. This isn't the route I expected you to take, of course, but I'm proud none the less. I hope this letter finds you quickly, as my wife and I have both joyous news and terrible news." Hubert's eyes narrowed slightly. "The joyous news is that which will give you an excuse to come here to hear the terrible news in person: The birth of my daughter, your niece." Edelgard gasped happily. "Her name is Cecily Idyia Anjou, as we have taken her mother's family name." Ingrid looked up at Hubert. "I hope to see you and some of your allies soon in the town of Yorque here in Elbiny. With the kindest regards, your brother, Alpheus."

"I've been to Yorque, with my father on mercenary business." Byleth looked at Hubert. "I've picked up the spell from you, she and I will go. Dire news may mean a plot against the Emperor, which means that you should be here as the dagger hidden in her left hand."

"I concur." Hubert nodded. "Might I insist you take a representative from an administrative house with you, though?"

"I intended on it, I think Linhardt can spare a moment." Byleth brought his hand to his chin in thought. "Indech and Seteth will aid Hanneman in the Crest department while he's with us. I would have considered his father, but I still have little trust for Waldemar."

"I feel similarly." Ingrid nodded. "Frankly, the only member of the once Seven that I find myself fully trusting is Leopold and this after five years of working by his side."

"I have some faith in Duke Gerth, though that is mainly on the word of Petra and Constance," Hubert said.

"Ingrid and I will take our leave as soon as we collect Linhardt." Byleth leaned over to kiss Edelgard's forehead. "We'll return shortly with news." Edelgard nodded, pulling Ingrid in for a quick peck on the cheek.

"Stay safe, both of you."

"You as well, El." Ingrid smiled, trying out Byleth's nickname for Edelgard. Edelgard gave her a playful scowl as she tried to disguise her blush, much to the amusement of Hubert and Byleth.

Leicester

Elbiny

Yorque

Ingrid, Byleth, and a tired looking Linhardt walked through the streets of Yorque, Olympia cantering along behind the trio. A few people stopped and whispered to themselves at the sight of the party, but they returned to their business quickly. Ingrid eyed a fishing stall, walking over to it quickly. Tending the stall was a man hunched over, though his long hair that was the same colour as Ingrid's slipped out in a tail beneath his hat.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Alpheus Anjou," Ingrid spoke up. The man jumped slightly, spinning around to see his now grown up sister.

"Well, you've certainly found him." Alpheus grinned. "Look at you, Ing. Look. At. You. You've gotten so..." Alpheus gestured with his hands. "There's a saying here, you've got so many fish in your basket. It means you look like you're doing well." Ingrid smiled and nodded. "Come on, come inside, my wife will be thrilled to meet you, she can't wait to introduce you to your niece, absolutely thrilled." Alpheus flipped the cloth awning down over his stall to show he was closed and led the trio to the door to his house. Ingrid gave a quiet whistle that commanded Olympia into the sky, a command the pegasus obeyed in a flash of feathers. Alpheus opened the door and ushered his guests inside, closing it and locking it tightly behind them. "Richenda, my love, we have company from the letter!"

"Coming, darling." A woman's voice came up from up the stairs. Alpheus sighed happily and gestured for the Adrestians to have a seat. He stepped into the kitchen and set a kettle onto the burning fire, humming to himself as he did. A moment later and a woman with dark blue hair holding a swaddled infant descended from the second floor, smiling widely at the group. "You must be Ingrid. Your brother has told me many things about you and your achievements. It is so good to meet you at last." She offered the sleeping baby girl in her arms to Ingrid, who took little Cecily with care.

"It's lovely to meet you as well, Richenda." Ingrid nodded.

"Now, of course, business. You have my apologies for summoning you, but you also have my gratitude for coming so quickly." Alpheus sat down, his voice hushing slightly. "A man and a woman came to our town two days ago in search of a mausoleum nearby, that of Chevalier to be specific."

"This is knowledge that they should not have, it is a secret my family has kept since Chevalier died, but my father recently went missing on a trek in the woods while helping some of the local warriors scout for a whisper of a giant scaled beast with a golden mask," Richenda said.

"While tradition holds that he is buried in Kupala, the city he founded, he was in fact buried in a small shrine in what was a cave near here." Alpheus leaned in closer. "I got one look at them when they stopped at the local inn. The woman had Glenn's hair and the man had Glenn's eyes."

"The Agarthans. They're after Chevalier." Ingrid snarled. The window shattered as a spear flew in and impaled Alpheus. He let out a gasp of pain as he died, Ingrid and Richenda shrieking in respective rage and fear as Cecily began to cry. Rather than rush to try to save the already dead man with normal means, Byleth commanded the the world around him to shatter like glass and then freeze, the air developing a purple haze. Time rushed backwards, Byleth rewinding the past moment.

"Now, of course, business. You have my apologies for summoning you, but you also have my gratitude for coming so quickly." Alpheus sat down, his voice hushing slightly. "A man and a woman came to our town two days ago in search of a mausoleum nearby, that of Chevalier to be specific."

"This is knowledge that they should not have, it is a secret my family has kept since Chevalier died, but my father recently went missing on a trek in the woods while helping some of the local warriors scout for a whisper of a giant scaled beast with a golden mask," Richenda said.

"While tradition holds that he is buried in Kupala, the city he founded, he was in fact buried in a small shrine in what was a cave near here." Alpheus leaned in closer. "I got one look at them when they stopped at the local inn. The woman had Glenn's hair and the man had Glenn's eyes."

"Move," Byleth ordered as he pulled the Sword of the Creator from his hip, deflecting the spear as it flew through the window.

"Linhardt is going to warp you to the Imperial capital. Ask for Hubert von Vestra, give him my name, he'll get you somewhere safe and secure." Ingrid explained to Alpheus and Richenda, handing Cecily to her mother. The couple nodded quickly as Linhardt summoned a glyph and purple magic to his hands, teleporting the family away. Byleth had already smashed the front door open and dashed outside, looking around for the attempted assassin. He felt another spear soar past his head as he ducked out of the way, readying the Sword of the Creator to strike down Odesse and Fraldarius. Instead he found a simple soldier reading another spear, but he was quickly blasted off of his feet with a single word from Linhardt.

"Wind!" Linhardt stepped up to Byleth's side as Ingrid dashed to intercept the soldier, pinning him to the ground.

"You're too late, he has already has Chevalier." The soldier grinned before coughing up blood. Ingrid snarled as she stood up, the Venomstone in his tooth already having claimed its victim. She whistled for Olympia to return to her, looking at Byleth in a silent request to bring the group home.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Harpstring Moon, Day 4, Imperial Year 1182

Ingrid sat in her office, leafing through assorted paperwork as her tea sat cooling off to the side. She reached over to her quill and ink, scratching a quick signature onto a letter of recommendation regarding one soldier being transferred from the infantry to the the armoured division, something she would need to have a chat with Leopold about later. She moved the letter to her 'To deal with later' pile, picking up a finance report from one of her battalions. She scowled slightly at the increase in cost on javelins, she would need to train their accuracy better at some point before the next skirmish against the Kingdom or Alliance. Ingrid looked up as a knock came at her door, setting the bill down and leaning back in her chair.

"Come in," Ingrid said. Ashe practically dashed into the room, a terrified look on his face. "Ashe, are you alright?"

"No, definitely not." Ashe shook his head and tried to slow his breath. "My siblings have been declared valuable prisoners by Gwendal Roche, one of the Kingdom's top generals." Ingrid shot up at the mention of Roche's name. "I do not know what to do, I am freaking out so badly right now." Ingrid's nose crinkled and she grabbed a blank piece of paper and began scribbling an order onto it. After a tense moment of writing, she set the quill back in the inkwell and grabbed Lúin from her wall before clipping on her scabbard belt. She gestured for Ashe to follow her out of her office, closing the door behind them and waving for one of the pages that roamed the halls.

"Yes, Praetorian Guard?" The page bowed.

"Deliver this letter to Prime Minister Aegir immediately. If he is in a meeting, tell him the Praetorian Guard has sent you and insists."

"Yes, Ser Galatea." The page bowed again before jogging off with the letter. Ingrid and Ashe set off again, heading directly to Hubert's office. Ingrid pounded on a door on the way there.

"Imperial Household, two minutes!" Ingrid ordered the inhabitant of the office, picking up her pace slightly. She and Ashe arrived at Hubert's office, finding him polishing a dagger.

"Ingrid, Ser Ashe." Hubert nodded. "What can I help you with today?"

"Ashe's siblings have been declared targets of value by Kingdom General Gwendal Roche," Ingrid explained. Hubert's expression soured at the mention of Roche, rising slowly. Leopold walked in, adjusting the bearskin that hung from his shoulder as he did.

"Something about Roche?" Leopold asked. "What does that tin tyrant want this time?"

"To make an eleven year old and a nine year old his political prisoners, I can imagine what concessions he'll demand for their safe release." Ashe scowled. "If he asks for me, I'll go, I just need Elowen and Adair to be safe."

"Out of the question, Ser Gaspard, I'm not trading lives with someone like Roche." Leopold crossed his arms, looking at Ingrid. "I'm assuming you called me here so we can jointly authorize your operation and we're in Marquis Vestra's office because it's going to be very underhanded." Hubert gave Leopold a look that indicated he wanted to resent that remark, but couldn't argue with it. "Letter of intent passed on to Prime Minister Aegir already?"

"Yes, absolutely. Prime Minister Aegir should be getting the message right about now." Ingrid nodded. "As for my plan, I am going to have Marquis Vestra warp himself, myself, and Ser Gaspard to the former Lonato home, get Ser Gaspard's siblings and their belongings, and then bring them right back here. If we encounter Roche, I do not intend to kill him. It would be too dramatic of an action this early in the war and would cause an outcry, especially in Rowe where the political balance is delicate enough already."

"Good plan on all counts. We're in agreement." Leopold offered his hand to Ingrid to shake. "Fly safe on wings of glory, Praetorian Guard."

"And may the bastions remain safe in your hands, Count Bergliez." Ingrid shook his hand before turning to Hubert, who was already readying his teleportation spell. "Ashe, think of that home, think of where they're most likely to be. Hubert will get us there." Ashe nodded, closing his eyes. He, Ingrid, and Hubert then vanished in a flash of purple light.

Faerghus

Gaspard

Ingrid, Ashe, and Hubert appeared in a small room with various weapons and trophies hanging from the walls, Ingrid drawing her sword as quietly as she could. Hubert readied a ball of Miasma in his hand in the event that the trio would need to fight their way out as Ashe looked around the room.

"Elowen, Adair, it's me, it's Ashe, I'm here for you," Ashe whispered loudly. A pair of heads poked out from beneath a pile of furs, Ashe sighing in relief as his eleven year old sister and nine year old brother ran up to him. He hugged them both, adjusting his quiver slightly. "Hey, hey. Do you two know what's happening?"

"One of the servants said that a knight from the Kingdom was coming to take us away because of something you did," Elowen explained. Ingrid grit her teeth quietly, flashing a look at Hubert.

"Oh, well, that's sort of true?" Ashe chuckled and gestured for Ingrid to come over. "Ingrid and I are both knights and from the Kingdom, but we're not knights from the Kingdom." Ingrid knelt down next to Ashe, smiling sweetly at her friend's siblings. "It turns out I made some powerful people really angry when I joined the Empire and they want to take you away to punish me. We're not going to let them, though, okay?" Elowen and Adair nodded quickly. "Great, okay. Is anyone here already?" Adair nodded. "How many?"

"A lot." Adair shrugged. "I dunno, a lot." Adair reached into the pile of furs and pulled out a big bag. "We packed our escape bags just like you said we should! We were looking for your secret tunnel." Elowen grabbed her escape bag as well, clutching it tightly.

"Good work, you two." Ashe smiled. "Hubert, can you..."

"Out of a confined space such as this?" Hubert gestured at the windowless walls of dark stone. "I have no frame of reference as to where we are, Ashe. It's too dangerous, I'm afraid. We need to get outside." Ashe sighed and pulled his bow from his back, drawing an arrow from his quiver.

"If we get into a fight, you two have to promise me you'll look away, okay." Ashe looked down at his siblings. "Promise me."

"We promise," Elowen and Adair said in unison. Ingrid stepped up to the door, undoing the latch quietly. She slipped out into the hallway before nudging the door all the way open with her foot, gesturing for the rest of the group to come out as well. As the quintet made their way down the hallway, Ingrid turned her sword around in her hand to grab it by the blade in order to minimize the bloodshed that the children present would see. She rounded a corner, clubbing a Kingdom knight in the helmet with her sword's hilt. A clang resounded through the castle as metal struck metal, the sound of the knight collapsing thankfully muffled by the thick rug he fell onto.

"What's going on down there?" A voice rang out from upstairs.

"Run, my room!" Ashe ordered. Elowen and Adair obeyed, running off as quickly as their little legs could muster. Hubert jogged off after them so he could teleport the two children away as soon as he could see the outdoors. Ingrid sheathed her sword and drew Lúin from her back, readying her lance for battle. A trio of Kingdom knights descended the stairs, but the first was met by Lúin sweeping his legs while the second was pinned to the wall by Ashe's arrow. The third was about to run, but Ingrid picked up a dropped hand axe and hurled it at his head, smacking him with the handle. "Window." Ashe dashed up the stairs, Ingrid following closely after she grabbed a shield from one of the disoriented knights and elbowed the one pinned to the wall in the nose. Ashe and Ingrid sprinted through the house, skidding around a corner. A Holy Knight sans his horse for obvious reasons stood at the end of the hallway, giving the Imperials a surprised look before readying a spell.

"Wind!" The Holy Knight yelled, casting a ball of wind magic at the two. Ingrid kicked off the wall to dodge out of the way as Ashe slid under the attack. Ashe drew an arrow from his quiver and fired, hitting the armoured mage in the hand. The mage yelled in pain before he was swiftly smashed in the head by Ingrid's borrowed shield. She then eyed a window, charging at it with her shield up. Ingrid went through the window, falling down from the third floor window into a roll. She grunted in pain as she stood up, twirling her shoulder around and dropping her borrowed shield. She gestured for Ashe to follow, stepping into position to catch him. Ashe sighed and grit his teeth, closing his eyes and jumping. Ingrid caught him slightly unsteadily before setting him down, taking a second to cough from being winded on her initial landing.

"Hello, you two." Hubert spoke up from behind them. Ingrid and Ashe jumped slightly, turning around to see Hubert leaning against the wall. "Fear not, Elowen and Adair are safe in Ferdinand's office. Shall we get out of here?" Ingrid and Ashe nodded, making no word of confirmation. Hubert chuckled, summoning his teleportation magicks once more.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 30, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid stood in her brother's new home in a building in Enbarr. It was one of quite a few residential buildings with floors reserved for knights and their families, designed so that they could live close to their duties no matter where in the city they were posted. This one was the closest to the palace, so it was naturally reserved for the Imperial Guard and the Praetorian Guard herself. Ashe's sister and brother lived with him in a room on the same floor that Alpheus, Richenda, and Cecily would now call home. The apartment itself was a little smaller than their home had been, but the furnishings were much nicer by virtue of being designed for a member of the Imperial Guard.

Ingrid watched as Alpheus and Richenda unpacked the heirlooms and little family items that she and Byleth had gone back for, doing what they could to make this new house a home until the threat of the Agarthans passed and they could return home to Leicester. Alpheus had already been asking around for work, not wanting to simply live on his little sister's good graces, finding a place in a stall owned by Raphael and his sister Maya. Maya's move to Adrestia had been much easier and less dramatic than either Ingrid or Ashe's siblings' moves, with her already being in Imperial territory when the war broke out on Raphael's recommendation. Despite only being fifteen, she was already a semi-notable merchant in a nearby market, but that popularity meant that doing the numbers was becoming much more taxing for her. Raphael had mentioned it the night before at a dinner that Ingrid had hosted for her brother's family and both Ashe and Raphael and their siblings. Alpheus and Richenda immediately volunteered to help, something Maya was immediately grateful for.

"You're in another world, Ing." Alpheus' voice broke her out of her thoughts. She looked up at his smiling face, nodding slowly.

"Just thinking about how glad I am you're safe again." Ingrid sighed. "Worrying about Nilus. I know he's in Albinea, I know he's away from all of this, but I can't help but worry a little."

"You were meant to be a knight, Ing." Alpheus smiled, putting his arm around his sister. "You're always wanting to make sure everyone else is safe."

Leicester

Fódlan's Throat

Marianne, Shamir, Sylvain, and Anna looked up at Fódlan's Throat, the imposing cliffs that surrounded it seemingly glaring down at the group. Marianne and Sylvain brought their horses to a stop, with Shamir hopping off of the back of Sylvain's mount for a moment to gauge the terrain. Shamir touched a piece of squashed down ground nearby, feeling the dirt between her fingertips.

"That messenger we saw got back here long before us. The Almyrans will know we're coming by now," Shamir said. As if on cue, an arrow struck the ground near Marianne's horse. She summoned magic to her hands and was really to fire off a blast of Fimbulvetr until she saw the source of the arrow, an archer with dark skin and darker hair accompanied by a woman with long pink hair, both on the back of a white wyvern. The wyvern came for a landing and the riders, Claude and Hilda, got off.

"Hey, Marianne. Long time no see." Claude grinned. "How's your boyfriend?"

"Fiancé, actually." Marianne held up her hand to reveal what was, by Ferdinand's standards, a fairly subdued engagement ring.

"Oh, good for you two! Are you here to get us a wedding invitation?" Hilda grinned widely, leaning on Claude's wyvern. "Because it wouldn't be totally fair, we didn't invite you to ours."

"Come again now?" Sylvain asked. Hilda held up her hand, wiggling her fingers around to show off her ring, an understated silver band engraved with Almyran script and with an embedded yellow gemstone. Shamir looked at Claude's hand, seeing a matching ring on his. Claude turned to Hilda and sighed.

"I was really hoping to keep that a surprise, you know?" Claude chuckled.

"Khalid, it was the perfect time. Appreciate the theatrics." Hilda rolled her eyes.

"Anyway." Claude shook his head. "I'm going to safely presume that this isn't an assassination attempt given that I'm not dead yet. I'm also going to make the right call that this isn't-" Claude flashed a quick look at Hilda. "-a wedding invitation. So what brings the Adrestians to Almyra?"

"We're here to save you," Marianne explained. "There's a group of people called the Agarthans. They're resurrecting the ancient Crestbearers, it's a process that inflicts great pain and death on those others with their Crest. We've discovered a process that can prevent that from affecting you, called Dragon Signs. You need to come with us so we can outfit you both with one before it's too late."

"Alright, sounds fun." Hilda nodded. "Diplomatic trip to Adrestia, honey. Earlier than anticipated."

"I already told my father we'd be stepping out of the country for a bit, I figured this would be happening when the messenger said four people were coming, one of whom was wearing the armour of an Adrestian knight and another who was wearing the robes of an Adrestian Valkyrie." Claude chuckled. Marianne nodded, summoning teleportation magic to her hands before warping the group away in a flash.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Marianne, Claude, and Hilda walked into the Adrestian throne room, finding Edelgard, Byleth, Ingrid, Hubert, and Ferdinand waiting for them. Ingrid, somewhat unusually, was wearing the Galatea circlet on her brow on the encouragement of Hubert and Dorothea. The two of them had reasoned that if this was to be a summit of both the Empire and Almyra's leadership, Faerghus' current Queen Regent should be properly represented as well. Ingrid had not said no, despite how odd it felt for her to be on a similar footing to both Edelgard and Claude.

"I've been caught up by Marianne on all of the goings-on around Fódlan these days, you lot have had a seriously busy last few months by the sound of things." Claude grinned, getting a quiet chuckle out of Ferdinand, Marianne, and Hilda. "Congratulations to the Imperial couple on the delayed wedding, I'll have a gift sent when that finally happens, something shiny and nice for the palace, something that really ties a room together." Edelgard and Byleth both let out an amused huff. "Ingrid, congratulations on the regency, that makes two of us in that little club."

"Oh?" Ingrid asked, raising a brow.

"My father has some war wounds that have been acting up really badly as of late, so I'm now coregent on the throne with him to ease his burdens right now and my own when the throne fully passes to me," Claude explained. "As such, you can count the full might of Almyra among your aids. Given that you got me this-" Claude lifted up the Water Dragon Sign hanging around his neck. "-the people of Almyra owe you a debt for saving their current King Regent and future King of Kings." Edelgard rose from her throne and descended to meet Claude at the base of the stairs.

"You have my great thanks, King Regent Khalid." Edelgard offered Claude her hand. Claude took it, Emperor and King Regent shaking hands.

"Claude!" Leonie's voice cut into the throne room. The gathered group turned to see Leonie, Ignatz, Lorenz, Lysithea, Raphael, and Balthus standing at the door. The former Golden Deer and Balthus rushed in, greeting their former leader and retainer with hugs and backslaps. "I knew I saw you in the hallway with Marianne, how've you been? We got your letter."

"Good, it's so good to see you all again." Claude smiled.

"We were all hoping you'd come back." Raphael gripped Claude's shoulder tightly. Balthus nudged Hilda's shoulder, a happy smirk on his face.

"We're not sticking around permanently, we've got duties in Almyra now. I'm King Regent, Hilda's going to be my queen one day." Claude smiled at Hilda, eyes filled with love. "We're sticking around until these Agarthans are dealt with and then we're heading back. I plan to open relations with Fódlan, though, and all of you will always be welcome in the Palace of Cyrus when you're in Kurusabad."

"We'll definitely be invoking that, I hear Almyra has great beer." Leonie noted.

"How did you end up getting to Almyra then, Claude?" Lorenz asked.

"Long, long story." Hilda sighed.

Leicester

Derdriu

Guardian Moon, Day 31, Imperial Year 1185

Claude leaned against his white wyvern, groaning in mild pain and extreme exhaustion. The wyvern growled quietly, shifting its head to come close to its rider's legs. Claude gave it a pat on the snout, grunting with pain as he did. He strained his eyes against the setting sun as he looked up when footsteps against the stone, seeing the limping Hilda approaching. She dragged Freikugel behind her and gripped her side, grimacing in pain.

"You're not looking too great." Claude joked through to pain, pointing one of the arms of Failnaught at Hilda. She groaned, crumbling to the ground next to him and hitting the wyvern with her back a little harder than intended. It gave an indignant growl and whipped its tail around in protest.

"Sorry, Cyrus." Hilda grimaced as she leaned her head back onto the wyvern's warm scales. "And yeah, I'm very... Pain. I just had the pleasure of meeting the Praetorian Guard and finding out exactly what Lúin feels like."

"I got the good side of the Sword of the Creator." Claude gestured to a cut on his face. "At least it wasn't Edelgard's axe."

"At least it wasn't Edelgard's axe." Hilda smiled despite the pain. Claude reached over, trying to pry Hilda's hand away from her wound. "No, no, Claude, ow, ow, ow, please, ow!" Claude kissed her to distract her and finally get her hand away.

"Sorry, I know we kind of said no public displays, but you know." Claude grinned sheepishly. He pulled a small vial from inside his armour, opening the stopper. He poured the elixir onto his hand and massaged it gently into Hilda's wound, the orange liquid mending the injured flesh.

"Claude, I appreciate it, but it's kind of a waste when the Adrestians are probably going to kill us anyways." Hilda shook her head and sighed.

"They're not, actually," Claude explained. "I managed to negotiate for our survival on the condition that we leave." Hilda gave him a confused look. "Now, I know what you're going to say, where are we going to go?" Claude took Hilda's hands in his. "Come to Almyra with me. My mom will love you!" Claude paused. "My father will tolerate you." Claude tried to pick his next words carefully. "My people will be shaky with you at best, but that's okay! We promised each other that, if the opportunity presented itself and neither of us changed our minds, I'd take you to meet my parents."

"Okay."

"And I mean, I haven't changed my mind, but if you have, I get it, that's okay."

"Okay!"

"I just, you know, the opportunity is-"

"Claude!" Hilda gripped his hands tightly. "I said okay." Hilda smiled at him, getting a genuine smile back from the man known for his faked grins.

Almyra

Kurusabad

Pegasus Moon, Day 5, Imperial Year 1185

Claude and Hilda stepped down from Cyrus, Claude offering Hilda his hand to help her from the saddle. They gazed up at a massive set of city walls with intricate carvings of both man and beast upon it and topped by numerous archers. The doors to the gates opened slightly, with a small contingent of guards clad in silver armour with blue gemstones inlaid emerged, all of them surrounding a pair of people in the middle. As the group arrived before Claude and Hilda, the guards parted to reveal a man with Claude's skin and hair colour and a woman with his eyes and sly smile. The woman hugged her son tightly, tears welling up in her eyes.

"When the messenger came from Nader that you would be soaring back to us on the wings of Cyrus, Xsayarsa and I feared the worst." Claude's mother whispered in his ear. "I am so glad we were wrong."

"Tiana, my flower, could you release our son for a moment so I may properly embrace him as well?" Xsayarsa asked. Tiana sighed and smiled, letting Claude go so he could greet his father. Tiana turned her attention to Hilda, greeting her with a nod.

"Duke Goneril's sister, I do believe from your hair and your axe." Tiana took Hilda's hands in her own. "I believe I have you to thank for keeping my son safe all these years?"

"That's me, yes." Hilda nodded. "The sister thing. Claude, Khalid, he kept himself safe. I just helped clean up the messes." The two women turned as the guards began to chant, seeing Xsayarsa and Claude pointing their bows with arrows drawn at each other. Hilda reached up to the handle of Freikugel so she could protect Claude, but Tiana stopped her with a touch. After a tense moment, Claude and Xsayarsa fired their arrows up and past each other as the chants of the royal guard grew louder and louder. Both men drew a second arrow and fired it at the feet of the other. They reached down, grabbing the arrow at each of their feet before firing them in the direction of the sun. Xsayarsa grabbed Claude's arm and lifted it into the air with a hearty laugh. The guards cheered as they knelt before their current and future kings.

"Tonight, we feast to celebrate the return of my son to his homeland! Send messengers to every corner of Almyra, tell it on the mountains and over the hills and everywhere! Khalid is home at long last!" Xsayarsa raised an arrow skyward as he lifted Claude's arm into the air. Claude squirmed slightly under his father's grip, but smiled at Hilda. The guards began to march back towards the city, leaving the king, queen, heir, and Hilda behind. The quartet began to follow them, Xsayarsa's cape billowing in the wind at they approached the city gates with the sun beginning to set behind them. When they reached the gates, the massive slabs of cast silver opened, the people looking on in awe at the entourage.

Xsayarsa pulled Claude onto a dais set up before a fountain and between four obelisks, gesturing for Hilda and Tiana to join them. Tiana helped Hilda up, with the two of them standing behind their respective beloveds.

"The span of worldly things is like the morning dew in the hot sun, but a a grand oasis is shown to him who has reached his home! Behold, Almyra, your heir returns!" Xsayarsa declared, the gathered people erupting into cheers. Claude let out a whistle, which was immediately followed up by a roar from Cyrus as he swooped over the walls. The wyvern landed behind Claude and beside Hilda, getting a gentle pat on the snout from her. "Look upon him, arriving on the wings of his white wyvern like the kings of old soaring as the imperishable stars on the winds of the Great Nunamnir! Let him make the decrees of power, lordship, and princeship, may the world-kings bow down in fear before him and the heaven-kings humble themselves before him! People of my lands, take your bread that rots not, your beer that sours not and come! In the sands upon which the great capital of Kurusabad is built, I, Xsayarsa abn-Darayavaus mon-Almyra, King of Kings of Almyra and the lands under her protection, make this declaration of my son's name and right: KHALID ABN-XSAYARSA MON-ALMYRA, BARBAROSSA!" The crowd erupted into cheers of Claude's Almyran name and title, which he reacted to with smiles and waves.

"People of Kurusabad and Almyra, I must be honest with all of you!" Claude's voice rang out. "I do not return with honour, nor did I die to save it." The crowd hushed as Hilda and Tiana gave each other looks as Xsayarsa's face fell. "I fled to save the honour of others. Alongside my companions, my soldiers, I fought against the Adrestian Empire in the name of protecting the people I had been entrusted with overseeing as heir by my mother's throne. I fought against their Emperor herself, joined in battle by her greatest warriors. In the end, they chose to spare me and I pledged to leave Fódlan because as long as I stayed, I would be a figurehead of rebellion against their might. Had I died, I'd have become a martyr for forces intent to sow chaos. To save my followers and preserve the peace, I left Fódlan." Claude stepped off the dais and lowered his head before his people. "If that is sullied honour, then I offer my spilled blood as recompense." The crowd stayed quiet for a minute before the butt of a spear pounded against the ground. A second one followed, then a third. Soon a chorus of thumping spears rumbled through the streets.

"Barbarossa!" One of the people declared.

"Barbarossa!" Another joined.

"Barbarossa!" A third.

"Barbarossa!" The crowds shouts became a chant once more. Claude looked up at his father, who smiled at his son.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Garland Moon, Day 30, Imperial Year 1186

"Yeah, that's kind of how that happened." Claude chuckled. "I said my parting things to you and Teach here, Hilda and I hopped on Cyrus, and we made our way back to Almyra. It was weird coming back the way we did, there's this whole saying in Almyra that roughly translates to 'Return with your honour or die with it' and I very much did not maintain that one right there." Claude scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "People, needless to say, were not thrilled but then I was able to explain my cutting and running saved the lives of, well, everyone on the battlefield and they decided that was honourable enough for their taste and they no longer were demanding my head." Claude paused, rubbing his nose to get rid of an itch. "That was good for a few days, people were happy to have the heir back, but then one of the nobles there went 'Hey, we should probably lock down the heir's heir?' which led to a very awkward moment when I had to explain Hilda here." Claude put his arm around Hilda. "And you know what, that awkwardness passed. I was right, it went great, everyone loved her. My mother, my father, my people, so into her."

"That is not what happened at all, Claude, and we both know that." Hilda shook her head and sighed.

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Byleth piped up.

"It wasn't all that bad, I just got challenged to ritual combat by a member of the Royal Guard is all," Hilda explained. "I won. Handily. Turned out that the whole challenge thing was more of a formality than anything, Claude's father fully approves of me and was ready to write a new law to help me out until that guard helped us get around it. Claude's idea."

"A smart play, Your Highness, I applaud you." Hubert nodded at Claude, who grimaced slightly.

"Yeah, no, hated that honourific, just Claude please." Claude sighed. "Anyways, do you have a place for us to stay? It was a bit of a long flight from Kurusabad to Fódlan's Throat."

"Yes, I shall show you to the diplomats' wing. Follow me, please." Ferdinand gestured to the door, leading Claude, Hilda, and the former Deer out of the throne room.

Faerghus

Charon

Blue Sea Moon, Day 1, Imperial Year 118 6

A hooded man walked the quiet streets of the County of Charon's capital, Korecora, the city's inhabitants inside for the night. A massive shield rested on his back, the paint stripped off of the front to expose the scratched and chipped metal beneath with only a few blotches of colour remaining in places overlooked. The hooded man paused in the town square, looking around him as he hoped to find someone there. Rumor had spread in the countryside of a man who should have been a ghost, an alleged revenant of a Blue Lion roaming the streets when he should have been resting beneath the Tailtean Plains. This hooded man needed to find out more, to see if the rumors were true, to find out if he had not failed in his duty even more severely than previously believed.

The hooded man looked up at a fountain in the centre of the city, seeing the tall form of the last King of Faerghus standing with his back to him. The hooded man moved quickly to approach his king, pulling off his hood to reveal Gilbert beneath it. Gilbert approached, kneeling before what he believed was his liege walking the world once more despite rumors of his demise. Gilbert took a deep breath, trying to decide what to say to his king.

"My king, King Dimitri, I heard that you roamed this lands still and I had believed that perhaps I may return to your side and restore my sullied name, brought to ruin by my own actions and my own failures at Duscur and Fhirdiad," Gilbert said. His face became aghast when the revenant Dimitri turned around, revealing the effects of Odesse's resurrection on his body. Dimitri's corpse let out a blood-curdling screech, causing Gilbert to draw his axe. However, in an instance, he felt a dagger against his throat. Gilbert turned his eyes as best he could, seeing a man leaning over his shoulder with pale skin, short white hair, and a mouthless jaw composed of the same dragon bones that the Heroes' Relics were.

"Hello, Gustave Dominic. Or do you prefer Gilbert Pronislav?" Myson chuckled as he emerged from behind the fountain. "I see you've become acquainted with both Dolofonos and my friend Odesse's miracle work with your old king." Myson shoved Dimitri aside, the corpse making no attempt to stop itself from falling over. Gilbert looked like he wanted to either sob or scream in rage at the treatment of Dimitri's body, but he stayed resolute as to not give Myson the pleasure. "Oh, don't worry, he's not suffering. He's not in there at all, in fact. Odesse truly is a master of necromancy. Perhaps, when we're done with you, you might meet the same end and find new purpose through us. That, however, is so far away and thus you need not worry about it. You see, Gustave Pronislav, you are not vital to Odesse and my plans for Fódlan. No, no, I could slip a poison into your blood now or have Dolofonos slit your throat or command this husk of your king to tear you asunder and it would be no major loss for us." Myson chuckled, stroking his chin and stepping closer to Gilbert with mechanical whirring echoing quietly through the silent night. "But I have discovered a better use for you, a much more delightful use. What you must know about Dolofonos and I is that we are the instruments of Agarthan torture. I break our prisoners with words while Dolofonos makes them feel the actual pain. However, torturing you means that you are not the only one tortured. No, no, your daughter suffers as well knowing that the father she spared is now facing the agony of a lifetime in our hands. You pled with her to kill you at Fhirdiad and spare you the dishonour, but she chose to let you live what life you had left. Imagine how she will feel when the quick death she could have given you becomes tortured agony at our hands." Myson cackled, standing back from Gilbert. "Now then. Dolofonos, if you would please?" Dolofonos nodded, turning Gilbert around to face him. The revenant Dimitri rose and grabbed Gilbert's arms to keep him still despite the former knight's struggles. Dolofonos leaned down to bring his mouthless jaw right in front of Gilbert's face. The dragon bone apparatus shifted and transformed, revealing a black void that stretched far beyond where any part of Dolofonos' throat should have been. Dolofonos reached over to Gilbert's eyes, forcing them to stay open and stare into the void as a piercing noise rippled through Gilbert's ears. Gilbert inhaled sharply as though he was suffocating, breathlessly screaming before his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed into the undead Dimitri's arms. Myson chuckled as Dolofonos closed his face again. Dolofonos ran his hand along his face, ensuring all the parts were set in place properly. He then looked at Myson and raised an eyebrow, who nodded and touched Gilbert's unconscious shoulder.

"Bias, would you care to bring us home? We have our prize." The Agarthans, their pawn, and their prisoner than disappeared through the power of Bias' magicks.

Shambhala

Citadel of Terror

Myson, Dolofonos, the revenant Dimitri, and the unconscious Gilbert materialized in Myson's office. Myson waved his hand at one of the cabinets in the room, which slid aside to reveal a spiral staircase leading down into his citadel. He and Dolofonos descended the stairs quietly, the only sounds being mechanical whirring and the noise of dragon bone hitting rock with every step Myson took and the banging of Gilbert's legs hitting every step as Dimitri's corpse dragged him down into the depths. The group reached the bottom of the stairs, finding themselves in a massive torture chamber. Tools and poisons sat on shelves around the room and numerous racks decorated the walls of the room. The undead Dimitri dragged Gilbert to one of them, the restraints made with Agarthan technology locking around his limbs automatically. Myson waved his hand at the corpse, which then took its leave at his command. The two Agarthans listened to it shamble away, with Myson waving his hand to close the door to the room upstairs after a sufficient time had passed.

"Now then, my friend, what shall we do with him first?" Myson asked. Dolofonos drew his dagger and stepped over to Gilbert, contorting his tall and lanky form unnaturally to get in the knocked out man's face. He produced a dagger from his armour, tilting his head with a smile in his eyes and wriggling his fingers around as he pointed the dagger at Gilbert's right ring finger where a Faerghusian wedding ring sat as a memento. "Ah, take from him the symbol of his ruined marriage? How delightful. Let me get a cauterizer, can't have him bleeding out on us yet." Myson walked over to one of the shelves and grabbed a small piece of Agarthan technology. He brought it back over to the suspended Gilbert, an excited grin on his face. Dolofonos gave him an expectant look, running the tip of the dagger against Gilbert's hand while taking care not to cut him just yet. "Yes, yes, Dolofonos. By all means, let us now begin in earnest."

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Harpstring Moon, Day 9, Imperial Year 1181

Ashe's eyes fluttered open as he heard a knock at the front door to his apartment, the night air seeping in through his ajar casement window. Ashe grunted as he got up, nudging his halfway open bedroom door aside and moving to the front door with as cat-like tread as he could muster while still partially asleep. He opened the door a crack, finding Annette standing there with a sheepish look on her face and a fluffy shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Ashe smiled slightly, opening the door all the way to let her in. Annette shrugged the shawl off her shoulders, revealing she was wearing casual sleep attire underneath. Ashe took her shawl and hung it up next to the door, feeling that the soft fabric was damp from the light rain happening in the city that night.

"I'm so sorry to intrude right now, Ashe." Annette smiled sadly. "I just... I needed to take you up on that offer you made me."

"Of course, yeah." Ashe gestured for her to sit down in the kitchen of the apartment. He walked over to the washbasin, tugging on the stopper valve for his faucet to open it up. He grabbed a kettle, sliding it into the washbasin and turning the knob on the tap to let the water flow out. Annette tipped her head at the sight of it, watching the water flowing from the faucet. "Do you guys not have these in the Mage's Quarter?" Ashe set the kettle on a spit over the fireplace, grabbing his fire starter and tossing some tinder into the logs he had put into it before going to bed.

"I'm sure some of the dormitories probably do, but mine doesn't. It's just a temporary room, though. Ingrid and Ferdinand are trying to move me to a private place right now," Annette explained. Ashe lit the fire, stepping back and setting his fire starter aside. "It's not terrible, it's almost identical to my room at the Academy... Well, except for the two roommates," Annette groaned. "They both seem like nice enough girls, but Frida is the worst snorer and Viktoria insists on staying up and mastering new spells until absurd hours of the morning." Ashe looked around his apartment before smiling sheepishly. "What? Oh! No, don't feel bad, Ashe, it's really not terrible and you shouldn't feel like I'm jealous or anything."

"I mean, you're welcome to stay with me, Annette." Ashe offered. "I've got, what, three spare rooms I'm not using? Apparently Count Bergliez was doing room assignments when I got knighted and somewhere along the way my request to Ingrid that there be space for my siblings became overblown and now I've got so much space. I'm doing my damnedest with Ferdinand to get Elowen and Adair out of Gaspard, but even if I do there's still a room here that'll just sit empty."

"Are you sure?" Annette asked. Ashe nodded with a smile. "Goddess, thank you so much."

"Technically I have to get approval from one of the higher-ups to approve a housing move because you're not a member of my family or a spouse, but one of said people is Ingrid and I think she'll sign any form that helps you be less inconvenienced." Ashe smiled.

"I could be a spouse." Annette shrugged. Ashe opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Annette giggled at his stunned silence. "I'm joking, don't worry. Goddess knows I've heard no limit of marriage requests. I'm happy to get away from all of those for a while."

"I'm glad you're having a quieter time with all of it." Ashe chuckled. The water in the kettle began to bubble and Ashe grabbed a set of tongs to remove it and set it aside to let the handle cool for a moment. "How is Imperial sorcery going?"

"It's going good, Hubert wants me to take command of one of the Empire's magic corps. Apparently there's a severe lack of qualified commanding officers for it right now, it's related to the Insurrection of the Seven leading to some major purges of loyalists to the former Marquis Vestra," Annette explained.

"I had guard duty outside Ludwig's cell last week and I have it outside Grégoire's in two days. Edelgard doesn't want anyone other than those she specifically trusts guarding them because of that loyalist problem." Ashe reached over to a bowl of fruit on his counter and grabbed a pair of pears, offering one of them to Annette. She took it with a smile, biting into the fruit. "Rumor has it right now that Count Bergliez is trying to speed up Grégoire's execution, but there's some kind of diplomatic problem with that."

"Madness, he was sentenced just the other day!" Annette sighed. "He needs to be out of the picture sooner rather than later. I am most certainly not one to wish death on people, but after everything he did to poor Bernie?" Annette grit her teeth. "Death will be the mercy he doesn't deserve."

"Agreed." Ashe nodded. "I think Ingrid is going to invoke her right as Praetorian Guard to authorize a death sentence. She's the one least at risk when it comes to doing it because she can easily argue security of the army and palace, which the Imperial Court would go along with without much cause for concern. Edelgard has to deal with the optics of having one of her former ministers put to death and Hubert and Ferdinand have to work around the delicate politics of not assassinating a former colleague."

"Do you think she will?" Annette asked.

"Knowing Ingrid's feelings on terrible fathers?" Ashe's eyebrows flicked up. "Yeah."

Shambhala

Blue Sea Moon, Day 1, Imperial Year 1186

A hooded figure with a small satchel slung over his shoulder approached the gates of Shambhala, looking around in seeming fear that he had been followed. The guards at the gate crossed their spears and glared at him, ready to attack at a moment's notice. The hooded figure reached into his bag and produced a writ of invitation, something which made the guards pull their weapons aside. The gate to Shambhala opened slowly, allowing the hooded figure in. He entered, with the gate closing behind him. The various Agarthans watched as he made his way down the streets towards a series of citadels carved into the dark rock. He picked up his pace, evidently trying his best not to be late for whatever meeting he was due to attend. He was then grabbed by the shoulder, turning around to see the imposing form of Chilon looming over him.

"Good morning to you too." Chilon smiled menacingly. "You're late. Myson won't take all too kindly to that, I don't think." Chilon tightened his grip and leaned down to get in the hooded man's face. "Maybe I'll just have to escort you to Dolofonos first that he might give you a quick visit with Agonias." The hooded man audibly gulped at the mention of the interrogator's name. "What's that, you'd like to meet him as well? Well, that can most certainly be arranged."

"No no, please!" The hooded man finally spoke as Chilon pulled off his hood, revealing the bespectacled and terrified face of one Count Waldemar von Hevring.

"Ah, it's so much fun to watch you squirm." Chilon chuckled. "Bias?"

Citadel of Terror

Chilon and Waldemar appeared in Myson's office, finding the Agarthan's mouthpiece waiting for Waldemar with a sly smile on his face. Waldemar looked around the room nervously, evidently scanning for Dolofonos. The Adrestian jumped a little when Myson stood up, something that made Myson chuckle to himself. Myson walked over to his liquor cabinet and opened it, pulling out a pair of glasses and a bottle of gin. He poured himself a glass before pouring one for Waldemar, one that he left on a table surrounded by various poison-creating implements. He gestured to the glass, a silent challenge for the Adrestian to take it. Waldemar hesitated for a moment before picking it up with his gently shaking hand, bringing it up to his mouth but not taking a drink out of the glass just yet. Myson made an annoyed gesture with his hand, encouraging Waldemar to sip. Waldemar obeyed, making Myson's smug smile widen into a full grin.

"You are very late, Count von Hevring, and then you hesitate about my hospitality? I am quite insulted." Myson's dragonbone legs whirred quietly as he stepped over to Waldemar. "Quite insulted indeed. If not for my still having use for you, I might fetch dear Dolofonos." Waldemar's skin crawled at the mention of the silent interrogator. "Now then. What news do you bring me from the Emperor's court?"

"Very little, I'm afraid. I believe that the Emperor and her closest allies have begun to shut me out. There was recently a trip to former Alliance territory that allegedly had a representative of the diplomatic houses along and I am inclined to believe it was my son rather than me," Waldemar explained. "I need just a little bit more time."

"Mmm, mmm, mmm..." Myson made a noise of ponderance before stepping over to Waldemar. Myson's legs stretched ever so slightly to make himself a little bit taller so he could look down on Waldemar. Myson put his hand on Waldemar's shoulder and touched his glass of gin with his right little finger. "I am not entirely certain I can accept that, Waldemar. I fear that my uses for you may finally be coming to a close. What a shame, what a waste. Lasting so long after your co-conspirators, watching as Ludwig and Grégoire hung, was it all for nothing I wonder?" Myson tipped Waldemar's head up, tilting his own to the side. "In this weak, piping time of peace, it is the daggers of discontent which are the most dangerous inductions." Myson brought his mouth close to Waldemar's ear. "As such, you shall help me with one last endeavor and if you fail in this subtle plot, know that hanging with Ludwig and Grégoire would have been a mercy." Myson grabbed a small box from his desk and held it out to Waldemar. "Deliver this to Annette Dominic. She will understand what it means."

"I will not fail you," Waldemar whispered.

"Promises," Myson whispered back, producing a tooth from his pocket.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Annette's eyes fluttered open slowly, feeling a mass shifting next to her. She threw her arm over the mass, pulling it tighter against herself and nuzzling her nose against it. Ashe let out a quiet noise of mild and joking annoyance before leaning his head back slightly. Annette took a deep breath from his hair, squeezing him a little harder. She pressed her ear into his neck, listening to the faint sound of his heart beating. Ashe let out a satisfied noise as he tried to turn around to face Annette, but she let out a grumpy noise that halted him in his tracks.

"Morning to you too..." Ashe mumbled. Annette nuzzled against him, kissing his neck. Ashe shivered slightly at the touch of her cool lips, feeling her cold Dragon Sign press up against his shirtless back. "You're lucky I don't have morning guard duty today..."

"Mmm." Annette sighed. "I was supposed to teach a morning class at the Mage's Quarter today, but Byleth offered to take it over and I said yes because I was supposed to work with Count Hevring and I really hate his stupid face." Ashe chuckled quietly at Annette's morning grumpiness. "You think Elowen and Adair are awake?"

"Adair's still asleep as far as I know. Elowen came in here twenty minutes ago to say goodbye. She has training this morning." Ashe grunted, adjusting the duvet a little bit. "Elowen doesn't know it yet, but Ingrid poached her." Annette let out a noise of jovial mocking. "Shush, you. Apparently she's a natural in the saddle and her old trainer recommended her to Ingrid. Makes sense, honestly. Lonato, he was teaching her to ride when we were younger." Ashe sighed. "I'm worried about her. She's not so good with lances, but she's too stubborn to not keep trying. I know Ingrid won't let her get hurt, but I'm still worried."

"I get it," Annette whispered. Ashe turned around to face Annette, with her finally letting him do so.

"I'm really glad you have this Dragon Sign now, that you're safe." Ashe rested his forehead against Annette's. "I really really cherish you, honey. I've been really scared for all of the Crestbearers, but I've been the most scared for you. You keep talking about the future and I need you to see that future."

"I'm going to, don't worry. You're stuck with me for the rest of our very long lives. Just us, that cat we keep talking about getting but never get around to, and... Whatever else may come." Annette smiled fondly at the thought of that future. "Is it weird that Elowen and Adair feel like our kids, Ashe?"

"No, I think that too sometimes. Elowen is only six years younger than me but it still feels like so long." Ashe sighed, touching his nose to Annette's. "We've watched them grow and thrive and become something more here in Adrestia. I don't think they would have been nearly who they are now in Faerghus." Annette nodded. "I mean, Goddess, Adair got a magic lesson with Hubert the other day because Hubert was bored and wanted to sling spells with someone and Adair was with me running errands to his office."

"I'm glad Byleth and Edelgard gave us this opportunity." Annette smiled into Ashe's shoulder. "I'm even more glad we took it."

Ingrid looked over her newest class of trainees as they picked out their weapons. She saw a young woman with a familiar shade of light grey-blue hair tied in a tight bun eyeing the lances with some hesitancy. Ingrid stepped over to her, arms folded behind her back. The young woman turned to look at the Praetorian Guard, her nerves evident in her eyes. Ingrid smiled slightly, guiding the recruit away from the lances and towards the axes. Ingrid picked one up, twirling it around for a moment to show her recruit how light the training axe was before offering her the blade. The recruit shook her head and grabbed one of the lances regardless of Ingrid's recommendation, wrapping her hands so tightly around the handle that her knuckles turned white. Ingrid sighed and handed the axe to one of the trainees looking at the wall, who took it with a silent word of thanks. The Praetorian Guard stepped over to the middle of the training room, drawing her sword and smacking the flat of the blade against her armour to stop the conversations that were rising up around the room.

"Good morning, everyone!" Ingrid's voice rang out throughout the room. "I would like to personally welcome you to specialized training. I know you are all coming from various other training classes, whether it is Ser Hendrik's swordsmanship classes or Ser Katrin's spearmanship classes or Ser Elke's axemanship classes, but you are here now." Ingrid looked over the room of mildly confused trainees. "You all have shown proficiencies that have made your previous trainers recommend you for training as mounted units, whether that be as cavaliers or fliers." The group began to mutter again, but a single glare from the Praetorian Guard silenced them once again. "I will be evaluating you all today to see if those optimistic hopes ring true or if your previous instructors simply wanted you off their plates." Ingrid scanned the room of trainees before settling on the young woman she had recommended the axe to and a spearman. "You and you, step forward. You'll spar against each other." The two selected trainees stepped forward. Ingrid watched as one more trainee leaned over to whisper to someone next to her. "Excuse me, something to say? I could not quite hear you." Ingrid's tone was firm but the intent was venomous. She would not stand for ruthless gossip amongst her trainees, it only encouraged division that would devastate them on the battlefield.

"Nothing, Praetorian Guard. I apologize." The trainee tried to keep the fear at being singled out in her voice down.

"I do not think that is what you said." Ingrid clicked her tongue with disapproval. "Step. Forward. Now." The trainee obliged, not wanting to anger the Emperor's personal knight any further. Ingrid began to circle the trainee. "What is your name, trainee?"

"Nadine, Praetorian Guard." Nadine kept her words as steady as she could. "Nadine Schorsch, Praetorian Guard."

"Alright, Nadine Schorsch." Ingrid drew Lúin from her back. "Let us see if you can put your gold where your whispered words are, hmm?" Nadine was too stunned to speak when Ingrid drove the lance at her neck. "Dead. Again." Nadine raised her lance slowly, but Ingrid kicked her in the chest and brought the tip of Lúin a hairsbreadth away from her chest. "Dead. Get up. Again." Nadine tried to get to her feet, but Ingrid swept her legs out from under her with Lúin's handle before pointing the lance right at Nadine's left eye. "Dead. Three times. You're done. If you are going to come to a riding class with me and waste my time with belittling your would-be classmates, I will waste your time belittling you by knocking you into the dirt." Ingrid pulled Lúin away. "Gather your things and return to Ser Katrin tomorrow. I will be having a meeting with her regarding your behaviour. Ego has no place in a saddle." Nadine scrambled to her feet finally and set her lance back on the weapon rack before gathering up her belongings and leaving the training grounds. Ingrid waited a moment, scanning the training room once again. She finally opened her mouth to speak once again after the quiet had lasted long enough.

"What are mounted units in battle? Theories have ranged among trainees. Some have claimed they're the best of the best, elite soldiers trained like no others. That is, in part, true. You will be trained like no others, but it is not your position to be the strongest soldier on the battlefield. Anyone with a bow could shoot you down, anyone with a rapier or the right lance will knock you off your horse permanently. Cavalry is meant to serve support for infantry, armour, and spellcasters. We are faster than armour, we are more mobile than spellcasters, and we tire more slowly than infantry. Make no mistake, however, without those three divisions we would be worthless. Armoured units are our defense against archers, axe-wielding infantry protect us from those with the right lance to counter us, and spellcasters handle the dense units that we just can't pierce with speed." Ingrid returned Lúin to her back before pointing at her initial two picks for a demonstration. They stepped forward, leaning on their lances. "Your names?"

"Elowen Gaspard, Praetorian Guard," The trainee that Ingrid had tried to convince to test an axe said.

"Liesl von Holzpeer, Praetorian Guard," The other trainer, a young woman with close cropped auburn hair and a scar on her chin, said. Ingrid gestured for them to step into the middle of the training grounds. Liesl gave Elowen a hesitant look, her eyes flicking to Elowen's grip on her lance. Elowen replied by brandishing it, though her stance looked unnatural. Ingrid's brow furrowed at the sight of it. She had been right to try to get Elowen to try an axe, she held the lance like it should have been one. However, she also knew from dinner with Ashe that Elowen was stubborn about her weapon choice. She had grown up seeing Lonato and Christophe using lances while mounted, so she would naturally gravitate towards that same weapon.

She reminded Ingrid of herself. Half of Ingrid's skill with the sword had come from her stubborn refusal to not learn every weapon she could. Glenn had tried to convince her that martial prowess with the lance would be enough to be a horsewoman, but Ingrid was not about to settle for horsemanship. She knew she could do more, be more, in her desire to protect king and country. She needed to be a Falcon Knight, which meant that she needed to be able to wield a sword.

"Stop." Ingrid halted the training match before it could commence. "Trainee Gaspard, what are you doing with that lance?"

"Wielding it, Praetorian Guard." Elowen took a deep breath, hoping not to anger Ingrid. Ingrid pointed at one of the trainees holding an axe, gesturing for him to give it to her. He obliged, handing her the weapon. Ingrid gripped Elowen's lance, raising her eyebrows in a silent request for her to relinquish it. Elowen acquiesced, handing over the lance. Ingrid then handed her the axe, which Elowen then held the same way as she was the axe. Her grip loosened slightly as she felt just how much more comfortable it was, looking at Ingrid with an expression of realization.

"Alright, now that that has been dealt with, you two may commence. Lance against axe is an expected matchup on the battlefield, the axe is a remarkable counter to the lance. Trainee von Holzpeer, you will be learning to face an axe now with Trainee Elowen having the difficulty of learning a new weapon." Ingrid stepped back, folding her arms behind her back as she stood at parade rest. "Commence."

Shambhala

Citadel of Blood

Odesse stood in his office, conjuring a set of spells with all four of his arms. Fraldarius sat polishing her lance in a chair nearby, the Aegis Shield set off to the side. She smiled any time a particularly intense burst of magic went off, her husband's face becoming illuminated despite his hood and the somewhat dark room. She missed watching his various conjuration rituals, with this one designed to help him create more artificial Crest Stones. Fraldarius tipped her head slightly as Odesse plucked a pearl from the air, rubbing it gently before whispering an incantation at it. He released the pearl back into the swirl of magic and glyphs surrounding him, the future Crest Stone floating off into the mystical vortex. Fraldarius' head turned to the door as a knocking came from the other side of it. Odesse's eyes flicked between her and the door, a silent request for his wife to see who it was. Fraldarius got up and strode over to the door, opening it to see a shorter woman who appeared to be about in her mid-twenties. She had Odesse's eyes and Fraldarius' hair colour, with her hair shaved off on the sides and back and the top flopping over to one side. Her hands were forged from dragonbone and her armour glimmered like the midnight sky. She had numerous scars dotting her face, including a particularly nasty looking one on her left cheek. Fraldarius also could not help but note that this young woman could probably pass as a feminine man if not for the purple eye makeup or blue painted lips.

"Odesse, a guest." Fraldarius piped up, ushering the young woman into the room. Odesse lit up upon seeing the young woman, dispersing his spell and snapping the Crest Stone from the air.

"Anaximandros, it's good to see you home again." Odesse smiled, hugging Anaximandros. Odesse turned her around, putting his arm around her shoulder to present her to Fraldarius. "Fraldarius, my Bluebird, I would like to introduce you to Anaximandros." Anaximandros bowed her head in greeting. "Our daughter." Fraldarius tipped her head at Anaximandros out of curiousity, sizing up this apparent daughter. "Well, somewhat daughter, in a complicated method. Brought to life with Agarthan technology from our two bloodlines."

"I've heard so much about you, Mother." Anaximandros offered her hand to Fraldarius in greeting. Fraldarius shook it hesitantly before giving her newly revealed daughter a small smile. Anaximandros reached into her armour and pulled out a ball of magic similar to that Odesse conjured in both Kyphon City and Nuvelle. "Fresh from Kupala, as requested."

"Thank you, my dear." Odesse took the orb with one of the arms of Tveirvápna, folding his own organic arms behind his back. "I hope that Thales does not have any other assignments for you after my latest request for a detour to Kupala?" Anaximandros shook her head. "Excellent. Then I think some time spent together would be lovely." Odesse turned to Fraldarius and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think, my love?" Fraldarius looked down at her husband and daughter and smiled.

"I think that sounds wonderful." Fraldarius nodded. Odesse snapped his fingers to summon something, with the revenant corpse of Dimitri shambling into the room a moment later. Odesse handed the orb to Dimitri, which shuffled off to wherever Odesse wanted the orb delivered. Odesse then walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of rum along with three glasses. He poured the rum and handed two of the drinks to his wife and daughter, the three raising their glasses in a toast.

"To reunions," Odesse said.

"And to first meetings," Anaximandros added.

"Tell me about yourself, Anaximandros." Fraldarius sipped her rum. Anaximandros let out a low hum as she thought about her answer.

"Father built me just about ten years ago now. I was formed from a body or two that he deemed were sufficient for his purposes after a massacre of Kingdom forces. Most of my tissue came from one of those two, but parts of others and dragonbone were used to fill in the missing pieces." Anaximandros set her rum down and reached behind her back, unlatching her armour. It shifted and transformed off of her in a matter similar to Chilon's, letting her set the chestplate aside. Beneath was revealed a sleeveless shirt that exposed Anaximandros' scarred arms and the point where the flesh halfway down her forearms gave way to dragonbone. Fraldarius made note of her own Crest that decorated her daughter's sternum, though she also noted that the flesh to either side of it was marred by surgical scars that made it seem like Anaximandros' torso had been rebuilt completely. "My blood is rather unique, actually. I have yours and Father's, of course, but Father also decided to include a little bit of Myson and Bias to give me some expanded use of spells. I was also not fully complete until a few years ago." Anaximandros turned around, revealing the Crest of Macuil between her shoulder blades. "Another donor handed that particular gift over along with a wind spell before she was replaced by Kronya." Anaximandros turned back around. "And now I serve as the commander of the armies. Thales felt that I was best for executing Father's strategies when it came to our forces. Chilon is, after all, not the general that Blaiddyd or you were and are."

"I look forward to seeing your prowess in battle, Anaximandros." Fraldarius smiled.

Citadel of Terror

Gilbert groaned as he awakened, feeling incredibly nauseous as the ringing in his ears quieted but did not quite stop. He heard a metallic tapping and looked up unsteadily to see what the source was. In his blurry vision, he saw Dolofonos tapping a dagger against his faceplate. Dolofonos' eyes shifted in a way that made him seem like he was smiling. Dolofonos stepped forward, contorting his body to look up at Gilbert without kneeling down. Dolofonos' dragonbone jaw clicked for a moment, the same sound it had made before opening just after midnight that morning. Gilbert tensed up and did his best to brace himself, but the abyssal depths within the assassin's throat were never exposed. Dolofonos' chest quivered as though he were laughing, clicking his face back into its proper position. Dolofonos tipped Gilbert's head up, tilting his head to the side as he evaluated the old knight. Gilbert clenched his fists, though something felt horrifically wrong about his left hand. He turned his head as best as he could to see it, his mouth opening in silent horror as he saw that his left ring finger was missing along with the ring that called it home.

"What have you done?" Gilbert asked. Dolofonos raised an eyebrow, tapping his finger against his mouthless jaw. He then held up his finger before tapping around his body as though he were looking for something. He then produced a dagger from inside his thin black armour, showing it to Gilbert. Gilbert growled quietly, but Dolofonos unlatched his mouth as another threat.

"Ah, he awakens." Thales' voice cut into the room. Dolofonos bowed his head in respect and stepped aside as Thales entered the torture chamber. Thales walked over to Gilbert, arms folded behind his back as he did. Thales stroked his beard in thought as he looked at the dangling Gilbert, smiling slightly. "I wonder, Gustave Dominic, if I can make an offer to you in a similar vein as I did to one Nereus Gunnar Galatea." Gilbert's eyes widened at the mention of the late Count Galatea. "Ah, yes. Your old classmate, he was an ally the Agarthans. He was quite easily enticed, you will find. As soon as word reached him that his darling daughter had cast aside the azure banner of the Kingdom and began to march under the Empire's crimson flag. I offered him a chance to see his daughter again, a promise I fulfilled." Thales leaned over closer to Gilbert. "You could have your daughter back as well. Your wife. Your whole family."

"I will make no deals with your kind." Gilbert glared at Thales before spitting in his face. Thales stepped back, wiping the spit from his face before nodding at Dolofonos. Dolofonos laughed silently before grabbing Gilbert's face and opening the panels of Agonias once more.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Byleth walked into Edelgard's office, his arm resting against the Sword of the Creator. Edelgard and Hubert stood behind the desk with grave looks on their faces, Hubert sharpening a dagger. Edelgard looked up at Byleth and raised an eyebrow as a question, a question which Byleth answered with a shake of his head.

"He must be somewhere. Count von Hevring had explicit instructions to arrive at the Mage's Quarter for the morning class." Hubert growled. The trio then heard a series of crashes and thuds in the hallway followed by the sound of Waldemar screaming in fear. A moment later, the door was opened by Ingrid who then threw Waldemar into the room and pointed Lúin at him. "I see Ingrid has found him then."

"I found him slinking around outside of Annette's office. He seemed to be trying to enter it," Ingrid explained.

"Count von Hevring, I understand that you missed a scheduled meeting with the Lord Consort this morning." Edelgard clicked her tongue. "Would you, by any chance, be willing to explain yourself?" Waldemar looked up at Edelgard in defiance, something that made both Hubert and Ingrid's blood boil. "Ingrid, would you..." Waldemar then twisted his jaw slightly and bit down. He began coughing, with Hubert rushing over to investigate the Venomstone.

"Damn you, Hevring." Hubert growled.

"Byleth, I need you to-" Edelgard began, but Byleth did not let her finish the sentence. He knew precisely what she was about to ask him to do. He commanded the world around him to shatter like glass as the Divine Pulse rewound Waldemar's death.

"He must be somewhere. Count von Hevring had explicit instructions to arrive at the Mage's Quarter for the morning class." Hubert growled. The trio then heard a series of crashes and thuds in the hallway followed by the sound of Waldemar screaming in fear. A moment later, the door was opened by Ingrid who then threw Waldemar into the room and pointed Lúin at him. "I see Ingrid has found him then."

"Count von Hevring, I understand that you missed a scheduled meeting with the Lord Consort this morning." Edelgard clicked her tongue. "Would you, by any chance, be willing to explain yourself?" Waldemar looked up at Edelgard in defiance, something that made both Hubert and Ingrid's blood boil. Byleth then reached over to Ingrid and pulled Areadbhar from her back with blazing speed, shoving the handle of the glaive into Waldemar's mouth.

"Venomstone. Divine Pulse," Byleth explained curtly. The Deluge Dragon Sign around Hubert's neck flashed as Croífarraige activated its divine blessing.

"Remedomi." Hubert commanded a faintly glowing bubble to emerge from the holy relic. It slipped past the handle of Areadbhar and surrounded the Venomstone, pulling the poison out of it. Waldemar's eyes widened before he was then clubbed in the back of the head by the butt of Lúin. "Dungeon with this one, I must assume, Your Majesty?"

"Indeed." Edelgard nodded before looking at Ingrid. "And as soon as we have the information from him, Ingrid, I must ask you to once again-"

"As with Grégoire. I understand." Ingrid put Lúin on her back and took Areadbhar out of the now unconscious Waldemar's mouth.

Ingrid then grabbed Waldemar by the collar and dragged him out of the room once more, Areadbhar at the ready in the event he woke up just a little bit too quickly. As she passed guards, servants, and pages in the hallways, they looked on at the Praetorian Guard hauling the Minister of Religion off towards the dungeon. Ingrid knew for a fact that many of them were thinking of that day years ago when she buried Lúin in Grégoire's heart. The man had used his skills in diplomatic stalling to demand retrial after retrial until Edelgard finally asked her Praetorian Guard to deal the fatal blow.

Harpstring Moon, Day 11, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid stood next to the fire in her office with a fire poker in hand as she tried to get the logs to properly ignite. She gave it an annoyed look, silently wishing she could do as Dorothea, Mercedes, or Linhardt could do in their offices with their fire magics. Alas, even if she was trained in the use of magic, she knew from the Reason classes with Professor Eisner that she would likely only know light magic due to that being the school of magic that Daphnel had used as a Holy Knight. Ingrid grinned as the logs finally caught into a proper blaze, humming happily to herself as she walked back to her desk. Dorothea had treated her to a night at the Mittelfrank Opera the night before, the showing was for a newly written opera by an up and coming composer about the Three Sisters. Interest in the show had been somewhat reduced despite Dorothea claiming that it was one of the best written yet. Dorothea suggested that the Praetorian Guard seeing the show would likely drum up interest and Edelgard had given her approval because she was going to be locked in tense political negotiations that night that would find more use for Hubert's dagger than Ingrid's lance.

The show had been delightful. The claim of the spectacular writing was a claim Ingrid could not help but agree with because every song was still happily dancing around in her head.

Ingrid sat down at her desk and grabbed her quill to sign off on whatever forms had been left for her by the pages that morning. She raised her eyebrow slightly seeing Annette's name on one of the forms, her intrigue turning to sly joy when she saw that it was a residence transfer request to an apartment that she knew was Ashe's. Gossip had always been made amongst both the Blue Lions and Black Eagles about the two of them, though they never confirmed or denied anything about their relationship status. Ingrid happily signed the form approving the request and stood up so that she could give it to whatever page she could find outside the room immediately. She was met with good fortune as there was a page about to knock on her door when she opened it.

"Oh, Praetorian Guard, hello." The page bowed her head before offering Ingrid a letter with an unmarked wax seal. Ingrid took it slowly before offering her own letter to the page.

"Deliver that to Prime Minister Aegir posthaste, he should be in the eastern wing's dining hall having lunch with Lady Edmund and her parents," Ingrid ordered. The page bowed her head in reply before walking off. Ingrid closed her door to open the letter, walking over to the spot where Lúin hung on the wall. Written on the paper were four simple words in Edelgard's handwriting, those being 'Grégoire's stalling ends today'. Ingrid's brow furrowed at the request, tossing the letter into the fireplace to destroy the evidence of the Emperor's clandestine orders as she pulled Lúin off of the wall. She slung it onto her back before walked back to her desk. She reached into a small drawer at the bottom of the desk, unrolling a single piece of paper from it. Upon it were the words of a death warrant, which Ingrid then filled in with Grégoire's name before signing it herself. She then folded the note and brought it to her fireplace, holding a small vat filled with red wax over the fire. After a brief moment, the wax melted and Ingrid poured enough for a seal. She gently set the letter down on the mantle so that the wax would not spill as she pressed her signet ring into it. It was the one piece of jewelry that Ingrid actually wore on any consistent basis, the impression of the Crest of Daphnel superimposed over the Crest of Seiros and the Imperial Eagle Wings her silent word of power in the Empire.

Ingrid then walked out of her office with letter in hand, heading directly towards the dungeon. The Praetorian Guard moved as swiftly as she could without running, set on completing her mission as quickly as possible. While Hubert generally handled Edelgard's dirty work, there were some things that even he was unable to do as Minister of the Imperial Household. The Imperial justice system had a procedure in place known as the Five Blades of Capital Punishment, authorizing five people in the Empire to authorize a death sentence: The Emperor, their Consort, the Prime Minister, the Minister of the Imperial Household, and the Praetorian Guard. Both ministers were forbidden from carrying out executions of any other minister, whilst the Emperor tried to avoid any sort of extrajudicial execution for fear of it looking particularly badly upon her. That left Ingrid to be the one to handle those threats that Edelgard, Hubert, and Ferdinand could not. As the instrument of the Empire's security itself, Ingrid had the ability to operate outside the restrictions placed on Hubert and Ferdinand. As Grégoire still held his position, stalling as best he could in the courts to maintain that position with the argument of lacking a proper heir as Bernadetta was not yet even nineteen.

As the letter had requested, Grégoire's stalling ended that day.

Ingrid arrived at the dungeon, descending into the dark depths quickly. She rounded a set of corners before arriving at a cell with a thick door on it. The pair of guards bowed in respect to the Praetorian Guard, who glared at the door. Ingrid handed one of the guards the warrant in her hand before taking the key from the other, clicking it into the lock. The guards looked at each other as Ingrid stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Grégoire looked up from his bed, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Good afternoon. Ingrid, I believe it is?" Grégoire asked, refusing to acknowledge Ingrid's title as knight or office as Guard. "And what gift do you bring me today, I wonder? I requested a better quilt, but I do not see one in your hand. Tsk tsk tsk, what a shame, what a shame. I will most definitely be complaining to the magistrates about this." Ingrid pulled Lúin from her back and slammed the butt of the lance into the stone floor, creating a soft thudding clang that made Grégoire jump a little. "What in the Goddess' name are you doing?"

"Grégoire von Varley, you are charged with treason of the highest magnitude: Conspiracy against the Emperor of Adrestia, contribution to a coup against her office, and the ongoing jeopardization of the security of the Imperial Army both in Enbarr and across the Empire. There can be only one sentence for these actions, death. However, only the authority of four people in the Empire can sentence you as such. The Emperor, the Prime Minister, and Minister of the Imperial Household, and the Praetorian Guard. By my authority as Praetorian Guard, I have already signed your death warrant." Ingrid brandished Lúin at Grégoire. "Speak your last."

"You will hang for this! I have not been convicted!" Grégoire snarled indignantly. Ingrid's firm expression remained unchanged as she drove her lance into his chest. Grégoire gasped for air as he clawed at the handle of dragonbone, but Ingrid remained firm. After a moment of suffering, Ingrid finally ripped Lúin from Grégoire's dying body. She leaned down next to him, letting a drop of blood fall from Lúin's blade and onto the floor.

"The span of human life is fleeting like a dream, but a fair welcome is given to those who reach eternity. May eternity forsake you, Grégoire der Verräter." Ingrid whispered to Grégoire as he died.

Blue Sea Moon, Day 1, Imperial Year 1186

Annette walked into her office, flanked by both Ashe and Hubert. Ingrid had informed her that Waldemar had been seen around the wind mage's office, though she had been unsure if he had been attempting to enter or attempting to leave. Annette scanned around the room, trying to see if anything was out of place. There indeed was, as there was a box she did not recognize sitting right in the middle of her desk. Annette summoned a rune to her hand as she picked up the box, trying to see if the box had some kind of mystical trap on it. When the rune did not react, Annette dispelled it before gingerly touching the top of the box. She lifted the cover off of it before shrieking and dropping the box and falling to her knees in shock.

"Annette, Annette, what is it?" Ashe dropped down to hold her, Annette burying her head in his shoulder. Hubert knelt down, touching the box gently so he could see what was within without knocking the box over. He grit his teeth in rage, clenching his fist as Annette continued to sob.

"I-I-It-It's-It's-" Annette tried her hardest to take deep breaths to avoid a panic attack. "It's my father's!" Hubert showed Ashe the contents of the box, those being Gilbert's severed finger and wedding ring.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Enbarr

Blue Sea Moon, Day 2, Imperial Year 1186

Annette paced angrily outside of Waldemar's cell, fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were stark white. The two knights standing guard pretended not to notice her pacing, which almost reminded one of a feral beast waiting at the mouth of its enclosure for its keeper to appear with food. Annette looked up as the cell door opened, with Hubert and Ingrid stepping out with gloomy expressions on their faces. Annette grabbed at Ingrid's arm, who sighed quietly.

"He won't tell us anything, Annette. I'm sorry." Ingrid shook her head. "Predictably, I suppose. People willing to negotiate don't exactly kill themselves."

"But he does know a great deal. He, or more likely his benefactors, knew we would catch him. Thus the poisoned tooth." Hubert gave Annette's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "However, I am asking Mercedes to look into a few things regarding Hevring's dealings that may have remained in the archives of the Ministry of Religion."

"Thank you both for trying everything you could." Annette nodded. "I'm, um, I'm going to go home, I think. I need to have some time to think about everything."

"I relieved Ashe of duty for the day so he can be there with you." Ingrid pulled Annette in for a hug. Annette whispered a barely audible thank you into Ingrid's ear before walking towards the exit of the dungeon. Ingrid and Hubert walked down a different hallway together, opening the door to an office within. Ingrid pulled a knife from a table next to the door and hurled it at a poster hanging on the wall with Lord Arundel's face emblazoned upon it. The knife seemed to falter a little bit in its flight, as though it was not designed for Ingrid's use. "Her appointment is going through?" Ingrid spoke up again, drawing Hubert's attention. "Mercedes. As Minister of Religion. I thought there were diplomatic obstacles to it."

"Ferdinand invoked the Headless House Law," Hubert explained plainly. "His pitch of Mercedes was supported by Bernadetta, so the various nobles went along with it." Ingrid nodded, scratching her nose. "You missed an emergency meeting getting Hevring contained."

"He had that dagger on his person." Ingrid gestured to the impaled poster. "The strange thing is that he made absolutely no attempt to use it. It was stored out of reach of his strong hand." Ingrid pulled the dagger from the wall and brought it to a table at the back of the office covered in papers and documents. "I sent Caspar to retrieve something for us and fetch his father regarding this particular dagger." Ingrid walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pale ale along with four mugs. She set the mugs down and poured out the ale into them, offering a mug to Hubert and picking one up herself. "I think you're going to be quite proud to hear this, Hubert, but I've done something that you would likely do had I not taken care of it already." Hubert raised an eyebrow curiously as he sipped his ale. "I have kept every single Agarthan weapon, whether conformed or suspected, taken from the battlefield under secret lock and key to no one's knowledge except my own and recently Byleth's." Hubert smiled proudly. "Only one other person should recently have gained any suspicion, and that should be Seteth because I had him create a reliquary to contain those weapons using a technology that the Agarthans cannot access." As if on cue, Caspar and Leopold entered, with Caspar carrying a large case made out of a dense steel that glowed very faintly. Caspar set the case down and picked up the two remaining mugs of ale, handing one to his father.

"Praetorian Guard, Marquis Vestra." Leopold greeted the two of them.

"Count Bergliez, thank you for coming." Ingrid turned the case that Caspar had brought in around, exposing the Crest Lock of Cichol built into it. Hubert chuckled with delight. Ingrid's trump card against the Agarthans was their own greatest trick turned against them: Weaponizing the Crests in a way that only their side possibly could. Leopold looked at the Crest Lock with some confusion, but a single gesture from Ingrid made him realize she wanted him to touch the lock. He pressed his hand to it, the case quivering before unlocking. Inside were a few weapons, but most prominently featured was a dagger that Caspar recognized as coming from the fight with Kronya. Ingrid picked up the dagger and looked at it with a gaze in her eyes that could only be explained as melancholic sentimentality.

Garreg Mach

Faculty Wing

Red Wolf Moon, Day 21, Imperial Year 1181

Ingrid looked around at the hallways of the monastery that she had once called home. It felt incredibly strange to have returned at the head of a conquering army, but the Emperor's word was the Praetorian Guard's command. She had in fact been instrumental in planning this particular offensive, coordinating with General Drachestein and Count and General Bergliez to ensure that the Adrestian army's troop movements were concealed and they would be able to strike in a decisive battle on Red Wolf Moon's twenty-first day, the Kingdom's founding day. Ingrid knew that her former allies in the Kingdom would, despite the war, be celebrating their holy kingdom's foundation and thus it would be a prime time to attack.

Ingrid had been right, the combined Church and Kingdom forces occupying Garreg Mach had crumpled before the unwavering might of Adrestia.

Ladislava, Leopold, and Randolph were now working on the army logistics of occupation, dividing up the required forces to keep the monastery under Imperial control. When Ingrid found nothing to do while the three of them worked through their expertly attuned system, Ladislava had told her that she was free to handle whatever it was the Praetorian Guard needed to do. Ingrid took that to mean a polite request to leave the trio to their business.

Ingrid sometimes feared that Ladislava had some form of deeply seeded hatred for the Faerghus-born woman who had ascended to the position of the Emperor's Praetorian Guard. Ladislava had, after all, been the commander of Edelgard's personal guard prior to her ascension to the Adrestian throne. Among the veterans in the service, Ingrid occasionally heard comments regarding their surprise that an eighteen year old young woman had risen to one of the Empire's greatest military positions in what felt like an instant instead of the veteran who was twice her age, but Ladislava expressed that she felt no resentment towards Ingrid or Edelgard about it. She was not the Praetorian Guard that Edelgard needed, so she would take up whatever other duty the Emperor had for her. Given her experience, that meant becoming one of the Empire's top generals.

In the shuffle of Imperial power that had happened following Edelgard's ascension to the throne, Ingrid found herself sharing joint power as commander in chief of the Adrestian army with Leopold. The Ministries of Interior and Military Affairs saw their offices blended into the new office of Ministry of Imperial Affairs with some of the old duties of both folded into the office of Praetorian Guard. The pitch had been relatively easy to make to the Imperial nobles, in part due to an impassioned speech from Ferdinand about how the Praetorian Guard had too long been an office with only marginal political powers despite its massive importance to the power structure of the Empire. It meant that Ingrid, a woman who would finally be turning nineteen in two months, was now one of two people in the Empire who hold the power to order the army to march, an order which would require either consensus between the two or an immediate pressing need that one would have to justify to the other and the court afterwards.

Ladislava graciously, and to the great relief of Ingrid, offered to serve as Ingrid's immediate subordinate in the Imperial Military.

Ingrid arrived at Byleth's old office, opening the door to it with a quiet click. The relatively undecorated office was still just as Byleth had left it, the Church evidently not having looked for tactical information within. Ingrid's cavalry heels clicked gently against the hardwood floors as she paced the room. She brushed aside a pile of paperwork, unearthing a book with a dark leather cover. The symbol of Jeralt's mercenary troop was stamped into the leather, the strap that kept the book closed still wrapped tightly around the small metal button on the cover. Ingrid unbuttoned it, opening it up to read what was within. Leafing through the various pages, she found that the handwriting changed about halfway through. The first half was a handwriting style that Ingrid did not recognize, leading her to assume it was Jeralt's own. What was written in the second half was written in the Professor Eisner's, containing notes on the battles and skirmishes that he had taken part in as both the Ashen Demon and Professor of the Black Eagles. Ingrid pushed Byleth's chair back, taking a seat in it and grabbing a blank page of paper from the desk. She reached around Byleth's desk in search of his pen, plucking it from its ink well. The ink within was stale with disuse, so Ingrid opened the drawers in search of a spare bottle.

Ingrid cocked her head when within the desk she found a dagger with a blade that curved back and forth towards the tip and had a handguard that seemed to be designed for parrying. Ingrid picked the dagger up, running her fingers along the engraved symbols. She recognized it as the blade used by Kronya to murder Jeralt.

Professor Eisner did not talk about his father, not to anyone. He generally avoided the topic of his father under any and all circumstances, with seemingly only Leonie broaching the subject with him and only under specific circumstances. The Eagles, both before and after their joining the class, allowed him his privacy. Too many of them had lost parents themselves under various circumstances to push him further than he wanted to be pushed. Given her own relationships with family, Ingrid was always tempted to ask him what it felt like to share so much common ground with one's father, but she felt it was not her place.

Perhaps she could learn a little about both men from their primer.

Ingrid turned to the last page that Byleth had written in, scanning the page. She found a note at the bottom of the page, a note which read 'I need to ensure that one of the battlefield tacticians of the Eagles gets this primer. Their own notes will be invaluable, especially if Edelgard's path leads to war. Ferdinand, Ingrid, and Yuri will likely find the best use from it.'

Ingrid sat back in Byleth's chair, the leather-covered cushion compressing against her dusk iron armour. Ferdinand, Yuri, and she had always found themselves on different teams whenever Professor Eisner had run tactical exercises, leading to all three of them ending up discussing their individual plans with him afterwards. Eventually, he began to assign them specific things regarding battle tactics. Ingrid always felt a little out of place in those meetings, Yuri was a natural schemer and Ferdinand had been raised to take up a leadership position. Ingrid just seemed to slot into planning by accident.

She supposed it made sense now that she was Praetorian Guard and Edelgard had entrusted her with tactical command of the Adrestian army itself.

Professor Eisner had trained her for this.

Adrestia

Enbarr

Blue Sea Moon, Day 2, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid handed Kronya's dagger to Caspar, allowing the man to examine it. While Caspar's most commonly thought about role in the Black Eagles was that of a powerful warrior on the battlefield, he was incredibly knowledgeable about weapons. With Melchior, Caspar's older brother, slated to inherit the countship that their father held, Caspar was relatively free to explore his own role within the house. He had decided that House Bergliez required an internal weapons expert, taking up the smithing trade. His craftsmanship spoke for itself, with the sword that Ingrid wore being his finest work. He had laboured over it for two weeks, having made it in preparation for the knighthood that he felt Ingrid would inevitably get. Edelgard had met with him before Ingrid's knighting ceremony, when Hubert and Ingrid were getting their hair cut, to request a Bergliez blade for her soon to be Praetorian Guard.

The Emperor had apparently taken great joy in the fact that Caspar had already made one for the future Ser Galatea.

"Caspar, your opinion?" Ingrid asked.

"It's the same metal, but that much was pretty damn obvious because of who had them." Caspar ran his fingers along the blade. "What's weird about them both is that they're really bad for fighting." Caspar held his hand out to his father, with Leopold produced his own dagger and handing it to his son. Caspar held them up, comparing the blade types. "Hubert, you'll know from experience that it's not an assassin's knife either. Those are easy to conceal and easy to draw, I guarantee that Hubert's got at least three on him right now." Hubert's eyebrow's flicked up in a gesture that indicated he resented but could not debate with the comment. "No, this is a different beast. The shape of the blade means that whoever you stab is going to suffer. It's a ceremonial weapon, probably designed for human sacrifices."

"We know that the Agarthans are capable of teleportation, yet they allowed Kronya to remain where she was after she killed Jeralt." Hubert stroked his chin. "Perhaps the sacrifice in question is the bearer of the blade. It is an Agarthan message that the bearer has outlived their usefulness."

"A threat to their agents to finish their mission or else." Leopold nodded.

Shambala

Citadel of Wrath

Chilon stood on a balcony overlooking Agarthan forces training, his helmet set off to the side. He touched the metal eyepatch covering his eye with some tenderness, the old wound evidently acting up. As he heard a door open behind him, he dropped his hand away and turned to see who was entering. His stoic expression faded when he saw Anaximandros with her armour retracted to expose her sleeveless shirt and a pair of small rum bottles in each hand.

"Uncle Chilon, I hope you are not too busy to share a drink with me." Anaximandros offered one of the bottles to her father's best friend. She and Chilon worked closely together, the two of them and Bias being the overseers of the Agarthan army. Chilon was their juggernaut, the soldier to be deployed to reinforce any front that was struggling while Bias slung down the wrath of a mystic inferno and Anaximandros flowed with every changing deployment of the army at the front.

"Axi, I think you'll find I'm never too busy to spend time with you." Chilon chuckled, taking the bottle from her. The two Agarthan generals leaned over the balcony's railing to observe the Agarthan forces below. They all moved in perfect unison, almost as though they were being commanded by an external force. "I must ask you a question, though I don't want you to feel obligated to answer it in any way." Anaximandros looked at Chilon with a curious pursing of her lips. "You have a unique perspective on your father's experimentation. How do you feel about his use of the dead Saviour King as a revenant puppet?"

"I feel my father has put too much stock into Myson's suggestions at psychological warfare, something I intend to express to him. It is without question that the Blue Lions among the Adrestians have likely adapted to the presence of their old friend in our ranks, thus diminishing the potential effects that seeing him may have." Anaximandros sipped her rum. "That is not to say that the corpse of Dimitri Blaiddyd is not without use, but I believe that we should be using him for his physical prowess rather than the current intent."

"Nuanced." Chilon nodded. "As always, Axi." Anaximandros chuckled a little bit. "I feel similarly to you. I believe that command of the dead Saviour King should pass to your hands as soon as it possibly can. You and I are the frontline generals and it's only a matter of time before this war that we have fought up to now with cloaks and daggers will become one fought with soldiers and steel. It took Adrestia's Praetorian Guard fighting with everything she had to disable the Saviour King. He could tear through their armies until a powerful enough soldier with a mighty enough weapon halted him until we fixed him and sent him out into battle again and again and again."

"Tell me about the Praetorian Guard, Chilon. I heard you talking about her as a worthy opponent." Anaximandros tilted her head slightly. "I wish to have it explained properly to me, I have this strange fondness well up within me whenever I hear of her that I cannot explain."

"She has proven a woman of commitment and will rivaled only by that of the Agarthans. She has no Crest of the False Goddess Herself as the Fell Star and Emperor do, she is a woman like any other who has fought and trained to be who she is now. In another world, perhaps she could be among our ranks, proving that humanity's determination is stronger than any tyrant goddess." Chilon stroked his chin. He looked at Anaximandros, taking in her features. He had provided his own blood to Odesse during the woman's creation, not to confer upon her any magic like Myson and Bias had contributed, but rather to ensure that she would have a life at all. Two bodies and six bloods had come together to create Anaximandros, with Chilon's magicless blood being the one to keep them together. "I cannot explain the fondness, though. Perhaps it simply comes down to the process of your creation. Only your father would be able to answer your query there." The two of them turned when the door opened again, Fraldarius walking in. She gave Chilon a nod a greeting, which he returned.

"Myson was able to pull a single scrap from the prisoner's mind, a clue leading to the mausoleum in the capital of the Barony of Dominic. Your father would like you and I to investigate that mausoleum. While we will be entirely unable to open any vault that may contain Dominic's body without something specific he could not explain to me in a way I understood, he does want us to look to see if the body is even there or if the prisoner managed to give us a false lead," Fraldarius explained.

"We depart in the morning, I assume?" Anaximandros asked. Fraldarius nodded. "Well, I suppose I should rest then. Thank you for your company, Uncle Chilon. It's been a pleasure as always."

"Rest well, Axi." Chilon smiled, clicking his rum against Anaximandros'.

Fraldarius and Anaximandros then left the room, leaving Chilon alone again. He waited a few moments after the door closed to stumble away from the balcony and down a hallway. He arrived at another door, opening the door to his own chambers. He stepped within so the door could seal behind him, his shoulders instantly dropping from his usual commanding presence. He trudged over to his washing room, looking into the mirror with a pained growl. He reached up to his eyepatch again and pried the piece of Agarthan technology off, revealing a chunk of densely scarred and scabbed skin leaking sickly purple-tinted red blood and black gunk. He cupped his eye, tossing the eyepatch aside for a moment. He leaned back, tapping on the chest of his armour so it would retract into his boots. He stepped out of his boots and tossed them outside the washing room. He tugged on the stopper for the faucet, letting the cool water flow out of it so he could clean what was left of his left eye socket.

"Damn those false gods for doing this to us." Chilon snarled as water dripped from his face.

Faerghus

Dominic

Blue Sea Moon, Day 3, Imperial Year 1186

Anaximandros and Fraldarius walked through the streets of Mjoll, with Anaximandros' armour expanded over her hands to disguise her dragonbone-forged prosthetic hands. The two looked around for their end goal, with Fraldarius looking almost forlornly at the sky in some sort of wish that she had a pegasus to use to scout the capital city of the Barony of Dominic from the sky. Fraldarius bumped her daughter's shoulder gently and raised an eyebrow, a silent question about whether or not the artificial woman had a plan in mind. Anaximandros leaned over against one of the shopping stalls, tapping against the cool wood that made up the butcher's stall with her gauntlet-clad fingers. He leaned over to look at her, pausing in shock upon seeing her scarred face.

"Hello there, I am so sorry to trouble you. My mother and I, we come from House Fraldarius. We were looking for directions to the Dominic mausoleum. You see, my grandfather, my mother's father, he once fought alongside a Dominic and that Dominic actually saved his life. We have been trying to make a pilgrimage for years and years now to pay our respects and thank that Dominic. We would not be here if not for that Dominic's actions," Anaximandros explained. "If it is of any help, if I recall correctly his name was Sigismund."

"Aye, yes. The Baron Dominic's father, the late Baron Dominic. I'm quite familiar, my father fought beside him as well, they joined with House Gautier to protect the Kingdom from Sreng." The butcher smiled sadly. "Ah, but there's no one to protect us now, is there? The Church has been torn down, the Kingdom is fallen, the bloodline of Blaiddyd is destroyed."

"I am of the opinion that it is the strength of mortal men which shall prevail, not any heroic bloodline or divine intervention." Anaximandros folded her arms behind her back.

"Yes, well, perhaps." The butcher shook his head, unconvinced of Anaximandros' words. "The mausoleum is down the main street, take a right at the fountain and then a left at the farrier. Keep going and you'll reach the mausoleum, it is the building with pyre outside its door."

"Thank you so much for your help." Anaximandros smiled and left the butcher a few coins before leading Fraldarius away. The butcher let out a huff of air as the two women walked away, returning to his meat. A younger man approached, looking over his shoulder at the fleeting figures of the women.

"Customers, father?" The younger man asked.

"Ack, boy, aye. Alas, though, they did not buy meat but rather information about the mausoleum." The butcher chopped off a piece of mutton. "Any news from the trade board? Will our new overlords assist us in our time of need?" The younger man offered a paper to his father. "What is it, boy? Yegh!" The butcher slammed his cleaver down and took the paper. "You intercepted this from a courier?" The younger man nodded. "A regent. From Adrestia. Ha! I cannot wait to see how this announcement goes over."

"Look at the name, father." The younger man pointed to the paper again. The butcher rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes. 'With an invocation of the lieu of the crown by the heirs of Houses Fraldarius and Gautier, installed as the regent of Faerghus is a daughter of thine own lands...' What?" The butcher squinted. "Her Majesty the Queen Regent, Ingrid Brandl Galatea." The butcher chuckled. "The daughter of Nereus, really? Well, boy, I expect that nothing for the common men of these lands will change, let alone improve, no matter who sits on the throne."

Adrestia

Enbarr

Ingrid adjusted her Galatean circlet, brushing her hair a little bit with her fingers before slinging Areadbhar onto her back. Annette had requested her presence in her capacity as Queen Regent, so here Ingrid found herself standing outside Ashe and Annette's apartment in an approximation of royal regalia. Ingrid knocked, with Ashe opening the door not even a second later. Annette and Ashe were both dressed in their battle attire, Ashe's bow slung across his back. Ingrid raised an eyebrow at Annette, who was conjuring purple teleportation magic to her hands. Ingrid could see freshly applied makeup on Annette's face, evidently having been used to cover up the remnants of tears.

"We are going to Mjoll then?" Ingrid asked. Ingrid had only been to the Barony of Dominic's capital once on a diplomatic trip with her mother, but she remembered the mighty walls and wide streets of the city fondly. It was a proper illustration of both Dominic and Faerghusian resilience through any form of strife. Simon, the Baron's son, had vanished during the war and Adrestia had come to blame. There had almost been a full crisis due to it until Annette had pled Adrestia's case to her uncle and prevented a further escalation.

"Yes." Annette nodded. "I need to speak to my uncle about my father and my ancestor's body. I wanted an official Imperial escort so this whole thing has some diplomatic legitimacy." Annette took a deep breath. "Beyond that, the people of Faerghus outside the borders of Galatea need to see you as their leader, their queen."

Ingrid set her shoulders back slightly, leaning her elbow against her sword's hilt. All of the former Blue Lions varied amongst themselves as to whether they referred to Ingrid in passing as queen regent or queen proper. Felix, Sylvain, and Annette used queen, while Ashe, Mercedes, and Ingrid herself used queen regent. Ingrid's view on the title reflected her own sentiments on her position, a temporary monarch until a more suitable replacement could be found, with Mercedes and Ashe concurring for her sake. Felix, Sylvain, and Annette seemed to view her installation as a more permanent affair. Ingrid could not help but consider that the three of them were implying that a more suitable replacement would not be found and she was Faerghus' greatest and only hope.

It left Ingrid with one question: Which view was right?

Ingrid was shaken out of her introspection when Annette flung her hands outwards. In a flash of purple light, the trio vanished.

Faerghus

Dominic

Annette, Ingrid, and Ashe appeared in the town square of Mjoll, the fountain babbling nearby. The various people looked at the trio with confusion and hesitancy, a few guards stepping forward and drawing their weapons. Annette and Ashe flicked their eyes to Ingrid, who pulled Areadbhar from her back. She slammed the butt of the glaive into the ground in front of her, making the guards pause in their tracks. The townsfolk began to whisper amongst themselves at the sight of the monarchical weapon of Faerghus. Annette and Ashe walked off towards the palace, leaving Ingrid with the crowd as the two sought out Annette's uncle.

"My name is Ingrid Brandl Galatea. I am inclined to believe that the messengers dispatched from Adrestia have reached this city with news about my regency," Ingrid said. "I have ascended to this position by the will of Houses Fraldarius and Gautier in lieu of the crown, but I intend to reign only for as long as the people of Faerghus lack any other options." Ingrid examined the handle of Areadbhar, the Grim Dragon's bones warm in her hand. "And that is the kind of queen regent I intend to be. Throughout the war between Adrestia and the Kingdom, I have been one of two heads of the military. With a single command, I could authorize attacks on any civilian populace within the Kingdom and there were times when power-hungry nobles said I should do as much." Ingrid looked around at the gathered crowd. "But I could not because I would not and will not allow the people to suffer the slings and arrows hurled by their leadership." Ingrid slung Areadbhar onto her back and approached the fountain. She removed her glove and dipped her hand into the cool water, letting the gentle ripples wash over her fingers. "So I ask you this as Queen Regent: What do the people of Mjoll need most?"

"Queen Regent, you will find that the people of Mjoll have been promised a great many things." A frail old woman hobbled forward, her cane thumping against the cobblestone as she approached the Queen Regent. "I have been here for four kings and a king regent and now I watch you take that glaive in your hand and ask the same question that those kings and regent before you asked and failed to deliver upon. King Dimitri promised us peace, but he went to war against the Empire that you serve. King Regent Rufus promised us food, but he gorged himself on that food. King Lambert promised us prosperity, but his campaign against Sreng and ill-preparation for the plague that killed his first queen brought famine upon us all. King Alexandre promised that aid and engineers would be sent to help relieve a drought that swept through this barony, but those engineers quickly became distracted building his fortresses and castles. King Konstantin promised that Dominic would be protected and honoured for their role in the Kingdom's history, but he stood by and ignored us as his own advisor bled us dry." The old woman reached Ingrid and looked up at her with her wrinkle-narrowed eyes. "Perhaps they did not mean to break their promises, perhaps circumstances made their promises impossible to keep, but they did make those promises. So what promise can you make to these people, your people, that has not already been made and broken?"

"There is no empty promise I will risk making." Ingrid shook her head. "There is nothing I can say to force the people of Mjoll, the people of Dominic, the people of Faerghus, to have faith in my rule. Instead of a promise, I will be a monarch who lets her actions speak." Ingrid looked around the town. "There is only one oath I will take, and it is the same oath I wordlessly took when I was knighted by Emperor Edelgard of Adrestia. A knight of Adrestia must be vigilant, must be virtuous, and must be loyal. I have not and will not break that pledge of knighthood to any of the people of the Empire that Dominic finds itself a part of."

"We need your help." A young man, barely old enough to be called a man, rang out through the plaza. Ingrid turned to him, slipping her glove back on and reaching out for the young man in a silent request for him to come forward. "There is a wave of illness sweeping through this city. Our healers are afraid it is a remnant of the plague that ravaged Faerghus years ago. Baron Dominic has tried his best to help us, but there is only so much he can do without experts or gold or food."

"That food is its own problem." A woman with a bulging abdomen waddled forward, a young boy with awestruck eyes hiding behind her skirt of her dress. "Mouths to feed are born so often because we need help on the farms to get food to feed those mouths because we lack trade with any resource rich region that isn't trying to rebuild itself instead."

"With many of our smiths and carpenters conscripted into the war and lost in the destruction of Fhirdiad, our infrastructure is disintegrating." An older man with a scholarly look about him crept forward. "New wells must be dug to irrigate our fields, new homes must be erected to house the families, our infirmary is in a state of utter ruin."

"Get me a pen and a torch," Ingrid ordered. The scholarly man nodded, walking off to retrieve them. Ingrid reached into her armour, producing a piece of paper that faintly glowed purple. It was enchanted with a spell developed by Hubert and Mercedes, a letter which would warp to the intended recipient if lit on fire. "I am going to compose a letter destined for Lady Marianne Edmund, fiancée of Prime Minister Ferdinand von Aegir. She manages humanitarian aid for Adrestian territory. She will help me handle the logistics of getting food, gold, tradesmen, and healers for the city of Mjoll and the Barony of Dominic alike." The scholarly man returned, torch and pen dipped in an inkwell for Ingrid. Ingrid sat down on the fountain and scrawled out a list of requests for Marianne, signing it as both Praetorian Guard and Queen Regent. She then took the torch and touched the letter to it, the paper vanishing in a burst of mystical purple flames.

Chapter Text

Adrestia

Varley

Blue Sea Moon, Day 3, Imperial Year 1186

A crowd danced around a tavern floor as a band played instruments and those sitting at tables clapped in rhythm. A troubadour with red sideburns and a brimmed hat stepped to the front of the stage with lute in hand as he strummed along with his compatriots.

"This is a song of the Ten Elites, dedicated to those who carry on their bloodlines." He grinned and winked at the audience before taking a deep breath. "First I tell the tale of Blaiddyd, the leader of them all. His right hand held his weapon, his many foes did fall. Great Areadbhar did tear through their magic, steel, and sword, atrocious power crushing and reaping the reward. His left hand held his magic, his thunder and his creed. He slung his spells with gusto, from on his blackened steed. He traveled through the blizzards and ice and storms and cold, founding Faerghus as his kingdom was an act most bold! OH!" The band, and whatever members of the crowd knew the song as well, joined him for the chorus. "These are the ten great stories of the ten great souls of old. Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told!" The troubadour pretended like he was pondering which Elite to sing of next.

"Tell us of Daphnel!" One audience member called out in tune.

"Tell us of Riegan!" Another added.

"Or perhaps tell us the story of Lamine!" A third finished the interjection.

"Next I tell the tale of Riegan, the bowman of the lot. He never missed an arrow when firing Failnaught. The arrows shot up through the sky could even kill a lark. Striking like a fallen star, he'd always hit his mark. Riding up on horseback, its coat as white as snow. He'd gallop through the battlefield with enemies in tow. He traveled to the coastline and founded a duchy, a trading hub for Fódlan now, its great ships you must see! OH!" More of the audience joined in for the next chorus. "These are the ten great stories of the ten great souls of old. Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told!" The troubadour waited for the audience to do their part.

"Tell us of Charon!"

"Of Fraldarius!"

"Or perhaps tell us the story of Lamine!"

"Next I tell tales of Fraldarius, the lady of the skies. She soared on black-winged feathers and fearsome battle-cries. The Aegis Shield she wielded could block the strongest blade. With grace and fury from above, her enemies she slayed. Unbeatable defenses and voice just like a roar, she'd break her enemies' spirits and then their blood would pour. She died in battle valiant, was loyal to the last, she set examples for us all, winged hero of the past! OH!" About two-thirds of the audience had joined in for the chorus by now. "These are the ten great stories of the ten great souls of old. Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told!"

"Tell us of Gloucester!"

"Tell us of Daphnel!"

"Or perhaps tell us the story of Lamine!"

"Next I tell the tale of Daphnel, the great and holy knight. He charged with magic ready and pledged to bring the light. Lúin, the golden spear, was his justice and his might. A burning quake of wrath divine, the sinners it did smite. He rode on into battle on silver coated horse, restorative healing spells on through his veins did course. And when the bloodshed ended, his priestly heart was stirred, journeyed for the goddess true and spread her holy word! OH!" At this point, most if not all of the audience was contributing to the chorus. "These are the ten great stories of the ten great souls of old. Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told!"

Faerghus

Dominic

Annette and Ashe walked into the Mjoll fortress where Baron Dominic ruled from, the guards watching them but not stopping them. Annette was well known and recognized in her uncle's home, having spent much of her life there when her father had fled the Kingdom in shame after the Tragedy of Duscur. If not for her cousin Simon possessing a Crest of his own, it was incredibly likely that she would be the heir apparent to the entire house.

With Simon's disappearance during the early stages of the war, she likely now was.

Annette could not help but worry about Simon. He often talked to her about his dreams of becoming a minstrel, traveling across Fódlan in the name of peace and joy that he could bring with his music rather than a magical weapon. He had fled from Faerghus not long after the war against the Kingdom was declared., apparently deciding to live out his dream. Annette had asked Hubert if he could look into it at some point, with Hubert informing her that a man matching Simon's appearance was performing in small taverns in Imperial territory under a different name than Simon. He had asked her if she wanted to know more or if she wanted Simon brought to Enbarr, but Annette had refused. She knew that if it was indeed Simon, he was happily living his life now.

Unless he could feel whatever the Agarthans were going to do to Dominic's Crest.

"Annette!" A woman's voice rang out through the hall. Annette and Ashe turned, seeing a woman who looked like Annette except slightly shorter and with grey hairs mixed in with the red.

"Mother!" Annette beamed, walking briskly to embrace her mother. "Are you alright, are you safe?"

"I am, my dear. Thanks to both your uncle and your Empire's pledge of protection." Annette's mother held her daughter's face tenderly before looking at Ashe. "And Ashe, look at you. Look how you've grown. You practically over my daughter now." Ashe blushed a little bit as Annette giggled at her mother's antics.

"Genevieve, why didn't you tell me that family was here?" Baron Dominic's hearty laugh rang out through the room. The three of them turned to see the Baron carrying a large case covered with cloth. "I jest, I knew you had arrived. I understand our new Queen is touring the city as well?" Annette and Ashe looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes. While Guillaume Dominic was a cheerful man, this level of jollity was frankly uncharacteristic. Guillaume set the case down and came over to hug his niece, whispering in her ear as he did. "I have no wish to enact violence on you, Annette. Listen to me and do as I say. There are people in this city seeking information on subjects they should not know. And the less I speak of it, the better." Annette's jaw squared and she mouthed a single phrase to Ashe, that being 'The Agarthans'.

"They have my father," Annette whispered up to her uncle.

"I know. I received his shield as a threat," Guillaume replied. "They're here for our ancestor's body. And they are watching. As such, we must make this look believable." Annette's face flashed with confusion for a second as her uncle stepped back and drew his lance from his back. "If you want the relic that badly, slay me and claim it for your own!" Genevieve slipped out of the room, flashing one last sad look at her daughter and her brother-in-law as she left. "I shall fight for land and liege, loyal to the Kingdom until my last breath!" Baron Dominic brandished his lance at Annette and Ashe, who was now readying an arrow. Annette sighed, summoning wind magic to her fingertips.

"Cutting Gale!" Annette sent a blade of wind flying forward at her uncle. He slashed apart the blade of magic wind with his silver lance, swinging it at Ashe. Ashe dodged out of the way, loosing an arrow at the Baron's dense chest armour. The arrow bounced off harmlessly with a thunk. "Uncle, I am sorry I could not stay, but I needed to go, to join the Empire, for my own future!"

"I cannot fault you for that, my dear niece. I have my own reason for not giving up." Dominic smiled sadly. "But I do not wish to repeat myself! If you wish to take Crusher, you will have to take it from me as I kneel." Dominic struck another arrow fired by Ashe out of the air. "And I will not kneel to the Empire. My loyalty is to the Kingdom and to Dominic!"

Garreg Mach

Byleth's Office

Red Wolf Moon, Day 13, Imperial Year 1180

Annette and Ashe walked up to Professor Eisner's door and looked at each other with some hesitation. They knew exactly what they were about to ask the professor, what quite a few students had come to ask him as of late. Ingrid had been the first, followed by Leonie mere days later. Felix and Sylvain made their request together just over two weeks later, while Marianne followed suit that next morning. The latest student at the Academy to approach Professor Eisner had been Lysithea exactly a week after Marianne and four days before Annette and Ashe would be making theirs.

"This is going to be so hard to explain to my family. My uncle is so loyal to the Kingdom and he's done everything possible for my mother and I. It... I feel like I'm betraying everything he stands for just by doing this, but I know I have to for my sake. It feels horrible to be selfish when he's always been so selfless." Annette sighed.

"I know it does, but I'm going to be with you every step of the way." Ashe smiled sadly at her.

"Are you ready?" Annette asked, bringing her hand up to the door.

"As I'll ever be." Ashe nodded. Annette tapped the door with her fist, waiting for a moment until Professor Eisner opened it.

"Um, Professor, Hi! We have a request for you if that's okay? We're sorry to drop in without notice, we just needed to talk to you before tomorrow." Annette smiled, waving nervously at Byleth.

"Of course, come in." Byleth let them in, picking up a second chair from next to the door and lugging it over to his desk. He set it down so that Ashe and Annette could sit together before going around back and sitting down in his own chair. Ashe surveyed the room covered in maps and battle plans as Annette watched Byleth set a book he had been writing in aside. "How can I aid you both today?"

"Would you accept us into your class? We're both sure we would learn so much more if we could study with you! Will you give us that chance?" Ashe asked.

"Yes, I would be pleased to have both of you in the class. Join us for dinner later if you so choose. If you elect not to, I will see you both in class tomorrow morning. We begin an hour after breakfast." Byleth folded his hands and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, thank you! I'm so, so happy right now! I just know I'll be able to learn all sorts of things with your guidance. I can't wait!" Annette beamed widely.

"You won't regret this. I'm going to give it my all!" Ashe smiled and massaged his knees. He and Annette stood up and made their way outside Byleth's office, letting out breaths that they did not know they were holding in.

Faerghus

Dominic

Blue Sea Moon, Day 3, Imperial Year 1186

Ingrid slowly made her way up the steps to the Mjoll fortress, a small skewer of meat in hand and Areadbhar once again returned to the holster on her back. Her pledges to the people of Mjoll and the Barony of Dominic alike had been heard by both the people of Mjoll and the people of the Empire. Marianne had warped to the city herself and explained that she had already begun the logistical preparation to dispatch aid using Hubert's teleportation magicks as well as putting out a call for tradespeople throughout the Empire willing to move to Mjoll for a stipend in order to do work on the city's infrastructure. It had not won the absolute trust of the people yet, but it had won their patience.

It showed them that Ingrid would try.

Perhaps this was what Felix had meant when he put the glaive in her hand. She saw the state that Mjoll was in and instantly flew to their aid without even realizing she was doing it.

Monarchs in Faerghus were often known by epitaphs. Dimitri had picked up three in his time as king; The Boar King for his unerring strength and stubbornness and ferocity, the Saviour King for his role in preventing Faerghus from falling into civil war and strife after Rufus was deposed, and the Tempest King for his storm-like personality as he ripped across a battlefield. Lambert had been known as the Protector King for his role in defending Faerghus from the threats of Sreng, Duscur, and the plague. King Alexandre had been known as the Armoured King for his construction of fortresses and walls across the Kingdom. Konstantin had been known as the Pious King for his devotion to the Church of Seiros.

Ingrid wondered what, if she got one, her epitaph might be.

Ingrid reached the gate to the fortress, nodding at the two guards protecting it. Seeing both Areadbhar and Lúin upon her back and the circlet upon her head, the two of them parted their spears and allowed her to pass through the gate. She stepped inside the fortress, the sound of the wind outside being replaced by the sound of fighting, the ring of magic and arrows clashing against steel. Ingrid broke out into a sprint, leaping up flights of staircases before finally coming to the fortress' great hall. There she saw Annette and Ashe engaged in a fight against Baron Dominic. Ingrid was about to draw Lúin and charge into the fight before she tipped her head slightly, taking in the sight properly. None of the parties involved were actually fighting to kill. It all seemed to be some form of show, some kind of performance. Baron Dominic caught sight of Ingrid and a look of realization formed in his eyes.

"The regicide of our late King Lambert was orchestrated by none other than those very monsters that walk through my city, aided by traitors within the Kingdom itself!" Guillaume yelled, causing Annette and Ashe to halt temporarily. "They cast aside their duties as his retainers, crawled into a fetid bed with forces unknown, and chose the path of a violent, radical revolution! What's more, they had the audacity to pin the blame for their crime on to the innocent people of Duscur!" Ingrid drew Areadbhar from her back, leaning against it as she watched Guillaume's performance unfold. "Of course aspects of Lambert's reign troubled me, as did aspects of Rufus and Dimitri's reigns as well. But just as you are both pledged to your Emperor and her Empire, I am pledged to the throne of Faerghus for as long as I live and draw breath."

"Then lay down your arms!" Ingrid called out, thumping the butt of her glaive against the tile floor. Annette and Ashe turned, both of them letting out a sigh of relief. "As Queen Regent of Faerghus, I command it." Guillaume obeyed her command and threw aside his lance, kneeling before Ingrid.

"This is exactly why I brought you," Annette explained in a whisper as she hugged Ingrid. With the sounds of fighting stopped, Genevieve returned to the great hall. She bowed before Ingrid, who nodded in reply. The two had met before, so it felt remarkably strange to Ingrid that her friend's mother now bowed to her. Ingrid stepped over to Guillaume's lance and kicked it up into her hand. She touched the blade end of the spear to each of Guillaume's shoulders.

"Rise, Baron," Ingrid commanded, reaffirming his Barony. Guillaume obeyed, offering his hand to Ingrid in greeting. She shook it, offering him his lance back. He took it and slung it onto his back.

"Your Majesty." Guillaume smiled. "Now for the reason besides loyalty to my Kingdom that I could not bend a knee to the Empire alone. There are two people in this city who do not belong. From my watchman's description, they are of House Fraldarius and seem of noble blood. They are both women, however, and none of the surviving noble women of House Fraldarius share their appearance. Additionally, the older of the two women had the Aegis Shield, something which I must presume is still in the possession of the young Duke Fraldarius."

"You would be correct." Ingrid nodded, furrowing her brow. With Felix still recovering from the Agarthan assault, the Aegis Shield was locked away behind a Crest Lock built by Macuil that required Ethniu's Dragon Sign to unlock to ensure that only Felix could recover it. "Where did they go?"

"The mausoleum. They will be unable to enter the crypt, however. It is sealed with an ancient and arcane defense known a Crest Lock requiring a Major Crest of Dominic to unlock," Guillaume explained. "There is only one such Crest in this world, affixed to the body of my libertine son who has absconded to somewhere on this continent." Guillaume crouched down and unlocked the case containing the Relic, opening it to reveal the Crusher. Annette kneeled down and took the handle of the mighty magical hammer in hand, hefting it onto her shoulder with less force than she expected to need. She swore she could feel a voice from within the dragonbone hammer encouraging her to wield it against the Agarthans.

"Do you have a plan, Annette?" Ashe asked, shaking Annette from her thoughts.

"I do." Annette nodded.

It was time to take Hubert up on his offer to find Simon.

Adrestia

Varley

"Just one more story!"

"Tell us of Lamine!"

"Or perhaps tell us the story of the Beast?" An audience member interjected, leading to a wide hush across the room.

"NO!" The audience and band all yelled, making the crowd erupt in uproarious laughter.

"Last I tell the tale of Lamine, the sorceress enveiled. Against her many mystic skills other spellcasters paled. With the Rafail Gem in hand she tamed the ripping wind, and through the enemy forces she could and did abscind. She held a typhoon in her heart and tempests at her back, bending enemies down to unfaltering attack. And all throughout her long-lived life, she never showed her face. Still her legends always tell of beauty and of grace! OH!" The entire audience, with the exception of a single audience member with short white hair and dark green eyes. "Those were the ten great stories of the ten great souls of old. Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told! Elites throughout the ages, and their tales forever told!" The crowd burst into applause as the troubadour and his band finished their song. The crowd clapped and cheered as the the man with white hair and green eyes stood up amidst the post-performance pandemonium.

Odesse readied one of his life-draining spells, dropping it in the middle of the crowd. He made his way through the hustle and bustle to approach the stage. The band was accepting small pouches of coins, flowers, and congratulations from the various tavern-goers, their voices now lost in the bedlam. Odesse discretely shifted the arms of Tveirvápna into a position where they could begin readying a spell as he finally reached the stage.

"Did you enjoy the performance, my good sir?" The troubadour asked Odesse, leaning down to chat with him.

"Yes, I found it... Intriguing." Odesse smiled faintly. "It's a shame that it was all wrong."

"Those are the lyrics as I learned them, I am afraid. I am quite certain there are regional distinctions, however." The troubadour chuckled.

"No, the lyrics are correct, it is the stories that are false. Stolen by disciples of the false goddess and rewritten for her sake." Odesse smiled slightly. "Simon Dominic."

"Whoever could you mean, my name is Mikael Kutschera." Simon tried to deny Odesse's claims. He began to gesture to his band for help, but Odesse grabbed him by the throat and extended Tveirvápna, which held two runes at the ready.

"Beira's Barrier!" Odesse created a shield of ice around himself and Simon, causing the bar patrons to scream in fear. Odesse grinned and snapped his fingers, his life-draining spell activating and killing all of the tavern's patrons and staff. Simon struggled for air as he heard the crowd that had just been cheering cried out in terror and then fell suddenly silent. Odesse then summoned pink magic to his fingertips. "Sleep." He cast the magic forward, dust flying into Simon's eyes. The man slumped over as Odesse commanded Beira's Barrier aside. He dragged the unconscious Simon from the tavern, channeling warp magic to his hand as he did. He smiled to himself, reminded of a mission he had gone on ten years ago.

Duscur

Plains of Geb

Red Wolf Moon, Day 4, Imperial Year 1176

Odesse slipped between burning carriages, slain knights, and those still struggling to survive amid the chaos that ripped through the once peaceful fields of Duscur. Myson's words had worked, as had the small detachments of Agarthan aid. The Duscuran extremists had needed some convincing, but Myson's honeyed words about their homeland being able to finally be free of the blue banner of Faerghus had finally turned their hearts towards this cause. While the Agarthan mission here was that chaos destroying these fields, Odesse in particular was here for something very different.

"Fimbulvetr!" The voice of a young man, no older than sixteen, cried out. Odesse flicked his head in the direction of this young man, finding a sight for the ages. There, casting his own ice magic, was a young man standing between the Duscuran onslaught and one of the royal carriages, The young man barely looked old enough to stop being called a boy, with his departed wife's dark blue hair. The young man was struggling against the Duscurans, who kept charging at him with increasing furor. Odesse summoned a glyph of magic to his own hand before running towards the young man, ducking under a swing of a Duscuran axe as he did.

"Beira's Barrier!" Odesse commanded as he drove the rune into an oncoming sword, creating a wall of ice to defend his apparent descendant. The young man looked at Odesse in confusion, confusion that deepened when he saw Odesse's green eyes, green eyes which matched his own.

"Who are you?" The young man asked.

"One with interest in how you die." Odesse spoke vaguely as he summoned another rune to his hand, this one yellow and sparking. "Thoron!"

The young man watched as the beam of electricity tore through a pair of Duscurans. It was not a spell that he knew how to use, but he knew that his father could command that particular school of magic and that his grandfather had been an accomplished user of Thoron itself. From what time he had spent leaning Reason magic from his father and instructors brought in from the Royal School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad, the various forms of magicks were largely hereditary. Perhaps this man with his own eye colour and the same ice magicks he knew was some kind of distant relation?

Odesse then set his eyes on a Duscuran the same age as the young man whose aid he had come to, smiling slightly as he summoned a series of four large runes around himself. The young Duscuran would do quite nicely for Odesse's purposes.

"Niflhel!" The four runes spun around Odesse at breakneck speed, creating a massive ice storm around himself and the young man. It ripped through the Duscuran forces and mortally wounded or killed every single one of them around them. The storm and the runes finally dispersed after a moment of the pure fury of winter, with the young man looking around at the carnage. Odesse looked down at the dying Duscuran at his feet, narrowing his eyes before his eyebrows flicked up.

"Whoever you truly are, thank you for your help here." The young man stretched his hand out to Odesse in a gesture of greeting. "I am Glenn Fraldarius, son of Rodrigue Fraldarius and betrothed of Ingrid Galatea, Royal Guard sworn to the service of His Highness, Prince Dimitri Blaiddyd." Odesse turned over the dying young Duscuran, gripping his face tightly. "What are-" Glenn was cut off when one of the arms of Tveirvápna extended and wrapped itself around his neck. Odesse grabbed the dying Duscuran in one of his flesh and blood hands and smiled slightly as magic gathered in his free arm and the free arm of his Relic.

"Behold a mask of grins and lies, behold this name that reeks through thee, behold the fear of limbs which thou do not know, behold the ever-burning lights in thine chests." Odesse began to whisper a chant quietly. "What were two are one, what are one will be two once more. Souls and frames, transformed and conjoined, voices and hearts, one and the same." Glenn gasped for air as the Duscuran screamed in pain with Glenn's voice, the Duscuran's body transforming into a copy of Glenn's own. Odesse dropped the Duscuran in the middle of his slain kin, now in the exact form of Glenn Fraldarius. Glenn himself tried to yell, but he found no voice in his throat. Glenn clawed at his throat as Odesse dragged him away from Dimitri's carriage, stepping back from the carnage. Odesse channeled purple magic to his hands before warping himself and his prize away.

Shambala

Citadel of Terror

Blue Sea Moon, Day 3, Imperial Year 1186

Gilbert groaned as he woke up, seeing Anaximandros grinning at him through his blurry vision. His hand still felt foreign with the sensation of his ring finger missing, with the various poisons that Myson and Dolofonos had sent coursing through his veins ensuring that every little movement caused him the most pain possible. 

"Oh, look, you're finally awake." Anaximandros beamed. "I was beginning to worry that you were just going to dangle there forever in a state of... Sad silence." Anaximandros examined the dragon bones that made up her left hand. "Beyond that, I was afraid you'd never get to receive this gift that I have for you. Oh, what could it possibly be, I wonder..." Anaximandros grinned sadistically as she produced Simon's hat from beneath one of the tables, tossing it at Gilbert.

"Si... Simon, no!" Gilbert's speech was somewhat slurred from having just awakened.

"We need him to open a Crest Lock for us." Anaximandros paused, tilting her head as she pondered it. "More specifically we need his Crest to do it. But there's the rub, a Crestbearer must be willing to open a Crest Lock for it to unlatch and somehow I doubt that your nephew will willingly help us. So why don't I tell you a little story?" Anaximandros sat on the ground with her legs crossed at the heels. "You see, my father, your would-be allies know him as Odesse, is quite the Crest scientist. It was his experiments with blood and flesh collected in ancient times from willing candidates that granted Lysithea von Ordelia both the Crests of Charon and Gloucester and Edelgard von Hresvelg the Crest of Flames. But he was... Curious. He wanted to tamper. So he found a young woman who needed to be replaced anyways for the sake of our plans. Monica von Ochs, who bore the Crest of Macuil. Now that was an interesting challenge, but his work... Worked. I have her Crest now." Anaximandros clicked her tongue in thought. "Oh, oh, there's a thought indeed. Perhaps I could be a willing Crestbearer for the Dominic Crest Lock." Gilbert's eyes widened as he realized what Anaximandros' plan was.

“Damn the mother from whence you came.” Gilbert snarled. Anaximandros shot up and got into Gilbert's face.

“You think I was born?” Anaximandros scoffed, extending claws from her fingertips and pressing her forearm into Gilbert’s neck. “I was built. My father forged me in the fires of pain and hate and horror and a desire for justice against the false goddess you worship. I have been slowly assembled over centuries, the bones of dragons forming my own. I may in part be built of Monica von Ochs, her Crest of course but also certain anatomical parts that helped me look like a daughter. Sadly for her legacy, her body wasn't sufficient once my father finished with it, there wasn't nearly enough left of her to create someone new. No, no, my father required something of his own bloodline to finish the project. A worthy sacrifice. That is, in part, what Duscur was for. He had heard whispers thanks to Myson that the son of House Fraldarius would travel with the prince to Duscur. With Myson’s whispered words, Duscur became a bloodbath. There, in the rubble, lay the body of one Glenn Fraldarius." Gilbert's eyes widened as he slumped forward. Anaximandros gripped him by the hair and pulled his eyes back up to look into hers. "My father replaced him and took him from Duscur." Anaximandros grinned. "My father took Glenn Fraldarius apart and rebuilt him with parts of Monica von Ochs and the blood of his companions and my mother. It is the blood of Glenn Fraldarius that flows through me, it is his heart that beats in my chest, it is his Crest, which his ancestors stole from my mother, that decorates my body." Anaximandros paused and gasped. "Oh, now that I've said it aloud, I understand! Glenn held Ingrid Galatea in his heart and it is his heart that beats within me!"

It was with this revelation that Gilbert finally saw the truth. Beneath the scars of stitches, Anaximandros had Glenn's eyes, Glenn's hair, Glenn's face.

The Agarthan before him was what was left of Glenn.