— edelgard von hresvelg from fire emblem three houses ; black eagles student ; established dec. 2021 ; affiliated with the officer's academy
dossier // stats // headcanons // mun // thread tracker // credits

titsay
will byers stan first human second
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON
Xuebing Du

tannertan36
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

shark vs the universe
d e v o n
sheepfilms
Stranger Things
todays bird
One Nice Bug Per Day

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
dirt enthusiast
No title available
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

No title available

Andulka
Cosimo Galluzzi

seen from Malaysia

seen from Lithuania

seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Lithuania
seen from Chile
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Italy
seen from Puerto Rico

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
@hresvelged
— edelgard von hresvelg from fire emblem three houses ; black eagles student ; established dec. 2021 ; affiliated with the officer's academy
dossier // stats // headcanons // mun // thread tracker // credits
𝗔𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗢.
mission. HERALD⠀∶⠀any skill. | " blood of the crimson flower "
AHEAD, THE SUMMIT OF THE OGHMA MOUNTAINS LOOMED.⠀🗲⠀once, an academy sat on its peak, a cathedral of timeless marble, the seat of an immutable power and the faith that'd controlled minds across nations. there, he'd studied with peers and fought on endless missions that now all seemed pointless and childish, an innocent——ignorant——time.
now, he can see those years for what they were clearly: an embryo, the beginning of resolves that grew inside him like an anchoring seed, shouting against everything he saw around him, a maelstrom that would be dismissed again and again, refused to be listened to. they were the flagstones of a ruined structure that'd be felled and left to embitter and darken before they would shine. and today now stands the product of it, something he supposes he could be proud of. for he might not be all that everyone had thought he would be, but he was something he'd always wanted to be. when he fought, he could do so without scoffing at the ideals that powered his arm ; and when he killed. . .
. . . no. a passionless scoff turns his lips ; a rustle of silent wind disturbs the fur of his collar trim, once white and pristine like snow, now ragged like a lone wolf's mane. he'd never killed for anything more glorious than the fight. he might be delusional in some ways, but he'd stop short of deceiving himself that there had ever been more to the reason he swung his sword or did so now.
perhaps the empire had just become a means to an end. a cause that wasn't his father's, that some part of him might have believed in a long time ago. he can't remember anymore. now, he was also their means to an end. one he'd accepted, turning his eyes to the next battlefield until his death.
"you're back." footsteps' crunch on gravel and rock announce the arrival of a traveling party to this ruin of an outcrop tucked into the oghma mountainside, out of the way of most caravan paths and high enough to provide a good vantage point on the road that wound below. "edelgard. or should i say ' emperor '."
the leader of the empire's assault looks younger than he last remembers, but it's not as though they see each other often. she's only here to give him his next assignment——and it better not be to continue wasting his time here while the war raged elsewhere, dulling his sword and his senses.
"where do you need me." / @hresvelged
Emperor.
Where her feet once stood with a murky shadow now collapsed into one of atrocity. These mountains are a veil and she is their revealer; the one to uncover the church's secrets hidden even deep within these inconspicuous places. In lieu of a Spring Festival's endeavor is a crown not yet on her head. It is a request. She has spent many moons planning, wishing and awaiting. She can tell what this is meant to be.
Why, then, is she to witness this now? Why here? It can only mean one thing. Oh, how she will crush it much like the pebbles she kicks out of her way. What fools that depraved church is. Astonishment sits in the form of lips ajar and pupils wider than normal. 'Emperor', Felix had said. She cannot hide the surprise at seeing him here, not standing under Dimitri's command nor the Kingdom's banner, but someone else entirely— Her. Have the tides of battle worn on him, too? Looking at him makes her think so.
She'd be as ignorant as the church and their vile attempts if she pretends to walk away and ignore. A laughable thought. Where cold air once bounced off her skin kindly now sends a visible shiver.
Edelgard crosses her arms over her chest and retains a stature of confidence despite her body language thinking to do otherwise. When she peers him up and down, she comes to assume that time and conflict have blanketed him. Her fingers tighten into small fists, until they don't. If this really is a chosen path for him, it is not in her being to lament when the beginning she yearns to carve is one nobody else will.
".. We start here," she starts. She is careful to use the opportunity to learn rather than reveal ignorance. The surprise on her face melts into simple, plastered neutrality. "I can give you no further orders unless you tell me the current situation. All of it— Yourself included. Do that, and only then will I instruct you."
These Cracks In The Mirror Show Me Worlds I've Never Seen || Edelgard & Thrasir
mission board: herald | any skill +1
starter for @hresvelged
Hearing even rumours of an artifact from her home was one thing. Hearing that this artifact was one that could show someone their own self from another world brought concern. Thrasir knew the kinds of heroes brought from other worlds to hers. She had summoned some of them. Used them to try conquer Askr. Used them to help claim souls for Hel.
Some of them were like her. Monsters. Weapons. Beings of nothing but destruction. Your family would be disappointed in you comparing yourself to them again. They didn't belong in Fódlan. Thrasir didn't think others should know their own realities in other worlds either... So the lich was tracking leads, trying to find this orb that was apparently in the Monastery. If she could find it... maybe she could close it's connection. Who knows how many orbs there are like it here though? After all, hadn't Kiran been swimming in Summoning Orbs?
It seemed that she wasn't the first person to find it though. Curses. Not minding how her cloak did little to hide her undead form, she quickly made her way over, but paused when she realised who...
"Lady Edelgard?" she asked, surprised.
Edelgard loathed rumors— They were nothing more than words meant to invoke a reaction from whoever got caught into their destructiveness. She often found they lacked truth. As the bell to signify the end of class tolled, two students skirted outside the Black Eagles classroom with whispers that could hardly be called such.
'Do you think it's true? That you really can see another version of yourself?'
'It's got to be! Have you heard? It's from Zenith, too.'
How absurd. If she had been forced to perceive herself as a destructive entity once before, it wouldn't be too peculiar if they did it again. To what benefit does this serve? If this was from Zenith, why bring it here?
The setting sun shone against the orb, bringing with it her feet towards the object. With crinkled brows, she inched closer. One, two steps, until the call of her name diverted lilacs: "Oh. Yes, I extend my apologies," she said with widened pupils, eyeing the cloak up and down a single time. "You must be wondering what I am doing." She pointed at the glowing item in front of them, demanding the space as if it was meant to be there. "I thought I'd put them to rest myself— The rumors. I count myself among the last to pay mind to those. Is that why you're here, too?"
— yesterday
aphotic mission board / opera search
There remains no doubt in Nel's mind that she'll enjoy the performance they're here to see-- she only laments the fact that her entire focus cannot be placed on the talent shown by the humans before them. Unfortunately for her, their task is paramount to any other pleasures she may stumble upon here at the opera house, and the thought alone causes her to frown ever so slightly. Another time, perhaps, she can be the one to invite Edelgard along for a viewing. The second they're offered their seats, Nel's eyes flicker down to her student. It's almost amusing at how the employees practically fall all over each other in a bid to please 'your highness'. "Aha. Quite fortunate to have you at my side, I see." She leans down slightly to speak quietly as they're ushered through to the amphitheater before being left alone to find their seats. In the end, less strings to be pulled, and a lack of breaking and entering into the opera. "Front row, as well. A perfect place to survey the stage. However, the less that know of your presence, Lady Edelgard, the better." A high-profile figure so easily spotted can quickly squash any unscrupulous dealing out of sheer fear... or perhaps encourage them, if it infringes on the little eagle's safety. With their missing Captain, however, Nel highly doubts that's the case. Regardless, her guard remains raised, and scrutinizing eyes will cover every blind spot her student could have. Stepping to the side, the professor gently motions for Edelgard to sidle into the row before she does, following suit shortly after. "You spoke of these shows being fully booked, correct?" She muses as she takes a seat, hand resting against her chin. "If there are any seats left vacant, it warrants investigation." Not only that... "Are you familiar with those who frequent the stage, little eagle? Would you be able to recognize if one of them is... different than the usual entourage?"
@hresvelged
A low representation of laughter leaves Edelgard's lips, acknowledging well that she must be careful with her identity and its stance within Adrestia. She'd not the captivation in squandering their plans simply by her being here. What a waste of time that would be!
"Indeed. I understand well what sorts of people frequent the opera often," she begins to say as she takes the seat next to her professor. The audience is filled with nobles. They all hold themselves with the same, well-tended aura. With how close the two of them are to the stage, every performer is bound to end up in their line of sight. "With that, I should be able to identify any peculiarities. Knowing how high in demand these performances are, we will undoubtedly find something amiss."
One leg remains crossed over the other, swiveling her upper torso to peer at the seats behind them. The lighting remains bright to accommodate the number of people pouring in through every door; idle conversation behind the two lends nothing but loud chatter about today's performance and arguments about miscellaneous affairs. None of those trivial conversations make any difference for their goal.
Her first thought is to look at the upper balcony. When she does, a single hand takes hold of the plush, velvet seat. "— I do notice one strange occurrence..," she whispers to Professor Nel. "Do you see those seats there? The two on the end of the balcony." Two men dressed improperly for an opera sit with black bags in their laps, keeping to themselves.
"I don't recognize them. I'm confident they aren't Adrestian nobles, at the very least. Not just that, but they're talking down instead of at each other."
— no blue, no green.
That wasn't something that he was willing to promise, and the silence made his throat stick, dry with the same anger that they must have been feeling - for how long? All their lives?
It wasn't merely one empty reservoir; it was two.
All of their initial questions leading up to this point magnified intensely, but there was one conclusion that Raven could come to, at the end of it all: famines weren't natural occurrences.
They were manmade.
"We'll find it," he heard a voice say, and it took him a moment after the family had left before he realized that it was himself. Raven's brow pinched, watching them leave, the mother continuing to try to wrangle her children, and he felt a twinge in his chest.
Kneeling, he flicked a pebble into the center of the reservoir, and he frowned at it as it clattered down - no flicker of light, no sound of metal. There had to be evidence of human interference, but what it was, he couldn't ascertain entirely.
"What are we missing?" It wasn't to anyone in particular, but it came out as a bitten exhalation; he ill-liked this lack of information, being kept in the dark, doubtless any more than the villagers themselves.
Raven stood and remained silent for a moment before he turned back to the princess.
"It has to have gone somewhere. If it isn't here, and it isn't in the neighboring village...even evaporation would need to come back as rain, and it hasn't. Perhaps the boy is onto something that the cause is magical in nature, but..." A shake of his head. "I'm no mage."
"Nor am I," she said with a bitterness veiled behind plain words. Hubert would have more insight than she on magical components, but that was hardly a question she could pose with an answer needed now. Besides, she could already come to a declaration for herself. Edelgard mirrored the quiet atmosphere, having rolled her shoulders back and a hand tightening the ribbons sitting pristinely in her hair.
Those words of conviction (of promise) were not conveyed by her own lips. Perhaps they should have been. 'We'll find it', she heard. There was no uncertainty; no hesitation. That was the assurance this land needed. It brought the neutrality of her eyes into a semblance of surprise and welcoming.
A hand sauntered to her chin. "Considering what we've seen, this is no coincidence. What if we look at it from another perspective?" From the corner of her vision, the family duo faded behind them. The boy seemed to be whispering words to his mom. He managed to smile, in the end.
"With both villages involved in this predicament, who would truly benefit? Think about it. If you ask me.. I'd be wary not of the villagers themselves, but the leaders and nobles who head these lands. Wouldn't you agree?" Those crafted words provide no concrete and immediate solution, but what she did feel was that the resolve in her heart blossomed. It would be pleasant, she thought, if that boy could keep his smile a little longer.
"faith" is a fine invention
->FAITH +1
The supplies in Edelgard's arms explain themselves: just like Maria, she's here to help. Of course, they don't eliminate the possibility that she's picked up some practice healing since that night they traded advice-- there is plenty that tools might do that magic cannot, each resource differently finite -- but it does make the little cleric just a bit curious if she has.
"I know," Maria agrees softly, voice dipping into her breath. "I've been looking for the place that might need me most... There's rooms and rooms of them." Small wonder that they had to put out a request for help.
It won't do to look dispirited, though; with so many ailing, it's that much more important to rise above her worry, for it often sparks like wildfire. Instead she points the head of her staff at everything the Eagles' leader has gathered, smiling warmly.
"Hee hee... looks like you're prepared, though! Have you decided where to go yet? --if not, do you want to look together?" Her smile shifts into a bright grin. "Between the two of us, I think we'd be ready to handle almost anything!"
A simple bandage cannot fix everything— If it could, the waters would be that much calmer. Bringing her eyes to Maria's staff serves as a reminder of the spell she secretly hopes to practice. She remembers the first time she had been shown that feeling. If even someone like her— so plagued by venom— could see it, it bodes well for the future.
"I'd welcome your company," Edelgard says graciously. Her right shoulder flicks up to adjust the towel and prevent it from falling to the ground. "Hm.. It's wisest to check the decks as a starting point. If we assume those in more dire straits were tended to first, that leaves plenty of others left elsewhere." Even so, she wouldn't find herself surprised to see a straggler or two who had been denied its entry. If they could find those people, that would make their journey all the more worthwhile.
Instead of staying in the room they now stand in, the princess teeters towards its arch and points to the stern of the ship. The voices of other aids and crew members bubbles the space; one mumbles about a man with an injured leg and another complains about having to stay on the ship at all.
"When I initially arrived, I saw a handful of people huddled towards the back. What would you think of going there?"
to show the world its shame
The Duke sniffed with unsettling stillness, the iciness of his eyes resting on the both of them for a moment of cool silence before he rose from his own seat, spoon dangling from his fingers, and took the deliberate steps over to Edelgard’s seat. A hand came to rest on the back wing of the chair, and he leant down quite close to her.
Raven’s fingers twitched, inching toward the knife beside his bowl.
The Duke’s spoon dipped swiftly beneath the surface of the soup in Edelgard’s bowl, and he lifted the spoon to his lips, taking a delicate sip of its contents. After a dainty ah of satisfication, he made his way along the table to Raven’s seat.
The same motions repeated as though in slow motion, though the shadow of the Duke’s hand felt as though it might have inched too close to his neck, disparate from its owner, as the Duke sipped from Raven’s own bowl.
The footsteps away, and back to his own seat, echoed with distinct clicks of his bootheels on the stone floor.
“As you can see,” the Duke said, seating himself with a flourish of tailcoats, “It is of no danger to you. I suppose there is no accounting for taste, but I must insist -”
Here, his glance flashed at Edelgard, rested heavily upon her. “I would not waste a recipe on you if you do not like it. Eat. I have gone through so much effort.”
Such melodious words from one so seeped in venom. While she was used to daggering glares set upon her, seeing it trace the both of them left a bitter feeling in the girl's mouth. Surprise did not sit on her face, but instead was the poise and grace one expects of this land's next emperor. It was obvious his deliberate attempts were to establish rapport— What existed of it, anyways.
"Yes. Of course. Thank you for your generosity," she replied after a lull of silence. Despite her reservations, the steam from the soup creeped against her cheeks and sought an invitation. With the Duke so carefully watching the two of them, she knew what she must do next. The Imperial heir picked up the spoon at the side of her bowl and stirred it into the soup.
When she brought herself to taste it, she swallowed with a quiet thump. "That was delectable. I lament not being able to duplicate it for myself," she lied. A smile of pleasantries sat upon her face, turning to her companion with eyes that said otherwise. "You have my apologies," she finished without the usual cadence of true remorse. Two, three more spoonful's, until she ushered the bowl away from her person.
The Duke smiled, resting his elbows on the table as his fingers tapped against the table. His attention shifted with the sharpest of glares. "Excellent. All my hard work wasn't for nothing. I am not satisfied just yet, as you must know. Please, enjoy— The both of you."
— learning curve
anniversary 2025 mission board / authority +1
Oh, Yunaka makes sure to take careful note of every single thing Edelgard does. How she grips her axe, how her feet slide into place, the way her body braces before throwing the axe through the air and into the bush. The old fart only ever liked demonstrating things once. Any corrections were taught with a knee to her back when he pinned her to the ground during their one sided sparring matches. Learn quickly or pay for it later. It kept her alive, after all.
There's much less pressure here, but she's confident she still manages to catch all the main points of the little demonstration. Her eyes follow the axe into the bush and she even claps politely for the show. "Wowie, what a throw, Professor! Guess you really do know your stuff after all."
It's a little disappointing without the satisfying thwunk of a weapon striking a target or training dummy, but she'll take when she can get. "Here, lemme try." Might as well get the whole point of this exercise over with.
Yunaka steps up to bat, taking her place next to Edelgard. Her feet slide into place easily enough; not too different from her usual stance when she throws a knife. It's the arms that are trouble, positioned differently and needing both of them. Yunaka hefts the axe up over her head and gives her arms a few experimental stretches before, without much fanfare, throwing the axe towards the bush.
It doesn't land quite as gracefully as Edelgard's had. The top of it hits the ground right before it reaches the bush and ends up spinning and falling into the branches of it with a lot of noise and cracking. Yunaka winces a little, mostly for show, before turning to Edelgard again. "So, how'd I do?"
As she expects, Edelgard does not find herself disappointed. Were she an actual professor, she'd demand this very same from anybody else— There's no point in squandering anyone's moments without attention being distributed properly. While it doesn't completely match the way the House Leader had tossed her own axe, precision is an earned effort. She, too, knows this path. This monastery trains for the future. Mistakes are made here so that they will not be repeated when times demand.
"You did well," she commends. "I could tell you listened to what I said." With a purposeful pause, she crosses her arms in front of her chest and straightens out her posture. "Thank you for that. There is room for improvement, of course. Next time, steady your arms differently." Taking a step away from Yunaka, Edelgard inches herself into the center of the courtyard and hoists her weaponless arms upwards in presentation.
She says her words in earnest— In a want for improvement, because she knows it is there. Yunaka makes for an axe student Edelgard hopes to parry against as the moon's draw on. "You were close to your target, but a single straightening of your upper body would have completed it perfectly."
"I'll go retrieve the axe and toss it back to you. Try again." She turns her back to her momentary student and heads to the bushes. When she bends down, she picks up the axe she herself had tossed all but moments ago. Illustrating the posture she had just signaled, the princess aims to the right of Yunaka and tosses the axe against one of the monastery's pillars. Thud! It fell with a bounce, leaving in its wake a scratch.
the more time she spends with lady edelgard, the more she reminds bernadetta of flowers. at first they did not seem so alike—she would have sooner likened her imperial princess to the advent of dawn, some insurmountable force, or the very reason why storms bear the names of man—but there are flowers, too, for edelgard. there are ones bernadetta finds herself wanting to grow with her.
“oh! i'd love to garden together,” she's quick to agree. if any one thing had been put on display for the world tonight, it was that bernadetta von varley had two left feet and two green thumbs. for edelgard she had showed even more, a glance behind the curtain for lilac eyes alone. (lilac, again. it all returns to lilac.)
“i'd really love... a-all of that, actually...” she trails off, another faraway hint in her voice. a story of the road to something better, the divergence of paths uncertain but hearts as one above all else. could it ever rise from the pages? it is here, in this classroom with edelgard, that bernadetta feels the closest thing to believing. and if she should someday be right there when edelgard stands on that throne...
or even before then. perhaps bernadetta will also find some cord to draw back and see, too.
“i should be thanking you, though. for asking. i haven't really talked to anybody about this, so...” a hermit, unused to a world outside of themself. it's easy to bottle the feelings alone. she nearly finds herself confessing that sometimes it gets lonelier than she realizes—but recognizing that comes with the daunting revelation that she's been spoiled by company. like edelgard's, now.
“i feel a little better. it's hard for me to stop living in fear, but i know that i just have to keep trying.” she mumbles, sheepishness shifting her weight between her heels. “and, um... i still can't promise i'll be a good student, or say it's what i want to do with my life, but i can at least promise not to let my personal problems with others make anything hard for you. i'll figure it out. e-even if i'm not around as much...”
she will sort it out. she must. bernadetta's eyes blink wider, and her hands almost swing edelgard's in their anticipation. “i-i'll start writing to you right now, actually! i already have another friend here who i like sending letters to.” this, she's better at. she's preferred the pen for as long as she can remember. “that way you'll know i'm okay, even if you can't find me, and i can also practice talking to hubert because there's no way he isn't finding these first and judging me."
(if edelgard insists on giving her friendship, then worthless as bernadetta could be in return, this is what lies in wait with the storm: sincerity. sincerity, sincerity, a ready sincerity to lift just a little more weight from that crown.)
"Good," she says with eyes that crease at their corners. The darkness pooling under her feet twinkles with candlelight. Its flame flickers in her eyes; burns in the hand she holds with a compassion she fails to see she has. "And I promise you that I will read each and every one of them." How could she not, lest the strings she so wants to uphold knot and fall? It brings her great contentment to hear all that she has from Bernadetta directly. She'd have it no other way. "It would be rather imprudent of me to not..!" A jest.
Rumors truly should be squashed. She will do it herself, even if the rising moon falls into a burning sun. If the flower that is Edelgard is crimson and tall, the adjacent one of Bernadetta is warmer and welcoming. Perhaps one day, the princess's own petals will open with tenderness.
Edelgard will not deny her desire to see her more in attendance with the rest of the Black Eagles, but she vastly wants to know she is safe and keeping in contact. They are students with much to learn, but they are also people. To dwell on the past is to leave no room for the future. That, she is not. The errors of the princess's past are only that and nothing more— A stone to be seen and walked over. A rock to be squandered, kicked aside by her heel. Someone told her that, once. She believes it true.
She could already imagine flickers of light in the corner of her darkened bedroom, hand pressed against the side of her face as the quill teeters rapidly in her hand in a desire of response. "I've no doubt Hubert holds similar sentiments as I."
Edelgard gives Bernadetta's hand a gentle tug, poising herself proper as she signals to the entrance of their classroom. "As for my vows, I won't keep you here any longer. Busy as this evening is, there's plenty of upsides to be had. Go find some for yourself and make them your own. When you do, write them down for me."
— End
a smile breaks through upon hearing edelgard's impersonation. long before it can subside into something sadder at the thought of how her friend must've shouldered such a burden for so long, what edelgard says next takes dorothea by surprise—so much so that she erupts into unexpected laughter. pure and unfiltered, like bubbling spring brooks and tittering birdsong overhead.
when she finally recovers, she removes the hand she’d used to smother her giggles and stands before the other with the largest grin she's worn tonight. "oh, edie. you're just the sweetest, you know? what would i do without you?"
she loops her arm through edelgard's, looking as pleased as can be. "he'd be so indignant, wouldn't he? hearing you say that." dorothea laughs again, but not before puffing out her own chest and allowing her voice to drop in equal imitation. "edelgard! have my exploits as the noblest of nobles not proven my worth? edelgard, i confess! i have half a mind to challenge you to a duel should you insist on intervening more than you have---!"
when she's had her fill of teasing, dorothea lets out a happy hum. "anyway, whenever that day comes, edie, i'll be the luckiest girl alive to know all there is about the mighty edelgard von hresvelg. i already love the bits of her that i've seen so far."
gently, she knocks the princess's shoulder with her own. "we're inseparable now. i'm fighting for you, too, and for whatever happiness it is you're seeking."
The joy that leaves her laughter feels peculiar against a girl oft webbed in poise and stoicism. She can nearly hear Ferdinand's voice in Dorothea's impersonation! And oh, how accurate it is. Her applause draws in the way of relaxed posture, keeping herself at her friend's side with ease.
There is not a girl, but an emperor; a person and not a tool, too. With her free hand, she adjusts the pearl necklace nestled near the reds of her dress. "You're very kind, Dorothea. I've said that plenty of times before, but I speak nothing I don't mean. Though, I doubt that needs reiterating. That is why I hope to extend with you the same." When her fingers fall, they brush against the cool evening air.
It is selfish of her to enjoy this time with a friend when the shadows behind her turn frosted, but it is not so wrong when the stars glimmer against Edelgard's earrings. There are still secrets she stores behind the intensity of lilacs; comets behind the darkened depths of the sky. Yet, all the same, there is a friend at her side and a moon in reach. "I won't let your belief in me go to waste. I am the lucky one for that alone. Thank you." Had they never met, this monastery— this continent— would feel that much more frigid.
"When I do find what I seek, it will be all the better knowing I had you at my side to help me achieve it."
— End
wanted plots
Hiya, this month I'm looking to pick up the Any Skill+1 prompt! I'd want to focus on Edelgard perceiving either herself as her child variant or her emblem form (the latter of which is preferable with an Elyos muse but super flexible either way). Regardless of which one she sees, Edelgard will want to destroy the orb and is likely to eventually be a center topic of attention for the thread. Up to you whether your muse agrees with this or protests.
Feel free to reach out either through IM's on this account or messaging me/pinging me on Discord.
me, she almost lets tumble from the numbness of her lips. my fault. an old mantra that followed her to sleep. a clarion call. the closest thing to prayer in her mouth. a tale of persecution that was as old as bernadetta von varley.
but softer colors bleed into the cold around her.
don't you think? asks lady edelgard, enveloping her friend in a gentleness unique to her. and bernadetta tries. at last year's ball she recalls being met with the same idea—that persecution had no right staking her heart and there was no more she could have done. that she had been raised on a slew of vile lies about herself.
but falsehood cannot quit her so easily when ten years of it outnumber the two and counting that might have started to shed truth on her life. among the ghosts that haunt her, there is one that terrorizes her before sleep: that if she had been kidnapped just to find herself bound for garreg mach monastery, there was nothing to say she wouldn’t find herself twice snatched, stuffed in another carriage just to wake up bound for life at the highest bidder’s house. and if the noblest person she thought she had ever come to know would not respect her decisions, how would the world? the world—...
the world i will lead, edelgard's voice suddenly resurfaces, punctuating this direction of thought before it can keep spiraling. blearily, she blinks away more tears. a world. not an empire? vaguely, something restless stirs in bernadetta's mind. matters she knows are far beyond her understanding, and would gladly remain so if the future emperor would truly permit the future countess varley to withdraw from the royal court. she cannot put a name to this feeling yet, but for some reason, it is not so unwelcome.
edelgard's hand is not so unwelcome.
sniffling, bernadetta gradually lets both of hers fall limp. what can she say? the best thing, she had figured, would be to persevere. to survive long enough so that the scales gradually tipped—the years of lies no longer outnumbering what could be far kinder. it included the furtive kindness that dignified the visage of her princess the same way resolve did. forced smile or otherwise, edelgard is better at kindness than she may believe.
“u-uh...” an arm rubs at her eyes. “i'm so sorry. ugh, i'm such a mess... b-but, i...” after that, bernadetta breathes. in, out. feet on the floorboards. then she allows her hands to reach out and feebly meet edelgard's one. it is warm after all.
“...it'd be nice,” she agrees, voice soft. almost faraway. “if i could stop thinking it was my fault. if people like dorothea, who work harder than everyone, could find what they wanted... marry who they wanted... while people like bernie didn't have to get married at all.” her grasp on edelgard's hand unintentionally squeezes with a slow intake of breath. “i-it'd be nice... to just leave with my plants, and go look for new ones. i could just go somewhere quiet and keep writing my stupid stories. maybe people would even read them.”
deluding herself is dangerous, but delusions were all she used to have. for oft times worse, but a few times better, bernadetta's imagination used to be all she ever had. “i could write to you, or even visit you when i'm feeling social enough, because we'd still be friends—a-ah!” she jumps. some semblance of her usual self, at least, save her shining, red eyes. edelgard inches closer, but she does not move away one bit. “i'm sorry! i shouldn't have assumed you'd still want to be after i became a hibernating good-for-nothing! e-even if we're just talking about dream-bernie and dream-edelgard...”
Edelgard has no greater wish than for those dreams to be real— Those if's to be when's and how's. Every stain upon her hand, every weapon raised at her head, will all be worth it if people like Bernadetta and Dorothea will no longer be confined by a society so wrought in destruction. The people must open their eyes to this truth— To this warmth that now rests with her palm. If they could feel this too, she is certain Fódlan would finally be free. And it will, one day.
She hopes that her friend's words will match her own when she stands atop that throne and makes the greatest declaration one could ever imagine— When Edelgard hears the words of yesterday become today. The stream will be a flood. Who, she dares to ask, is ready for the storm?
If this dream Edelgard gets to walk a life with dream Bernadetta as her friend and ally, she can picture no greater reward. The more she learns of her, the further she feels this true. She does not tear her sights away from her. "Even if our paths diverged, I would happily declare you as my friend. Write me letters. Send me your stories, too. I'd like to read them. We could even garden together, if you'd like. How does that sound?" The awkward smile she wears feels that much closer to a real person.
As the two remain close, she does not pull away. Not this time. The princess keeps her chin lifted and moves her free hand to graze the cold air. How many people have walked in these rooms with disillusionment and ignorance? How many will force marriage in the hearts of those who need a path less walked? How many secrets have these walls heard? ".. I'm almost jealous of these dream versions of ourselves," she says with a light squeeze. "—Perhaps not today, or even tomorrow.. But if it does happen, we'd only be that much greater. I think that would make for a very compelling story."
Any silence she brings is brief but comfortable. The floor does not creak when she shifts. The dark room shines brighter. "— Coming here was my idea. I owe you an apology. But I am also thankful." Her necklace sways with her head. "I will not force you to speak with Ferdinand. Or anyone else. In the decisions you make, I hope you know that you can turn to me."
[ SHAVED ICE ] - Served with a wide assortment of sweet, fruity syrups. Traditionally, it is served in bowls, but some are saying it makes for quite a refreshing sip when drank from a glass.
The weird taste of the syrup is starting to grow on him, all things considered.
It's hardly as inviting or familiar as the taste of fresh fruit — Already a luxury on the vast steppes of Sacae, where the soil is often too poor to accommodate the lush orchards he saw in parts of the west — But the chill of the ice makes it at least a little more palatable.
A drink of ice and syrup is hardly filling, but it does read as extravagant to Sin's senses, which he supposes makes its presence here logical. Life on the plains is often harsh, and the ability to fight for food when it's needed is ingrained in its people. In that regard, one could say that the settled peoples to Sacae's west have it easier.
But what's the alternative to living the way they always have? Perhaps the soul of the land would be lost, if the tribes were to settle it.
In any case, Sin is shaken from his contemplating when he notices a woman next to him, also partaking in the ice concoction. She radiates an aura of power and authority, even surrounded by the grandeur of the ball around them. It's utterly captivating — Oh, and also, she's eating it out of a bowl, not drinking it out of a glass. That's probably the more important thing here, and it makes him feel a little shy.
"...Pardon," Probably should at least make an effort at politeness, something to distract himself from the feeling that he simply doesn't belong here. "Is... That how you're supposed to eat this?"
"It is," she replies gracefully, letting the spoon clank against her bowl. At least, this is how she is used to it. When Edelgard is addressed, she takes care to scoot the shaved ice away from her person. The treat is as simple as it is delectable. How easily could she picture absorbed nobles sitting away from harsh temperatures with desserts in hand, posing themselves in purposeful ignorance to their wrongdoings. It is as predictable as it is unsavory. She nearly laughs at the thought. There is irony in this sweet being in her hands, but she pays it no mind.
Her head tilts the tiniest bit. "If you've never had it this way before, I'd be remiss not to recommend it. The flavor is more pronounced this way, as is the cooling sensation." The bowl glistens with melted water sparkling at its sides— It pours in small circuits from top to bottom.
"As you can see, it's also best eaten quickly. That is, unless you'd prefer it melted. I can't imagine it tasting any good that way." The straightforward humor comes as she draws the shaved ice back into her grasp.
it is ironic that something about their newfound quiet is more sobering than bernadetta knows what to do with. here, with lady edelgard, the very classroom she has been avoiding reminds her that life is not a fairy tale. the clock will strike midnight and bernadetta’s freedom is for whom its bells will toll, thrusting her back to reality with a wreath of funeral flowers. she will return to rags, unmarriageable and all, slinking back behind the curtain until the day she is displaced again by nobility’s whims.
but lady edelgard tugs at the cord before she can. edelgard asks for permission before forgiveness, because somehow she saw bernadetta and chose to call her friend, too. all of the black eagles did. it is no longer uncertain that she has found her wings with them, with edelgard at the helm.
yet when she thinks too much about him, who she had called their anchor, who she had called the spirit of their entire class, who she could never envision this classroom without—now, instead of nest, she only returns to old ghosts of seasons past. when she recalls his kindness, his spirit, his noblesse oblige, his heart so large and loud that it might burst from his ribs, it all turns around just to make hers bleed again. her gaze falls.
“w-well, uh…” bernadetta hesitates. it is no fault of lady edelgard’s. no—edelgard, who asks her first, who catches her, who leads her with purpose—edelgard has earned her place in bernadetta’s heart.
it’s just that despite everything, he still has one there, too.
“d-do i have to?” she mumbles, shrinking again. “it’s just… i might be avoiding him, but i don’t want to make him seem awful or anything.” but lady edelgard mentions rumors again. rumors. she thinks of all of the rapport she had presumed to share with those who did take stock in them, and bernadetta hears another creak in her ears that doesn’t come from the floorboards. for a moment, her body freezes on instinct. on unspoken command.
“i mean, we were just kids. it’s not like he knew. b-but he…” gloved hands wring in front of her. “…that’s just it. he didn’t know. i never even met him. but he thought i was a creepy shut-in who made little dolls to curse people, cried to his parents about it, a-and father was just so furious that when he tried to drag me out of my room, i—” without realizing, each new piece she affords edelgard gives way to another, all while her voice unravels and loses more and more of what little dignity she has left in front of her imperial princess.
she held her own during their waltz, but something fractures in front of edelgard anyway, teasing at the wretch behind the recluse. the monster in her tower that terrified all the little boys. a decade’s worth of lament that finally comes to collect. and bernadetta does not realize she has begun weeping until it is too late, until her breath is catching and stuttering for air between each cry.
“it wasn’t ferdinand’s fault,” she sobs, finally wilting, burying her face in trembling palms, “but why couldn’t he have just kept his big fat mouth shut just once? why’d he have to keep telling me how i couldn’t abandon my duty?” so the curtain draws open. crimson, heavy. a body shivers in the open, suddenly smaller than it has ever been in lady edelgard’s presence. (falling, falling, all over again. bernadetta is falling. will her friend still catch her?) “i don’t want to go home and have to get married to some old man, lady edelgard! please don’t make me, i’m begging you! please!”
Edelgard's hands are cold. The sprinkle that once washed near the princess has been replaced by a stream. Bernadetta's words linger in her ears longer than she expects. The realization of her accurate deduction shows no surprise on the future emperor's face. Where her friend cries, it is she who maintains a face of neutrality. The compassion she wields cannot be shown through a dried river, but by the reach of a hand that should have never left.
"Bernadetta," she says with as much volume as her usual cadence. "Bernadetta. Listen to me," she repeats again with softer colors. In a world so bitter— so unassuming— Edelgard extends it out once more. How can she not? If there is one thing she has learned throughout the moons, it is that reaching out to others is a sentiment never forgotten. The lack thereof is what makes this land so cruel. Anger fuels her soul with every word and thought she strings together the further she listens. Stray white locks stick to the sides of her face. With one hand resting on her knees, the other remains extended. Her hands hope to be warm.
"Do you remember what I said before? I meant it." She remains still. "Your decisions will be honored. I won't make you marry anyone you don't want to."
The classroom looks larger from this angle. "Marriage is not your duty." Keeping her hand forward, Edelgard focuses solely on Bernadetta. Void of eye contact, she speaks as if it is there. Her voice rises in fractions. "You know.. What if we had no need for that? — If our next Dukes and Counts were not bound by surrendering your own happiness, but instead led by people who rose and fell by their own merits." She forces a smile. "Then, your duty becomes the path you want it to be."
Duty and honesty are intertwined. She clearly sees why it was brought up earlier. Edelgard knows Ferdinand wouldn't have said those words if not for his heart that hoists nobility differently than she. She sees the conviction he wears in everything he does. "You explained it best. The fault is not with Ferdinand." A small scoot closer. "You and I both know where that belongs. Don't you think?"
eagles and empires.
Ethereal Ball / First Half
In hindsight it should not have come as a surprise that a country whose House is named after eagles has a dance honoring the bird, but in Ayra’s defense she did not expect her once-fallen kingdom to have anything in common with an empire.
For all the moons she has spent on foreign soil (has it already been two years in all?), she has thought but little of the Adrestian Empire. She is aware of its history in broad strokes, but the politics of Fódlan are not her concern. She’s sworn to the Academy, and no more. At least, that is what she has told herself so far.
Yet having seen the dance from Adrestia, her thoughts turn to how Isaach’s dance and even their tradition of falconry itself were largely forgotten under the yoke of another empire; then to the enemy she imagined in Lilium; and then to —
“ Edelgard, ” she falls into step with the imperial princess easily, her expression as cool and unreadable as ever. “ I should like to experience this dance from Adrestia, if you would humor a professor. ”
Though she may have little patience for veiled words, she was still taught when to employ them — and how. She offers the student a white lily, adding casually:
“ In my homeland, too, we have a dance to honor the eagle. If you like, I could request it after this and guide you in turn. ”
@hresvelged
Here, with these flowers clutched against her fingertips, Edelgard is as much the empire as she is herself. It is that passion that fuels her and makes the polished floorboard shine with her reflection. The music of her people's waltz makes this monastery feel closer, even if it is she who dares to tear it apart.
The Imperial heir accepts Professor Ayra's lily and adds it into her bouquet with a polite smile. She guides an orchid out as a symbol of her acknowledgment. "Thank you, Professor. So long as you don't mind, I'd be eager to see and learn your homeland's dance." She only ever knew the flight of Fódlan's empire— The double-headed eagle backed behind the Crest of Seiros, oft raised as a symbol of its journey.
Edelgard is confident in the professor's skills, showing as much through welcoming eyes and a head held high. The way to best represent her empire is through action. Her dance will show this. This world should see it, too.
A breath. With other people around them lifting their arms in reach of flight, she sets her bouquet down on the edge of a white tablecloth and hoists her arms upright. Unlike any other Fódlan dance, it is sharper and guided through well-refined poise. "I'm grateful for the opportunity. Could you tell me more about it, too?" She laughs softly. "After this dance, of course."
deep down, she wants to believe his wrongdoing. that if any other person were to recount half the things he did to her, she would have echoed edelgard without hesitation—that their suffering in the grasp of wicked nobility was no fault of their own.
but it takes time to unlearn the slam of a door. it takes time to unlearn the vileness of man and the back of his hand. it takes time, and the aching patience of others. it takes resolution, steadfastness, and sound leadership.
with lady edelgard—who walks with her arm behind her, a shield, a wing that grips bernadetta's—she has never found herself wanting for any of these.
“oh. o-okay. i'm not in trouble, am i?” she weakly asks, a bleak habit, though her voice lacks any serious suspicion—never unkind to edelgard, and only really to herself. if she were truly worried she'd have long fled from the scene. instead, they reach the black eagles classroom, a silent roost on this night of the ethereal ball. the rest of the festivities fade behind them, reception hall still aglow.
“i mean, i figure that if i were, you wouldn't be saying such kind things to me. which i'm really grateful for...” even if she is still unsure whether or not she can believe them yet. she does not think to slip her hand out of edelgard's yet, but the other begins to knead at the hem of her shawl, another habit of hers. the duck of her head, yet another—a gaze that drifts to the neck. edelgard, who does not clutch her pearls like little princes, wears them with all of the grace bernadetta only dreams of having someday. “and for catching me back there. s-so, um... what did you want to ask?”
Void of its usual ruckus, the Black Eagles classroom carries its presence like a carriage to its homely traveler; a girl who leaves its steps in wake of a place that is a home, but will never be. Holding onto Bernadetta's hand— hearing her voice and gratitude— makes this temporary abode feel that much closer.
Edelgard shifts her weight on the floorboards and hears the slightest creak against her heel. It is she who should be extending the regard, having been the one to bring her friend here in the first place. She could have just as easily rejected her, but she didn't. She wouldn't have been mad if she did. It is through this conversation and time that she begins to draw the curtain open in hopes of understanding Bernadetta that much better.
When she finally releases her hands from her friend's, she does not completely distance herself. She remains close. The house leader stands with her back to the chalkboard, partly littered with formulas it stands to be. "I thought it best to speak my question here without any potential eavesdropping. Pleasurable an evening I'm having, even I find it exhausting." There is humor to her words, visible or not.
"Enough of me. About that person you are eluding," she draws with a hand to her chin. "Are you able to tell me who? I'd rather hear it from you. How I do hate rumors," she emphasizes again with a welcoming chuckle. Even if she is certain she knows the answer, she'd rather listen first. Oft as she speaks the unspoken, there remains words better left said in the arms of who they belong to. The floorboard creaks a second time. She moves her weight off of it. "And— I would gladly catch you again. If you began to fall, that is. I enjoyed our dance."
[ SLIP-UP ] - As it turns out, a lot of people at the monastery make for great body doubles in the dark. What do you do when you slap a friend on the back only for you to find out when they turn around that it’s not your friend at all?
“Edelgard…”
The first five scenarios that run through his mind aren’t pleasant, and while that’s not new for him, this might be a new level of unhappy accidents. Sylvain draws her name out like one would in song, hanging on to the vowels and using the space in between to determine whether or not there’s a meteor aimed for his head.
It doesn’t happen. Actually, no one comes to rip his arm out of its socket, his fingers flexing where they still rest on her shoulder.
“Haha,” His finger spasm, pull away. “For a second, I thought you were…” There isn’t a lie good enough. Sylvain laughs to himself, the same hand raised in greeting. “Nevermind. You look a lot different with your hair up. Surprised me.” More terrifying, and he wasn’t really ready to be considering how soft and beautiful the future Emperor could look when not wielding an axe on the practice field. “Looks like you’ve got plenty of admirers already,” Her bouquet was fuller than most, but that was to be expected. “No harm in taking another, right?” It’s more of an offer, his smile going a little sideways where he offers his hyacinth. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”
"— What I am seeking isn't here, but thank you still."
She hadn't thought she looked that different in an alternate hairstyle, but Edelgard is hardly concerned enough to press on the matter. The loose pieces of hair that fall from her updo remain as they are. She'd much prefer to focus on the flowers; the cascade of colors swaying at her side as if she herself is not liken to one of poison. It is a laughable thought, should she dare to consider the reality sweltering her every move.
She can remember who gave her every flower— When, why, for what. Perhaps Sylvain isn't wrong. She'd be a fool to think some of the petals dangling near her fingertips aren't here because of some person's selfish desires. It's no wonder the axe welcomes her at its side.
Edelgard takes a step closer and pulls out one of her orchids at their mention. The gap is quickly filled by the abundance of other greenery. She places it on the nearest ledge and scoots it forward. The Imperial Princess lifts her head up when she speaks as if to announce her words to anyone who is listening: "If anyone did give me flowers to gain my favor, they'll find themselves wasting their time."