#please no edelgard fans try to fight with me thanks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iturbide · 3 years

Note

*makes grabby hands* gimme protective Claude parents please and thank you (I LOVE the idea of them treating Edelgard's messenger very kindly and then sending them back with a venomous snake for Edelgard)

okay look this was going to be short and then it just stopped being that so please accept this text wall ft. Outsider Perspective on Almyra

The city Chelle’s Almyran escorts guided her through was overwhelming, chaotic, bustling with people who seemed to be constantly shouting over one another. It made her head ache, and all the more for the dizzying colors and scents of perfume and incense and spices hanging so thick in the noisy air that she could barely breathe. Enbarr might not have smelled like a rose most of the time, but at least it didn’t leave her feeling like her chest was full of wool every time she inhaled. But she dutifully followed the guards through the markets and the plazas, up and down a winding maze of streets, making their way (as best she could tell) toward the mesa towering over the city; she’d noticed the wyverns circling overhead when they first arrived, but as they drew closer she could see them appearing and disappearing from somewhere high up on the cliff face, though exactly where they were coming or going from was invisible even when she shaded her eyes against the sun.

It seemed odd that they were going toward the wyvern roost. “I need to go to the palace,” she repeated insistently, clutching her case slightly tighter. “I need to speak with Almyra’s leader.”

“Yes, yes,” one of the men sighed, “we heard you the first eight times.”

She frowned, but said no more, drumming her fingers on the graven wood instead. With every step, the mesa drew closer, the streets wider, and soon enough she could hear the dragons calling overhead, their cries and growls echoing off the crags to her ear…

A final turn, and her trepidation evaporated into awe. Through the cluttered sprawl of the city, she’d caught no sight of anything even remotely resembling a castle -- but here the rest of the buildings fell away before a grand plaza, deeply graven stones depicting heated battles leading to a grand arch carved directly into the stone of the cliff. She glanced at the carvings while she walked, picking out images of great knights, wyvern riders, myrmidons, snipers, and far more that she couldn’t identify before they passed beneath the gate and entered the mesa itself. Crossing the grand foyer, they wound their way up a wide flight of stairs, climbing until the sun vanished entirely, its light replaced by torches burning steadily within their sconces on the wall; by the time they reached the top of the steps, they had turned all the way around, and she spent a moment staring at the grand braziers burning on either side of the wooden doors, each carved with strikingly detailed wyverns in flight.

Her escorts did not so much as knock: instead they each pulled one of the doors open, casting pointed glances at her until she stepped through.

The room itself had clearly been carved directly into the native stone, just like the stairs and the foyer and the arch now far below them; this room, though, had honeycomb lattices etched through the far wall to allow the sunlight in, casting a warm glow across the brightly colored trappings and tapestries and shining bright across the golden thread adorning the four people at the center of the room.

None rose when their guest arrived, but only glanced up from where they lounged in a loose half-circle. Judging by their hair and features, the two men were clearly Almyran, while the women looked dubiously Fódlani: despite their tan complexions, one had far lighter brown hair than any Almyran she’d seen (and green eyes on top of it), while the other could have been a Goneril bastard given her shockingly pink features.

The older man shifted to beckon her closer, and she realized with a shock that he only had one arm. “You would be the envoy from Fódlan, yes?” he asked. “State your business here.”

“A-are you the chief of Almyra?” she asked, carefully shifting the case out of view and trying not to stare at where his empty sleeve had been rolled and pinned just below his shoulder.

His eyebrows went up. The brown-haired woman next to him scoffed, while the younger man didn’t bother trying to cover up his snort. “Wow, the Empire sure did their research,” he muttered, not even bothering to speak under his breath so she might not hear.

“Yes, I am the king of Almyra, Kemal al-Kader,” the older man said at last, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is my partner, the queen of Almyra, Adara al-Kader. I will not ask again: state your business here.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Chelle chirped, scrambling forward and tearing her attention guiltily away from where the man’s right arm should have been to unlatch her messenger’s case. “My name Chelle Skeates, I’m a messenger from the Adrestian Empire, here on behalf of Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg to deliver a diplomatic treaty for your review and approval. The Empire--”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think we’ve discussed any treaty with Adrestia before, have we?” the younger man asked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles while he sprawled back in the sunlight. “Doesn’t it seem a little strange that Edelgard’s sending a treaty for approval without any kind of discussion beforehand?”

“Empress Edelgard,” Chelle snapped.

“I am quite certain I would have remembered past dealings with Adrestians,” the king agreed.

“I bet they’d have remembered dealing with you, too,” the younger man grinned.

Chelle huffed, “the Empress wished me to relay her deepest respect and admiration to you, the rulers of Almyra, and her hope that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous rela--”

“Peaceful!” the younger man howled, pounding his fist against his knee. “I don’t think she knows the meaning of the word!”

“And how,” the pink-haired woman chimed in.

“And just who are you supposed to be?” Chelle demanded, looking between the two.

“This is Tariq,” the king cut in smoothly, gesturing to the young man. “He is my advisor -- my right hand, if you will.”

The young man smirked. “You did that on purpose.”

The king smiled but did not respond; instead, it was the queen who spoke up, gesturing to the young woman at her side. “And this is Tahmina, my aide and guard.”

“Not that you really need a bodyguard,” the pink-haired woman giggled. “Your reputation scares off more people than I could with an axe.”

“Yes, well,” Chelle sniffed. “If I might continue: Empress Edelgard hopes that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous relationship, and has done all in her power to craft a fair and equitable proposal for your review and approval. Fódlan’s Throat has been too long held closed by those of blind faith, so--”

“Wow, that old excuse?” Tariq muttered. “I’m almost surprised she didn’t try harder to butter you up, but...well, I guess I can’t fault her for getting comfortable with the rhetoric that got her where she is.”

“Your majesties, perhaps we could proceed with this in private?” Chelle pleaded.

The king raised a brow again. “Did I not hear that you are a messenger? Is it not your duty to carry messages back as well as forth?”

“W-well, yes, but--”

“It is not solely the response to your Empress’ treaty that you will be relaying back, then, is it?” he pointed out. “It is your mission to deliver all messages, including our words in response to those she sent herself. The points Tariq makes are sound ones, from what we know of how Fódlan came under your Empress’ rule. You would do well remembering them when you return to her.”

“So...Tariq speaks for you, then, Your Majesty?” she ventured.

“Not for me, no.” The man waved the words away, sharing a brief glance with his advisor. “But I value his speech, and consider his words when the time comes to choose my own. That is the purpose of an advisor, is it not? To advise.”

“It seems more like your advisor is trying to pick a fight with me,” Chelle protested.

“Not you,” Tariq replied. “Not really. My problem is with the person who sent you. Since I can’t argue with her directly, I just have to pick apart the words she put in your mouth and in your hands.”

“Speaking of.” The king held out his hand and gestured to Chelle, who obediently opened her case and removed the heavy vellum emblazoned with the gilt crest of the Hresvelg family. Fanning the pages out before him, the man braced his bearded chin against his fist, paying no mind to the three others who crowded in to see the flowing script. “Have you read this?”

It took her a moment to understand the words, and it was only when his gaze flicked up to meet hers that she realized the question had been directed to her. “Oh! No, sir, Your Majesty, this is the first time I’ve seen it, I swear…”

The answer did not seem to please him. Instead he made a thin noise, shifting to free his hand and wave her away while his attention returned to the parchment. “We will need several days to review and prepare our response. And you have had a long journey: take this time to rest before you set off again.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she mumbled, bowing deeply and backing toward the open doors. He didn’t acknowledge the address, nor even her departure; her last glimpse of the king was of a one-armed man with traces of silver in his dark hair and neat beard, his head bowed over the papers she had brought and a scowl carved across his face.

-----

Chelle was used to long missions and short breaks. Weeks of travel from Enbarr to the far corners of the Adrestian Empire, perhaps a day or two of rest before heading either back or elsewhere. It was the life she’d come to expect as a messenger.

Six days. She was certain this was the most time off she’d had in almost two years on the job, and all because the king had asked for time to prepare a suitable response to Adrestia’s treaty. The Almyrans were surprisingly considerate hosts, providing not only room and board and meals, but an escort to show her around. After a few days the chaos of the Almyran city began to feel almost pleasant, though she couldn’t hope to navigate it alone, its sights and scents growing more intriguing the more time she spent there. Her guide one day had even bought her a trinket from the market: an antler carved in the likeness of a leaping deer, which she described as a totem favored by scouts and couriers for swift journeys and safe passage.

She thought she might miss this, when she made her trip back to the Locket. The noise, the bustle, the colors and patterns everywhere she looked...even the constant presence of wyverns no longer surprised her, and she wondered if it would be strange not hearing their occasional keening in the night or the sound of wingbeats overhead as they circled the mesa and its surrounding city. But if nothing else, she’d have one final memory to take home with her: a grand send-off feast, complete with dancing around fires that blazed nearly as tall as she stood, men and women carousing regardless of how much they’d drunk. She felt warm and contented watching it all, well-fed and nursing her second cup of spicy-sweet wine…

“Have you been enjoying yourself?”

She jumped, whirling so fast she nearly spilled her drink. Tariq grinned sidelong at her, swirling his own cup while she sputtered and scrabbled for words. “Y-y...you!!”

“Me?” he asked innocently, touching his chest with one hand.

“What are you doing here!?”

“Checking on you,” he chuckled. “It’s your last night, and all--”

“After how you tried to make a fool of me in front of the king!?”

“When did I do that?” he protested, seeming genuinely surprised.

“I couldn’t get two words out without you making some...some snide comment about it!”

“Well, to be fair, they weren’t your words I was commenting on, they were Edelgard’s--”

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected.

“Edelgard’s,” he repeated stubbornly. “It really wasn’t anything against you.”

“It was...it was so rude!” she huffed, stomping her foot adamantly on the stones.

“Maybe in the Empire it is, but that’s just how things work here,” he shrugged. “Gotta get your words in edgewise while you’ve got the chance.”

“So I should have just talked over you?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed.

“That’s even more rude!”

“Again, maybe in the Empire, not here.”

Fuming, she threw back the last of her wine, shivering as it burned its way down her throat. “What do you have against Empress Edelgard, anyway?”

“More than you can imagine,” he muttered.

“Then tell me,” she insisted.

He looked at her, and she noticed for the first time that despite his clearly Almyran features and complexion, his eyes were a curious shade of green. “You’re on...what, your second cup? Third?”

“Second,” she confirmed.

“Let’s get you another.”

Chelle groaned, stomping off after the man weaving his way effortlessly through the dancers. She lost him somewhere in the crush of bodies, and finally gave up, squirming her way out to a quieter corner to catch her breath and try to pick him out of the crowd…

Someone tapped her cup with the mouth of a wineskin. “Sure,” she muttered, holding it out.

“Good, because ‘no’ wasn’t really an option.”

She jumped, nearly dropping her newly-refilled drink as she whirled on Tariq. “Where did you go!?” she demanded.

“To get more wine, like I said?” He shrugged, topping off her cup and his own before tying the bag and tucking it under his arm. “So. You want to know what I have against Edelgard?”

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected automatically.

“You never read that treaty she sent.”

“I was directed to bring it to the rulers of Almyra. Why would I read it, when I’m not the recipient?”

“Do you want to read it?”

She squinted at him, taking another sip of her drink. “Is this a trick?”

“No? Why would I try to trick you?”

“Because you’re rude,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling you, that’s just how it works here,” he chuckled. “But do you want to read it?”

“...I’m just a courier. I won’t really know what it says.”

“I can translate it for you,” he grinned. “It’s what I’ve spent the past four days doing, after all.”

“I can’t speak Almyran, either!”

“Why would it be in Almy--wait, no, not that kind of translation!” His laughter sounded completely different from the jeering she’d heard when she arrived: it seemed warm and even kind, and she sheepishly took another sip of wine as she watched him. “The whole thing’s written in Fódlani, no need to worry about that. I was just getting down to what it really meant, under all the fancy language they used to make it sound official.”

Well...that didn’t sound so bad, really. “...I guess it could be interesting to see it,” she agreed.

“Follow me, then.” He grinned, striding off into the dark -- but this time he avoided the boisterous dance, skirting around the edges of the fire until he found the king and queen laughing and carousing among a group of hardened-looking warriors. Tariq called something out in Almyran, which caught the older man’s attention; he glanced at Chelle in the next moment, smiling and nodding before returning his attention to the people around him.

From there they left the plaza, passing beneath the arch and into the Almyran palace, up the torchlit stairs...then off down another hallway, rather than into the room she’d first delivered the treaty to; up another narrow set of steps carved into the native stone, down the hall, and through another door that opened on a comfortable, well-lit room occupied by a table surrounded by empty chairs and strewn with open books and scrolls. Dropping into one of the seats, he gestured to another, waiting for Chelle to sit before fanning the vellum pages out before her; she fidgeted for a moment, glancing at him while he propped his chin in his hand...and finally turning her eyes to the words on the page.

It became very clear very quickly why he’d spent so long ‘translating,’ as he put it. Not only was it a long document with dense writing, but the words themselves made her head spin; for a moment she wondered if the wine was to blame, but two cups couldn’t explain how much of her own language made no sense to her. She was aware of the man sitting next to her, reading the same words she did without apparent struggle...and when she fidgeted and glanced in his direction, he tore his gaze from the page, raising a brow in silent invitation.

“...please?” she mumbled.

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, a lot of this stuff at the beginning is trade details -- the Empire’s offering some nice exchange terms on major exports with a slight bias in Almyra’s favor, not enough to raise suspicions but certainly tempting.” He moved a few pages off to the side, running his fingertip down the parchment. “Diplomatic terms. These are balanced, mostly: stuff about equality in the alliance, mutual aid, so on and so on...and then there’s this.”

He moved another page aside and tapped a passage partway down; she leaned in, squinting as though that would help her parse the words better. “Military alliance,” she read. “In the event that one of our two nations should come under threat from without or within, the other shall furnish soldiers and armaments suitable for the defense of the endangered territory or to maintain peace therein, adhering to the law of whatever land they have been deployed to protect.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“That...if something happens to you, we’ll come help, and the other way around?” she ventured.

“On the surface, that’s what it implies,” he agreed. “But this is where the danger is. It looks like nothing to worry about, that we’ll each help each other if something goes wrong...but then there’s that phrase, ‘threat from without or within.’ That means that if there’s civil unrest -- like, say, forcibly conquered territories rebelling to reclaim their independence -- Edelgard could call on Almyra and use this agreement to force us to send soldiers to maintain her control over those territories. There’s nothing in here about what provisions the Empire would provide to those forces they call in, either: Almyra’s still expected to feed and supply their own forces, even though they’re in Imperial territory enforcing Imperial law.”

“That can’t be right,” Chelle protested, flipping through the rest of the pages.

“I read this whole thing through at least eight times,” he muttered. “The king and queen went at it at least three, themselves. If it was in here, one of us would have caught it.”

“Then...then it must have been a mistake. It was meant to be in there and...maybe a page got left out, it can be noted and addressed in your response…”

“It was intentional.”

“You can’t know that!” she protested.

“You’re right: I can’t be completely sure. But I think the implications are pretty clear from this.”

He set aside a few more pages and tapped another passage, this one near the end of the page, and she leaned in close to read the words. “Extradition clause: should it become known that entities who pose a threat to the peace or sovereignty of one of our two nations have sought refuge within the other, either the nation housing them will detain and transport them to face trial and punishment within the nation where their crimes were committed, or the offended nation will be granted freedom to enter allied territories for the purposes of tracking and securing the criminal for transport to trial.” She looked at him again, trying to release some of the tension furrowing her brow. “What’s so bad about that? Isn’t it saying that if a criminal tries to get away across the border, they won’t be able to escape?” She might not have understood all the words, but that seemed like the general message…

“On the surface, yes,” he agreed, “that’s what it implies. But there’s nothing in here to say what would be considered ‘criminal acts.’ There’s just that thing about ‘posing a threat to the peace and sovereignty of the nation.’ So, for instance: if worshippers of Seiros fled across the border into Almyra seeking asylum, Edelgard could -- theoretically -- declare that their faith makes them enemies of Adrestia, and either force Almyra to round them up and send them back to face trial for the crime of having faith in a religion she hates, or she could use it as an excuse to send Imperial soldiers into Almyra, and they could -- again, theoretically -- round up any other refugees from conquered Fódlan territories on similar charges.”

“How could they do that without some cause for it?”

“They could claim cause simply from the fact that they fled the Empire,” he shrugged. “If they had nothing to hide or had committed no crimes, why wouldn’t they have stayed?”

“Wouldn’t they need proof? Or...or wouldn’t they need to say who they’re looking for, and why, when they come in to search?” she insisted.

“Those conditions might help,” he agreed, “if they were in here. Which they’re not. Again: after eight reads, I’m pretty sure I’d have spotted it.”

“That’s...it’s not…”

“Possible?” he offered. “Fair? Reasonable?” She shook her head fiercely, setting her mostly full cup aside to avoid spilling it and squeezing her trembling hands together. “...right?” he suggested. She nodded, staring again at the words written in such a careful hand, willing them to change even though she knew they wouldn’t. “Yeah. It’s not. It’s dangerous, and it’s all hidden in the middle of this block of text to try and get it past us: the end is just more pleasantries, again biased on Almyra’s favor, like someone was expecting us to check the beginning and the end and get lulled into a false sense of security by the good terms there: they hid all the damning stuff in the middle and banked on it getting glossed over or missed by inattentive diplomats. My money’s on Hubert setting it up this way: it has his greasy fingerprints all over it.”

“Why?” she choked out.

“I couldn’t say for sure,” Tariq sighed. “But I can give you my guess, if you want.” He waited, and only when she nodded did he draw another breath. “The Empire conquered Fódlan. Formerly independent territories, like the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance, had their freedom stripped away, and more than likely had their autonomy taken with it: even the Alliance, where there was a pro-Imperial faction, fell under the jurisdiction of an Empire-born noble, didn’t it?” She nodded slightly, biting her lip and tightening her fingers until she began to lose feeling in them. “Generally, that kind of treatment isn’t likely to win her friends and allies, or endear her to the ones she had. Unrest isn’t just a possibility in those conquered territories, it’s almost a guarantee -- and after spending five years at war, the Imperial Army’s probably not doing so great: her forces are stretched thin keeping the peace in her forcefully annexed new territories, and she needs help to maintain control over her ‘united’ Fódlan. So she thought she’d try to get someone on her side to help her in that, give them something she could part with and get what she needed more than anything else: military aid. The extradition portion is icing on the cake for when she gets things under better control and can divide her attention again.”

“...you’re not going to accept it, are you?” Chelle whispered.

“Not a chance,” he agreed, patting her back. “Even if we wanted to, there are too many problems with this treaty as it stands: we’d need to send over a full-fledged diplomatic party to iron out the details to everyone’s satisfaction. Edelgard sent a messenger -- someone who wouldn’t understand the underlying message of the document she was charged with transporting, and who wouldn’t have the authority to make changes even if the problems were pointed out to her.”

“It’s not my fault!” she cried.

His hand tightened comfortingly on her shoulder. “I know. And I’m not blaming you: you were just doing your job; everybody here understands that. We blame Edelgard for this, because what she’s implying by doing this -- sending this treaty, worded and constructed this way, with a courier that has no political authority over the document -- is that she thinks this is reasonable and fair, and wants us to accept it as it is.”

Sniffling thickly, Chelle swiped at her blurry eyes. “Why keep me here so long, then?”

“To give you a break. You deserved a rest, and we needed to get our response ready.”

“I thought you were just going to say ‘no,” she mumbled.

“The message they want to send back is a little more...pointed,” he replied. “...sorry to spoil the party for you.”

“...it’s okay,” she sighed. “I...didn’t know about this. It’s a lot to take in.” He nodded as he rose from his seat, offering a hand to help her up; picking up her cup almost as an afterthought, he made his way back out of the room, closing the doors behind them and starting back the way they’d come. “...that...extradition clause. And how it could ‘theoretically’ be used to arrest anyone. Is...would Tahmina be at risk from it?”

Tariq glanced over at her, quirking one eyebrow. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Because she’s related to the Gonerils?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled. “Almyra’s not perfect. There’s still a lot of anti-Fódlan sentiment around -- there’s a lot of history there, not much of it good -- but I’m doing my best to make it safer here for refugees and asylum seekers. Edelgard’s ‘United Adrestian Empire’ isn’t helping anyone but her, just like her war: lots of big talk, but in the end it’s the common people who end up suffering for her decisions and her actions. Even if it’s something small, in the grand scheme of things...I want to help the people who have been hit hardest by all this. If that means turning down Edelgard’s treaty...well, that’s a small price to pay.”

After spending so much time in the softer lamplight, the bonfires in the plaza nearly blinded her, and she had to rely for a moment on Tariq’s guidance to make sure she didn’t either run into anyone or trip and fall onto a pyre. Once her vision cleared, he offered her cup back, which she took without much interest. “Don’t let it get you too down, alright?” he chuckled, giving her shoulder another pat. “Enjoy the party while it lasts. Give dancing a try -- I’ll show you the trick to it if you want.”

Chelle made a non-committal noise, lifting her drink in a silent parting gesture while he walked off. She caught sight of Tahmina in the crowd, watched her wave and call out to Tariq, and saw him beam and hurry to join her in the circle of dancers, seeming entirely carefree in spite of their grave conversation. How he could bounce back so fast was a mystery to her, like so many other things here in Almyra; she didn’t imagine she’d be in any shape to join the festivities for a while yet.

But, like Tariq had said: it was her last night here. Soon enough she would be going back to the Empire -- back home. And then she could see for herself whether Tariq was right or not about the Empress’ motives.

Downing the rest of her wine, she put her cup aside and waded into the chaos. One dance wouldn’t hurt.

---

Chelle decided it was for the best that she’d stopped at three cups of wine. That had already given her a hangover the likes of which she’d never experienced before, and in the end Tariq (seeming mostly amused by the whole thing) fetched her something to take the edge off her migraine, which at least got her out of bed in time for a light breakfast before she had to leave. Her head was still a little sore and fuzzy by the time she made her way up to the room where the Almyran rulers had met her when she first arrived; they were both standing this time, though, and as Tariq took his place at the king’s side Chelle bowed deeply before them.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesties,” she said. “It’s been an honor to meet with you, and I’m grateful for your hospitality and your kindness.”

“We are pleased to hear it, and hope that you enjoyed your time here,” the older man nodded. “We have prepared our response to your Empress, and would have you deliver it upon your return.”

She bowed again, unlatching her case and preparing to take the document...though, when she looked again, she realized that his hand was empty. The queen held a box, but its lid was open and Chelle could see that there was nothing in that, either, except for some dried grass lining the bottom…

The king looked past her, gesturing to someone in the doorway. Curious, she turned to see -- and jumped aside as a woman approached, one hand gripping the head of a snake while her other arm supported the rest of its body. “A horned viper,” the man remarked casually, watching the handler maneuver the serpent into the box his wife held (and Chelle caught a glimpse of rough-textured scales, horn-like growths above its slit eyes, and wicked fangs poised to strike in the instant before the lid snapped closed). “They hide in sandy places among the rocks and scrub, and their color and pattern make them quite elusive; it took five days to locate and snare this one. They are also exceptionally deadly: their bite is often fatal, and those that do survive frequently lose the bitten limb.”

She wondered if the king spoke from experience as her gaze flicked unbidden to the empty sleeve pinned at his shoulder.

The queen moved toward her, and it took every ounce of Chelle’s willpower to stand still and let her approach with the snake in its box. “Don’t worry, you’re not in danger,” the woman chuckled. “We made sure to give it a good meal, so it shouldn’t cause trouble for you, and the latch has a safety so it won’t open unless someone is trying to get into it.” She demonstrated without opening the lid (which Chelle was profoundly grateful for), unfolding the double-hinged latch before securing it in place and locking it with a satisfying snap. It didn’t make her feel terribly much better about handling it, though, especially now that she was close enough to see the fine latticework openings in the lid -- a lovely touch of artistry, to be sure, but clearly functional given the contents; thankfully, the queen didn’t seem to mind when Chelle opened her case and invited her to fit the box inside, securing the clasp herself and gingerly settling it against her side.

“When you arrived, you came with a message from your Empress to go with her treaty,” the king mused, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “We would ask you to deliver words on our behalf, as well.”

“O-of course,” Chelle nodded. “I’ll be sure to relay them -- what is your message, sir?”

A thin smile cut across his face, and a chill crawled down her spine. “This box is much like the treaty your messenger carried to us: carefully crafted of fine materials -- and concealing within something fatal to those who would rush to accept on appearances alone. Yet the viper bites only to hunt or defend itself from harm; your terms stand as proof of how deep your cruelty runs in service to yourself. We received your messenger, and treated her with the honor and hospitality befitting her service, for we in Almyra bear no ill will toward those who bring such words to us: our grudge is with the one who ordered her to speak them.”

Despite how cool the room was, Chelle could feel sweat pouring down her face as she repeated the words back, aware of every stumble and pause but seeming unable to make her tongue behave...though the king still nodded in apparent satisfaction when she finished. “Thank you,” he said, resting his fist over his heart as he bowed. “Should your Empress decide to use a messenger again, rather than speak herself, know you are welcome here.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, sir,” she replied, tripping over the words as she ducked her head. “A-and thank you again for your hospitality.”

Turning smartly on her heel, she hurried out the door and down the stairs, keeping a tight grip on her case and trying to convince herself that the snake in it was secure, that she wouldn’t get bitten, that she wasn’t going to die on her way back home--

“You okay?”

Chelle almost tripped on the last few stairs; the hand on her elbow thankfully kept her from falling -- but as soon as she found her balance again she yanked her arm away, glaring over her shoulder at Tariq as he held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m carrying a fucking viper how am I supposed to be ‘okay’!?”

“...that’s a fair point,” he admitted. “I probably should have warned you about that, huh.”

“You THINK?” she hissed. Hurrying down the last of the stairs, she stormed toward the arch, her thoughts still reeling over everything that had happened in the past few minutes. “A snake! He’s sending a snake back! Who does that!?”

“Almyrans,” Tariq replied almost cheerfully.

“With no antidote!”

“Nope.”

“How is this not seen as murder? Am -- am I party to an assassination attempt?”

“I guess if you don’t warn Edelgard of what it is, then...maybe?”

“Of course I’m going to warn her, what do you take me for!?” Chelle snapped. “A fucking snake, he’s replying with a...a-and he said it took days to track it down? Is that why I was waiting here so long?”

“That...may have been the other part of it, yes,” Tariq admitted.

“That means...they had to have sent people out looking the day I arrived!”

“Technically they sent people out looking as soon as they heard an Imperial messenger was coming. The speech was a nice touch, though, he really outdid himself there--”

“They never intended to consider the treaty?”

“Afraid not. They’ve got some sizeable grievances against the Empress, so I don’t want to say it was a wasted trip, but...yeah, there was never any chance--”

She whirled around, clutching her case tight as though desperate to keep it sealed shut. “How are you so calm about this!?”

“Take a breath, Chelle.” He mimed a few, himself, and she grudgingly followed suit. “This kind of thing might seem crazy--”

“Because it is,” she insisted.

“...but it’s not uncommon in Almyra. Especially to get a message across: sending a snake has a lot of implications.”

“This place is insane.” He’d mentioned anti-Fódlan sentiment, but she never would have expected this.

“Almyrans feel the same way about all the rules you’ve got in Fódlan,” he chuckled. “Call it a cultural difference.”

Stepping out into the sunshine beyond the arch, Chelle threw a hand up to shade her eyes as the dull ache in her head spiked; by the time her vision came back into focus, Tariq had walked past her, and stood waiting in the center of the plaza...beside a white wyvern, its ornamented tack shimmering in the light while the dragon tilted its head into the man’s attention. He grinned at her, gesturing her closer while continuing to scratch the wyvern’s chin with his free hand. “Need a ride back to the Locket? Or, well, the outskirts, at least -- I’d rather not have them raining arrows down on us, if I can help it.”

“Is this your wyvern?” she asked, edging closer.

“She is,” he agreed, rubbing the dragon’s horns while it pressed its head against his chest.

“I’ve...never seen a white one before.” She’d only ever heard of one, in fact, and then only as rumors from those who’d been at Derdriu when the Empress marched to the heart of the Alliance…

“They’re rare,” Tariq confirmed, “and here in Almyra they’re considered good luck. They always end up going to important people because of it: beloved kings, exceptional generals…”

“Then how did an advisor end up with one?” she scoffed.

“Having the king and queen for parents has perks.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it…”

She’d intended to brush off whatever excuse he made, but as the words sank in she trailed off, staring slack-jawed at him while he continued to lavish affection on the white wyvern. “You -- you’re a prince?”

“Technically,” he shrugged.

“The king introduced you as his advisor!”

“Well, right now I am: with things as they are now, I can’t achieve what I want, so I didn’t see a point in challenging him for the throne. My counsel is the most useful thing for Almyra, given the state of things in Fódlan, so...it just seemed like the sensible thing to do.” Slinging his arm over the dragon’s neck, he turned a cheery smile on Chelle, leaning his weight against the wyvern’s side. “So: about that ride.”

“...sure,” she agreed. “Why not?” It would certainly save her time, after all -- and the less time she had to worry about carrying a snake, the better.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #fanfiction #bad end au #snippets #i love outsider perspective okay #chelle is great and very loyal to the empire and empress edelgard #but she has a lot to look out for now on her way back #i'm still so attached to almyrans sending snakes to people they don't like #it's a very clear message that's for sure #also claude remains a treasure #and hilda's going by an almyran name for cover purposes #edelgard has no idea they're still alive #and won't until claude comes knocking in about a decade #boy that'll be an exciting way to realize her mistakes

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edelest · 4 years

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blue lions recruiting plot fix!

hey fe3h fans! it’s been a while... sorry!

previously on this ongoing series: i made a post trying to give reason to why the students would join black eagles, because some people just couldn’t settle for “they’ll follow byleth anywhere.” someone requested a similar post to this, where i’ll be justifying why some black eagles and golden deer students’ll still be in blue lions post-time skip! my next post will be lions + eagles with golden deer :) please enjoy! and Yes, i DO stan edelgard.

here’s the link to my black eagles recruiting plot fix ~

petra: it took me a while to actually figure out why petra would join blue lions—hence the writer’s block that prolonged this post—but then i remembered the support between shamir and petra, and it hit me: petra doesn’t like the empire. and you might be thinking, petra doesn’t like them empire but trusts edelgard! see, that’s the thing. she TRUSTED edelgard. to be in a foreign land, completely vulnerable, she put her whole trust in edelgard (and others as well) only to find out that edelgard had been plotting to start this war behind her back all this time would crush her. she’d be hit with the memories of her people dying by the hands of the empire’s soldiers, only this time she’d witness the slaughtering commanded by edelgard, who broke her trust. in one of her conversations after war during battle, she says that she used to be a hostage (not sure if hostage, prisoner, or something else) but that it wasn’t the case anymore. she Admits that she was a captive of the empire through that conversation, which all the more supports my theory.

dorothea: dorothea makes me heart break, whenever i recruit her into blue lions/golden deer. dorothea went through a lot growing up, and went through a lot jusy to get into the officer’s academy as well. she puts her (incomplete) trust in her classmates and professor and hopes for a peaceful (with a rich noble in mind). even in her support conversations, she hints that she wouldn’t mind a future with edelgard. but dorothea is scared. scared of bloodshed, battles, and war. she doesn’t outright say it, but in a ton of her support conversations or any conversation you have with her, right before time skip and post time skip, she often finds herself wishing for peaces and she’s often sentimental over past memories. even when she levels up post time skip: "Feels like fighting is all there is." "I'm growing, but at what cost?" "All this power just to survive." dorothea hates the war, and it’s taking a toll on her happiness, of course she’d be afraid to join edelgard, the one who started the war.

ferdinand: ferdinand’s always wanted to one-up edelgard, probably due to either his father or his competitive spirit. so when the war breaks out and ferdinand loses everything because his father is stripped of his rank, ferdinand of course would want nothing more than to defeat edelgard and stop the war, to stop the unnecessary bloodshed caused by his self proclaimed rival. ferdinand would join byleth to save fodlan and at the same time prove his self worth... for years, trying to prove to himself that he IS as stronf as he says and that he’s strong enough to protect people. it’s always him trying to prove his worth; he says it himself when you battle him at the great bridge of myrddin. he says something along the lines of “maybe now edelgard will see my worth.” instead of trying to prove his worth to himself, he tries to prove it to edelgard. which only shows that he still cares for edelgard’s opinion after all these years, just that it changed to wanting recognition and acknowledgement.

linhardt: linhardt is scared of blood, and unnecessary fighting. his own morals are changed through the battles he goes through at garreg mach (i.e. remire village.) linhardt doesn’t want a war, he wants to nap and research about crests, and other things that interest him. he’d follow byleth and dimitri because he at the start knew that byleth would want peace and to stop the bloodshed, and he’d be glad to hear that dimitri was changed and now wants to protect fodlan as well. linhardt may not seem like he cares about much (he really doesn’t,) but he knows when something isn’t right. he knows that these people don’t have to die.

caspar: caspar grew up to protect people, not hurt them. in more instances than one, he gets angry for not being able to join certain missions or gets angry at certain people for simply being evil. he has a heart of gold, and a sense of chivalry that puts him right in with the blue lion class. his sense of righteousness is what pushes him to believe that dimitri can change, and that dimitri will change fodlan. he believes that blue lions is where he belongs, because it’s where people are most like him. hearts of gold, hearts of bravery... all around him. he’s welcome there. and he knows they can stop this reign of massacre.

bernadetta and marianne: i put these two in the same category due to similar reasons, both are shy and tend not to speak up for things and would rather not be involved in a war. imagine them out there, fighting edelgard’s fight when all they want to do is be at peace with life and live life in mundanity. they’re pushed into this world of madness against their own will, and are forced to kill or be killed. bernadetta literally says “Wish I could've at least died at home...not in this big, stupid field...” and all edelgard says is thank you for everything or something like that. bernadetta deserved better than that, she deserved to at least die happy. and marianne deserves a life where she doesn’t need to live in fear of the unknown everyday. let my shy girls live and be happy, for goddess’ sake!

leonie: we all know why leonie would join blue lions. leonie is against this war, she lives to protect those who can’t protect themselves, just like jeralt did. she will fight for what is right, and she’ll fight with those she knows will fight. claude tried to stay neutral for 5 whole years of the war. this is of course madness, as leonie is the type to believe in the ideology of helping those who can’t help themselves if you know you can have the power to assist. leonie would be mad at claude for staying neutral, because being neutral is being nearly as bad as the one causing turmoil. in cases of war, neutrality is ignorance, and leonie will do nothing other than fight for what is right.

lysithea: she would join the cause of faerghus for one crucial thing: her freedom. and you might be thinking, “of course everyone is fighting for their freedom it’s a goddamn war, op!” but here’s the thing, lysithea spent her childhood trapped in house ordelia, her and her siblings being tested on by those who sliter in the dark, her parents being powerless in the situation at hand, causing her to live her life being tortured in a prison-like environment, everyday wondering if this is how her life will be, or if she’ll die like the others. she was trapped, and pre-timeskip we see her do so many activities and try to quickly learn so many things. why? because she wants to catch up on all those years she lost in house ordelia. that’s why i sympathize with her when claude teases her for being young even if it’s only done in a humorous manner, lysithea has been through so much that she at least deserves respect (and yes, i know claude was unaware of it pre-timeskip, let me be emo.) when lysithea finds out about the war, she’d be struck with fear of being imprisoned by the empire again (at the time she didn’t know that TWSITD weren’t soldiers of the empire.) she’d join the cause of the rebellion, choosing to fight instead of staying neutral. her position (house ordelia) is of course a threat to her as well, they can be easily captured by the empire at any time any time, and she can’t help but flee for her life.

raphael and ignatz: both are sons of merchants, difference is raphael’s parents are dead, which makes raphael the one who has to provide for his sister. they, in my humble opinion, would join faerghus during war for no reason other than to protect their families and business. while i do believe that they want to save fodlan as well, how will they even provide for their family in a failing economy where war tramples over merchants? we know this happens because the merchants at the monastery constantly talk about how business is hard during war. raphael and ignatz need to keep their families alive and fed, not dying because of their pride.

hilda: hilda’s always been ‘the lazy one’, as we all know. but this, too, brought me to a halt. why would hilda join the faerghus rebellion? in the start of azure moon, if you recruit hilda she mentions something along the lines of edelgard is crazy and so is dimitri or something like that. so i kept digging and digging in my brain until i realized that the reason she would join blue lions is because of fear. fear that if she stays neutral in the leicester alliance that her position would cause her to die much easier than if she were to join byleth and dimitri and the rest. neutrality was a problem for the alliance, some wanted to join forces with the empire and some didn’t, which already made her a targer for assassination for the other houses in the alliance (to start conflict/to make a solid point.) and of course, staying in goneril territory would be terrifying too, because there are almyrans who would try to kill those at/near fodlan’s throat to take advantage of the weakness of this part due to the war. hilda is scared, even if she’s completely capable of protecting herself. strength doesn’t always equal bravery, and her whole life she’s gotten free passes to things due to her laziness, and now she has. to protect herself in a kill or be killed place, her instincts would tell her to go where she is safest, in the hands of her classmates from the blue lions, and in the hands of the professor.

lorenz: lorenz is a man of virtue, how ever absurd those virtues may be. depending on route, lorenz is either the cower in fear and succumb to the enemy to survive kind of guy or the fight for what you know is right and fight for those who can’t kind of guy. which leads me to believe that due to claude’s neutrality and wanting to protect the people of the alliance, (especially those in the gluocester region,) he’d join the cause of faerghus to stop the war once and for all.

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