IMPERIAL PRINCESS.

raikuroji​:

✧ ` well, that’s a first. heh. it’s not often that his jokes are usually passable enough that they get a laugh out of people. it might’ve been a little embarrassing for him to have picked up the wrong weapon, but he’s at least relieved that she’ll give him the chance to make up for it. “what, you haven’t heard?” he sweeps the broken pieces of the training lance off of the ground, stopping until he finds a bin to toss it into.

“they say that all the best fighters can keep goin’ with broken weapons. new training trend to challenge yourself.”

shiro offers with a laugh, securing his hands on either sides of the lance. a few experimental grips before he forces his hands together and the wood splinters. it snaps and away it goes with the rest of the rest of it.

the lance head, helpfully, tucked between other bits of rubbish as to not catch the hands of the monastery staff. when he returns, he takes the lance from his hand and steps back. does a few experimental thrusts into the air, twirls it overhead and swings it over his shoulder to make sure that it doesn’t just outright fall apart in his hands again. the butt of the pole hits the ground as shiro turns his attention back to her with an easy smile. “this one’ll work. wouldn’t wanna, heh. give you an unfair advantage, you know?” ah. he nearly forgot.

shiro crosses the room to her side, extending a hand in greeting with a cheery smile. “i’m shiro, by the way. you’re … edelgard, right?” he’s pretty sure that’s her name. he’d taken care to at least remember the names of the house leaders, but he was still working on the other nobles and royalty and countries still. “what’re the rules? no cheap shots to the head and neck? best two out of three?”

Playful smile tugs at her lips as she releases the training lance once he is reliably holding onto it. For a prince, he is quite a jokester, not unlike Claude—it now makes so much sense why he chose the Golden Deer. 

The head of the axe rests against the ground as she waits. He is the opposite of Siegbert. Slightly shorter and boisterous with a staunch yet fluid fighting stance. Studying Hoshidan fighting techniques would behoove her and the Empire. They could perhaps adopt some traits to improve their own tactics. 

She should speak with Hubert and Ferdinand at another time.

Edelgard shakes Shiro’s hand firmly. “You would be correct, Shiro. As for the rules, I think those work just fine,” she says as she releases his hand. “I also ask that you don’t hold back.”

One step away from Shiro. “Let’s begin.”

irroche​:

✦ ` oh, her highness has jokes! it’s kind of her to try and lighten the mood. she was feeling a little dreary from the repeated failures. it’s an unfortunate consequence of her chosen field of interest. there is simply more to be learned from failure than there is to be learned from success, though she sometimes finds herself wishing for more of the latter than the former. constance coughs, waving away the smoke from her vision as much as she is also dismissing the princess’s question. ( accusation, the more astute part of her mind unhelpfully provides. ) “of course not. i would not waste my time creating a second version of an already perfect product, ahaha!” well, actually, she would if it was proven to be something that the empire had interest in.

though now with her surprise aside, constance is not so blind to see that lady edelgard is—how should she put this? less than pleased with what she’s done.

innovation is so rarely appreciated in its time.

lips threaten to twitch downward, but mage manages to keep the half-smile on her face. she’d thought it might be helpful. no girl delighted in having such silvery hair for their own, she reasons. it ages her. the stark twilight fails to reflect that of her lineage and she thinks, then, that the princess would be all the more benefitted by being able to change her hair color on a dime. she was so reticent. and perhaps, more selfishly, constance would be able to ascertain with just a single glance whether or not she was impressed by her work. the amber speaks to her verdict and constance makes a mental note to push aside any future proposals involving color-changing formulas.

“i—” her voice cracks. “of course, your highness.”

“it is a simple salve.” she replies, her chin in her hand as constance closes her eyes with consideration. ah. her eyes burned so much. perhaps she did need to rest, but the problem needed to be contended with first. how would she prove herself helpful to the empire if she could not even solve the first problem brought forward to her by lady edelgard? nevermind the fact that she had caused it. “allow me. i had not thought you would be in need of it so soon and thus do not have any on-hand. it will not happen again, lady edelgard.” constance crosses the room, hastily removing her documents from a stool before gesturing to it for the princess. “please, have a seat.”

“and my apologies for the state in which my laboratory is. my,” a pause. “if i had known you would be visiting, i would have asked my assistant to clean.” she didn’t have one and most abyssians avoided the laboratory all together, except for the children who sometimes helped her test her less dangerous experiments.

but, it would be best to at least look professional.

There are few individuals in Fódlan, even the Empire, that are so devoted to the study of alchemy and magic. The monastery's professors of magic were hardly inadequate—they were skilled in faith and reason magic and some were even intimidating opponents on the battlefield. None of them—even Hanneman himself—invented items with magical properties. It is fortunate then that the most impressive individual in this particular field is in the same room with her.

Edelgard sits, her amber hair falls over her shoulder. It is also unfortunate that Constance is more likely to invent something completely useless for the Empire to use. Her inventions, impressive as they may be, were at best party entertainment.

As she pushes her hair back over her shoulder, it changes color to a cobalt blue. It is not her responsibility to look over Constance's experiments, but her knowledge and abilities would be better utilized in the Empire than in the Kingdom or Alliance. In part because she wanted it all for the Empire and because it would be a shame if Constance's abilities were allowed to be reduced to gaudy entertainment only suited for nobles.

She waves a hand, dismissing the apology. There was no need for one. "I didn't know you had an assistant, Constance. I should like to meet them one day." Mostly to find out who would volunteer their time to work with her and to learn for what reason they would work with her. What kind of ideas do they put in her head?

elegiac-boar​:

The prince listened quietly, icy pools oftentimes following drawings in the sky-constellations. Despite being taught how to locate himself through the sky during his childhood, memorizing constellations had never really been his forte. He preferred to locate himself through individual stars, although sometimes that wasn’t enough and he’d have to spend more time searching for something else to aid his sight. It didn’t help that in many books he was given, said constellations would be illustrated in grand drawings- only for him to look at the sky and find nothing like it. As a child, it made him want to pout and say it was all a lie, but older he understands it a bit more.

It was a little frustrating, to search for constellations when he couldn’t really memorize their shape. But it was a much welcome distraction, so he would indulge in it- as well as on Edelgard’s presence, for the time being. “I must say the same. It does no good to try to relax with a bustling mind.”

Blond brows arched gently at her short confession. There was no doubt that the Edelgard that stood beside him now was quite different from the little girl of Adrestia he met many years earlier. Just like him, she had matured and grown stronger as well. He could see it in her training, how she carried herself, her gaze- but something was lost in the way. Something he couldn’t exactly point out.

That lavender gaze that once looked up at him, so warm and bright, seemed a bit…sharper and colder now, as if he were no more than a stranger. Did she forget about him? It seems so.

It’s a bit upsetting.

He let out a soft breath as a small smile formed in his features. One that seemed tired- that didn’t reach his eyes. He gulped down, unsure of what to say next, but went through it anyway. “You are…correct on that regard. Precisely.” It always felt wrong to talk about his nightmares, as if it was some disgusting or deplorable trait of his. “I will admit that it is not uncommon for my sleep to be disturbed by less than pleasing dreams followed by headaches.”

But something else nagged him. “…you suffer from those, as well? Frequent nightmares, I mean.” A pause. The his cheeks flushed a light pink. “Oh- that was probably a strange question. My apologies.” It did no good to ask people if they have nightmares, Dimitri!

Yet, his gaze still drifted to her, as if expecting an answer.

@eymr​

She did not think being in the presence of Dimitri would be so infuriating, but it is. He looks at her with a gentleness one should save for close allies or loved ones, or is it pity from the way his weary smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his eyes move away and to her. 

To think the leader of the Blue Lions would be so vulnerable in front of another—the heir to the Adrestrian Empire, no less—and all she had to do was make an educated guess about what it is that kept him up at night.

And he admits it. 

Edelgard makes no effort to reassure Dimitri of his social blunder. Actually, she rather not answer his invasive question at all. Those old memories that haunt her are nothing more than memories. There’s no need to talk about them with anybody. 

If her vulnerability inspires Dimitri to be more vulnerable with her, then perhaps she might learn more of his and his kingdom’s shortcomings. There is only so much Hubert can learn, after all.

nappingscholar​:

Linhardt took a deep breath, preparing for a long tangent. He wheeled out a large corkboard that was covered with a sheet. He paused to draw suspense, before quickly pulling off the sheet.

The board was covered with notes Linhardt had made as he found new evidence for his personal theories. Some notes were connected by a red string, showing that the two had to be connected somehow, but it wasn’t clear to him how they fit together.

“As you can see, I have many leads,” Linhardt gestured to the board, “but my theory isn’t definitive yet. I could be completely wrong.” He frowned slightly, looking away from the board absentmindedly.

“But what I have discovered is quite interesting.” Linhardt’s demeanor changed. A excited glint caught in his eye and he started to smile.

“There’s one thing that is constantly bothering me. Why would a supposedly benevolent Goddess gift humanity with something that only has use in combat? Sure, there are some Crests that increase healing magic, but for the most part they only increase physical strength. Don’t you agree with me?”

She was also preparing for a long tangent. Edelgard watches Linhardt wheel out a board with an attentive yet weary gaze. The Church was not trustworthy in the slightest; incorrect facts and flaws in their methodology would be useful to share with everyone else. It’s a public yet subtle statement to begin encouraging the masses to think for themselves and to rise against the nobility and Crests. 

Still, Edelgard is polite when she allows him to begin his tangent, sitting down in his desk chair to observe the board he has so graciously brought out to show her. 

The notes on the board are organized yet she cannot entirely make sense of them right away. The research of Crests was a risk in of itself. Either the results would be the same as the Church’s records, thus making the research entirely useless, or it would be something worthwhile for her and Fódlan’s people.

The academy professors are bogged down with work and need a little extra help. Teacher’s assistant positions have been opened up and are available to just about anyone willing to lend a hand. Try your hand at helping teach some of your fellow students—or get an inside opportunity to change you and your friends’ grades in the assignment logs. [Grants Authority +1]

The tip of her quill scratches the parchment, ink staining as she writes out the solution and further instructions on how to learn about the solution to the student this test belonged to.

The history of Fódlan is not simple, but it certainly isn't that hard to begin with. Some of her peers needed to double down on the history of the continent they are living in. How can they be expected to go on missions or interact with townspeople without making a fool of themselves and their house.

Edelgard sighs quietly. She moves the graded test to one side of the desk and starts to grade another, when someone enters. She doesn't look up, not right away. She finally looks when they are closer to the desk; she sets the quill down and sits up straight, expression unreadable when she looks at the person.

Recently, graves in western Adrestia have been turning up empty shortly after they’ve been buried. It may be the work of some grave robbers looking to make gold, but villagers have been whispering about ghastly looking people shambling into the woods late at night. [Grants Axe +1]

Her white hair slides over her shoulder when she peers into one of the empty graves. Freshly dug with a singular rock with a carved name in it crookedly standing at the head of the grave. She blows air out of her nose. The dirt has clearly been dug from above ground, yet the townspeople still whisper about people walking into the woods late at night.

Edelgard glances at her companion, lavender eyes traveling up and down them before turning her head to look at the ground. Fresh tracks surround several of the nearby graves. Footprints layer atop each other unevenly without a pattern. Multiple people. A sizable group.

"Grave robbers, by the looks of it."

IT'S A LONG ROAD YET.

It's almost second nature now. It is to be expected. In her position, it is polite and acceptable for another to kiss the back of the hand of royalty. It happens in the most formal of occasions when tradition and appearance trumps any commonality between classes. Even then, many do not dare touch her in greet.

Few do.

It's not a surprise that it's Ferdinand von Aegir who is brave enough to do it first outside of any formal occasion. It is slight confusion second, and by the third, it is indifference. After that, she sometimes expects it from him. (Save for the moments that he marches up to her with his chest puffed out and a challenge already leaving his lips.)

Here, it is no different. Ferdinand gingerly holds her hand and places a kiss to the back of her hand.

Her eyes look up him and down. No obvious bravado. Would she be able to focus today?

"Ferdinand, you are just in time for class," she finally greets him with a steady voice and a slight smile—polite yet pleased that he isn't here to make a competition out of something.

When he sits down, when his focus is now no longer on her, her smile disappears when she wonders if he would still follow her if he knew of the entirety of her plans.

IT'S A LONG ROAD YET.

The cacophony of shadow that had once encompassed her, surrounded her, merged with her now vaporize like dew in sunlight. She doesn't move. She keeps her eyes closed as she braces herself for the reality that she has lost, and her goal would forever be unattainable.

Edelgard opens her eyes. The velvet carpet is clean; no bloodstains, no shadows, no tears—for all the red that encompasses it, it still managed to survive the battle.

A breath. Death awaits. She has outwitted it long enough.

And he whispers "El", like it's some precious moniker when it is in fact a chip in her armor.

She raises her head, expecting a brandished blade to be held to her throat. Instead, she is greeted with sympathetic smiles of a brazen, idealistic boar and a blind instructor who thought the delusional prince of Faerghus would be a better choice to follow. Was this going to be her final sight? Infuriating, really.

Dimitri reaches out his hand.

Mercy? Weak. Foolish. Too unstable to unite this country and too soft to be a monarch.

It stays there.

If Dimitri dares show mercy, she will claw towards her goal. She will strike back.

She reaches for her dagger. He doesn't move.

He will regret looking down on her.

IT'S A LONG ROAD YET

Her finger taps rhythmically on the oak table. Slowly. Methodically. Each tap contains pent up confusion for questions she has no answers to. It all feels so familiar. She's already done this—she's already been introduced to the faculty and to her peers. She's already seen the beginning of the academic year.

And—she doesn't notice the girl approaching—something else. She has dreams about a glowing room where a monster chases her. To what end? Why?

The tapping stops. Amnesia? Other hand covers her mouth in thought. Surely not. Would Hubert have recalled anything of the sort. No, he would have told her. Then... Ferdinand, perhaps.

Just as Edelgard sighs, frustrated by the circles her thoughts continue in, the girl gently taps her shoulder, and she turns, lavender eyes watch her.

One of her housemates. Another exhale. Her shoulders relax. "Flayn. You will have to forgive me, I didn't notice you approaching."

She has a duty; there is no time to sit and wonder about memories that are neither clear nor even there.

IT'S A LONG ROAD YET

Edelgard sits in the courtyard, gloved digits hooked around the handle of her teacup. It is far more preferable to be outside and enjoy the weather, even if the breeze carries a slight chill with it every now and again. To be shut inside all day... It has happened—porcelain clinks quietly when she sets her cup down—so she must make time for moments of respite in between.

Another has the same idea. Mitama, yes, Siegbert's girlfriend. Edelgard offers her a polite smile. "Mitama. Good afternoon." She moves her hand towards the maiden, a simple gesture, and Mitama gingerly catches it.

She blinks, but does nothing to stop the polite kiss on the back of her hand.

Curious but not unwelcomed. She is royalty.

"Sit, Mitama. What is it you wish to discuss?" Her smile turns playful when she gestures to the seat adjacent to her.

healresolve​:

Cube 2.0 seems to make its own attempt at fiddling with the generator though fares no better than she so Lana does the only thing she can - try again and pray for a miracle. The complexity of the machine coupled with her unfamiliarity do her no favors, hands near blindly tracing metal in the dark until they stop on something rectangular that protrudes from its side. Thinking it as good of a lead as any, she carefully flips a latch that allows the cover to be removed, revealing an interior of rubber chords of varying colors that she has the thought to match after realizing they come in pairs. For a blessed second, the apparatus groans, convincing her that progress has been made only to spew a puff of smoke directly into Lana’s face.

“Humans. Beep.”

“Again, I would appreciate some guidance here, Mr. Cube 2.0.″ A defeated sigh escapes her, mocking putter of the generator sounding off in the background. “I cannot imagine either of us keen in lingering while… he is still out there.”

“Oh, but he frightens me none at all. Even should my casing fail, my memory will be intact, and I will be rebirthed.” It spins. “Perhaps this time Mistress Akantha will even see fit to bequeath me upon an individual with actual brains…”

Of the few outstanding qualities Lana has to her name, she prides herself on patience and understanding, but when time is of the essence considering there is no telling when Steve will return, even she cannot pardon the attitude of this— this glorified appliance. No volume of taunts can persuade her to dignify that with a response - she does have a brother, afterall. However, her eyes do drift for a short, fleeting moment from generator to cube in contemplation. Surely the quarrelsome thing possessed some means of rendering it dormant as had been found… 

@eymr​

Edelgard steps around a large machine then an overturned table, making her way to Lana as quietly as she can manage. The place is almost like a maze, were it not for the dim lights haunting the outer walls as if outlining their own prison. She frowns, eyebrows furrowing together as she stops some distance from Lana. 

The cube actually has some use. She huffs quietly. Sentient machines seem to bring more trouble than they’re worth. For now, at least. Maybe it would prove her wrong.

Another huff from behind her. She stiffens. Most of her peers easily stand taller than her—she’s used to the shadows that sometimes approach from behind. This one, however, is unnaturally stretched, sporting a neck too thin and a head too wide with elongated arms that shorten with each second. Claws of flesh appear in her peripheral vision. 

Edelgard drops, her knees hitting the ground with a solid thud, and in spite of the pain, she twists her body, pushing herself up and away when Steve lunges for her. How unfortunate for it that she seen more terrifying monsters than it. Sliding over a table, she rounds a corner. When she peeks out, Steve is nowhere to be seen. 

She frowns again—“Quite crafty, isn’t it?”—before eventually pushing away to move towards Deirdre.

secretforestlady​:​

(Lana is hooked and skipping a turn)

Deirdre is no longer alone. A pair of arms grabs her and hoists her up over a shoulder. She screams and it echoes off the walls of the chamber. There’s a voice in her head, a man’s voice, and she swears she should know to whom it belongs. Your fate was written the day you were born. There is no use fighting destiny. A woman’s voice follows. You must never mingle with men. And finally, the voice from that strange dream. Control.

No! She will not resign herself to this fate! She will fight and take her life into her own hands.

Deirdre kicks and claws and squirms in her captor’s arms. “Unhand me!” she cries out, fighting against him.

Her efforts are in vain and the Steve creature doesn’t even flinch

@eymr

Another scream, different from before. Deirdre must have captured. Edelgard steps away from the generator and quickly, quietly, moves in the direction of Lana. If the monster was with Deirdre, there was no use walking into its arms. And wasn’t that cube with Lana as well?