Actions

Work Header

Stained Glass Shadow

Chapter 25: Blue.

Notes:

cw///

Injuries, eyeball surgeries, self-harm, sexual content

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Three different personalities meant three very different plans for how to get the relic. Caspar was trying to rig several lance shafts together to fish it out, but Hubert had a feeling there was no chance of that working unless they planned on missing dinner. Linhardt wanted to go get someone else to deal with it. “We can’t just jump down there, there’s no way to get back up,” said Linhardt as he watched Hubert circling the pit. “Please tell me you’re not about to just do this, you can’t even handle a relic—”

Hubert held up his gloved hands. “I won’t be touching it.” Climbing down there and fetching it seemed straight forward enough, and the sooner it was in their possession the better. “Besides, I know you want to study it and unlock its secrets,” said Hubert. This was the closest they were going to get to a relic unless Lorenz gave Linhardt access to Thyrsus, which seemed extremely unlikely.

Linhardt groaned at the prospect. “At least go get a rope or a ladder, or something.”

“Maybe if someone could hurry up and master Warp we wouldn’t be having this discussion.” Hubert glared at the lazy scholar, while glossing over the fact that he himself could only warp using dark magic with the aid of an amplifier like a staff. “Why don’t you make yourself useful for a change and get one since you don’t wish to go down there yourself?” This was something worth getting dirty for because it meant keeping a relic, of all the things to find, out the hands of the Slithers. The longer they left it while looking for help getting it, the more people would find out about it. Hubert wanted this discovery kept as quiet as possible.

Linhardt let out a disgruntled groan before trudging off in search of a rope. Caspar licked his lips as he looked at the distance to the ground and then seemed to size up Hubert. “I bet you I can lower you down there, I bet I can even get you back up. You’re not that heavy,” said Caspar with confidence.

Caspar had once carried Hubert against his will to tea with Ferdinand, so if anyone was good for this sort of thing it was him. Hubert tried to ignore his fear of heights as Caspar lowered him down by his arms. It was less than two feet to the ground once Caspar let go. An unlit torch clattered down next to him followed by a late breaking, “Incoming!”

Hubert awkwardly navigated the many bones littering the ground. Attempting to avoid the skeletons made his travel extremely slow and he couldn’t wait for the mocking Linhardt was going to give him for getting down here without waiting for a sure way up. Clearly people had been pushed into this pit and some of the skeletons appeared impaled upon the monstrously tall spikes. Others looked like their skulls had cracked open upon impact. However it was strange the way they were sprawled out as if only a handful of them had been pushed while others looked like they had taken attacks down in the pit itself with the occasional rusted sword in a rib cage. Hubert wondered if it was a sort of midden where fallen fighters got swept in like rubbish.

The relic was only noticeable because it was faintly glowing against the darkness. It was a shock no one had looted it sooner, but maybe they were wisely afraid of it. Hubert hoped his gloves would be enough to protect him when handling the thing. Edelgard wouldn’t let him mess about with the fake crest stones for fear he’d become a demonic beast, but she never explicitly forbidden him from touching a real crest stone. She probably wouldn’t appreciate this subtle distinction he was making but it would be easier to ask forgiveness than permission.

“What do you think these people did?” called Caspar down into the pit.

“Pissed off the wrong person,” said Hubert as he looked up towards the throne like structure looming up above the pit. Falling to ones death seemed like a horrible way to die, though Hubert couldn’t exactly think of a good way to go.

The relic appeared to be a necklace adorning a slumped skeleton. The crest stone pulsed with a reddish light and displayed a pleasant twisting symbol at its center. Hubert knew that crest, Lamine. He looked again at the skeleton and wondered who he or she had been in the line that had eventually given the world the Death Knight and Mercedes. As he carefully lifted the relic by its chain, an unholy wail filled his ears.

Apparitions began to rise from the greasy old bones. Caspar, from his safe vantage point, let out a distressed cry, “Hubert! Behind you!”

The magic passed through his back before he really registered that he was clutching the relic. What should have hurt a lot felt dulled to a mere ache. Yet his hand was searing where it held the chain. The thin fabric of his glove had been burned through to the skin. The relic seemed to take most of the blow even though it injured him back in kind. Hubert didn’t have time to pick apart what was happening as the ghost of a humorless looking gremory began to rise from the skeleton at his feet.

Hubert abandoned all hope of avoiding old bones as he sprinted towards Caspar. He saw Caspar’s hands stretching down to pull him up. Hubert jumped with all he was worth and merely grazed Caspar’s fingers before falling back down to the ground and the attack of an incoming apparition. Hubert swung his torch at the ghost and then dropped it and the relic as he prepared to cast.

There were ten adversaries, and each ghost bore the symbol of distinct crest upon their chest. These were the Ten Elites, and this was their final resting ground. Caspar could be heard dropping in the dim light to the bottom of the pit and rolling to his feet ready to fight.

“You should be getting help, not jumping down here,” roared Hubert as he dodged another attack. The ghosts gave off an eerie glow which made them easy to target, but otherwise the torch was their only source of light.

Caspar only had what he had gathered in the fighting arena, some training gauntlets, as he punched his way to Hubert’s side. “You wouldn’t last long enough for me to go get help.” Hubert would have argued but Caspar managed to punch a ghost, Charon, hard enough to cause it to evaporate into glowing wisps that fizzed and faded. At least this meant they could be eliminated. Hubert hoped it wasn’t just a temporary reprieve.

Hubert focused on the ghostly forms that appeared to have ranged attacks — Lamine and Riegan — while Caspar engaged Goneril. Caspar was yelling out positions of the apparitions as he saw them, which was helpful as Hubert spun to cast. Perhaps Caspar’s yelling had some utility in battle after all. However the two kept getting pushed closer and closer together until their backs were up against the wall of the pit. There wasn’t any hope of escape unless Linhardt magically appeared to get them and Hubert’s blood ran cold as he heard the slice of flesh and a gurgle from beside him. Caspar had been hit with a throwing axe courtesy of Dominic.

Hubert caught Caspar’s heavy falling form as the small brawler slumped against him. The axe fell free, causing more blood to begin to spill. Hubert frantically tried to compress the wound as he assessed the locations of the remaining ghosts. Hubert could barely see anything but the burning bright ghost as they closed in on the two of them.

The terrible wail had drawn the attention of another ally helping to explore the tunnels. Jeritza cleared the distance down into the pit with startling ease as he began to slice through Dominic and Gautier with his scythe like they were nothing. Hubert focused on Caspar as Jeritza went on to eliminate Daphnel.

Hubert’s mind raced as he considered the field triage protocol for a chest wound. “Please work, please work,” he whispered as he concentrated on doing a Heal spell. He tried and failed. Mercedes’ lesson during Hanneman’s class so long ago floated through his mind. Happy, what makes you happy? His brain was caught on a loop of emptiness as he broke it with the thought of kissing Mercedes, not at the ball but in an imagined future, and his hands lit up with green. Caspar coughed and Hubert looked in disbelief that his spell had worked, but it clearly wasn’t enough. He wiped his brow and realized that his gloves were soaked with Caspar’s blood as more bubbled out.

Gloucester got too close and Hubert snapped back into the battle with Dark Spikes. Caspar’s breath was shallow and ragged as Hubert pressed his hand back upon the brawler’s chest and thought about all the silly things Caspar managed to bother Hubert with while he was trying to work. His hands glowed green again as another weak Heal spell tried and failed to shut the skin. Something else happy; Edelgard sharing her sketches with Dorothea and Petra; dancing with Mercedes in the dank Wilted Rose; magic lessons in the imperial gardens in his childhood. None of Hubert’s healing spells were enough to save Caspar, but they were keeping him hanging on.

Jeritza dispatched Fraldarius, leaving just Blaiddyd. The ghost of the dark knight was hulking and huge. As a blast of Ragnarok began to brew Hubert threw himself over Caspar in a last attempt to shield him from any further harm. Green chains flashed in the air, a Silence spell, as Linhardt got back with his rope. With Blaiddyd’s attack muzzled, Jeritza wasted no time in going in for the second death of the apparition.

Linhardt clumsily fell into Jeritza’s arms before pushing Hubert to the side and performing actual healing magic on Caspar. Things began to pass in a blur to Hubert as Jeritza did most of the heavy lifting to get them out of the pit. The Death Knight paused over the retrieved relic and then lifted it to inspect it. Jeritza unceremoniously placed it around his neck and continued silently with his duties. The warm blood soaking Hubert’s front was beginning to chill and leaving him cold as he stared down into the pit of death for far too long. People had tried to get that relic before but had been stopped, and he too had almost become another skeleton at the bottom.

***

Mercedes followed Ingrid through the woods. She wished she had on warmer clothes or a coat, but her adrenaline was pumping and keeping her warm. Every once and a while she’d look back over her shoulder to Garreg Mach rising out of the woods and wondered when her absence would be questioned. Hopefully no one would think to search for her beyond the monastery grounds.

“You cut your hair,” said Mercedes as she panted behind Ingrid, watching the other girl’s neck and imagining it was freezing. “It looks nice.”

“I didn’t do it to look nice,” said Ingrid, her manner as blunt as her bob. “It’s practical.”

“So why are you still out here in the cold?” asked Mercedes as Ingrid gave her hand to grab as they climbed up some rocks. “Why aren’t you home, or in Fhirdiad?”

“Because the fight is here,” said Ingrid as she caught her breath.

Mercedes checked her medic’s kit to make sure all her bottles were intact. “It’s not much of a fight though if its only the five of you—”

“Three,” said Ingrid softly. “There’s only three of us.”

Mercedes felt a small panic in her chest. “So—”

“Sylvain and Annette fled after the fight in the woods,” said Ingrid, her voice soaked in bitterness.

Mercedes was extremely relieved to hear that. She wished she could see Annette and give her a big hug, but in all honesty the farther her friend was from here the better. “You should know that the Emperor is intent on finding Dimitri, she’s ordered my brother here to look for him.”

Ingrid groaned. “Just our luck. No offense, but fuck your brother.”

It was offensive but Mercedes did her best to let it go. She understood why her friends despised Emile, but understanding didn’t make it hurt less. When she confided in her fellow Blue Lions that she was almost certain Jertiza was her brother she wasn’t sure what she was expecting for a response. Mercedes wanted to be open and upfront on the off chance they fought the Death Knight again after he fled Garreg Mach. She was terrified she would hesitate or freeze if having to confront him, which would put everyone relying on her at risk. They had a right to know. Everyone seemed to go out of their way to let her know that they didn’t see her as a reflection of him — they’d been raised separately, they were estranged, she wasn’t responsible for his sins — but no one made a point to try to understand why she wasn’t rushing to condemn Jeritza. Only Sylvain seemed to empathize with the complexity of having a family member who was so antagonistic, but he wasn’t exactly eager to discuss this with her.

“He’s helping to seal the tunnels we went through, you have time to leave before he starts searching the woods.”

“Dimitri’s not going anywhere fast,” said Ingrid. “He was slowing down, but, I thought it was him coming back not getting sicker.”

It was an odd way to phrase things. “What do you mean?”

Ingrid was keeping her head up and looking stalwart as she walked. Finally her lip quivered a bit as she broke down. “Dimitri’s not well. Not just his eye, his head and his heart. He’s fighting a lot of darkness, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“Oh,” murmured Mercedes. She swallowed as she remembered Dimitri’s behavior in the last few battles in their time as students, and seeing what had befallen the monastery was especially depraved. She didn’t want to believe it was him who had enacted such violence, but that was where the evidence fell. As much as she wanted to tell Hubert he was wrong in his investigation into the massacre, Yuri had confirmed it in front of her. “Well, let’s fix his eye first, and then we’ll see what can be done for the rest.”

“Thanks for coming,” said Ingrid softly. “I know it’s a big risk. But, you know, we could really use you out here—”

“If I stay out here, there’s a higher chance you’ll be caught,” said Mercedes. She envisioned Jeritza out looking for, and not stopping until she was found. It was not a risk she was willing to take. “I’ve asked to come out on patrols, and now that I know where your base is, I can help to divert my brother off course, but you should really try to leave.”

“What if you help us take Dimitri back to Fhirdiad?” Ingrid’s voice was hopeful.

Mercedes gave a bittersweet glance back in the direction of Garreg Mach, and then north. “I have unfinished business here.”

Ingrid studied her for a few moments with what felt like contempt. “You’re really staying for your brother?”

Mercedes nodded. “I can’t leave him, not again.” She paused and tried to seem optimistic. “Besides, if I stay that means you have two allies on the inside.”

“Two?”

“Felix,” said Mercedes. Ingrid interrupted her with a harrumph and Mercedes frowned. “I know that you’re mad at him, but I think he panicked. He’s been very withdrawn since he had to fight you, he’s filled with regret—”

“He made his choice,” said Ingrid. It sounded like she had made her own choice to never forgive him.

Mercedes sighed, “Don’t you believe in giving people second chances?”

Ingrid froze and grew visibly stiff, “Of course, but people need to earn them—”

“Sometimes they need the permission to try, through our forgiveness,” said Mercedes.

“Save the goddess stuff right now,” said Ingrid. She seemed like she might cry. “I’m not ready to forgive them.”

Them. Mercedes guessed that meant Felix, Sylvain, and Annette. Mercedes didn’t want to press the point further. “I hope if the time comes, you can find it in yourself,” said Mercedes. They didn’t speak much after that. The walk was arduous but Mercedes persevered. She didn’t want to be out here after dark and it was already noon.

Finally they reached the cave and Mercedes’ heart leapt at the sight of Dedue. Before he could even get out a hello she was hugging him. “I’m glad to see you,” she said into his chest. It had been almost eight months since she had last seen any of them. She hadn’t had an easy time trapped within the Imperial Army, but she couldn’t deny that she seemed much better off then they did.

“I am grateful you came,” said Dedue before looking at Dimitri. “The prince is in dire need of your attention.”

It was a massive understatement. Dimitri looked exceptionally pale laying beneath blankets in a makeshift bed. Mercedes found his forehead very hot to the touch. He groaned slightly but otherwise barely reacted to her presence. “You said his fever has been going on three days now?” Mercedes asked as she looked up at Ingrid.

“Yes, and he’s barely taken in any food or water,” added Ingrid worriedly. “We cleaned him up and made him comfortable, but we’re out of medicine and neither of us are much for faith spells.”

Mercedes pursed her lips as her mind raced through what needed to happen. “Dedue, could you please make sure Dimitri’s arms stay down as I examine his eye?”

With Dimitri secure, Mercedes braced herself as she attempted to open his injured eye. That did get a reaction of him as Dimitri’s good eye flashed open and he emitted a well justified cry of pain. The wound was extremely raw, and it was one of the worst infections Mercedes had ever seen in her time as a healer. She immediately got out a concoction and tried to keep her voice as comforting as possible. “Dimitri, this will help with the pain.”

He twisted his head away from Mercedes and tried to avoid her hands until Ingrid sighed and forced his mouth open. Mercedes tried to maintain a calm control of the situation. “Be gentle with him, everything must hurt terribly right now,” said Mercedes as she administered one, and then two concoctions. The three of them waited over the prince as his body stopping fighting them and grew lax.

“We have to take him to the monastery,” whispered Mercedes. This felt miles above her skill level to treat.

“Can’t you just use a spell?” asked Ingrid.

Healing spells and potions were passive solutions in the vein of prayer and warm wishes. Mercedes was getting the impression this was going to take some active action to solve. The eye was a loss and it needed to come out, but Mercedes had only read about such things. The proper way to do it was to save as much as possible and let it heal slowly under observation, but that would require taking him to the monastery and more skillful hands. “He could be treated in the infirmary by a team of physicians—”

“That is not an option,” said Dedue. “The Empire will capture him, they might even kill him. Besides, he would never agree to taking their help.”

“Well we can’t exactly ask his opinion,” said Mercedes. While she agreed with Dedue’s instincts, they were just that. If the choice was between dying and accepting the Empire’s help, would Dimitri really choose the former? “I just don’t know that I’m the best person to do this,” started Mercedes. She’d never even seen a surgery like this done and there was so much that could go wrong.

“You’re the person we have,” whispered Ingrid softly as she looked down at Dimitri. “So you’re going to have to be the best.” Mercedes didn’t miss the way Ingrid’s hand had come to rest on the handle of her short sword. “If you’re still a Blue Lion beneath that Adrestian uniform, you’ll do this.”

“I hope you’re not intending that to be a threat,” said Mercedes as neutrally as possible as she stared at Ingrid. Ingrid’s eyes averted as her hand slipped off the handle of her sword.

Dedue cleared his throat. “I know it is not ideal, but this is the reality of our situation.”

“Alright,” said Mercedes as she tried to mentally prepare herself for performing a solo surgery based purely on book knowledge. Mercedes hadn’t been praying much recently but now she clasped her hands together and silently begged the Goddess, If you are in fact nudging me to where I need to be, please let me be here to save Dimitri, and not to bury him. She took a few deep breaths and accepted that if it had to be done here, then she would figure things out. She wasn’t going to ask Dimitri’s forgiveness for what she was about to do, but she hoped they both survived for him to give it to her someday in person.

“I need a fire, as close as you can make it,” directed Mercedes as she pulled out her supplies. If she had been able to treat him immediately upon being injured, he might still have his sight, but as it stood that eye could only be fixed with removal.

Mercedes washed her hands and did her best to sterilize her tools with the scant amount of alcohol she had. This was the least nice place to perform a surgery but there was no helping it. “Ingrid, you have smaller fingers, can you sit here by his head?”

Ingrid and Dedue exchanged glances and then Ingrid nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to hold his eyelids open,” said Mercedes. “As wide as you can manage, flip them if you need to.”

“Oh, of course,” said Ingrid as she stared at Dimitri’s swollen red lid. She winced as she did it, appearing barely able to look at what she was doing. “Is this good?”

The sight and the smell was stomach turning but Mercedes cleared her throat and did her best to ignore it. “You’re doing wonderfully.”

She first fished a small clay vessel out of her bag and held it over the fire. Dedue watched her tentatively. “What is that for?” he asked.

“I’m creating a vacuum,” said Mercedes calmly before quickly placing the mouth of the round cup over the eye socket.

“You plan on sucking his eye out?” Dedue’s characteristic calmness was replaced with horror.

Mercedes wished it were that simple. “No, I’m trying to get all the pus out. Keep his torso as still as possible.”

It was slow work but eventually much of the infectious fluid was cleared and Mercedes could get an actual look at the eye socket. Felix had sliced straight into the eyeball, which had then been scratched ragged. Whatever essential fluid that had been in there was long gone leaving things looking sunken and deflated, yet stretched out by the muscles still holding it in place. The pupil, just a hole after all, was clouded by the emptiness, and the beautiful blues of Dimitri’s iris were punctuated by the alarming red tone the sclera had taken on. All Mercedes saw was a tempting space for further infection to brew.

“I’m going to cut the eye free and heal the socket. If it stays I’m afraid it’ll get reinfected,” said Mercedes. She was explaining all this out loud mostly for her own benefit. Mercedes had never done surgery on a friend, but this was not the time to be passive.

“You’re sure there is no way to fix it with magic?” Dedue was staring at Mercedes knife with apprehension.

Mercedes sighed, “Magic will help to seal things up and eliminate the existing infection, but it can’t conjure up everything that’s needed. The eye is very complicated, and magic can only really draw from what’s there. I can reattach a finger right away when it’s been cut off, but I can’t regrow it.”

Dimitri let out a small groan. Goddess, how were the concoctions already fading? It had to be his crest. Mercedes knew she had to work quickly because she didn’t have enough supplies to keep him sedated for long. “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get this thing out.”

As Mercedes lowered her thin, razor sharp surgical knife into the orbit, Dimitri began to squirm. “Dedue, keep him still.” Mercedes continued as quickly as she could as she trimmed away the contents from the sidewalls of the orbit. Every cut felt like a mistake and more than once she had to stop to suck out the blood pooling in the socket. Eventually the eyeball was free, save for the great big stalk leading back into Dimitri’s brain. By now though the concoctions were almost faded and Dimitri was moving more than ever and beginning to moan in pain. It was heartbreaking to hear it but Mercedes didn’t have time to linger on those thoughts.

“Ingrid, keep his head from moving.” Mercedes took a deep breath and severed the connection before flooding the bloody area with a vulnerary.

Dimitri’s crest lit up at that as he tried to throw Dedue off of him. Yet in his weakened state he was no match for his friends who kept him firmly pinned. Mercedes kept up her assault of healing spells as she pressed the eyelids tight against what she had left inside his orbit. Her eyes clouded with dark spots and the compulsion to vomit tightened in her throat as her magic forced the skin to scar over and eliminate any lingering pockets of infection. What was left when the green glow finally faded was scarred over skin from his eye lids stretched tight inside his now empty eye socket. It was hard to look at but, it wouldn’t get reinfected. She had succeeded.

With shaky hands, Mercedes opened up her canteen until Dedue took it off her. “Please, allow me,” he whispered as he opened it.

Wordlessly, Ingrid helped to prop Dimitri up against herself as Dedue tipped the water down the prince’s throat. Dimitri didn’t struggle as his friends held him. Mercedes was amazed by the silent teamwork Ingrid and Dedue now found themselves engaged in, when she was sure a year ago there would be only quiet resentment.

Mercedes felt Dimitri’s head and found it a little cooler from all the magic. “He’s going to need to keep resting. You should try making a bone broth if you can manage.”

“I’ll go hunting,” said Ingrid.

“I know how to cook it,” said Dedue.

“Give him a vulnerary every couple hours after the concoctions run out, that will help clear up any lingering infection.” Mercedes steadied herself as she started to unpack up her supplies for them to keep. “I have to get back before anyone notices I’ve been gone.”

“Do you need an escort?” asked Dedue.

“No, no stay here and take care of him. Besides it would be very bad if you were caught, but thank you,” said Mercedes softly. She didn’t think Dedue would harm her, but she was still wary about how Ingrid had seemed to threaten her.

“Thank you for taking the risk to come out here,” whispered Dedue as he hugged Mercedes once more. To her surprise, Ingrid joined in and the three held each other in silence for a few moments. Yet Mercedes knew she couldn’t linger much longer if she was going to get back before the woods grew too dark.

Mercedes was freezing as she walked in the shrinking light with only a small fire spell in her hand to light the way. She felt numb, not from the cold, but from sights of the day. She was used to seeing horrible things, but instead of letting them fester in her mind she usually tried to focus on the good things in life. As a child she had grown up surrounded by carcasses — livestock, game, occasionally people — and a family that celebrated that natural order of strength above all else. Yet the Bartels’ estate was also a place of wildflowers, of small animals to play with, of her brother and ghost stories shared in the dead of night. She cherished the wonderful, and safely tucked away the bad.

In Fhirdiad she had seen poverty first hand and discrimination rampant through its streets. Yet she was also safe there, thanks in no small part to the Church of Seiros. Fhirdiad was far from perfect, but it was the place she chose to see as home. She had watched as the Duscurians in the city, so easily picked out by their appearances, were pushed into a heavily patrolled cramped city block. News carried of the subjugation of their lands in retaliation for their apparent regicide. Then came the stamping out of rebellion in the west, and Mercedes had passively swallowed down the message that this was the natural order of things. The church was good, and protected her from the bad, so if the church approved of a slaughter, then it must be for a reason.

At Garreg Mach she was in the heart of her religion, surrounded by friends and immersed in new things to learn. It felt like destiny, and a purpose given to her by Sothis’ own hand. Mercedes was a distinguished student, despite being a commoner; the Goddess had given her this crest and now she finally had a meaningful way to honor that gift. However, between the lessons and the joy, she’d seen students turned into demonic beasts, and her own brother trying to kill her friends. Was that destiny too? What did it mean if people — people she loved — were destined to do bad things? She’d witnessed executions of those voicing opposition and outright rebelling against the church. Shamefully she’d accepted it then as the Goddess’ will, but Mercedes was no longer willing to kill in the name of a deity that appeared to reward some and punish others, for seemingly no rhyme or reason.

This was the fabric that her life had been cut from and today stood out like a needle pushing through the cloth straight into her finger, over, and over again. If you’re still a Blue Lion beneath that Adrestian uniform…Those lines had begun to blur and she wasn’t sure what she was anymore. Not a Black Eagle, but maybe not exactly a Blue Lion. This was how she’d always been; not a Bartels but not much of a Martritz, not a noble but not exactly a commoner, too hot blooded for Faerghus, but too modest for Adresia.

Her hands itched with the phantom feeling of the dark magic she’d cast at her lowest point. Mercedes paused and let her black magic flame extinguish. She focused on the easiest, most basic dark magic spell, Mire, and let it bubble in her hands. Mercedes wanted to know why killing with dark magic left gruesome scars behind, when killing with anything else only seemed to scar the soul. Dark magic hurt to use, and somehow that was cathartic; it was something bad that for once in her life she could control. Mercedes let Mire fizzle out. When she used faith magic she drew from things outside herself, friendship, the Church, her crest, trust in something bigger. Now she understood that when she used dark magic it wasn’t about being in pain or being sad or angry, it was about control. It was lack of trust in something bigger, and instead trust in herself above the goddess; that was why it was punished. Apparently there were things the Goddess wouldn’t forgive after all.

As Mercedes closed in on the monastery she began to come up with her cover for why she’d been gone and why she had lost so many concoctions and vulneraries. Mercedes’ stark white apron was already stained with blood so she’d tell them she was attacked and robbed in the Abyss. Maybe she’d gotten lost too to account for all the missed time and why she was out in the woods now. However she’d have to make herself look more convincing. With great reluctance Mercedes stared at a particularly rough looking tree and braced herself for the pain she was about to inflict. First she used her knife to start a hole the shoulder of her dress, and then she ripped the front of uniform with all her might before slamming herself into the trunk. Mercedes caught her scream in her throat as she felt the abrasion and knew a bruise would be there soon enough. She silently cried as she further scraped her brow along the tree. Her fingers came away bloody from touching her stinging eyebrow and she prayed this was worth the pain.

She was stopped by soldiers on patrol as she got close to the monastery. Mercedes held up her kit, emblazoned with the Adrestian eagle, “I work in the infirmary, please help me, I was attacked down in the tunnels.” The lie came out easily, just like her tears. She felt like a hypocrite for having lectured Ingrid about forgiveness when she herself was stepping deeper and deeper into deception of those around her and more worrisome, of her own heart. Helping Dimitri was an easy, natural choice, but if it came down to him or her brother Mercedes wasn’t sure who she would jump to help first. She prayed that she never found herself in such a situation.

Mercedes was guided to the infirmary which looked like it had recently been in chaos. Caspar was laying bandaged and unconscious in one of the beds looking ashen. What could only be Hubert in the next bed was a huddled mass beneath a quilt with only his dark hair sticking out to give him away. Mercedes didn’t get a very good look at either before Manuela, who looked more than a little harangued, intercepted her. Manuela stared at Mercedes with an expression that went from shock to rage. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Mercedes found she was shaking from her nerves and the cold. “I, I was mugged. It was a trap, there wasn’t anyone that needed my help. I was just lured down there so they could steal the concoctions.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” said Manuela fiercely as she held Mercedes close to lead her behind a privacy screen. “Did you get a good look at the scoundrels?”

“They ran off. I’m not even sure they were from the Abyss, they might have just been passing thieves.” The last thing she needed was someone falsely accused of hurting her. Clumsy, hapless Mercedes, too kind, so easily taken advantage of. Mercedes hated leaning into her reputation but she needed to be as convincing as possible. “I know they must have been desperate, but, I don’t understand why anyone would do this.”

“Bastards,” muttered Manuela with venom in her words as she healed Mercedes’ forehead. Her eyes lingered on Mercedes’ torn and dirty uniform. “Did they touch you?”

“Not like that,” whispered Mercedes as the pain began to fade into a familiar numbness.

Manuela still looked angry, but also a little relieved at that. “I’m glad you’re not still down in there, who knows when you would have been found.”

Manuela helped Mercedes out of her clothes and ordered up a hot bath while she worked on the large abraded patch on Mercedes shoulder. Manuela stepped out to give Mercedes some privacy as she went to fetch a nightgown. Mercedes wearily scrubbed over the new scar and the painful bruise she’d given herself. Manuela and the soldiers on patrol seemed to buy her story, and hopefully that meant that it wouldn’t get investigated too much further.

Manuela came back with clean clothes and a flask. “Do you want whiskey or a sleeping draught?”

“Whiskey’s fine,” murmured Mercedes as she accepted a shot from Manuela’s personal stock. It burned her throat but in a pleasant way that washed her over with a sense of detached calmness. Manuela folded the privacy screens back as Mercedes took a seat on her bed and looked at Capsar. “What happened?”

Manuela pulled up a chair and sighed. “There was an attack down in the Abyss. Hubert and Caspar got trapped in some sort of pit and set upon by ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” reiterated Mercedes in disbelief. She loved ghost stories, but the idea of being attacked by real ghosts was something else entirely. She hadn’t even been aware that was possible. “They summoned ghosts?”

Manuela nodded. “You don’t have to whisper. Caspar’s on a mess of concoctions and I forced Hubert to take half a sleeping potion.”

“Will they be alright?” Mercedes felt a little guilty purposefully injuring herself when there were people in here that actually needed Manuela’s attention.

“Caspar, well, he took an axe to the chest but Hubert stabilized him for long enough for Linhardt to reach them,” explained Manuela.

Mercedes covered her mouth as she listened; part of her was screaming at herself that she should been here to do her job, and another part was screaming back that she had been where she was truly needed. Manuela took Mercedes’ other hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Actually, it was your brother that ended up saving them. You know, I’m not going to lie, I had some bad feelings towards Jeritza.”

“I understand,” mumbled Mercedes. Everyone seemed to. She could practically hear Ingrid cursing him echoing in her head.

“But, he actually apologized to me earlier tonight,” said Manuela. “It was so sincere and heartfelt! Kind of a letdown if I’m being honest, I was hoping to give him a piece of my mind, maybe even a revenge stab, but not after an apology like that.” Manuela gave Mercedes a small smile. “I think I finally see the family resemblance.”

Mercedes wasn’t sure if it was Manuela’s words or whiskey that made her burst into tears. “Thank you for saying something nice about him,” she finally managed as Manuela hugged her. It meant far more than she thought it would to hear someone say something good about Emile, and to know that someone else could see him beneath his mask of the Death Knight.

“Honey, you’ve had a long day, you should really rest,” whispered Manuela as she stroked Mercedes back and continued to hug her. “Do you want that other half of a sleeping draught?” Mercedes nodded, anything to escape seemed good right now.

When Mercedes woke up hours later the infirmary was still and dark save for the bright moonlight filtering in from outside. She’d missed two meals and was both starving and extremely thirsty. As Mercedes’ senses adjusted to the darkness she realized she wasn’t the only one awake. Hubert was sitting hunched over at Caspar’s bedside and holding the unconscious grappler’s hand to his forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Mercedes was shocked to hear the wet sound of his voice. “I shouldn’t have told you to shut up. I shouldn’t have criticized you.” He let out a little laugh that bled into a sob. “Turns out, your shouting is vital. I was wrong. So please don’t die because we need you to yell at us on the battlefield.”

She cleared her throat to make her presence known, and Hubert looked up with quick shock as Mercedes got out of bed and crept over. He quickly put Caspar’s hand back and wiped his eyes as if to hide the fact that he was capable of feeling an attachment to anyone but Edelgard. “It’s sweet of you to sit with him,” said Mercedes gently. Mercedes adjusted the blanket over Caspar as she tried to assess the state of his injuries. “I’m sure he appreciates it.”

Hubert sighed as he looked at Caspar and lightly conjured up an extremely weak looking healing spell to cast over his friend. Mercedes was struck by the sight of it. While it was not impressive on its own, it was noteworthy because of the caster. “You finally found something that makes you happy?”

Hubert looked up at her with an expression of having just been caught with a secret as the spell flickered and died. “Sorry to have woken you up,” he whispered.

He looked like he needed a warm beverage and a sympathetic ear, and she frankly did too. “Do you want to take tea with me?”

“I don’t wish to bother you,” said Hubert softly. From his tone it seemed like he was already composing himself to mask away any feelings.

“It’s not a bother,” insisted Mercedes. It felt like the right thing to do. She herself was on the verge of tears still thinking about her friends out in the wilds trying to care for each other. She didn’t want to be alone, or she was afraid she was going to break down with nothing to distract her from this despair. “Please, I insist.”

He tentatively followed her into the little break room where Mercedes kept a tea set. “What about Manuela?” Hubert’s words were barely audible. Manuela was passed out in the little bed in the back and snoring softly. Mercedes was pretty sure it was supposed to be her turn for the night shift this evening, and she was extremely grateful Manuela had taken it instead.

Mercedes risked talking. “She’s a very heavy sleeper.” Mercedes lit up a candle and began preparing a tea pot as she boiled the water with black magic. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a particularly relaxing blend and a tin containing cake. It wasn’t a meal but it was something.

“I didn’t realized you cared so much about Caspar,” whispered Mercedes. She figured it was best not to actually wake up Manuela, who was also notoriously cranky when her beauty sleep was interrupted.

“I didn’t either,” admitted Hubert as he leaned against the wall and watched her preparing a little cart. His eyes were lingering on the bruise and small scar that Mercedes was sure was on her brow.

“I know you don’t really care for tea, but this is an herbal blend, and it always makes me feel better,” said Mercedes as she selected two tea cups. Her hands were shaking as she did it, and she hoped he didn’t notice. She motioned for him to follow as she pushed the cart back into the infirmary and towards her bed.

Mercedes sat cross legged so she could lean against the headboard and patted the other side of her so he’d do the same. “Aren’t you going to get crumbs in the bed?” asked Hubert. He was looking between the cozy spot and the uncomfortable wooden chair nearby. Mercedes reached over to put the cake tin on the chair to eliminate the option.

“I’m sure I’ll survive a few cake crumbs,” said Mercedes as she ate the slightly stale cake. “I’m so hungry I’d even eat Daphnel stew.”

Hubert had a tiny smirk on his face as he took the spot beside her. “I hate that dish too.”

“Do you like the tea?” It was chamomile, and it always made her feel extra relaxed.

“It’s awful,” he deadpanned. It was not his usual sharp sarcasm; he seemed subdued and weighed down.

“And yet you keep drinking it,” she said as she watched him take another sip.

“It’s not the worst tea,” admitted Hubert as he set his teacup aside on the nightstand. He was staring at her. “Why are you sleeping here tonight?”

Mercedes felt a shameful flush crossing her face as her lies and cover story flooded her mind. “I um, I was robbed in the Abyss by a couple of thieves.” She felt a little ill considering the real reason. She also felt repulsive for lying so much today, but here she was.

In the candlelight she could see the growing concern on his face. “What?” She was surprised to feel his hand finding hers and holding it tightly. “Who? What did they do to you—”

“I’m fine, really. They just wanted the concoctions I had. They only gave me rough handling and ran off,” said Mercedes. “But, I got lost and ended up wandering the tunnels until I ended up in the woods,” said Mercedes as she set her teacup back on the cart. She didn’t want him questioning her about it lest she spill the real story. Just the thought of accidentally giving up her friends was bringing tears to her eyes. Mercedes attempted to switch the subject. “So you can do heal now, that’s a huge improvement,” said Mercedes as she recalled how impossible it had seemed for him back in school. “What did you end up thinking about?”

Hubert was staring at her with a pensive expression. “I was thinking about you.”

“Oh,” said Mercedes, unable to contain her surprise at the ease with which the confession slid from him. Had he not just been telling her to move on and find someone better to desire her? “What exactly were you thinking about me?”

“Kissing you,” he murmured, the shame in his voice was impossible to miss. He reached out and Mercedes felt the strange cool sensation of his healing magic upon her bruise; everyone had a signature feel to their magic, Linhardt felt like an inoffensive probing, Manuela like a big sloppy kiss, and Mercedes apparently like eating bread fresh from the oven. Hubert’s felt like cold paint brushed upon her injury.

Her eyes met his and found them filled with a mix of anticipation and reservation. She swallowed as she leaned in and was met with his lips pressing back into hers. This was not the polite, tame kiss they’d shared at the ball a year before. It was unrestrained with their mouths still overly hot from the tea. Mercedes felt his hand finding her waist as he went in more deeply. She let herself relax into his embrace as she dared to press against him. For a moment she was allowed to ignore what she’d seen that day and focus instead on a growing warmth within her. Then in an instant he was letting her go and pulling back like he could not catch his breath.

“It’s alright,” she whispered as she realized Hubert was probably still shaken up over whatever he’d seen that day too. She herself still felt numb after what she’d had to do today, and the kiss had been the first thing that had truly felt nice since the afternoon. She looked back up at him and wished his arms would just encircle her. “Are you afraid of me?” Mercedes did not know how else to read his body language. He felt tense and wanting, and yet completely apprehensive.

“I’m afraid of what I’m feeling,” said Hubert. His words were low and honest, “I am not used to desiring anyone, at all.” He seemed to be fighting himself internally as the words struggled free. “Rationally, you are the last person I ought to want to be with. Our goals, our values, our backgrounds do not align, they scrape and break against each other. And irrationally, it makes me want to contort into a shape that fits into your world without glaringly standing out as something that cannot belong.”

“We’re both here now, let’s not over complicate it,” whispered Mercedes. She felt her emotions spiraling, “Don’t you ever just want to forget about everything for a little bit—”

He interrupted her with another kiss. Mercedes was probably too eager to shift her body into his lap. He was something solid and real to focus on instead of the swirling despair over having done field surgery on a friend. His hands slid down to her hips where they seemed content to rest as she ground against him. There was a certain thrill in feeling him getting aroused through their clothes and knowing that she was the one responsible for it. She silently she took hold of one of his hands and guided him up and into her night gown. Hubert drew back and stared at her with confusion.

“I just want to feel something good today,” Mercedes whispered. Anything to distract herself, even if only momentarily.

“Are you sure this is what you want, with me?” She could barely hear him. “In here?”

“Please don’t make me beg you for it.” She hated sounding this desperate, but this was successfully keeping her mind from sliding into the intrusive visions of removing Dimitri’s eye. “It’s just one night.” He didn’t move and Mercedes felt a pang of frustration laced with disappointment that this was never going to progress anywhere. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but this is the last time I’m asking.” This was it, no more passively waiting for him to make a move, if he kept deflecting she was giving up.

His face was hard to read but he didn’t attempt to dissuade her any further as he shifted her from his lap to her back. His fingers slid up her thigh her as he began to kiss her neck. Mercedes tried not to make too much noise as she ran her nails down his back. “There, you’re there,” whispered Mercedes in his ear as soon as his fingers had finally begun to rub the right spot. Everything she had seen, smelled, and heard that day faded as the sensation of being pleasured ramped up within her. The chilly forest was replaced with a steaming breath along her neck and sweat building upon her skin. Dimitri’s pained cries gave way to her own held back moans. The broken blue eye was exchanged for two intense green ones focused solely on her. She kept her sounds of pleasure trapped in her throat as the pain of roughing herself up slipped to the precipice of over stimulation at the mercy of his hand.

Their pajamas never fully came off as Mercedes pulled the hem of her nightgown up just as high as it needed to go and loosened the ties of his pants. After a few moments of getting his bearings Mercedes felt him spreading her open to enter and ease inside. She was a little uncomfortable as she adjusted to the feeling of being deeply penetrated after years of her own fingers barely reaching in. Then things gave way to a familiar full feeling. Their movements were awkward at first as they tested out how to hold themselves and each other, communing in silent taps and shifts rather than risk making too much noise. Hubert’s motions were slow and deliberate at first as they worked out an agreeable rhythm.

Mercedes reached up to push his hair out of his face to really look at him in full; no one had seen her like this in a long time. She saw a small smile flit across his lips as he carefully took her hand from his face and laced their fingers together before pinning it down into the mattress. She always felt so warm and sensitive during sex, and right now Hubert was hard and cool against her. For a while he was holding her gaze until he gave up, finally too lost in his own experience. She felt his other hand moving up along her hip as he started to move faster with more fervor.

“Yes, please, like that,” she panted as she adjusted her legs around him to her liking. Mercedes let out a small satisfied groan as he started to finally move in a way that truly rubbed her right. She shut her eyes as she focused on the building sensations and tried not to pay too much mind to the gentle rhythmic slapping sound of their bodies against each other of the little grunts escaping him. It was as quiet as they could possibly be; Manuela’s steady snoring could be heard in the next room and Caspar was plied with too many concoctions to have any semblance of awareness. Mercedes bit back the moans she wanted to let out in favor of discretion, eventually bringing up her hand to help muffle the noises she couldn’t help but let out. That only seemed to increase the intensity of Hubert’s thrusting.

Then suddenly he was pulling out, barely in time judging by the hot mess he was leaving on her, and Mercedes found herself wishing it wasn’t over so abruptly when she had felt like they had just come to the right way for their bodies to move with each other. Hubert was apologetically and ineffectively attempting to wipe her off with his fingers though his expression looked like his brain was still catching up with the present. He looked around and let out a weak sigh at what he realized what he was doing. “I don’t suppose there any handkerchiefs around?” he asked in a hazy voice.

“There’s washcloths and water pitcher over there,” she gestured lazily in it’s direction as she started to sit up. “Are you telling me you usually use your handkerchiefs to mop up after you um, you know—”

He only responded with a sharp exhale through his nose as he started pouring water into a porcelain basin. It was for hand washing, but it would suffice for this. She watched him in the moonlight as he moved, shadows spilling over his slim frame. He dipped his hand in and shut his eyes, and Mercedes saw the red glimmer of black magic. She didn’t want to be too pleased with herself for having tutored him in spell work, but she was glad he wasn’t bringing her an icy towel.

Hubert returned to the bed to clean her leg up. He moved with a slow reverence in way that reminded her of how Felix cleaned his sword at the end of a battle. “Sorry for the untimely exit. You sounded,” his voice trailed off as if he were unwilling to breathe life into that thought. He focused on cleaning himself instead of speaking.

“I was enjoying what you were doing right at the end there,” said Mercedes, careful to avoid suggesting she was disappointed that he’d stopped right as she was finally feeling it. She nibbled at her lip as she wondered if she could just get him to start there next time. Next time. Mercedes’ heart picked up speed as she wondered to herself if this was an exchange that had a next time, and what it meant that she was already making machinations for it.

Mercedes shifted in the bed, clearly meant for one person, to make some room for him. He looked at the space with hesitation. Mercedes jokingly patted the spot as if to invite him in. “You don’t want to cuddle,” she said as she watched him standing there still and tense. Perhaps that didn’t surprise her at all, he did not seem the type.

He was frozen for a few moments before he settled in next to her. Mercedes gently manipulated his body to create a little space for herself between his arm and his chest. Here, with her ear flush against him, she could really hear the fast beating of his heart. The heat between them was receding, leaving her with gooseflesh in the chilly infirmary. Mercedes reached to pull up the sheets and quilt over them and snuggled against him with her face. He wasn’t especially comfortable, but Mercedes resisted the temptation to tell him he ought to have eaten a stale slice of cake with her. She idly wondered if he was going to fill out as the war continued and what he might look like if he did.

He didn’t have anything to say, which didn’t surprise her, and so Mercedes settled in to sleep. It felt like if she was in his arms she was hidden from the nightmares of the things she had done earlier that day. The sights were waiting for her in the back of her mind, but if she had something to focus on like tracing his ribs through his shirt, they couldn’t take hold of her mind as she drifted off. It was a sleep where Mercedes felt like she shut her eyes and immediately opened them in the morning and no time had passed at all. She was alone in bed as she sat up to stretch and look around. Hubert was totally gone from the infirmary, and if not for a telltale soreness in her thighs she might have thought it was all a dream.

Notes:

Hubert’s probably just out getting them coffee and breakfast sandwiches and not having a meltdown somewhere…