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He had hoped that a trip out into the country would have been a breath of fresh air for all of them. The Professor, walking at the head of their line of meandering Lions, would occasionally call back to alert them if a rather large obstacle was underfoot. This was only after, of course, Annette had snagged her brand new mage robes on a fallen branch. Felix wasn’t sure why that dictated that the more observant and agile of the group had to be constantly made aware of every rock, branch, and dip along the way; but he was willing to choke on it for the way the others seemed to walk faster.
And it was about time too. The trip from the center of the continent of Fódlan at the Officer’s Academy of Garreg Mach to Kleiman, the northernmost territory of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, was a long one. If not due to the time, then the—
“Felix!” Annette’s screams were beginning to become grating. “Are you alright?”
His palms reported an aching pain, and he didn’t dare look at them as he pushed upright from where something on the road had thrown him face-down. A probe to his teeth told him that while they ached, they were not, in fact, broken. When they made it back to the Academy, Felix was going to break every training dummy at the grounds. Including Caspar, just to be thorough.“...I’m fine .” He hissed, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Someone needs to get these blasted roads serviced already.”
“You must be careful, Felix. There was a large boulder in the center of the road.”
Sometimes, he thought the Professor might be making a joke. Then again, they may have also been making a casual statement about the weather. It wasn’t worth getting angry over. All the Blue Lions students were slowing at the edges of his vision, turning to wait for him. With his vantage point low to the well-worn, obstacle-laden road, he could both hear and see as steel boots approached. Each step crushed objects in its path, leaving behind snapped remains of trees and rocks alike. Yet here and there, he stepped to avoid the petals of a stray flower persevering and growing in the hellishly dry air and inferno pouring from above. Violent, disruptive, the feet came to a stop before him and a matching gauntlet reached into his vision, palm up. “Do you need a hand, Felix?”
“A hand, not a claw , boar.”
Felix hiked to his feet again, and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd slowly retracted his hand before him, outstretched fingers curling inwards. Perhaps into a fist, but it wasn’t worth watching the dichotomy between his actions and his smiling face. Looking to his retainer at his side, a tall man of Duscur, he was not any better. Nothing more than a loyal dog to the monster prince, his pale eyebrows narrowed as their gazes locked. Whatever. If he couldn’t tell beast from man, it was his own problem. “We should keep moving.” Felix looked to Professor Byleth, who had brought the entire class to a halt.
“Indeed we should!”
Did Sylvain think that an arm around his neck was companionable? Because the force was nearly a headlock, cinching about Felix’s throat as he dragged the both of them further up the road. “Ahhhhhhh it’s been a long walk so far, right Fe? We should stop at a nearby town and get some refreshments- try the local cuisine!”
“Oh!” Ingrid’s bag of vulneraries—an essential she had begun carrying to all missions after their foray into the Holy Tomb—whapped him in the side as she also added the force of her restraint across his shoulders. “Local cuisine sounds great! We should stop soon!”
“That’s the spirit, Ingie! I’m thinking a nice little cafe, with a sun umbrella to block out some of this heat. We could order a Sweet Bun Trio! Isn’t that perfect, too, there’s three of us to share it!”
“I don’t like sweets.”
“Don’t be such a downer!” Bruising force patted him on the back. “You’ll stop for food with the rest of us, won’t you? You wouldn’t make my sister starve would you?”
It was worth Sylvain’s bitching to hear the heavy hit to his side. She must have hit him harder than usual, as Margrave Gautier’s second heir released Felix’s neck to...honestly, probably double over somewhere behind them. Ingrid had her lips pursed, arms still slung about Felix’s shoulders as she dragged him along. Before he could even glance, the older girl was rubbing a hand over his shoulder, fingertips carding through the loose strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.
“Feel free to ignore Sylvain,” She huffed, “Miklan told me he loves sending people on guilt trips. You know I would be fine getting something a little more savory with you; I know you like our Daphnel Stew and you know Miklan is always willing to make you some Gautier Cheese Gratin— once we get back, of course.”
Miklan’s Gautier cheese gratin was amazing, seasoned with just the right amount of black pepper, rosemary, and paprika that made the Gautier Manor’s kitchens especially pungent. Sylvain and Felix spent many nights sitting in the main hall alongside the Margrave telling jokes and stories—recently, even updates on their progress at Garreg Mach— while Miklan and his wife toiled away together over a large copper pot. Their laughter was often infectious, and though the cooks tried to beat them away from the kitchens they were never successful and oftentimes ended up at the table for a meal with the nobles.
It was strange, but what about the Gautier family wasn’t strange?
Tittering laughter made his smile all the harder to suppress, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the blinding smile Ingrid shone behind her. The whole group had finally begun to move again, thank the Goddess. And though he would never admit it out loud, the security of her arm on him and dancing across where his elbow hit the floor eased a tight, resident coil in his chest. He wasn’t sure his own mother ever paid him so much mind. Glenn definitely had, but that was before…
Well.
“Are you alright, my friend?”
Speaking of the beast, Dimitri’s voice sounded tense but full of mirth. There was no doubt the boar was trying to get Sylvain to straighten up from his dramatic antics, though he was not going to be successful. Sylvain loved his theatre. “Ingie!” He cried somewhere behind them. “Sometimes I think you like Felix as a little brother better than me!”
“Excuse me? You’re older than me, Sylvain! Act like it!”
“Felix is older than you too!”
“Don’t bring me into it.”
“No way, he’s younger than me!”
“Fe, tell her she’s wrong!”
“I’m not getting caught up in your sibling tirade.” Miklan was going to get an earful the next time they visited. “Just shut up and keep walking.”
“Oooooh feisty. Ingrid, could you give Fe a love tap for me?”
Finally, Ingrid released Felix’s shoulder. He wasn’t even sure he felt bad for Sylvain, considering she immediately turned around, probably to hunt him down and give him the requested love tap. It was like traveling with a ragtag group of three-year-olds. Ashe had been eyeing most of the small growing plants by the side of the desolate road, and he found himself afraid they might show up in their provisions later. Annette and Mercedes had been chatting away, following closely behind Professor Byleth. While Ingrid and Sylvain had been by his side a moment ago, now they were drifting closer to the back of their group where Dedue and the boar brought up the rear. He imagined the Professor found managing their group a lot like herding red wolves in hunting season, but they seemed impassive as they led the group onward.
Finally, a large shadow grew on the horizon. Once they made it to that first town, he was definitely going to get something to eat. Maybe spending the last remaining hours of daylight catching up on some training; this trip had very little practice and lots of senseless meandering. If his arm could rust like his blade, it would be climbing his torso. “Dedue.” The Professor’s voice cut across the chatter erupting from their group.
It seemed Felix wasn’t the only one excited to get to town, overhearing Mercedes talking about a hot bath and Ashe’s subdued comments about dinner invigorating the others around them to daydream about anything but the road. “Yes, Professor?” The deep voice from the back of the party seemed quieter than usual, almost spoken reluctantly.
“How close is the nearest town?”
Felix slowed his pace, noticing that the Professor had come to a stop before them. They seemed hesitant, right hand gripping over their hilt. They didn’t even seem to move, plain winds whipping long bluish-green hair into a frenzy. “Professor,” Annette chirped from their side, “this is the first time any of us have been out this far. None of us would know where the nearest town is. That is, not without a map anyways.”
“Annette.” Dedue chimed in before the Professor had a chance. “This is my homeland. This is Duscur.”
Around Felix, everyone fell silent. Dimitri had stepped up into Felix’s periphery, and while he had initially seemed weary from the walk, the mention of where they were caused his back to immediately draw into a rigid line.
Of course.
Of course they were in Duscur. Dedue and Dimitri had been acting strange this whole trip, lingering at the edge of the group and keeping to themselves in a way that Felix knew was abnormal— suspected was strange. He had ignored it, assumed it to be the behavior of an animal entering unknown territory, like the rest of them. Keeping an eye on the beast with his friend’s face was his duty, and he had failed spectacularly. Those ice eyes revealed nothing, poise and proper behavior hid the mania and malice from friend and foe alike. Until it was too late for all of them.
Felix would need to— no. HAD to do better for the sake of the children around him. These fools who refused to listen to base instinct.
And he had known there was something wrong with this area the moment they entered. It was strange enough that the Professor kept their mission so quiet, only going as far as to tell them that there was a beast roaming the lands around Kleiman. The unease only intensified as the roads deteriorated with their distance from the Academy, indicative of a land in disrepair; roads neglected to discourage travel, perhaps by a tyrannical ruler to maximize on the profits coming in to the nobility. There was no reason to suspect that the reason was more diabolical— a plot to systematically cut off resources to a group of people— a method to kill a land that the Holy Kingdom did not want to see, did not want to acknowledge in their history beyond being traitors and active participants in regicide.
“Professor,” Dedue spoke again, his frown drawing deeper, “there is no town for a while yet.”
Any talk of relaxing ceased immediately. Felix was almost glad for the silence. Would have been more glad too, if not for the way the heat bore down on his black clothing, the gold trim and exposed white sleeves his only salvation. Oh, that and the fact that Dimitri stood a few paces away, his shoulders slowly beginning to heave with the force of his breaths. “Contain your beast, cur.” Stepping closer to the boar like this was not something he wanted to do, but getting between him and the rest of the Blue Lions was his top priority.
“Your Highness?” Dedue didn’t answer him, but Felix was willing to let it go this time.
Ignoring whatever nonsense Dedue would have to spew to get their prince’s attention, Felix stepped up beside Professor Byleth. It was obvious now that he was looking closer. What a fool he was, not noticing that the shadow he had mistaken for a city was shifting on the horizon. It didn’t appear to be close, but if that was the case, then the heat hazed mirage— already well within the height of a small tower outpost—was actually going to be several times larger than it was now. There were no animals he would guess to be around that height, no building or mechanisms that had been created by madmen like Hanneman and Lindhardt that should nearly reach the clouds. Perhaps something mythical, historic like the Immaculate One told across fables in Fódlan.
Goddess, he hoped it wasn’t actually the Immaculate One.
“Professor.” His own voice had dropped in volume, as if lowering it now could hide them. “I am ready to fight.”
“I know you are, Felix.” Damn straight, they better. “But knowing your enemy is a large portion of the battle. I will not have any of you engage without intel. Wait patiently. How is Dimitri?”
“The boar is not my responsibility.”
“I do not expect you to comfort him, but he will be essential if we must go to battle. How is Dimitri?”
“...I am sure he will battle. He may not take orders. He will be a danger to those more capable.” Byleth did not answer. “...He was hyperventilating.”
“Thank you, Felix.” At least they appreciated his intel—seemed to actually listen when he warned of the aggressive behavior pouring off of Dimitri in waves. “Please prepare the others for battle.”
Against what? Sure, he and everyone here knew that there were wild, overgrown beasts that sometimes wandered through the countryside. Oftentimes, those beasts were the scourge of the knights back home. With supernatural strength, they could kill an entire battalion before finally being brought down. Byleth didn’t expect them, a group of Academy newbies, to take down a creature like that...did they?
Whatever.
All he could do was prepare his classmates as requested. The shadow was now significantly closer than before, almost three times larger than the initial spotting. It was probably charging their way. There would be no avoiding confrontation. “Annette, Mercedes!” He barked, striding across the unpaved path to where the girls stood together. “Get to the back; Ashe, you as well. Sylvain, Ingrid, Dedue— we’re going to be engaging the enemy. Professor will probably have high defense on the front line, so get your weapons to the ready. The enemy is coming fast.”
Dimitri stood paralyzed as everyone around him flew into motion. “F-Felix…?”
Removing his sword holstered at his side, he watched as Dimitri tried to control his breathing. “We’re going to battle, boar. Get to the back with the mages, your panic has no place.”
That black shadow on the horizon was nearly five times its initial observed height now, sun reflecting off of what he could now identify as a large, golden elongated pentagon that took the place of a head. At this distance, its long, whiplike arms dragged the ground. Though its face was obscured by the large hunk of gold metal, an unhinged jaw hung listlessly below the plate, nearly to its collarbones. Black corded almost-muscles wound strips about visible bone, an emaciated bipedal creature shrouded in darkness even as the sun shone down relentlessly. “What the hell…” Even below his breath, his words seemed too loud.
His wrist felt crushing force, pulling him bodily backwards and redirecting his attention to the man who had yet to leave his side. “Felix!” The boar was almost worse now than he was a few seconds ago. “We can’t fight him!”
“It’s coming either way; we don’t have a choice. Get to the back.”
“Feli-Felix! You specifically can NOT fight him!”
“Let go , you impossible fool!”
A quick jerk and his wrist was free. There wasn’t time for this lunacy! The beast on the horizon, now clearly an elfriche horror, was approaching. Rocks that had previously been nothing more than tripping hazards bounced as the earth itself bemoaned the weight it bore. Professor Byleth stood slightly before their class, newly acquired bone-sword-whip-whatever brandished at the ready. “Sylvain, Dedue,” they didn’t sound stressed, but their grip was tightening noticeably on the weapon, “I need you up here with me. Annette, Mercedes—”
Both mages glanced up, Mercedes with her jaw snapped firm enough to pull taut lines at her throat and Annette’s eyebrows pinched. Byleth gave both a smile, face soft and smoothed of worry lines. “I must ask you to stay strong. Do not rely on the front lines to keep you protected. Stay behind us the best you can, but if it comes too close, do not hesitate to run.” After receiving twin nods, Byleth looked to Ashe. “That goes for you too, Ashe. Shoot from further out. Accuracy is less important than your life.”
“Professor—”
“Dimitri,” The boar quieted, “You do not have to fight if you cannot. You do not have to tell us what is going on, but if there is anything we need to know to stay alive, you must tell us.”
“H-he is not— I cannot— What would you have me do, Professor?”
“I would prefer you fight. We need your strength, now more than ever.”
“Th...Then I will fight.” Mask broken into pieces now, the boar’s hands strangled his lance. “But...please do what you can to make his death painless.”
Byleth stared at him for a moment, but the pounding approach of the beast was becoming too significant to ignore. “You will have to explain...him...to me. Later.”
A sharp nod and Dimitri was stepping forward alongside Dedue, slightly eclipsed from Felix’s view by Sylvain at his side. Dimitri was going to be a liability at best, but that just meant he was going to have to work twice as hard—be twice as good— to keep... it away from their mages.
There was no time left to ponder. Sylvain and Dedue took the first lunges, axes swinging wildly. Felix leapt to the side, clearing a line of sight for Ashe. It was just as well that they did not worry too much about aiming. Standing many heads above them, Dedue himself only rose to the height of its ankle. His axe was bound to hit. Its towering, metallic mask caught the sun, reflecting vicious glares and scorching heat below, and a blackened tendril of a finger skimmed across the weaponry of their frontlines as it took a swipe at Ingrid. A semi-humanoid hand could crush them all at this rate, their frontlines scattering at a glancing blow. One twist to his side to dodge the other hand; one pivot to evade the jabbing thrust of a foot; one sour note in this dance and they would know nothing but pain. By his side, the shielded face of the beast slammed viciously into the ground, forcing Felix back and alongside Byleth— their face marred with a long scratch and staining their lips red. “This isn’t working!” Focus trained on Dedue, the beast took another wild swing. “Professor, why aren’t they casting!?”
“They are— the magics are ineffective. I’m afraid to admit it’s mostly on the frontline.”
“ Shit .” And the frontlines were five seconds away from eating it.
Sylvain and Dedue were significantly more armored than Ingrid, Dimitri, and himself. And though they were not bleeding or scratched like Byleth, their armor had dented in several spots— suggesting future bruising. The creature still didn’t let up, likely intent on murder, and thudded one twisted arm across Sylvain’s breastplate as he charged, sending him spiraling sideways in a desperate attempt to catch his balance. Dedue lay sprawled in the dirt nearby, hiking unsteadily to his feet to resume the charge. Mercedes was cracking off healing on the retainer like a woman possessed, but that golden light was extinguishing by the minute.
Dimitri alone remained standing before the creature, gaze aimed completely vertical. The beveled surface of the mask obscuring the gaping maw of the beast shone patterns onto the ground around their foolish prince, even as the mass approached him. It was as if he had not heard Byleth’s initial instruction to not fight if he could not manage it— the lance in his hands flagging downwards as his hands shook.
It wouldn’t take much for the beast to obliterate him— it was effortlessly leaving dents in the Kingdom’s heavy armor, inflicting both superficial and internal bleeding on those unlucky enough to don light armor and lacking foresight. Its hand was rising into the air above Dimitri, and a crushing force would follow. A force that was aimed at that willfully, defenseless, idiot of a boar. And it wasn’t going to miss.
Departing Byleth’s side was easy.
Gritting his teeth through feeling himself snap in half— not so much.
Hitting into Dimitri’s chest was a lot like hitting into a solid stone wall, but at least the force of his hit was enough to propel the idiot backwards and just out of reach. Fuck, he messed up! Searing fire ran unbearably fluid up at least one of his legs, aching where his hip ended and his leg began. Someone’s hands roved over his back and clutched at his tunic. A metallic tang coated his tongue as sounds rang jumbled in and out of his ears. He was pretty sure he could hear Ingrid screaming his name. “Felix!” Dimitri’s voice rumbled through his body and shook more pain loose. “How could you!? You promised you would not— I did not want—!”
Felix wanted to tell him to lean down a little so he could hit him. Maybe strangle him, because fuck . If Dimitri hadn’t been standing still, there wouldn’t have been any reason to do something so stupid. His arms hurt from the impact, and there was no doubt one of his legs was broken from being snapped between the beast’s hand and the ground. “Shut the hell up.” He groaned— shit, talking hurt more than he thought it would. “Get up and fucking run !”
He had to choke back a scream as Dimitri’s arms gripped his body tighter against his own. “No! I will not leave you behind! I cannot let you die— not here— not like this!”
“Fucking idiot, I’m not planning to die here like Glenn— and especially not for you!”
Why weren’t they under attack? There was no time for dramatics like this on the battlefield! The others must have drawn the beast’s attention, otherwise it would have been going for the killing blow while he lay here prone. “Glenn is not dead!”
Glenn…
What?
“You’re lying. Don’t lie to me about this Dimitri, Glenn has been dead for years!” His tongue felt heavy. Could Dimitri even understand him? “He died— died in Duscur for chivalry and honor and—”
“Felix, stop!” They must make a pair. Limbs sprawled across the dusty Kleiman— no, Duscur— plains, blood beneath his wounded leg likely caking the dusty ground beneath them both. Just like Glenn’s had. “Glenn is…”
“I thought you saw his body— his face.” Words ripped bloody from his chest, sounding so much sadder— so much more vulnerable than he ever wanted to be. “You said he was filled with regrets. That he died...alone. Tell me you didn’t lie to me— not about Glenn. Not about his death.”
Dimitri’s face pinched before him, his body half caved over Felix’s own. “I...I did not lie. Glenn is...not himself. He...Felix, your home...has Rodrigue not noticed?”
He really might hit him at this rate. “You bring up my dead— I’m sorry, supposedly dead brother— and now you want to talk about my old man!? Boar, I swear to you, once this battle is over—”
“The Aegis Shield.” How such a wobbly voice could cut off his ire had eluded him since childhood. “Glenn...H-he took it with him that day. Brought it to Duscur. He said he wanted to protect me— would do anything to see it through.”
Fool. What a fucking fool . All of them— Rodrigue for the oversight, for hanging a previous hero’s relic on the wall right over their mantel like a trophy— Lambert for his cheer and inspiring loyalty— Gustave and his damnable honor, the knight’s code of chivalry— Ingrid and her idolization of knighthood—
Most of all, Glenn— his brother— his friend— his motivation— the shadow he would always chase—
His father’s first-born crestless son, who would be upheaved as the Fraldarius heir when he turned three years old by his little brother with a condemnable major crest.
And now he could see it.
Felix could see it all, even with his face pressed against Dimitri’s chest hiding him from the horrors emerging behind him.
Turning only slightly, leg twinging with every breath and agony with every movement, he caught the golden shine covering the beast’s face full-on as it took an uncontrolled swipe at one of his classmates. He couldn’t tell who, couldn’t see anything except the golden shield, thousands of times larger than the last time he saw it. Dazzling light reflected from its contours, swirling and almost blandly standard for a Kingdom designed shield, nearly symmetrical and appearing to all the world as if a hollowed skull’s sockets gazed out among the living.
The Aegis Shield sat perched across the thing’s— on Glenn’s — head.
A scream ripped from his throat and Dimitri only held him tighter.