#from her pushing herself to ask claude about how to address a prince

[iturbide]

More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes

(CheeseAndCake here) I just want to let you know that the CC!Edargard art is amazing, and it works as both a thank you and a bribe. Here is the accepted bribe’s payment!  More Crest Control Edelgard in Heroes snippets have been delivered! Enjoy!

(Also, Me? Shamelessly inserting my headcanon that Almyra uses non-gendered language? It’s more likely than you think.)

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It’s only after a long, tense, chat with the Crèche Guardians that Edelgard allows herself to relax on the bench in the dining room, and return her dagger to its hiding place. She left it on the table where both parties could see- and neither could easily grab- as a sign of good will, which for the most part seems to have worked. 

The previous conversation wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, but it was something she needed to hear, and the distrust is warranted, since her past- and alternative- selves are here as well. 

Considering what they might have done, she’s surprised she wasn’t set on fire the moment she entered.

Most of the castle is empty by now, aside from the occasional hero on patrol, which suits her fine. The silence gives her room to think.

She doesn’t know how long she sits on the bench to process the meaning of the words said- each of them have their own cultures, their own beliefs, so many reject the title of god, some find it holding a different meaning, some- the dragonkin aren’t one collective unit- which isn’t surprising, but somehow still hard to grasp- they’re people.

And Edelgard refuses to leave this dining hall until she finds the idea at least slightly easier to understand. 

If it takes a while, and the Guardians are willing to talk again while she’s still processing, the least she can do is make sure the conversation’s on neutral grounds so it doesn’t feel like an invasion.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she wakes up, the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon, which is surprising, since she usually has night terrors, but Askr apparently has heroes that can control dreams, so it might not be that strange.

She’s just glad she removed most of her armour before approaching the Crèche, and that this place is apparently safe enough to fall asleep without armour. 

It’s only when she feels a small tug on her dress and looks down that she realises she’s not alone. 

She looks down, and sees a very sleepy child with pink hair under the table. The child holds her hands out, and makes what she assumes to be an ‘up’ gesture. 

Slowly, carefully, she picks up the child and paces her on the bench, and the child’s face scrunches before she moves onto Edelgard’s lap.

It’s only when the child looks directly at her face and cheerfully says “I’m Fae!” That Edelgard see’s the young girl’s forehead, remembers her visit to the Crèche, and realises she has a dragon child sitting on her lap.

For a moment, she swears her heart skips a few beats. Even now, despite everything, the word “dragon” in her mind still conjures an image of a fairy-tale creature, and not a… person. 

She shoves that disgusting line of thinking to the side, and forces herself to think of anything else. No bad thoughts around the child. Second thoughts are more important than the first.

The Grima’s were going to kill her. 

Think. She talked to Claude about this in Fodlan, didn’t she? Humanising comes from learning about the individuals. You are sitting in a room holding a- an adorable, tired, child with pink hair. Ask the child something. Anything. What’s a good thing to ask a child?

“So, Fae-“ Calm, casual, voice. Gentle, good, “What’s your… favourite colour?” 

She really needs to learn how to talk to children. 

If Claude ever found out about this, she’s going to strange him with his own sash. She could practically hear him saying “It’s a learning experience, Edelgard!” In the back of her mind.

Fae blinks a few times and smiles up at her. “Purple!”

“Oh, because of your hair? You have very pretty hair.” She didn’t make a move to ruffle the girl’s hair, but she shifted into what she hoped would be more comfortable for the little one.

“No! It’s the colour of mama and papa’s wings!” 

“That sounds-“ don’t panic, don’t panic, “- lovely. Did you get your wings from them?” -don’t panic. This is a small, fragile child, if you panic, she will cry. Think you your younger- don’t think of that, it will make you panic-

“Nope! Fae’s wings are-“ Fae yawns and stretches, before curling up against Edelgard’s chest, “-white! But! Fae still has feathers, like them!”

“They must be very beautiful.” This time, Edelgard makes sure to pat Fae on the head since she’s giving Edelgard the same look cats give her when they want affection. “Fae, did you stay up late to spy on your parents?” 

Because if there’s one thing all children do, no matter what their backgrounds, it’s staying up late to listen in on your parents.

“Hmmm…” Fae blinks slowly, and wriggles to get herself in a more comfortable position. “Yep!” 

And then Fae falls asleep. 

Edelgard has no idea how to move without waking up the child, and she’s pretty sure at this rate, no matter what, the entire Crèche is definitely going to kill her. 

“You look uncomfortable.” A new voice rings out, and instinctively, her right hand goes to her dagger and she tightens her grip on the child in her arms. 

Edelgard glances at the man with long red hair, relaxing as she realises he’s one of the Crèche’s caretakers. “I have no idea how to talk to children.” 

The man lets out a small, relieved smile, and sits next to her.

“Give it time. It will come.” He says casually. Then, he leans over the child in her arms, holds his hand out, and whispers, “Fae, come on, your mama and papa are going to panic if they realise you’re missing.”

Just like that, the small, half asleep, child practically falls into the man’s arms, and whispers “Warm.”

The man lets out a soft laugh and says, “I’ll be returning the little one to her parents. Thank you for looking after her. My name is Arvis.”

“It’s no problem. My name is Edelgard, though I’m guessing you’ve already ment several versions of me.” She nods in response as the man- Arvis- leaves the hall with Fae in his arms. 

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The next Crèche Caretaker she meets is named Lyon, a soft-spoken man with purple hair and kind eyes, who volunteered to talk to her about the Crèche’s activities after he saw her listening to Emmeryn. Apparently, that was what convinced him she was serious about wanting to understand the dragonkin and change. 

The conversation was mostly natural, talking about the children’s’ favourite fairy tales, their favourite games, so on and so forth, until Lyon spoke about his fallen self. 

Because Lyon- and the entire Crèche, apparently- use future tenses for his fallen self, but the guilt she can see in his eyes is an entirely different type.

“You’re lying.” She says it softly with a sigh, but perhaps it comes out blunter than intended. It needs to be said, because if what that implies is true, then she needs to know. No, she doesn’t need to know, but it’s something that will haunt her if she doesn’t at least ask.

“Pardon?” Thankfully, he doesn’t sound offended, only cautious and curious.  

“You don’t have the eyes of someone trying to fight their fate.” She explains, keeping her voice low, in case the former prince wants to keep it a secret, “Or someone resigned to it. You’re not from before you’re fallen self, you’re from after, aren’t you?”

Just for a moment, she sees a shadow pass over his face, and his eyes seem to become so much older and wiser. “…Yes.”

Hope is a dangerous, terrifying thing. It’s not something that Edelgrad believes in, but in that moment, it crawls through her stomach and into her mouth, and she can’t help asking, “Did death bring you peace from the Demon King?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember, but…” He smiles, sadly as he looks at her. He doesn’t comment on the question. He doesn’t need to, “I can hope.”

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It’s rare to see Claude- and of the Claudes- on his own, since she usually sees him with the Crèche- who she’s giving space to approach her, no matter how hard the waiting is-  with the Grimas’ twins and the other tacticians, or with his Golden Deer, which she knows to stay away from, since most give her death glares she approaches. 

So, when she sees one of the older ones alone, she decides to ask him for a game. His strategies are always interesting and versatile, and she finds herself missing the matches they would play in their spare time. 

“Sun’s light warm you and wyverns’ sing, Claude, High Ruler. Would you be willing for a game of Shatranj?” She asks, giving her usual greeting as she approaches him. He’s standing next to an empty table big enough to fit the board on, and she knows he always carries a small set with him when he can.

for just a second when the words leave her lips, Claude’s expression perfectly matches a deer’s when it sees a hunter, and he slowly sits on the chair. His expression becomes a calm mask and doesn’t change, and that’s how she knows she surprised him. 

Claude. Surprised. She doesn’t know what to do with the information. 

“I should let you know, I’m not king yet,” Claude corrects, somewhat stained and somewhat gentle, as if he hasn’t completely thought his words though, “Brave me has that honour.”  

Oh. Oh, that’s embarrassment burning in her gut, but she can’t take back her words. Ruthlessly she shoves it down. There are better times for shame, and this isn’t one of them. 

 “Oh? I never did learn how to greet a prince.” Do it. Ask. Implications give nothing. Shame in asking is worthless. Somehow, the idea that she would have been too ashamed to ask before gives her what she needs to push on, “Would you be willing to teach me?” 

“Sure, it’s: ‘Heir of High Ruler’ if you want to be super formal about it, but most people just use ‘Heir’ for any child of a governing family.” She can tell Claude’s been caught off guard, but now that he knows where the conversation is going, he has it under control. “‘Wyverns’ sing’ is also only used after the person’s Rite of Challenge.”

“Ya-kessh?” She repeats, butchering the pronunciation. 

“No, Heir.” It rolls off his tongue naturally, and Edelgard bites the inside of her lip to stop her frustration and embarrassment from rising. Not the time, not the place.

“Heir-ch?” She says, forcing herself to try again. She can do this.

“Heir.” 

“Heir.” 

“There you go.” Claude responds with an easy smile. It’s not perfect, but Edelgard can practice later. 

Edelgard rolls her eyes. She’s worked for Claude often enough to know that type of smile isn’t completely real. “The offer for Shatranj is still there, Claude, Heir, do you accept?”

“With joy, Edelgard, Ruler of Land and People.”

“I lost that title years ago, Edelgard, Commander, is as formal as I’m going to allow you to go.” 

Claude’s smile becomes sharper as he places his pieces, and Edelgard allows herself to smile in return. This was going to be fun. 

In the end, she loses, again, which really isn’t surprising. Against someone like Claude, it doesn’t sting that much. 

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[AN: yes, Edelgard did 100% refer to the Robins as “the Grimas’ twins,” since she doesn’t really know their history.]

[On another note, how do you think the Bad End cast would react to CC!Edelgard? I’m not going to write anything for that, I’m just really curious.]

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