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Imperial Year 1185 ➳ Flayn
(Derdriu fell and the burgeoning league of nobles known as the Leicester Alliance was disbanded. Annexation by the Empire had gone... surprisingly smooth, almost as if it was meant to happen. Of course, it didn't go without some problems. People are complicated, especially when morals and loyalties are involved.
Ordelia and Gloucester were the first to give in and together, the two houses led much of the transition. House Riegan was no more and Edmund easily conceded once they realized there was no point in fighting. All that remained was Goneril which had long been the strength of the Alliance. Holst Goneril was no fool. Even he could see that he was against all odds and he would have to give in. They knew this at their last Roundtable meeting, when Claude had gathered them all together for their final meeting and explained their options.
This isn't the Alliance's war. If Derdriu falls, they give in to the Empire. Resisting would destroy their lands, lead to suffering, and despair. They'd done well for five years, protecting their neutrality. They'd held their own for so long that their territories had become sanctuaries for those fleeing the war's destruction. He'd thanked Goneril for protecting their borders and Edmund for helping with the financial burden of taking in so many refugees. He'd thanked Ordelia for helping them save as many people as they could and he'd even thanked Gloucester for all of his support balancing these extra responsibilities.
Wouldn't it be a shame if all of their efforts went to waste because of something like pride? As nobles, their duties were to the people. Protect them. Evacuate Derdriu, prepare for battle, lure the Empire in deeply to avoid widespread casualty and destruction and if that isn't enough... If Derdriu falls... protect the people. Surrender. As the Alliance's leader, he would either die in battle or step down and in turn, the duty would fall on Gloucester to lead the others through what happened next.
But the empire had killed his sister. They'd killed Hilda. And Holst wasn't going to let that go easily. Gloucester and the other nobles had tried to reason with him and little by little, he'd begun to relent.
This was fine. The Empire didn't have to worry about Goneril who would inevitably give in. Edelgard wasn't a cruel Emperor nor was Byleth Eisner. They would led the Duke grieve. His lands were the furthest from the Empire and would take time to assimilate anyway. In the meantime, they would move on to crushing the Church and the Kingdom.)
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It looks bad.
[The words themselves are a little blunt, but her tone of voice is more gentle and concerned than anything else. Her expression is much the same - there's still traces of exhaustion in it that can't be fully wiped out, but concern is at the forefront. It's healed well enough for the amount of time that has passed, and considering that Claude most certainly hasn't been resting as someone who was hurt so badly ought to, but still.
It makes her stone heart ache to see it. But she can do something about it, can't she? Her power exists to ease others' pain.
So, taking a breath, she gets right to work.
What this magic really does is stimulate the body's natural healing process. It encourages his skin to knit together, to smooth itself over and (hopefully) not leave too obvious a scar; it sinks under his skin, soothing the aches and pains of his bruises, lightening them up. As she works, her own Crest activates - that, hopefully, will help.
Flayn will keep at it for as long as he lets her, heedless of the fact that her exhaustion is threatening to overtake her. She ignores the way her hands tremble from time to time, and the way her vision is a little blurry at the edges. She can do this. She has to do this.
...but she only has so much magical energy; much of it was used on Seteth the night before, and she's recovered some on their journey so far, but she's not in tip-top shape. It's not perfect, but hopefully, it will be enough to ease the rest of his way back to Almyra.]
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Leaning back on the palms of his hands, he braces himself as he waits for her to get to work,)
That bad, huh?
(Of course, he knew that much already. He's lucky to be alive. It's only because Byleth and Edelgard showed him mercy in Derdriu that he was able to escape with his life.
He lets her work and allows himself a moment to rest under her care. He dislikes relying on others but he knows better than to resist a healer at work. There's an initial discomfort as the magic settles in, getting to work, bringing skin together, closing, and physically repairing itself but there's the dulling that comes from it too, cool like ice but not as harsh.
Magic really is something, he thinks. He's never had much of a talent for it. Manuela had barely managed to get a healing spell out of him at the academy and Hanneman was impressed if he could summon enough wind to turn the pages in a book. Nothing wrong with that. Magic isn't for everyone and he'd joked that he had to be bad at something when he was already so good at everything else.
He watches Flayn, noting the way her hands shake from time to time. He's seen this before. There were times when Marianne gave too much of herself to others, pushing herself too far. There were times when Lysithea, exhausted from using her spells in battle, tried to be useful after and heal the injured.
Flayn is exhausted. And like Marianne and Lysithea, she would push through it. He's the same when it comes to other things and it's for that reason, he's always let them go just a little further. Even now, he says nothing at first. He gives her a few moments and when her hands start to tremble... he reaches to take one of her hands in his own)
Thank you. ("That's enough.") I feel better... much better.
(It's the truth. Looking down at his chest, he can see the visible difference. He won't mention her exhaustion. She wouldn't like that, would she? She might even insist she's fine... and he'd rather she didn't lie.)
This should hold until we get to the Rhages.
(The first time he's mentioned the capital by name.
He gives her hand a squeeze and a gentle tug to sit by him,)
But for now, we rest. All of us.
(Badira, too. He'll let her hand go soon too so he can at least put his blouse back on. It's warm enough that he doesn't actually need the outer part coat.)
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But she finds herself yawning, despite herself, and shakes her head slowly. Ugh.]
...very well.
[She doesn't want to sleep. She really, really doesn't want to sleep, but when Claude tugs on her hand she goes easily, settling down to sit next to him. She's only vaguely aware of him letting go to tug his clothes back on.
Not having a task to focus on has brought her exhaustion back to the forefront. She can feel her eyelids getting heavy, and isn't able to keep herself from yawning again.]
Do not be surprised... if...
[Her voice trails off before she can finish the warning, and... She's out.
She will remain out for the next couple of days, not even waking to eat or drink. Oops. Catch her once they get to Rhages.]
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... But she doesn't wake up when he does. Again, he doesn't think too much about it and just packs everything and carries her over to Badira who crouches down low to the ground to let him on with her. She sleeps through the evening and is still asleep when they land for the night. It's one thing to sleep a whole day, especially after how exhausting the previous one had been. It's something else when she sleeps the entire next day and when they land again, he can't help but really begin to worry. She seems fine as far as he can tell, noting her temperature and pulse but... this isn't normal and he urges his wyvern to fly faster.
They land a half-day earlier than they were supposed to, landing at night instead of morning. There are people there to greet him but there's no time for catching up or really explaining why he's carrying a young girl in his arms. He asks for a doctor or a healer and explains he doesn't really know what's wrong but she just won't wake up...)