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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's good to be back home.
(To see his mother again and spend time with her. It was even nice to spend some time with his father again. Time that wasn't spent putting on strong fronts and flairs,)
... You know, the nice thing about the new year is that no matter where you are; in Fodlan or Almyra or anywhere in the world... for a few days, everyone is celebrating the same thing.
(They're getting closer to hall where Flayn's room is,)
Imagine what else we could celebrate together...
(And that's it. Here they are. He stops in front of the hallway. The lanterns are dimmed down and there's only moonlight and the glow from the fire outside to really light things. Down the hallway, there's one room with one lantern lit right outside it, dim and low but noticeable,)
Everything looks different at night. I had one of the servants leave the lantern on by your room. You can turn it off before you go in.
(Blow the flame out and call it a night. It probably isn't the easiest to see but he offers her a friendly smile,)
Good night, Flayn. Happy new year.