Chapter Text
Something is wrong with Byleth Eisner.
Granted, something has always been wrong with her, but- this is new.
This is new, and frightening, and overwhelming, and-
“Not all who wander are lost, child.” says a voice. That voice.
“What does that mean,” the swordswoman deadpans.
The voice doesn’t respond.
Good.
As they say in the business: Fuck off, ghost.
When Edelgard comes, and talks to her through the door, Byleth calls her in.
And she comes in – and yelps at the sight of Byleth’s tail.
Byleth- well, she hadn’t realized she had a tail, but. There it is. Long and flexible, scaly and blue.
Still the princess approaches her. Still the princess sits down at her side, lays a hand upon her hair.
Something in Byleth wants to snap her jaws at that gently-touching hand, to use her fangs for their intended purpose – to snap and rip and tear and bite and kill – and she has to crush that urge with a snarl turned inwards, startling her poor companion-rival-caretaker-prey-friend.
She rolls her shoulders, but it doesn’t ease their tension.
“Byleth…” Edelgard says softly, her tone… gentler, more sympathetic than is typical for her.
Byleth, whatever she is, shudders bodily at her voice, or perhaps the word – the name, her name – upon the royal’s lips. Maybe both. Maybe… maybe both.
“You’re… tense. Are you frightened?”
Again, Byleth shudders.
Edelgard very tenderly strokes her hair.
Byleth shudders yet again, but – is it just her, or is it more shiver this time? Less… powerful, less pronounced.
“I must admit, I… can’t help but hate to see you like this. We need to get you calmed down before anything else– is there anything I can do to help?”
Byleth simply lifts her head into the younger girl’s hand.
Edelgard almost chuckles – rude – but, by the gloved fingers twining in Byleth’s hair, she seems to have received the memo.
“Can we agree that I’ll not tell anyone about your being petted if you don’t tell anyone about my petting you?”
Byleth rumbles from somewhere deep in her chest, warm and… odd-feeling. Languid, perhaps?
Fingertips dig lightly into her scalp, pressing through hair she’s only now realizing is actually rather thick, and, without hesitation or mercy, begin scritching.
And Byleth reacts powerfully, so powerfully even she, after a moment, realizes what is happening, her tail lashing contentedly from side to side at the foot of the bed: she is purring. She is purring like a housecat.
It’s the single most embarrassing thing she’s ever experienced.
She allows it to continue regardless, and presses back against Edelgard’s back, turning her head to glance at her through slitted pupils.
“… Sleepy.” she says, after a moment, and flops her tail onto Edelgard’s lap, lays her head down, and lets her eyes drift shut.
* * *
Edelgard von Hresvelg is an odd mixture of confused, pleased with herself, and, admittedly, slightly aroused. She very pointedly won’t be unpacking that last one. Not presently, at any rate.
She gives Byleth a few minutes to be well and truly asleep before calling, at a volume she feels appropriately-moderate, towards the door.
“Hubert?”
Hubert, goddess love him, answers immediately, his curt response muffled by the door. Presumably, he’s dutifully standing watch.
“Lady Edelgard.”
“Do you remember Rupert?”
“… The cat, my lady?”
“The very same,” Edelgard, smiling faintly down at the dragon(ish?) pressed up against her, calls. “I trust you recall how Rupert likes to nap on people? And how one absolutely must not move when Rupert has decided they will be slept upon?”
“… Your Highness,” Hubert calls, his tone as carefully-modulated and respectful as it is incredulous, “are you suggesting this is a Rupert situation?”
“I’m afraid I am suggesting exactly that, Hubert.”
Her retainer heaves a heavy, put-upon sigh that manages to be audible even through the closed door.
“… Very well, Lady Edelgard. I shall see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Hubert.”
Edelgard reaches down to scritch behind one of Byleth’s ears, and gets a protracted, very powerful purr from the woman for her efforts– and the tip of a tail just about twined around her thigh, very high up her leg. Which is just about the last thing she needs right now, frankly.
She bites her lip. Tries to figure out just what the hell she’s going to do about… this.
At least she can rest assured the girl isn’t another secret ancient oppressor-dragon. She’d know about it, for one thing, but, more importantly, she’d have more self-control. She’d know better than to let it show.
That begs the question, though– what is her situation? Why wasn’t she here with Rhea all along? Perhaps Jeralt stole her away some years ago, before Rhea could sink her fangs in, and their encounter near Remire truly was coincidental?
… It’s a little difficult to see the girl as a rival when she’s snuggled up against Edelgard’s back, sleeping like a kitten.
Gods – what are they going to do about this? Rhea can conceal her draconic nature, but they don’t even know for certain that Byleth is one of the Children of the Goddess. What if she’s different, somehow? What if Rhea can conceal her true form because she’s ancient and powerful, and it’s not inherent to their… species?
The documents Those Who Slither in the Dark provided her and Hubert seemed to imply all dragons were possessed of ‘heteromorphic vessels’ – bodies of multiple forms – and… well, frankly, there’s little reason for them to provide misinformation about a mutual foe, at least in this case. So there’s likewise little reason to doubt the documentation provided, only- they only covered so much. Can someone be half-dragon? How exactly do their transformations work? What if this is Byleth’s true form? What can they do for her, then, but spirit her away to somewhere she could be safe?
An idea strikes her. A deeply unpleasant one.
They could, if all else failed, consult her ‘uncle’ and his associates.
But they – Thales and his ilk – could just as easily subject her to any one of a thousand horrific tortures, turn her into an experiment, a specimen, cut her into a thousand pieces until-
Edelgard swallows thickly, her heart pounding in her chest, her blood racing, because she’s panicking, and-
The girl beside her stirs, her tail flicking upwards, brushing against the princess’ stomach, and she, squirming, begins to purr once more.
“… Edelgard?” Byleth yawns, turning over.
Edelgard can’t find her words.
“… Edelgard?” Byleth, the sleep leaving her voice, asks again. “Edelgard?”
A hand on her shoulder. Gentle, this one. They were never gentle when they led her to the operating room.
Always harsh, always firm, always cruel, just for the sake of it-
“Edelgard!”
Edelgard jerks back to the present moment with a start, her rival’s clawed fingers digging into her shoulders as the woman shakes her, blue scales creeping up her jaw as worry burns in her eyes.
She swallows.
“Byleth,” she replies crisply.
A slight pout forms on the other woman’s lips.
“Don’t ‘Byleth.’ me. Are you okay? You were…”
The princess, meeting the older girl’s eyes, clears her throat and smiles sheepishly.
“No, you’re right. I apologize. I was merely… reminded of something.”
Byleth blinks at her, cocking her head to somewhat owlish effect.
“Something?”
Again, she yawns, baring rather large teeth, and Edelgard tries to ignore the way her pulse quickens a little at the observation. She doesn’t have time to unpack that right now.
The princess fidgets, looking away for a moment.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not discuss that right now,” she says. “Suffice it to say I didn’t have quite the spoiled upbringing one might imagine of a princess.”
Byleth, to her quiet relief, simply nods, understanding.
“Understood,” she says simply, and her tail flicks with some emotion Edelgard suspects neither of them can quite identify– but it draws Byleth’s attention to the thing, reminds her of her predicament, and the swordswoman swallows.
“… You said you know what all this is about?”
Edelgard shifts her position on the bed and nods resolutely.
“You’re fortunate, I suppose, but as the future head of the Adrestian Empire, I happen to be privy to some… rare information.”
“Like that I’m not a vampire.”
The princess has to stifle a giggle at that, hiding her smile behind a gloved hand.
“Like that you’re not a vampire, yes.”
Byleth moves to sit beside her, then, and leans against her shoulder, her tail swishing across the covers behind them.
“What am I, then?”
* * *
Byleth does her best not to stare as Edelgard tells her she may be a fucking dragon.
“And these ‘Children of the Goddess’-”
“All but disappeared a thousand years ago,” Edelgard says. “For you to appear now… I don’t think we can discount the possibility that Rhea – or perhaps some unknown relative of hers – is your mother.”
“And they- er, we’re shapeshifters, and that’s why Rhea isn’t a…” she makes a vague, upwards sort of gesture, as though calling attention to something great and expansive. “A… humongous divine beast?”
“That is my understanding, yes. And the reason why I hold out hope that your current predicament need not be so… troublesome.”
Byleth hums.
Edelgard is nice. Soft and warm.
… Fuck. She really is a lizard, isn’t she?
“Because you think I should be able to change back somehow. Would it be naive of me to hope you have some idea of how we might accomplish that?”
Edelgard glances at her sidelong, a pretty little smile splitting her pale lips.
“As it just so happens, I do: earlier, I was able to observe the growth of scales along your jaw-”
She traces a gloved fingertip up Byleth’s jaw, and, shit. The swordswoman’s never been so thrilled to have her jaw touched.
“-when you were shaking me out of my stupor. When you were agitated, in other words.”
Byleth feels her brow furrowing.
“So, what, you think I need to… relax? I fell asleep on you five minutes ago.”
“Yes, and very quickly, too,” Edelgard notes, and Byleth makes an active effort not to react to that, nor to the odd tone in the princess’ voice. “But perhaps sleep doesn’t count, or something else is in effect. It’s a start, and I don’t think calming yourself as a first step can hurt no matter what we do.”
* * *
In the end, it only takes a little bit of investment into teaching Byleth how to meditate to get the tail and fangs to go away. The scales come off easy, her pupils return to round, but her ears stay pointed and her nails stay sharp. She stops purring, too, thank every god but Fódlan’s.
She’s a quick learner, Byleth. An attractive quality to be sure.
But, however attentive (and, indeed, attractive) she may be, the ears… well, those ears are going to be a problem.
They’ll… have to do something with her hair, maybe.
… Hubert will know what to do, surely.
At least a pair of gloves will probably suffice to hide the nails?
… Byleth nuzzles her sweetly, and Edelgard has to dig her own nails into her leg to not think about that as the pretty girl once more dozes at her side— albeit upright, this time.
…
Fffuck.
* * *