Summoned Solomon AU

[crimsonflower]

[The rain had started just as the battle came to its conclusion. Dimitri's subordinates had become twisted and transformed themselves into demonic beasts with the help of crest stones that Rhea had, without Dimitri's knowledge, given to them hoping they'd throw themselves at Edelgard and bring her down. What Rhea had not anticipated was the strength of Edelgard's forces and the ace she had up her sleeve. Solomon had no doubt played a large part in their success.

And, with everyone else disposed of and Rhea — or Seiros, really — retreating there is but one matter left to deal with. Before Edelgard, on his knees and bleeding profusely, is Dimitri. Like a wounded animal he lashes out and growls at her. Howling about how he'll kill her, and all the grief she's caused him and his people. He cries out, throat horse, "To the fires of eternity with you, El—!"

Her hand is on her weapon. For a moment she hesitates. The name he's called her. That name known only by her siblings and one other. The boy who had been her first friend and crush as a child—]

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[foolswisdom]

Master.

[ There is a hand on her wrist where she grips her ax, steady and physically soft, though there is the weight of authority to it: one sovereign to another. Even here and now, despite the long struggle of the battle, both his voice and his touch are steady. Seiros was not the only one on this battlefield who could claim any sort of divine connection, and Solomon's ties to his god go far deeper than a child raging for her lost mother. His own sword raises now: a long thin blade, slightly curved, blood still dripping from its edges.

It happens fast. Even a weak Servant moves faster than most humans can register, and whatever exhaustion Solomon carries from this battle, he is far from weak. To Edelgard's eyes, it likely only looks like a casual flick of his wrist, a king's thoughtless dismissal of a hovering servant. For a moment, the howling continues.

And then it cuts off. There's a single wet sound, louder for the sudden silence around it, and Dmitri's body tumbles to the ground in one direction, his head in another. It rolls and comes to a stop face-up, staring sightlessly to the heavens. ]

You needn't sully your hands.

[crimsonflower]

[She was prepared. Taking those last moments where Dimitri could barely stand to steel her heart to do what needed to be done. And, in one swift moment, it's taken away from her. The decision. Her closure. Gone. She's left clinging not to her action and resolve, but instead on his final words and the twisted expression on his decapitated head.

Slowly she steps over to it. Kneels before it. Unthinking her hands reach out to cradle him gently. Tears fall hot from her eyes but thankfully she can blame the rain.]

He called me El.

[Shall she include Dimitri in the list of names? In the band of ghosts that compel her to overthrow Seiros so she may finally have the strength to face the true end goal of her struggles — the Agarthans? Yes. She should do that. Because turning on them means turning against her uncle. The very man who schemed and ensured that Dimitri's life was nothing but trauma and struggle despite living the lavish life of a prince.

Her family was responsible for the tempest in his heart, and his demise. He deserves at least that much.

Edelgard rests her forehead against his. It has not yet turned cold...]

[foolswisdom]

He did.

[ Solomon's voice is calm. It almost always is. But there is something else in it too, faint -- a whisper of smoke and nothing more. In her grief, she might not even hear it, but it is there: that single, gossamer thread of sympathy. He stands quietly by her side, and as she curls around that head, he lifts an arm, enough to let the long bellcurve of his robe provide her some shelter from the rain. ]

That name is familiar to you.

[ Again, it's only a statement. Solomon's judgement and understanding of this situation is unclouded by grief or trauma, and he has seen the dreams his Master has had, of a boy in the sunlight, whose features were blurred but whose smile still lived in her heart. He can guess, without her saying -- but just as he has no emotional connection to the trauma, he has no real understanding of the tender twisted to grief. His voice is calm.

He does not say, You had no other choice, and he does not say, He needed to be eliminated for your dreams to become reality. He knows she knows, and so he only waits for her to collect herself. The worst part of the battle is over; the rest is only tallying the dead and doing what can be done for the living. ]

[crimsonflower]

It is. There is now not a single person alive to call the name of the girl I used to be.

[Slowly, a little unsteady, she stands. Stepping from the protection of his robe she begins her trek to his body so that she may rest his head by it. Before kneeling to set him down she closes his eyes so he no longer has to look at the twisted woman his El was warped into.]

We should gather ourselves and follow the knights back to Fhirdiad. They are without confidence or support. Let us end this war for Fodlan, and for... Dimitri.

[Edelgard is glad for the rain. Not only does it wash the fresh blood from her gauntlets, but it obscures the stream of tears cascading down her cheeks and dripping from her chin. They're hot, and make her eyes sting, but at least her voice does not waver, her lip does not quiver, and she avoids becoming a sobbing mess. Even if it feels as if an anvil weighs on her chest. Even if rose thorns coils tightly around her glass heart which she assumed was already accustomed to scratches. And yet still she feels the pain of it.]

[foolswisdom]

As you wish, Master.

[ He lifts his hand, slow and careful, and brushes a finger under one of her eyes. There's no way, surely, that he can know she's crying, but he still makes the gesture -- featherlight, like the brush of a moth's wings -- like he knows. Is this just his Clairvoyance? Something else? It's uncertain.

But once he does that, he steps away again, tucking his hands back into his robes, a serene and unmoving figure in spite of the downpour. Somehow, there's no mud on the white folds of the cloth. ]

Their figurehead has been killed. The mad dog has been laid to rest. All will fall into place before you, as you've wished for.

[ Is this what you really wanted? he doesn't say. But he does watch her closely, his gold eyes unblinking even as the rain drips into his eyes. ]

[crimsonflower]

[May Dimitri find merciful peace in his death. May he join his friends in a happier place where he can be the soft boy who always cared too much. Away from the toxic trappings of nobility that mangled them both.

Edelgard is taken back by his touch. Especially considering she does not seek physical affection from others and rarely gives it herself. The Emperor is almost untouchable — high on her pedestal away from anyone who might call her a peer. It is lonely, but until she tears down this system that is how it will continue to be.

Since Solomon is quick to continue on without acknowledging the touch she finds herself faltering in an attempt to keep up. There is a pause as Edelgard tries to compose herself after his gesture.]

Finally we will meet Seiros, and take her down. It is still a day from the Tailtean Plains to Fhirdiad, so we will regroup, make camp, and march on after a bit of recovery. There is still more that needs to be done to protect Fodlan from the curse that ails it, but this land's true foe cannot be faced until she is gone and the nations are united.

[The Emepror takes a deep, shuddering breath. Her hands shake even as she keeps them by her side, but she's determined not to crack or break. With a small beckoning wave she calls Solomon to follow her. Time to tend to the wounded, and make camp.

Unless he objects, Edelgard will busy herself with moving the wounded to a designated medic area before aiding those who are setting up the tents. Only late into the evening will she rest and find herself dry clothes.]

[foolswisdom]

[ Of course he follows her. Throughout the entirety of the rest of the day, the rainy afternoon into evening into night, he drifts in her wake. Now he doesn't say anything, even when addressed directly; he communicates by either nodding or shaking his head, or turning to look to Edelgard, deferring to her authority. If he has any thoughts or opinions about dealing with the camp and its survivors, he does not volunteer them.

It's only when Edelgard has been redressed, and seems ready for bed, does he speak. ]

Master.

[ There's a beat too long, like he's waiting for her acknowledgment, but then he goes on: ] Would you rather I patrol, or will you have need of me tonight?

[ He can give her a dreamless sleep. It's something he has offered before, always playfully, carelessly; tonight, there's something more weighted in the offer: a courtesy for her grief, if she wants it. ]

[crimsonflower]

[Gently she seats herself on her bedroll in the tent. Her entire self looking pale and washed out with her white and silvery hair, white nightgown, pale eyes, and fair skin. Almost as if she was a ghost of herself. Only able to reflect the color she wears.]

If you would not mind perhaps I will make use of your previous offer for a restful sleep. It is important that when we march on the kingdom everyone be at their best.

[foolswisdom]

Of course.

[ He says it quietly -- almost gently, really. As gently as he ever says anything: the softness of someone who has always existed apart from the sort of grief she's feeling right now. He has never been coy, exactly, about the circumstances of his life, but nor has he volunteered much more than what might be gleaned from the occasional shared dream.

He extends his hand, curling the palm around Edelgard's cheek, though he does not yet make contact. It is an invitation, for her to take fully if she wishes. ]

I will watch over your sleep until morning, Master.

[crimsonflower]

[At this point she feels so weak, vulnerable, and exposed. The armor around her heart torn off like a dragon had been picking through to soft insides. Which is why when Solomon extends his hand there is but a moment of hesitation before she leans into it.

His palm rests against the soft curve of her cheek as her white lashes flutter closed. Tears again threaten to fall, but for now her lashes stay dry.]

Solomon, can you hold a tune?

[foolswisdom]

Of course.

[ He had been divinely gifted, after all: he was meant to be a king of example, the greatest until the Messiah's birth. Of course he had been talented in all things that would have been expected of a ruler.

Still, something about her posture and her words move him to add something he normally would not -- an extra clarification, when he would have otherwise been content to leave the answer as it was. ]

My honored father was far better. But I have done my share of composing. Does my Master have a preference?

[ He might not know the lullabies of her country, of this world, but there are still others in his memory -- in that vast store of knowledge that had been gifted to him as birth, the whole range of what true Clairvoyance could give a human being. If she asks, he will answer. ]

[crimsonflower]

A lullaby, please. I have no preference, nor memory of those hummed to me as a child so any shall do. However I have one more favor to ask.

[If tonight shall be the night of vulnerability and asking for what she normally would deny herself, then she shall go through with this. He probably will not mock her for it, but she cannot help but feel self-conscious even thinking about asking for it.]

[foolswisdom]

[ He tilts his head slightly, a question in the movement. His thumb moves in a slow gentle arc, tracing the line of her cheekbone, steady as a calm heartbeat. ]

Whatever my Master wishes, I will be happy to provide.

[crimsonflower]

This may be a strange request, but may I use your lap in place of a pillow? Just until I fall asleep, and then you may leave me be if you get restless.

[She cannot look at him when she asks. She has to hide just how much she yearns for something so simple, so soft, and... a bit intimate. The gentle reassurance of another, to be cradled in something safe — she promised herself not to even think about letting herself have any kind of gentleness or relief until her goal's complete.

However the day was hard. The new confirmation of the suspicions she had for sometime now was hard. She will need rest before she faces Rhea.]

[foolswisdom]

[ For just a moment, his hand pauses in the stroking of her face. If she looks at him at all, she might see actual surprise in his expression. Of all the things that have ever been asked of Solomon, King of Mages, it has never been anything like this.

And then he pulls his hand back, moving instead to sink down beside her. It's an easy, fluid gesture, as if that moment of hesitation had never happened. This time, he touches her shoulder, giving it a gentle tug to ease her body towards his. ]

Lie down then, Master. I will safeguard your rest tonight.

[crimsonflower]

[How kind. No laugh or gentle mocking. No, instead he guides her close. He encourages, and Edelgard feels a little spoiled. But that is all right. This is something soft she'll cherish, like the tattered teddy bear that was a gift from her professor years ago — tucked away and hiding somewhere in her room back in Enbarr palace.

She allows herself to be gently moved into position. They will share her bedroll and rest upon the cushion it provides from the ground as they settle. Edelgard's cheek sets upon Solomon's thigh as her long silver-white hair covers his lap and cascades over his legs.]

Thank you, Solomon. I will strive not to forget this kindness.

[Or at least... do better than she had done for Dimitri.]

[foolswisdom]

My Master should concern herself with herself, for the moment. The rest can be handled in time.

[ His voice is gentle -- always gentle, always soft, but just a touch warmer than usual. It's the sort of shift that could easily be unnoticed or ignored by someone unfamiliar with how Solomon talks.

He holds himself unnaturally still as she settles; even as a living man, he'd been praised for his poise; as a spirit, he has even less need or instinct to fidget. Once she's curled up, he settles one hand gently upon the crown of her head and strokes down, a long, easy motion. ]

It is no sin, to be kind to yourself as well.

[crimsonflower]

[Edelgard would not call herself an expert in reading Solomon's mood. He was far too complicated (and yet simple at the same time) for her to understand. However she does notice when something is "different". She's unable to discern what, but there's the slightest shift. A note or tone that's some how off from all the times she has chased him around the imperial castle or had to listen to him goof off in the war council room or when she listened to his advice and insight.

Tired and worn she's not sure how to address it other than gently nuzzling her cheek just a little deeper into his thighs. Perhaps a silent approval of this change.]

How funny to hear you say. Are you ever kind specifically to yourself?

[foolswisdom]

I am not a thing made to receive kindness, Master.

[ He says that easily, lightly, without weight or trouble. There's no grief to it, no trauma, the way that clings to the damaged children that Edelgard knows -- the wounded child she once was. He speaks like her sword might, had it a voice of its own: calm, matter-of-fact, all statements of truth in his own world. A thing, and not a man.

But his touch his gentle, as it settles on her head and strokes, long and steady, rhythmic as the beating of a calm heart. ]

But I indulged myself, when the whim took me. You needn't worry yourself that I am suffering.

[crimsonflower]

Hah, perhaps you should not have said that. You tell me that you are not made to receive kindness and now I feel compelled to give it to you. Yet I suppose that makes me more a contrarian than it does a "good person".

[Solomon has at least calmed her enough that the lips of her mouth curl gently upward at the corners. Idly she begins fidgeting, to stop her overactive brain from thinking too much, by tracing her finger in swirls on his legs. The collective efforts from both of them means at least her muscles are starting to relax. The tension slowly fades from her neck, shoulders, and upper back.]

[foolswisdom]

If it pleases my master, I would hardly dare to contradict her.

[ His hand doesn't pause, still slow and steady as he strokes her hair, but his tone is... bemused. Perhaps mildly surprised. If she happens to glance at his face, his expression is as close to confused as it ever is. ]

But I suspect that her efforts would be better suited when turned to those who would most benefit from it. I am satisfied in being a useful tool for you.

[crimsonflower]

"I would not benefit from receiving kindness" is such an odd thing to hear. Do you really believe that to be true? It is quite all right if you do not, but I have a hard time accepting such an answer.

[Her little patterns of swirls stop. Now she uses his leg as an imaginary drawing board. First, the antlers of a deer. The first of her big problems that were swept aside after the confrontation in Derdriu.]

[foolswisdom]

Whether you accept it or not, it is the truth.

[ He just sounds mildly bemused at her insistence, though his hand continues as it was. ]

I have never been human, in the same sense that you are now, Master. I lived, I breathed; I required food and water and sleep, the same as any living being--but I was simply as I am now. There is no more need to treat me kindly than there is to treat the blade of your ax.

[crimsonflower]

[Having her hair stroked is so nice. It's the first time in a very, very long time anyone has done that for her. A pleased little noise hums in her throat as she squirms before settling again.]

Mm, I disagree. My ax does not find enjoyment out of being a thorn during strategy meetings or surprising me with flowers I did not ask for. You have more personality than an ax. Even if it is frustrating at times.

[foolswisdom]

Is that so?

[ When she hums, he pauses for just a moment, then continues the moment again--a little more firmly than before, gauging her response and adjusting the pressure as necessary. ]

I have always done as you've asked. You wished for me to give you advice, and to care for your soldiers. I have done both. Is there more you want of me?

[crimsonflower]

No. I was speaking of ways you have endeared yourself to me. I will be saddened to see you go, even though I know it is necessary for you to do so once the war is complete. My only want is for you to find some happiness when we part. Even if you insist it's impossible for you to feel such things.

[She turns on his lap so that her back faces the floor and her face gazes up at him.]

[foolswisdom]

Happiness?

[ He tilts his head at that, his brows drawing together the slightest bit. While he doesn't look away or even blink, it's still as bemused as she's ever seen him. ]

I am satisfied that I can be of use to my Master. I am proud that I was able to aid you in your campaign. I find enjoyment in encouraging you and yours to rest. Does that not suffice?

[crimsonflower]

No, not at all. Happiness involves a little selfishness. And it may not be something you are able to find here. So I wish that kind of feeling for you, even if it is after you leave.

[Reaching up Edelgard takes a few locks of his hair and starts to braid it in soft plaits that will fall out easy when she returns his hair to him.]

[foolswisdom]

[ He allows that without protest, only tilting his head slightly, so that his hair is in easier reach. ]

Ah, Master. I was not created to be selfish. If I am summoned a thousand times, that will not change. We aren't meant to be adapt, in the way that you do.

[ "You." Humans. Even in his mortal life, he'd never considered himself one. ]

A Servant is a fragment. An instant in time and history, caught at the peak of our existence. I would rather you wish for happiness for yourself, rather than waste your efforts on an empty vessel.

[crimsonflower]

We all get chances to go against what we were created for. Some day I will, and one day I hope you will consider doing so yourself. I will not rescind my wish. No matter what you may say.

[One day she will stand against her uncle. Even if it doing so shakes her to the core. Edelgard swears she'll find their base and leave nothing behind but ash.

And if she can do that, maybe he can feel something genuine. Happiness, sadness, or even bittersweet contentment. Someday. With someone else, perhaps.

The plaits become smaller until she cannot weaver the hair over itself anymore.]

[foolswisdom]

...what a strange person you are, my Master.

[ When she runs out of hair to braid, he catches her wrist gently in one hand, just holding it. His head tilts slightly as he looks at her, brows just slightly furrowed. ]

Your path hasn't yet ended. It would be wiser to wish for yourself, and for the people you will lead. They will have more need of your strength than I.

[crimsonflower]

The hard part is yet to come, it's true. Even after Rhea is laid low I must fight an enemy even more fearsome than she. I know not if you will still be with me when I face him, but whether you are or not means little for what I have to do. And after that is done? I wish to lead no more. I want not for managing the lives of others. I grow weary of having to think of those who could be friends in terms of their strength and usefulness. It turns my stomach even if it's necessary.

But, with some of those people gone, I believe I can divert my wishes for the best from them to you. After all, you're one of my eagles now.

[Ah, but she's unable to say the entirety of that looking at him directly with a straight face. Edelgard has only ever been so straightforward with Hubert or Byleth before, so she finds her heart beating way too quickly and her face feeling hot.]

[foolswisdom]

I will remain, until such time that you dismiss me, or this temporary body is destroyed.

[ Even as a Servant goes, he's stronger than most; there are no Beasts in this world in the same sense that he was meant to stand against. But that doesn't actually diminish the sheer power he comes with--poison in his wine or a dagger in his back would both do very little to kill this vessel. He assumes she knows this.

His thumb presses briefly to the pulsepoint in her wrist, stroking in idle, unconscious sweeps. ]

But again, you give me that kindness, when I am hardly deserving. There are surely a thousand men and women who would tear me to pieces for the chance to hear you declare that to them.

[ Is that a joke? It might be a joke. His sense of humor is terrible. ]

[crimsonflower]

[It may be terrible, but the joke pries a soft chuckle from her lips nonetheless. She remembers taking the alliance and sending Claude back to Almyra. Since then Lorenz has done nothing but sent her letters of proposal spritzed with the most cloying cologne a man can find.]

Oh, there certainly are. They compare my hair to snow and my eyes to gemstones. They describe this body to be some ethereal beauty, and not the strained heap of flesh that it truly is. They say my skin flawless for they do not know of my body beneath my wardress: mangled and scarred. What need have I of them in such capacity? Those that would throw themselves at someone they do not know?

[She looks up at him as he holds her hand and plays at her wrist. Solomon is certainly something else. After all he'd only wax such poetic to tease, right?]

[foolswisdom]

It is the mystery that draws them, Master. If you truly wanted to separate the sincere from the fairweather, you might need leave behind the sweetened words of the nobility.

[ No matter where you go, no matter what royal court you land in, some things never change. There's a beat where something close to sharp is visible in his smile, there and gone again. ]

Still, Master--your life will outlast this one. It is my sincere prayer that you will find someone else to give your kindness to. The Lord my God created humans out of love, to have love, even if His was inscrutable.