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The cold stones of the imperial palace were even more so during the harsher winters of Fódlan, in spite of the fires roaring day and night in a constant attempt to keep the halls and rooms habitable. That they were, but one merely had to brush their fingers on the wall to know the underlying truth of the winds and snowstorms outside. Unforgiving as the weather was, no enemy was foolish enough to tread through snow that would bury horse and rider together —winter was a time of true peace.
War had been officially over for years, yet remnants of opposition and straggles still remained. Edelgard wished not to trouble the populace with such unnecessary fears of a new large scale conflict, and so she worked tirelessly to keep things under control. Her own weapons and those of her friends laid to rest, the young Emperor wished that others could do the same; she understood, however. Understood the grievance of ones who had lost it all, who could only cling on the desperation of vengeance and anger.
It was at times like those, curled up in a large armchair in front of the fire with a steaming cup of tea, that her mind wandered and prodded if she would’ve ended up the same hadn’t it been for certain people in her life. A mad, anger driven ruler, unable to see beyond the path of destruction she had taken. The thought terrified her. Her regrets were many, but in the end, she firmly wanted to believe that she had stayed true to herself.
Edelgard took a sip from a tea that had started to grow a little too cold for her liking, for a brief moment juggling with the idea of leaving the coziness of her private quarters. Tdea that was immediately dispersed by the image of Hubert and Ferdinand both accosting her with issues this, paperwork that, spar with me Edelgard this; her head hurt just from thinking about it. Inside where it was warm and there were no duties was the better option, by far. Bernadetta would be proud of her.
Were it that she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts much longer. A letter from Claude arrived that morning, stating that he would visit Fódlan in utmost secrecy for the anniversary of the unification. That was his official excuse, but it was truly a meeting between three friends ruptured by their own shortcomings and the flow of time —one carrying an entire empire on her shoulders, one who had embraced secrecy as his life, one buried on the battlefield where both his tears and blood had been shed for naught.
A drop fell into the tea. Edelgard hadn’t noticed her eyes welling up in her reminiscence, nor the steps that had furtively approached her armchair. It was only when Byleth was standing before her, with those eyes that could pierce through the most hardy of fortresses, that Edelgard rushed to put her cup down and wipe the tears with the back of her sleeve. How unbecoming of her, to be found in such a state, and the former professor’s silence only made it worse.
“Profess —Byleth—, I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Edelgard said, quick to regain her composure. “How was your trip to Brigid?”
“Eventful,” Byleth replied, and while she didn’t comment on Edelgard crying she still cupped the other’s cheeks with such intent that it made Edelgard look like a fish. A very confused fish. “Petra has remained the same fierce company. Shall I take you to the balcony for fresh air?”
“It would be much appreciated.”
Edelgard allowed to be led by the hand into the cold outside, where a gentle snow had been falling the entire afternoon and picked up as if to greet them. Byleth was still wrapped in a travel cloak; she disposed of it and left it draping over the railing to remain only in her riding outfit. She never seemed cold, and sometimes gave the impression of purposefully seeking the bite of the wind whenever a chance was given.
Abandoned in a corner of the balcony was Edelgard’s rarely used easel, a still empty canvas hidden under the blanket covering it. She didn’t paint often. In fact, Edelgard could count the times she had finished a painting to her satisfaction on her fingers, her obvious lack of free time becoming even more apparent as even these alone moments with Byleth were still rare. Many years ago, Edelgard had promised the woman before her they would get all the time they wanted to do nothing.
“I do not mind, you know.” Byleth was facing towards the white scenery before them, leaned over too much for Edelgard’s liking.. She yanked Edelgard at her side with force yet gentle at the same time, her arm resting around the Emperor’s waist. “I do wish we had more time, of course. Yet do I not get to hold you in my arms every night when I am here? That alone brings me joy.”
“You still saying such things with a straight face has remained as preoccupying as ever.” Edelgard couldn’t help but chuckle as she looked up at Byleth’s face. Her wife’s cheeks were pink from the cold, breath visible in minuscule puffs, the deep eyes of someone who carried a world inside them despite not being one to speak of it much. With the years, Byleth had become more talkative, but the mysterious air still remained around her, like the sheet that covered her canvas waiting to be removed and painted with experiences. “There is no need to worry so much about my well being, I promise. I only have many things on my mind.”
“And those are?”
Edelgard sighed. “You will insist all evening unless I tell you.”
“Until my hair grows white, if I must.”
“That is a long time to dedicate to pestering me… very well. If it gives you peace of mind to know, I received a letter from Claude this morning. He will be here to celebrate Unification Day with us as an, and may I quote, Guest of Utmost Secrecy and Honor’. ” Edelgard rested her head against Byleth’s shoulder, wishing time would freeze, that it could be just the two of them gazing at white mountains and hills to their heart’s content and having naught but each other to keep warm. Selfish desires, but she had them nonetheless.
“Last time we saw him, it was on a battlefield. I rejoice that we may meet again after all these years,” Byleth said, but her tone carried the same weight as Edelgard’s. “He would want to visit Dimitri, naturally. Is that what weights on your heart?”
Edelgard took what felt to her like an eternity to respond —to be faced with her own regrets and fears was still hard on her, and the soft ‘yes’ only escaped her lips upon being held closer by Byleth. “Not once, in this many years, have I taken flowers to his grave. I doubt he would accept such a meaningless gift from the one that took his life, not even my presence.”
“El, I have been and am with you through everything. I shall accompany you and Claude to Dimitri’s resting place. You are...not the only one without the heart to plant yourself before him.” Byleth turned around to face her, the gentle touch around Edelgard’s waist moving over her shoulders instead, their foreheads touching in a silent oath of love. “We will take Dimitri flowers. And when you weep, I will weep with you. That was my vow when I asked for your hand.”
“Your words bring my heart much needed relief. Even so, I cannot help but think sometimes that things could have been different.” Edelgard stole a much longed for kiss after weeks apart; the soft lips of her beloved kept her grounded, reminded her that she had everything she could ever need and more.
“A man’s victory is another man’s defeat.” Byleth said, sounding more the way she did all those years back at the academy, the tone of a professor giving a stern but uplifting lecture. “It is more disrespectful towards Dimitri to rethink his death than pride in what has been achieved because of it.” She smiled. “Hadn’t it been for you, I would’ve done the same to my father.”
“Is this where you grade me based on what I respond next?” Edelgard asked. As if a long rusted anvil had been lifted off her chest, she felt lightheaded and more than willing to embrace that temporary acceptance of the events to come.
“Certainly. Your performance has been satisfa— El, where are you going?”
Edelgard had —miraculously— escaped Byleth’s arms, an urgency in her movement as she went back and forth from their closet and the balcony to bring over a chair, brushes, paints, everything she could get her hands on, and finally she grabbed the easel and planted it in between her and Byleth. It was a terribly messy setup by anyone’s standards, Edelgard thought, but she had been struck by inspiration.
Byleth was looking at her with a rare bewildered expression, and that alone made it worth it. It was a short lived victory, for Edelgard’s wife knew how to tease the Emperor. There were years of experience behind it.
“Will you draw a lovely portrait of me again, like all those years back?”
“You promised you would forget about ever seeing that monstrosity.” Edelgard’s cheeks tinted pink as she rushed to look at all the colors she had brought instead of at Byleth. To be embarrassed so in such a way was not something that happened often, but curiously it only made her more happy.
That was true. She was happy. Byleth brought her joy in every gesture, every word, in the loving caresses before bed and when the morning sun would try to pull the two apart from each other for their daily duties. When, even if there was nothing to be secretive about, they would meet up hidden under the shade of willow trees and steal kisses like starstruck teenagers not wanting to be discovered by their feuding families. They made their own small adventures, stories, paintings , in every fleeting moment that they spent with each other. When her mind and heart became aware of that, Edelgard feared nothing.
She would receive Claude with open arms and reforge their bond anew, and finally say all those words that she had kept in heart for years to Dimitri; Byleth would be there with her —in person, in a painting, in her heart. She had become a ruler whose resolve was strengthened by her bonds, and she would wear that with pride.
It was with a smile that she raised her head again to look at Byleth, except…
“W-what are you doing getting naked?!” Edelgard dropped her paintbrush. Byleth was only in her undergarments, and clearly she intended to take those off as well. “It’s winter, and we are outside! For all that is sacred, cover yourself!”
“Won’t a nude make for a more interesting art piece, though?”
“Byleth!” Edelgard rushed to drag her wife inside, afraid the airhead she had married would catch a cold; yet said airhead had the loveliest of laughs, and as it echoed into the mountains, the stones of the palace were warmer than any ray of summer’s sun.