Chapter Text
Before, her sisters would call her El. A little name for a little girl, the baby of the family for many years, until dear Lise and Adelheid came along.
In the palace, bereft of her mother for as long as she could remember, she lived on the sweetness of her sisters' affection. They braided her hair and soothed her tears and snuck her bites of cake. They dressed her up and kissed her cheeks, and kissed her more when she squirmed. She was their darling El, pretty as a doll, their dearest baby sister.
Hubert has only ever called her Lady Edelgard.
Not in the way the nobles said it, looking down, with the condescension of greeting a child in grown-up’s garb. Not in the way the servants said it, empty and dutiful. Even then, he’d said it in deadly seriousness, with a thrilling, grave intensity. From his lips, her name could belong to the grand histories they would read, side by side, from the weighty tomes that took the both of them to lift from the library shelves.
It’s been so many years. It hurts to look back. In dreams, she longs for someone to hold her tight and call her El again.
In the hard-edged waking world, she listens to Hubert say her name like it’s worth dying for, and draws her axe for battle.