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Hilda knew this would be, by far, the most difficult letter she has ever written to her brother. Where should she even begin? Surely rumors would have reached him by now either way. It’s not every day an up and coming empire is toppled. And Fodlan being unified? That would have seemed impossible 5 years prior. Still, the soon-to-be queen of Fódlan must at least make some attempt. Hilda doubts that even Byleth could get her out of a lecture from Holst if she fails to break the news of her engagement herself.
But with so much to write about, Hilda feels drowned by the sheer number of topics. Should she simply dive right in? Open with her engagement to her former professor, the newly crowned king of Fodlan? She has written of Byleth many times in the past, and even talked extensively about him when she returned briefly to the Locket after the fall of Garreg Mach. Then, her brother had teased her, claiming her crush was obvious.
“Might there be wedding bells on the horizon?” he had penned, in a letter more than five years old. “From the sounds of it, he must be quite the suitor. Anyone who can get you to put in effort.”
Hilda had scoffed, reading such a bold claim. Her reply was more than scathing, letting Holst know that she had no intention of marrying anyone that was so skilled at making her work! Looking back, she couldn’t help feeling a little amused. Of course, her brother had been right. In the end, Byleth had won her over. there was something about her enigmatic professor that she just couldn’t shake.
Perhaps it was the way he always gave her his all. No matter how hard she tried to weasel her way out of work, he always seemed to find a way to push her into it. And, at the same time, seemed aware of her fears. Of her worries. Somehow, she never disappointed him. Her greatest fear never seemed to be more than a distant worry with him.
It wasn’t just her. With the entirety of his class, and any student that flocked to him, Byleth seemed to be able to sense exactly how far he could push them, exactly what each of them were best suited for. In a way, Hilda felt as though she could understand. Though she was not nearly as talented as Byleth, Hilda could usually tell who would make a good choice for pawning off her labors. Perhaps not something to be proud of, but she had confidence in her ability to choose the ideal person for the job regardless.
But her? She never should have been the ideal choice for anything . Sure, she was handy with making accessories, but a battlefield? Certainly not the place for a delicate flower like her. Yet, again and again, Byleth proved to her just how wrong she was. By the end of the war, she stood as an elite, squaring off against none other than Nemesis himself. Perhaps Claude and Byleth had struck the final blow, but she got in one or two of her own. It was an impossible tale, and yet she had lived it!
With all that happened, Fódlan wasn’t in the best of shape, however. With the remnants of the Empire in shambles, the Kingdom ruined, and only the Alliance left relatively unscathed, a leader was needed. Someone who the common people could rally around, and who could lead them into a new and brighter future. Claude, unsurprisingly, turned any such role down flat. Instead, he recommended Byleth. Hilda had to admit, she felt a certain pride that her former professor would go on to such heights, but… that wasn’t the life for her.
Hilda planned to return home, at least for a bit. Afterward, she’d try to settle down, find a decent enough noble to marry. One who would let her enjoy the easy life. She deserved an early retirement, right? After fighting so hard, working up a sweat, risking her life, time and time again, in a war she hardly wanted a place in? The last thing she expected was a summons to the Goddess Tower, from the King himself. It wasn’t something she could try to turn down, or something she could talk someone else into doing for her. But she had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t be getting the easy life she was so looking forward to.
Sure enough, Byleth had different plans for her. Plans a part of her knew were coming. Plans a part of her wanted to be coming. She hadn’t wanted to admit to herself that her brother was right. That she had fallen head over heels for her teacher, for the man that was always guiding her, trusting her, believing in her… and most of all, supporting her. Hilda never thought she’d amount to much. She never wanted to be anything more than a lazy noble, coasting through her life and doing whatever she wanted.
In a way, as Byleth knelt before her, holding up a ring, Hilda felt that she couldn't say no. Perhaps it was the expectation he was trusting her with, but she felt as though she didn't want to let him down. That if he believed she would make a good queen, and wanted to share his life with her, who was she to turn him down?
Naturally, she added a few stipulations. If she would be queen, she wanted to make sure things weren't too difficult! Byleth seemed to expect nothing less, however, beaming up at her as she accepted. Though Queen of Fódlan was not a role Hilda ever believed she'd be filling, as her wedding grows closer, she can't deny that she's excited.
Thinking of all that's happened, and how excited she is, Hilda puts her quill to paper. By the time Holst receives her letter, she'll be married. And, after that, she'll be a queen. In a way, the next time she sees her brother, she'll outrank him. That thought is enough to make her giggle as she writes her letter. Though it hurts her to do so, in the end, she feels that she needs to admit to her brother that he was right.
Hilda loves her soon-to-be husband, her king, and -- a title that seems as though it will follow Byleth forever -- her professor. And Hilda wouldn't have it any other way.