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Chapter Text

The headache grows, does not subside. Judging from the light outside, there are many more minutes of Edelgard’s life dedicated to her duties. The periods between now and supper, and now and the next ten years seem indistinguishable.

She massages her temple in a desperate attempt to alleviate some tightness, brought about by tiredness, on her forehead. 

How Edelgard has done this for ten years, every day, escapes her. Perhaps it was her undying sense of duty, her bullheaded stubbornness to see this through to the end. Perhaps it had been the ever-present guilt that had been pushed aside for the greater good nipping at the skin of her heels. 

Ugh. 

“Hubert,” Edelgard calls out, exhausted, her voice quiet. He would have heard her, even if she whispered it, and frankly, it’s an odd mix of comforting and unnerving. “Are our next few tasks for today matters of grave importance?” 

He stands at her side, handing her a drink of water, sensing her discomfort. “Our priorities have been addressed. The unruly lords of the east have been given a warning about strictly following land distribution policies.” 

At least that's working for her. “And what of the rebels?” In all her years as the leader of the new world, she had never squandered rebel uprisings, fully aware that that was her position, lifetimes ago. 

“Negotiations are underway.” He touches his chin. “Last we heard was what we discussed in the recent assembly, that it was faring well. I regret to say that Lord Claude is a good match for the matter.” 

That, too. The headache stops throbbing a heartbeat but it resumes when the golden light she usually enjoys hurts her eyes. 

“Are you well, your majesty?” 

“Yes,” she replies. Hubert’s concern for her has never been well-masked. “Move the succeeding matters to tomorrow.” 

“Of course,” he bows. “If you wish to not deal with such trivial matters, Ferdinand may attend to them without finality.” 

Edelgard raises her head at that. “Is Ferdinand not with the children for swimming lessons?” 

“Yes, but he is ready to report at your request.”

Waving him off, she takes a sip of her drink. “Please, not for me. You should be with your family, Hubert. These can be for tomorrow.” 

“If you insist. I will let them know at once that these matters are for the morrow.” 

-

“Sorry I’m late,” Byleth apologizes, running to the end of the dining table where Edelgard sat. She smells like sweat, the sun, and the sea, and Edelgard wrinkles her nose and pushes her away lightly. “We got held up at the port.” 

“I hope you’re aware I don’t appreciate your tardiness,” Edelgard takes the last bite of her food, setting aside the plate for some fruits. “You know I dislike eating alone.” It’s entirely in jest, and Byleth catches it, pressing another kiss to her cheek. 

“Nine years married and you only tell me now?” Byleth replies though she’s reminded time and time again about these things. “Forgive me? I have your favorite tea from the south. Bryndon sends his warm regards, says he misses your seasick, green face.” 

“Forgiven.” Edelgard rolls her eyes. “Tell him I miss his abysmal seafaring skills.” She leans into Byleth’s touch, feeling much better than earlier. 

With her wife having eaten her supper with the fishermen, Byleth takes a detour to the tower’s private baths. She invites Edelgard to join her, an invitation that Edelgard accepts swiftly, and Edelgard sits close to the edge, at the rather cooler parts while Byleth rinses away the dirt from today. 

The tranquility of the moment, of the ripples caused by their movement and scent of the lather, is doing wonders for Edelgard that she doesn’t notice Byleth wading behind her to knead her shoulders and her back. 

“You seem tense, your majesty,” she observes with a kiss pressed to her shoulder, where a few scarred tissue resided. 

“Tired,” is all Edelgard says, and it carries so much truth that she’d rather not shatter this peaceful moment with what that implies and enumerate all the other ways she is exhausted. 

“How can I help?” 

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Edelgard tells her then lets out a moan at a particular knot Byleth massages at.

“Long day, huh,” Byleth comments and Edelgard hums. 

“Unbelievably so.” 

“You say your job is never done.” 

She lets out a sigh, leaning back into Byleth’s lean form. She’s warm and she smells nice. Nine years of marriage have not dulled the refuge her proximity brings Edelgard. 

It washes over Edelgard, blankets over her, the bathwater lapping at her arms. 

Byleth takes a seat at the ledge, and Edelgard sits on the step below her, between her wife’s legs but with her back meeting Byleth’s front. 

She feels partially resentful when she shatters the comfortable silence and the drip-drop of the water. “I feel like I’ve been doing this for an eternity.” Edelgard feels so old, and if her hair hadn’t maintained its silver color despite the treatment led by Lysithea, Linhardt, and Hanneman, she was sure it would turn white at the tender age of thirty-three. She was sure she wasn’t even going to be here, at this very moment, alive. “I’m exhausted.” 

Exhausted is a severe understatement. She is exhausted by everything, and always of different degrees. Her past weighs on her shoulders, her present faces her head-on, and her future remains unattainable, elusive. 

Byleth, among all people, understands this, as Edelgard’s confidante and wife, but also as someone whose every aspect of her life balanced on the edge of a blade. 

“Sometimes I’m impatient to live the quiet life I want but I know I can’t rush this,” Edelgard says, feeling selfish but unafraid to share anything on her mind with her wife. 

She feels a trail of kisses across her shoulder. “Eager for the joys of idling?” 

Referencing what she said, all those years ago, makes heat rush to her cheeks. “Not as much as you, my heart.” 

She receives a chuckle from Byleth, who wraps her arms around Edelgard, her skin warm against the lukewarm water. Their bodies are pressed so close and Edelgard can’t ever think of anything else in this world that can effectively bring her comfort in an instant.

It is quiet, for a few moments, save for the sound of the dripping and the crickets outside. Until: “would it make you happy to run away? Together?”

It isn’t unusual to hear these words from Byleth’s mouth. Between the two of them, she’s more unafraid of conjuring up these little fantasies of fleeing, of starting a new life. Edelgard will never let it leave her lips that she enjoys it, though Byleth is most likely aware of this fact.

When the burdens turn into boulders, she indulges, as well. 

(“If we lived in a small cottage, we’d have a small plot for our gardens,” Edelgard supplements one night, after a harrowing day at court. They were so close to finding those who slither in the dark. “Will you build a shed, to grow mushrooms?” 

Byleth laughs, nodding. They hit the five-year mark of their marriage, and Edelgard will never stop loving the feel of Byleth’s arms wrapped securely around her waist. “I’ll build you twenty sheds.” 

Edelgard, flustered at the oddly sweet remark and the thought of Byleth cutting wood and putting the shed together, huffs. “That’s hardly practical.” 

“But I love mushrooms, El.”

She had squeezed Byleth’s cheek. The woman is frustratingly unaware of how charming she can be. “That you do, my heart.”)

Edelgard, despite her exhaustion, notices the odd tone in Byleth’s voice as she proposes it. 

It feels heavy with gravitas, and in the almost ten years they’ve married, Edelgard recognizes that Byleth said this not as a tease, not in jest. 

She means it.

Her voice is soft when she looks up to see Byleth observing her, her features tender and loving that even after all these years Edelgard still has to pinch herself that someone looks at her this way. “Then where would we go?” 

“I don’t know. Away from here.” Byleth says, somewhat distantly, yet Edelgard can see the easy determination in her. 

Edelgard kisses her arm, from where they’re wrapped around her shoulders, chuckling softly. “We need to have an agenda, my heart.” 

Nodding, Byleth presses her lips to Edelgard’s temple. She realizes now that her headache has subsided completely. 

“So you permit it?” When Edelgard doesn’t respond immediately, Byleth stipulates, “we can go anywhere, El. Any place that pleases you.” 

Any place that pleases you. Edelgard sighs, dreamily. “Anywhere sounds nice. With you.” 

“That’s a yes if I’ve heard one,” her wife laughs. 

Edelgard splashes some water on Byleth’s face. “Yes, I’ll elope with you.” 

“I’m honored,” she replies, with exaggerated chivalry, and Edelgard only splashes some more water on her. 

It’s not exactly eloping, even if Edelgard wants to leave tonight, with only Byleth and the clothes on her back, but they’re both too important to disappear. Yet the thought of being away is so presently appealing, and she indulges in the thrilling fantasy of being someone who had nothing important to do except fall in love. 

There will be more planning later, as she finds it necessary to think through the logistics of this trip - one that she’s sure will take longer than her annual five-day vacations - and Edelgard pushes it away and sinks into her wife’s arms for the meantime. 

-

“You know, this was more romantic when it was unplanned,” Edelgard teases as she folds her clothing into modest luggage. 

Hubert consented to it, albeit reluctantly because of safety reasons, yet they had toiled for years to ensure that the region could stand without Edelgard, should anything happen to her. 

The chamber that was established a few years after the demise of the Church of Seiros - composed of representatives from different sectors: scholars, mages, fisherfolk, farmers, some nobles - had the power to make decisions, with Edelgard and Ferdinand overseeing the process. 

Byleth raises a brow as she packs her own things. “Would you prefer to be widowed so early? Hubert will represent your chamber members and they would have my head.” 

Funny that Byleth should mention that, and that if Byleth had asked perhaps four years earlier for even a fortnight away, Hubert would have discouraged it from the start, despite having been married for five years. 

The trust that the two built over the years was amusing, and Edelgard had treasured it deeply, looking on from the outside. 

“We’ve been married for ten years.” 

“And I promised you my entire life.” 

Edelgard, despite all this time, can never find it in herself to get used to the sudden and candid declarations of their devotion to each other. She flushes, feels the heat at the back of her neck, the ring that Byleth had given her at the Goddess tower after the war ended sits on her collarbone. 

Byleth wears the ring Edelgard gave her on her finger, as the Black Eagle pendant resides on a silver string around her neck. 

She looks back fondly to the time she gave it to her on Byleth’s name day, the first they’ve shared knowing each other. It was a poorly masked gift of affection and Edelgard nearly implored Dorothea to explain to their peers that it was a group gift, but pitching in was no longer necessary. 

(“You could have just said it was your gift.” 

“I remember wanting to eat glass rather than tell you,” Edelgard mutters. “And if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to do exactly that right now.” 

Byleth tightens her hold around her. “You are the cutest person in all of the realms of this earth.”)

Arms wrapping around her waist, Byleth’s breath hot in her ear. “Flustered, your majesty?” 

Edelgard pulls away and throws a scarf at Byleth’s face. “You are insufferable,” she says, but kisses her sweetly, her chest blooming with excitement for the next few weeks.

-

“These are two of my finest steeds,” Ferdinand says, coming to a halt with two horses in tow. “Not of the color of state horses, but gentle and strong.” 

“Thank you, Ferdinand,” says Edelgard, coming close to brush her gloved hand on the horse’s - one named Boxer - muzzle. 

Byleth reaches out to squeeze his arm in gratitude, coming close to her steed, one with dark coat named Ash. 

“All set for your travels?” He inquires, eyeing the sparse luggage they both have. Neither she nor Byleth was for extravagance, thus simple and practical clothing was enough. Gloves and a large hat hid Edelgard’s features quite well. 

Byleth nods. “Will you be alright here?” 

“Of course!” He booms and Edelgard winces at the volume. “We did not reform governance methods for it to tumble into chaos while you are away, for whatever reason.” 

That did not comfort her the slightest, so she just sighs. “Part of Hubert’s conditions was to check-in at the stations, scattered across the region. If you are in need of anything from me, you may reach me through that system and I will be here.” 

“Understood, your majesty,” he smiles, so boyishly that it reminds Edelgard of their days at the Academy, where he would relentlessly attempt to one-up her in everything, which has proven futile. “Be safe, and have fun, my dearest friends. Goodness knows you two deserve a break.” 

-

The first place that Byleth takes them to is to the east of the capital, three hours away. It was a quiet trip as they both relished the sound of nature around them and the sound of their steeds’ hooves trotting on the path. 

When Edelgard meets Byleth’s gaze, her wife gives her a small smile and nose scrunch and it truly fascinates and frustrates her how small things like this still make her feel like the blushing schoolgirl she was back at the academy. 

She hadn’t truly appreciated how lovely the forests of Fódlan were, always having been inside a carriage or too busy and worried to truly look around her. The golden sun of the afternoon cast a lovely glow about the flora around them and she feels much better already. 

“We’re here,” Byleth announces, slowing her steed down. 

A small cottage sits in the middle of the trail, with a fairly thick covering of trees obscuring it. Its shabby exterior betrays how cozy its interior is, with a nice warm bed that fits the two of them, a fireplace with a nice wok, and some bookshelves. On one side stood some very impressive fishing equipment. 

“I built this with Caspar way before we got married, and I never had the chance to stay, actually. Leonie keeps it warm when she’s not busy.” Byleth begins, setting down their luggage on the wooden flooring that creaks beneath their shoes. “It’s not much, but—”

Edelgard turns to press closer to Byleth. “It’s lovely.” 

“You think so?” 

She nods but then pinches Byleth’s side playfully. “Though I do hope you didn’t build this secretly to have torrid affairs in it.” 

Byleth has the gall to look mock-offended and Edelgard laughs easily. “I’m afraid I’m not as charming as I was before.” 

“Please,” she rolls her eyes, “if only you knew how you had Garegg Mach wrapped around your finger.” It’s true, to say the least. Everyone and their mothers were attracted to Byleth and Edelgard had only been one among many that she hadn’t thought she was significant enough on that list of people that admired her former professor.

“Even when I caught a fish with my bare teeth?”

Edelgard remembers that exact moment, vividly, and it terrified her that she could feel that much for one person doing odd things to impress everyone around her. “Even when you caught a fish with your bare teeth.” 

“You were impressed by that?”

She hesitates but nods anyway. 

“You’re weird.” 

“Says the person who caught the fish with her teeth.” 

“Fair point.” Byleth nuzzles into Edelgard’s cheek. “For the record, I built this place with the intention of bringing you here.” 

Here they were, a little more than ten years later. Edelgard never thought she’d make it this far, enjoying the company of the love of her life, and all the lives she could have lived in the past. 

They retire to bed, having ensured the space they resided in, for the moment, is protected by a defensive spell.

Edelgard rests in Byleth’s arms, and the weight settled on her chest grows significantly lighter at the crickets chirping outside, the soft crackle of the fireplace, and - as usual - Byleth’s heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

Slumber finds her, so does a dream of a grassy field with a tree that sits proudly on a hill.

-

The lake’s clear water touches the soles of her feet when where she sits, on a wooden porch by the lake. Byleth is doing some laps, searching for interesting life in the water, and Edelgard can spend the rest of her life watching this scene unfold before her. 

She’s long stopped fearing bodies of water terribly, having learned how to at least keep herself afloat and swim rough tides should it be necessary, yet if she isn’t required to swim or be in that body of water then she’d rather not. 

She hears light trotting on the floorboards, and she turns to see a small dog, with orange fur and a scruffy muzzle, take a seat beside her, sniffing the hand that Edelgard offers. “Hello,” she laughs when the dog nuzzles its head into her hand. “Where’d you come from?” 

She pets him and rubs his belly when he lies down to expose his tummy to her. 

Edelgard doesn’t even notice Byleth’s wet head poking out of the clear water. 

“Hey,” her wife says to both of them, smiling, looking like a drenched duckling. “Who’s this?” 

Edelgard shrugs. There is no nametag for her to address him properly. “It doesn’t matter. He’s my friend, now.”

Byleth rises from the water, water droplets rolling off her muscular form and Edelgard still feels like looking away, despite having all of those imprinted into her memory. “Hey, buddy,” Byleth says, scratching his head. His tail wags, excited there’s another person paying him attention. 

“I’ll call him that. Buddy.” 

Byleth laughs. “You’ve always been good at giving names.” 

That remains... debatable. Everyone else had always poked fun at how Edelgard named things, yet Byleth only ever smiled, always telling her she loved it. 

Byleth, still damp from her swim, drips onto Buddy and he shakes, getting water on the two of them. 

That afternoon, Buddy follows them home. Byleth checks him for fleas and gives the scruffy dog a bath before letting him sleep at the foot of their bed.

-

Sunlight streams through the windows, Edelgard stretches and reaches over to the other side of the bed to say good morning to her wife, only to find it empty but still warm enough to know she hasn't been gone very long. 

Outside, she hears Byleth talking to Buddy, and the sound of chopping wood. Edelgard stretches a bit more, sighing as she sinks back into the surprisingly comfortable bed, feeling the contentedness she hasn’t felt in years. 

It had always been her to rise earlier than Byleth, on most days. Corruption cases to oversee, policy meetings, diplomatic visits. She hadn’t seen a lethargic morning in over a decade and her heart and her body fill in just rightly, not as if she was a ghost wandering, watching as life passed before her.

When she does move, she shrugs on a simple robe to linger on the cottage’s porch. Edelgard leans on one of the wooden beams to watch Byleth throw a stick for Buddy to enthusiastically scramble after. Her chest swells with affection for her wife and the kind of childish wonder and playfulness that starkly contrasts the stoic mercenary and professor most people have come to know her as. 

“Good morning!” Byleth grins at her, her dark blue hair sticking to her face. The young morning sun casts an ethereal glow about her, and Edelgard notices the adorable laugh lines getting more visible as the years pass. 

“Good morning,” Edelgard greets in return, admiring her wife. As she steps into the sun, Buddy catches Byleth unawares - uncharacteristically so - and sends them into a tumbling mess on the grass covering the ground.

-

“You’re positively sure that this is her show?” 

“Yes,” Byleth whispers. “I asked for her schedule.” 

Edelgard huffs, unbelieving. “You said that before and we ended up watching her understudy.” 

“We didn’t know she sprained her foot moments before the show!” 

Edelgard admits that her wife was correct, so she sits back, waiting for the curtains to draw. Her usual spot was often at the balcony, yet she and Byleth had acquired tickets for the front row to Dorothea’s opera. In the dark and with a shawl hiding her hair, no one will recognize her.

She prefers this to her place at the balcony.

Edelgard, stricken with another worry, turns to Byleth. “Will Buddy be alright back in the cottage?” 

“I think so.” 

She chews her lip. “How would you know that?” 

“He told me.”

“He what—” 

The lights dim and the music starts, and the people beside them silences their bickering with a harsh, “SHH!”

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite people in this entire realm,” Dorothea drawls, to greet them. They agreed to meet her outside, away from the people eager to ask for Dorothea’s autograph. 

How she becomes even more beautiful, through the years, escapes Edelgard. There are lines starting to form under her eyes and Dorothea is so very lovely. When they embrace, all three of them, she feels and smells exactly like she did before the war. 

Edelgard remembers exactly what the war did to Dorothea, and while it was necessary to bring freedom to the place that Fodlan was now, she wished deeply that it hadn’t had done what it did to her dearest friend.

“Dorothea,” Edelgard mumbles into her collarbone, happier than ever to see Dorothea and hear her and touch her, and not only read her lovely handwriting that always signed off with a kiss pressed to the paper.

“You were amazing, as you always are,” Byleth tells her, positively beaming. “We thought we’d catch your show and it’s always lovely to see you, Dot.” 

Dorothea swoons at that. “You’re saying that the two most important people in Fodlan came to see me perform? Oh, if you keep saying things like that, Professor, I might just keep singing for the rest of my life. What are you two doing here?” 

“We eloped together,” says Byleth and the mock-scandalized gasp that escapes Dorothea makes Edelgard roll her eyes. 

“Just spending some time away from the capital,” Edelgard explains for them. “I thoroughly needed it.” She clasps tighter to Byleth’s hand, as a silent thanks for letting this happen. 

Her friend gives her a look, something that Edelgard is severely familiar with - one that she uses when Edelgard was being terribly stubborn about something. “I’ve been telling you this years ago.” 

It still has the same effect. Edelgard, the leader of the new world, ducks her head in embarrassment. “Yes, well, it finally caught up to me.”

“Of course it did! You were always working yourself to the bone,” Dorothea says and Byleth, ever so smug, nods sagely to prove a point. “Where are my manners? Let me take you two home.” 

She and Byleth share a look - both blushing, at that - and Dorothea doesn’t take no for an answer. Dorothea takes her bag, says goodbye to her company inside the theatre, and leads them to her lovely home a few minutes away from the theatre. 

“Don’t you usually meet your fans at the door?” Edelgard asks, holding both Byleth’s and Dorothea’s hands in her own. 

“They’re not my Edie and my professor, so they’re unimportant right now.” Dorothea states, a matter of factly, and both she and Byleth know that’s the end of the discussion. 

Later, they chat, sat comfortably in Dorothea’s lovely and comfortable living room, until the sun rises. Neither one of them even realized that they’d talked through the night, slightly inebriated with endless stories to share with each other. They ask about Dorothea’s visits to Brigid, of Byleth’s ridiculous students, of Edelgard’s garden. They talk about their friends, of their friends’ children.

It feels awfully short. 

Edelgard wakes with a crick in her neck from falling asleep on Dorothea, only to find her wife’s head resting on her friend’s other shoulder. She reaches out to tuck a few of the unruly strands falling on Byleth’s face. 

I’m getting too old to be awake past midnight, Edelgard thinks wistfully, but she nestles closer to her dearest friend.

She feels a headache coming on, yet the golden happiness in her heart makes Edelgard feels like she can soar. 

(Neither she and Byleth cry when they say their goodbyes to Dorothea, who kisses their foreheads, her eyes brimming with tears. Yet there is a very real tug of pain inside Edelgard, at the thought of the pain their separation brought and how Edelgard’s duties had deprived them of moments to truly be together. 

“We’ll see each other again, worry not,” Edelgard tells her, lamely, as Byleth wordlessly rubs a comforting hand on Dorothea’s back. She realizes she tells it mostly to herself, pointedly echoing,  see her again, see her again, see her again.  

“I know,” Dorothea smiles, some of the tears leaking, and Edelgard feels a crack in her heart. “I just miss you, Edie, professor. Everyone. We’re all too busy doing what we need to do, I know, but I just… miss all of you.”

Her eyes, however, mist with tears when she plucks out a piece of paper that Dorothea snuck into her pocket.

Thank you for everything you’ve done, Edie. - D xx )

-

“I’m uncertain if I should be worried or relieved that nothing is happening.” Edelgard finally says when Byleth finishes reading the letter that Hubert and Ferdinand sent. 

Shrugging, Byleth moves to place it on the table next to her. She thinks twice before placing it inside a drawer, away from the dog that slept at their feet, and that loved to chew on random items. 

“We established the chamber for a reason,” her wife says simply, snuggling closer. “Aren’t you glad that it’s working just as we intended?” 

“I am,” Edelgard says, firmly, then she softens her tone. “It’s just… odd. Having done everything in the past and knowing that it’s far from perfect.” 

“We’re doing all we can and we’ve changed so much from the time we started,” Byleth says. I feel the same, actually.” When Edelgard hums, sleepily, Byleth continues, “I feel this need to check projects and papers, but then I’m reminded it’s term break.” 

She chuckles, kissing her wife, in this small cottage, seeking refuge from their responsibilities. “Yes, that’s exactly what it feels like for me.” 

“The feeling will pass,” is what Byleth says before she drifts off.

Edelgard chews her lip but finds that she has unwavering faith in what Byleth promises. 

-

They had spent the entire day at the festival, and Edelgard feels her shawl sticking uncomfortably to her neck, yet she’s happy and frankly quite full from all the sweets they’ve taken. 

She and Byleth seldom bought many things. Neither of them found too much value in material items or exuberant wealth. Maintaining their public image in this sense was far from a problem.

Today, however, they carry bags full of items impossible to find in the capital to gift to their peers back home. 

Edelgard feels oddly giddy with excitement at the thought of giving these to them. They buy Lysithea a silly hat Byleth saw, knowing full well that she will absolutely hate it and give them an earful for having bad taste. 

The night air is cool, enough for her shawl and her dress to follow the wind’s direction. Byleth has the gifts slung around her shoulder as she reads the pamphlet distributed at the entrance of a nearby village festival, her free hand holding Edelgard’s to keep her warm, knowing that Edelgard was particularly sensitive to temperatures. 

“It says that there are street plays going on around the corner,” Byleth says, looking up from the paper. “Shall we go?” 

The night is young and Edelgard feels particularly happy tonight. And she has been happy, every single day she spent away from the capital, with her wife at her side. Anywhere Byleth was, she was sure to find happiness there. Edelgard nods, moving closer to absorb some of the warmth that Byleth seems to naturally give off. 

They walk to the place bustling with an audience that sits on the floor. She and Byleth stand at the farthest end with some of the people who wished to watch but had no more mats or stones to sit on. 

Edelgard watches on, holding Byleth’s hand. She absently munches on a flavorful rice cake being sold at the corner, looking on, without fully paying attention. Some actors had poor voice projections that Edelgard’s attention wanders off. 

She gathers, from what she can hear and some of Byleth’s comments, it’s a short satirical skit about a noble acquiring land. The farmers tilling the land travel lengths to pay a visit to…

“El,” Byleth says, cautiously, squeezing your hand. The armor is inaccurate, more padding than usual. The platinum head of hair is lopsided and messy, but Edelgard is fully aware of who that actor was supposed to be. 

The play, now, has Edelgard’s full attention. She watches, curiously, impersonally. She has seen the worst of the war, watching terrible acting of a caricature of herself should be nothing. 

“El,” Byleth repeats, yet it drowns out as she focuses on the show. This skit’s Edelgard is made to choose between the nobles and the farmers that have unionized. The emperor clad in red, with dark circles around her eyes, refused to side with the farmers only until the noble had said something slanted. It angers the emperor, and she has him executed publicly, and the lands are distributed evenly.

She has seen the worst of war, yet this scene that unfolds before her should not be disturbing. 

And Edelgard, despite the tingling feeling of hurt lurking her chest, feels… content.

Other people’s opinions on her mattered no longer, as she had served what she needed to do. It was this general disregard that had allowed her to push for policies that separated itself from the old systems, and to distribute the lands of lords scattered across the region once it was proven that doing so, with the help of Claude, would be more beneficial to these self-interested nobles. 

Perhaps the man that the emperor easily executed was a nod to her methods, in the past. Edelgard hadn’t regretted it before, and she definitely does not regret it now, if an outcome would be this: where the people could speak freely and find amusement in satire to criticize those in power. 

This was what the revolution was for, among other things. 

The war was over, and it only ever dawns on her how it truly was. Ten years later, during her time away from the capital, on a vacation with no other than Byleth. 

“El,” Byleth repeats, for the last time, the worry clear in her eyes and her voice. Edelgard meets her eyes, gives her a small smile, then tugs at her to leave. “I’m sorry you had to see that. We could have left earlier.” 

Had Byleth been any younger, she would have stepped in to stop it. Yet as the years pass, seeing how reform was taking place, she had mellowed down, as well. 

“It’s alright,” she tells her wife, kisses her cheek reassuringly. There is an odd and unsettling mix of hurt and satisfaction moving inside her but she felt whole. Full. It was an odd experience that she can’t even begin to articulate to Byleth. “I had to.” 

Words were never their strong suit, and so Byleth only moves closer to her to press a kiss to the side of her head, over the shawl that covers Edelgard’s head. When Byleth nods in understanding, hearing what Edelgard isn’t saying with those simple words, Edelgard melts into her embrace and wonders if she ever deserved the woman she loved so dearly. 

That night, the rain pours over their roof and sleep remains an elusive luxury, as it often always is whenever something sits so heavily on Edelgard’s mind. Byleth is awake, as she usually is during times like this. 

Her hair, wet from getting caught in the rain, is unruly as she stands to stretch. She runs her hands through it and is struck by a realization. 

She had served her purpose, Edelgard realizes as her hands work the knots, and that lived to see it. 

“My heart,” she whispers, from where she stands at the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Buddy. “Where is your blade?” 

That rouses Byleth from her lying position. “Why?” 

“I want to do something,” Edelgard says, pressing a kiss to her cheek to reassure her that this is not lethal as she might assume. Byleth, as always, places the utmost trust in her and hands over the blade that she kept on the desk on her side of the bed. 

Edelgard takes it and walks to the fireplace, a dull orange. She sweeps her thick silver hair into her fist and places the blade to cut it. 

Her hands shake, on their own accord, and it is frustrating.

Byleth sits beside her, touches her hand, looks at her with those eyes that Edelgard has never stopped loving for even a mere second. She wordlessly supports Edelgard’s hand, offering a smile that she loves, and oh how she loved Byleth. 

She knows exactly what this meant to Edelgard, and as she always does, Byleth walks with her. 

Then she moves her hand to angle the blade against her silver hair - necessary in holding up the crown of horns -  for the first time in her life. 

The years fall to the wooden floor. 

Her head feels incredibly light without the weight.

Chapter Text

“Caspar and I may have miscalculated the bath dimensions,” Byleth announces her arrival, ducking her head into the small area where they wash and attend to nature’s calls.

Edelgard tilts her head up to see a generous allowance between her head and the roof. “It seems as if it’s not a problem for you,” her wife laughs. Before Edelgard can express indignance at the commonplace jabs at her height, Byleth kisses her sweetly. “Good morning, my light.” 

“Good morning,” Edelgard grins into the kiss, feeling exceptionally happy today. Byleth spent the morning fishing and foraging for mushrooms and so she strips her clothes to rinse as Edelgard goes about her morning routines. In her smallclothes, she embraces her from behind, smelling like her sweat, the lake, the sun, and the soil. Edelgard makes a face but makes no effort to move away from her wife. 

Byleth rests her chin on her shoulder, watching them in the mirror. She touches Edelgard’s extremely short tresses, so short there isn’t much hair for Byleth to run her hand through. “You look beautiful,” her wife tells her, adoringly, and Edelgard will never get used to it. “Every day. But more so today.” She stipulates, but Edelgard knows that Byleth is particularly enamored by her ridiculously short hair done impulsively. 

Byleth tells her this, every morning, without fail. Despite the scars and stretch marks, despite her stomach pouching a bit, despite everything she’s done. For ten years, Byleth has done this and Edelgard has loved her forever. 

“I see you like my new hair,” Edelgard jokes despite the tips of her ears reddening under Byleth’s easy affection. 

“I like everything about you.” 

“You wouldn’t have married me if you didn’t.” 

Her wife hums thoughtfully then shakes her head and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “I still would have.” 

She makes a face, laughs, disbelieving. “That’s not what you said when my abysmal haggling skills embarrassed you at the fruit market a few days ago.” 

Silence blankets over them and if she listens hard enough, she hears Buddy making a ruckus outside and hopes that he doesn’t ingest any bees this time. 

“I think I should ask you what you think your hair,” Byleth says quietly, eyes never leaving hers and Edelgard curses how her wife knows her so well, like the back of her hand and the shape of the blade she uses the most. 

Edelgard observes herself, truly looking on, feeling like she was looking at the person in the mirror as Edelgard, and not as a passive audience that she had forced herself to be whenever she was aware of her own body. 

Edelgard runs her hand through the short strands, from the front to where it ends at the nape of her neck. It was similar to Caspar’s hair, only cleaner. 

“I…” she begins then trails off. In all honesty, Edelgard knows nothing of what she feels at the moment. She had loved her hair despite what the whiteness of it had signified, and it had helped her support her crown all these years. 

Yet as of late, the strands stuck to the back of her neck on particularly hot days or when it’s drenched in summer rains. When they pick mushrooms or make cheese out of milk, they often fell to her face, frustrating her to no end.

Edelgard would rather bury herself alive into the ground than admit that cutting her hair to this length - to the point that she is unrecognizable and is able to walk around without her shawl around her head - was done on a whim and a response to an influx of an overwhelming variety emotions she didn’t understand or know how to act on. 

Yet she knew, despite everything, that pushing that blade through her hair with Byleth holding her steady, it had been something she wanted.

Not something she had to do.  

Rarely did Edelgard feel like she wanted something for the sake of herself; her present self. It had always been the entirety of Fodlan. It had always been for her Black Eagles. It had always been for Byleth. It had always been so that no one would have the same childhood she had. The same childhood Claude, Dorothea, Caspar, Mercedes, Lysithea, and so many more, endured. They were all made difficult for different reasons, but the same rigid social strata ensuring they were difficult. 

Byleth, ever patient and understanding, kisses her temple. “The people fondly named you the liberator. They wrote songs about you and the freedom they have now.” She looks at Edelgard with so much love and hope and pride that it fills her heart to the brim. “You’re strong enough to free yourself however way you see fit.” 

For the first time since she heard Byleth’s heartbeat again, Edelgard cries into Byleth’s chest.

-

Edelgard shakes Byleth slightly, eyes not leaving the book she’s currently reading. “Darling,” she whispers, “you’re snoring again.” 

That wakes Byleth slightly, enough for her to stop snoring but not enough for her to stop her midday nap. Approximately fifteen minutes from now, Byleth will resume snoring and collect even more curious gazes from young children at the library they were currently spending their afternoon in, on the way to the south. 

The public library, despite a recognizable size difference compared to the other libraries across the region, hosts many patrons ranging from young children practicing reading to senior citizens either sleeping or writing. It had been one of the empire’s earliest decrees, to ensure a hundred percent literacy across the various regions. If Edelgard's memory serves her right, it was prompted by an offhand suggestion from Bernadetta, on that Edelgard had wanted to pursue from the very start.

Edelgard smiles, returns to her book, but it’s interrupted by a young boy, no older than six, tugging at her tunic. 

“How do you pronounce this?” He peers up at her, then points to a section of the page. The word is brevity. 

She says it, and he follows, stumbles somewhat, but he smiles when he says it. “Thank you, pretty lady!”

Edelgard laughs and the boy runs towards his other friends who are waiting for him. They wave at her and Edelgard does the same. 

Minutes later, Byleth stirs to wake, the illustrated book of traditional close-contact fighting styles talks to the floor from her chest. “Did I miss anything?” 

Edelgard closes her book, containing her smile. “Yes. You missed class.” 

Byleth moves to rise to her feet, clearly in a panic, until she realizes that Edelgard is pulling her leg, a somewhat rare occasion as it was always the other way around.

The disapproving look she gives Edelgard is enough for her to break the rules pertaining to silence as Edelgard laughs, wholly, at the love of her life. 

-

“Is this a good mushroom?” 

“El, please don’t touch that. It’s poisonous.” 

-

Edelgard’s jaw tightens as the quill scribbles on the parchment, her grip firm and her hand heavy that she was sure that she was also writing on the wooden table. 

“I will not have members of the military do this to the indigenous peoples of the northeast forest,” She mumbles angrily, seething at the thought that these soldiers were doing exactly that and terrorizing some more civilians. 

She did not do what she had to do only for these insolent soldiers to act on their own self-centered violent motives. 

It’s Byleth who seals it with the wax, for her to deliver to the nearest station near their cottage as soon as possible. “What will you have them do?”

Her wife puts a hand on her shoulder, and it’s enough to at least extinguish some of her fury. “Caspar must run the due process. Then we compensate for the damage.”

Byleth nods, agreeing, then presses a soothing kiss to her forehead before taking her leave to deliver the message. 

-

How slow the two of them pack their belongings escapes Edelgard, considering that they were the ones who moved the fastest in preparing and packing; Byleth, because of her nomadic and mercenary days and Edelgard, because of her disdain for having too many unnecessary items. 

They’ve spent four hours cleaning up the cottage and readying their luggage and resources for the part of the trip that requires more traveling. Half of that was spent lying on their bed, holding each other, and willing themselves to leave. 

“I don’t want to go,” Edelgard says, honestly, and if she had been any younger she would absolutely hate the amount of childish stubbornness and vulnerability in her voice. The thought of not seeing this cottage, a place they have sought refuge and respite in, for a long period of time holds Edelgard’s heart in a vice grip. 

“Me too,” Byleth tightens her arms around her, kissing her head.  “But we have the rest of the trip waiting for us. Unless you’d like to stay here for the duration of it?” 

It’s a tempting offer and Edelgard truly, truly considers it, but in weighing the options briefly, she realizes that she’d like to see the rest of the region as well. She can spend the rest of her life in this cottage with Byleth, and Edelgard likes to think that she had borderline perfect self-control (which many of them tend to disagree on, specifically when it comes to personal matters) to push through with the rest of the trip instead of laying here and eating sweets. 

“It’s fine, we promised Petra we would visit,” she says, quietly, trying to convince herself more. She does miss Petra greatly and would like to see how she was faring. Not to mention that Dorothea had asked them to deliver a letter addressed to the queen - one that she and Byleth were extra careful in carrying - and a few more addressed to the friends they had back at the capital. 

Will we ever return to this place? Edelgard thinks, frowning, clinging tighter to Byleth with their clothes folded neatly surrounding them. It had been a foreign experience being able to think far into the future and growing old, but now she does so quite often. She thinks twenty years, forty years, with Byleth beside her. 

It should scare her how much her silence is understood by Byleth, but it doesn’t, anymore. “We’ll come back, worry not.”

“When?” 

Byleth shrugs. “When our duties permit it. Or we can always steal away in the night like we did when we were younger.” She runs her hand through Edelgard’s hair. “Your new hair might make it easier to escape.” 

Edelgard laughs, the weight on her chest is lifted slightly. She twirls her finger around Byleth’s hair, dark blue against her pale skin. “They’ll recognize you, though.” 

“I should just shave my head.” 

Edelgard rolls over to kiss her wife, placing her body on top of hers. “I think you’d look amazing without a single hair.” It’s not as if Byleth cared deeply about her physical appearance, and it seemed like something she would do on a whim. 

Byleth returns the kiss, hotly, running her hands under Edelgard’s cotton shift. “Maybe, but then you wouldn’t have something to hold on to when we make love.” 

Edelgard’s body feels like on fire, unable to resist Byleth even after all these years of being married to her and having done this countless times before. It takes every fiber of her being to pull away and put the unpacked clothes on the bed elsewhere. 

Byleth wait patiently, watching her with unadulterated adoration, and after Edelgard clears the bed, she slots herself back on her wife’s body after closing the door to ensure that Buddy doesn’t walk into them in the middle of it like he has - unfortunately so - a couple of times before.

“Now, where were we?”

“You said I would look sexy if I was bald.” 

“Please don’t kill the mood.”

Byleth laughs and it echoes deep inside Edelgard. “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Edelgard replies, smiling, then moving up to press their mouths together with intention. It’s partially to stop Byleth’s silly remarks, aimed to make Edelgard laugh and lose composure. While she appreciates that her wife is hell-bent on making her do so, Edelgard has other plans.

There isn’t much banter after that.

-

One of her first few orders upon uniting Fodlan was to grant Brigid full independence that the previous order of things refused to give. Edelgard vividly remembers the bright-eyed bliss in Petra's eyes when she shares this, even in the poor lighting of the fortress they found refuge in after the events at the Holy Tomb. 

It wasn’t to be done at once, considering the amount of work that will come with reforming diplomatic ties and policies like trade relations. Petra, then, was still in line. Yet it had been Edelgard's plan, all this time. 

Petra, proud and just, did not thank her for this and Edelgard has always respected her even more for that. 

Long conversations with Petra that stretched until the early morning kept Edelgard afloat while Byleth slept in the eternal darkness. They talked about what they both had planned for their respective domains and every day they spent together, Edelgard learns to be better - a better person, leader, and friend - from Petra. 

(“For what would we be throwing out the past for if we will be continuing what the people before us were doing?” says Petra, as they share the smaller rations, having given more to the troops. Edelgard wasn’t much of an eater, yet she worries for Petra knowing that her physique requires more sustenance. “Our current struggles and individual difficult pasts… I am thinking that they would be useless, then.”) 

“Excited to see how the greatest queen in Brigid’s history is doing?” Byleth nudges her out of her thoughts, looking utterly ridiculous as Buddy sits in front of her as their steeds trot closer to the great bridge of Brigid.

In all honesty, Edelgard was. It had been different asking Petra how her nation was faring, for diplomatic purposes and in the occasional friendly letters exchanged, as compared to actually visiting. She had been too busy to pay a visit in the past six years, and now Edelgard realizes she longs for the Brigid sun and its people. 

“I’m sure Petra has your favorite dishes waiting for you,” she muses, personally looking forward to the crab roe that Brigid specialized in producing. Petra always delighted in introducing them to new dishes and spices. 

At the entrance, Petra is there, dressed in her colorful royal regalia and leather straps with beads. She has always looked beautiful in her nation’s colors and Edelgard marvels at how much her skin glowed underneath the sun that bathes her home. 

She sits proudly on her horse, standing tall, but the smile she has on her face can rival the sun. In the years since their last meeting, her muscles had not softened one bit. 

“Your majesty, professor,” she greets, once she unmounts from her stallion. Petra bows, then both she and Byleth follow suit, but the movement is cut off by Petra taking them into a tight embrace. “It has been too long.” 

“It truly has,” Edelgard says and Byleth hums in agreement. Sometimes it feels as if the most crucial part of the revolution was only yesterday and that they were teenagers starting a war. 

Petra eyes her new hair, smiling brightly. “You are looking well, Edelgard. You too, professor.” 

In response, Byleth squeezes Petra’s arms, marked with scars and more tattoos in Brigid’s writing, most likely telling of Petra’s bravery as well as her ancestors’. “We can say the same for you. Can you still bench press me?” 

The queen of Brigid puffs out her chest and flexes. “Of course! The two of you, at the same time.” 

Knowing the two of them would actually do so here, at this moment, Edelgard places her hands on both their shoulders to tell wordlessly tell that it’s probably not a bright idea. 

“Where are my manners! Brigid is welcoming you with open arms. Once we reach the castle, there is a luncheon awaiting us. Roe and salmon, your favorites,” Petra announces, mounting her steed. She smiles at Buddy. “The royal stallions and royal dog will be given the best care.” 

Buddy wags his tail excitedly in Byleth’s arms as the convoy moves forward. 

Busier than ever with upcoming reformation programs, Petra had to excuse herself after their meal and left both Edelgard and Byleth absolutely stuffed and sleepy, waiting for the harsh yellow sun to mellow down into the late afternoon so they can lounge at the beach without Edelgard burning under the light so easily. 

Byleth goes for a swim while she and Buddy run along the coast, sand getting into her tunic and her shoes.

Later, she sits at the shore, the waves lapping at her feet as Buddy curls into Byleth’s chest as she naps, the calming tide aiding the tiredness from today to take its toll on her wife. 

“That’s my spot, darling,” she tells Buddy, who only cracks an eye open to acknowledge Edelgard talking to him. It doesn’t seem like he plans to move away from Byleth’s chest, on top of the gentle rising and falling of it. “So stubborn…” she laughs, scratches his head, lets the crashing of waves drown out all her worries, even for a moment or two. 

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Petra says, sitting down on the large leather chair of the dining hall. They had requested modest dishes, after today’s earlier extravagant meal, but Petra brings them the finest spiced wine from the capital. “I have been wishing to join my guests earlier but the work did not permit it.” 

They assure her that it’s not a problem at all, understanding how much Brigid needs their greatest queen. 

It’s easy conversation and it always is, with Petra, ever charming and attentive. Her plans for Brigid, all that they have spoken so fondly about in their years at the academy and during the war, are finally coming to fruition. It instills pride in Edelgard to see Petra fulfilling all those promises she made - not to Edelgard, but to herself, and to the people of Brigid. 

The Black Eagles have visited Brigid many times in the past years. Dorothea stayed the longest, aided Petra in stabilizing an independent Brigid, but hadn’t stayed as long as Petra probably wanted. It had hurt Dorothea to leave, but politics was never what she wanted to do for the rest of her life, and had missed the company and the stage. 

It is evident, the sadness that crosses Petra’s face. 

“How is she?” Petra asks, glancing up from her goblet. 

“Lovely as ever,” Byleth says, but puts a comforting hand on Petra’s shoulder. “But she misses you, dearly.”

“I am missing her, as well.” Petra gives them a sad smile. Edelgard finds, for the first time in her life, pitying the queen of Brigid. She knows how missing someone can be such a horrible, visceral feeling. “They called her the lady of the eternal song , my people. They loved her and wept at her departuring.” 

They all sigh, somewhat dreamily, at the apt title Brigid’s people gifted to Dorothea. 

Edelgard doesn’t ask if Dorothea’s departure was the reason Petra never married and if Petra was the reason Dorothea never took in any suitor, after her stay. A shared look with Byleth tells Edelgard that her wife is thinking of the same thing, as well.

There was a time she and Byleth were hopeless, yet it didn’t take them more than a decade of dancing around each other to resolve things. 

(Edelgard reminds herself to have a serious discussion with Dorothea about this, the next time she sees her.)

Sleepy from the travels and from the spiced wine, Byleth falls asleep as they continue sharing stories, until the first small boats that head to the southern sea for the freshest catch are launched. 

It reminds Edelgard of their younger years, as bright-eyed students, scared young leaders who must be strong in front of everyone else, and tired adults fighting a war that seemed to go on forever. The easy smile on Petra's face makes it seem as if she hasn't changed, but Edelgard knows it’s impossible to not have. 

“It is morning already?” Petra peers at the sun peeking through the horizon. 

“It seems so.” Edelgard says, briefly running her hands along Byleth’s hair as she sleeps. 

“Just like old times, no, Edelgard?” Her friend says, laughing tiredly but the mirth remains. “I am needing to go, but you may stay here as it is most pleasing to you.”

“We will not overstay our welcome. You have been so kind to us.” 

Petra places a firm hand on Edelgard’s shoulder, like she always did whenever they trained or fought together. “Nonsense. The gates of Brigid are open, most especially to my fellow warriors, my greatest teachers, and my dearest friends.” 

Edelgard finds, once again, that she is beyond grateful to have lived to fight alongside Brigid’s greatest and most beloved queen.

They stay for a few more days, stuff themselves to the brim with the delicious food offered by the capital. When it’s time to leave, their horses are well-rested and Buddy looks a few pounds heavier, happy and sated and still quite scruffy despite the royal grooming efforts.

“I will be seeing you again, yes?” Petra says as they stand at the mouth of the bridge, bathing in the early morning sun. 

Byleth nods, taking Edelgard’s hand. “Then this isn’t farewell.” 

Petra takes them into her arms, smelling like jasmine and the sea. “Safe travels, my dearest friends. You are deserving of this rest.”

-

Her sniffles have escalated, and she is sure that it’s most likely the poorly dusted sheets. Byleth apologizes to no end that they had stayed at this hostel and not another, yet Edelgard soothes her and asks for a few sugar cubes to at least regain some dignity. 

“I feel like a horse,” Edelgard mutters, with a clogged nose and itchy eyes. 

Byleth presses a kiss to her hair, never passing an opportunity to touch the very short strands. “A cute pony.” 

Edelgard rolls her eyes, used to her wife’s terrible lines and she has long stopped cursing herself for being charmed, regardless of whatever odd things Byleth says on purpose or otherwise. 

-

“We don’t have to,” Byleth tells her, but her mind is made and when Edelgard shakes her head, they walk to the path surrounded by water, to the end. 

It was like Dimitri to be asked to be laid to rest, with water around him. She remembers stories of how he was born in water, delivered at the royal bath.

The waves lap at the sides, the water dark and unknown, but Edelgard is no longer afraid.

Hasn’t been, in a long time. 

Rain pounded into the ground on that fateful battle, all those years ago. It made Dimitri’s blond hair limp. 

“Dimitri,” Edelgard begins but finds that she has nothing to say. Or perhaps she contains multitudes of what she truly wanted to say to Dimitri, but at the moment it escapes her. 

Had she regretted it? No.

Had she been willing to sacrifice anything and everything for the sake of dismantling the inequality that plagued the land, in different manners and in different forms and affected different people? Yes. 

Had she wished that maybe things were different and that Dimitri could have stood by her side instead of against her? 

Edelgard shakes the thought away, unwilling to live in the liminality of the impossible.

If you could only see Fodlan today, Edelgard thinks, with finality, perhaps you would have wanted the same thing, too, Dima.

The sound of the waves crashing over each other lightly is drowned out by the sound of the conversation she wished she had with him. 

On the way home, Byleth says nothing, only holds her hand. She has not always been good with words, but neither is Edelgard, and at times like this nothing would have comforted her more than Byleth’s steady and strong presence, and her concerned and gentle touches.

That night, she curls against Edelgard’s back in an embrace that presses them together so tightly that she can feel Byleth’s steady heartbeat, comforting her even as what her heart is sorrowful for escapes her.

-

“What happened?” Byleth rushes over to the floor, where Edelgard and Buddy sit in front of the fireplace.

Buddy whimpers as Edelgard bandages his paw, and her heart constricts at the thought of their scruffy little dog being in pain. “He was chasing a squirrel and he rolled down the hill. Thank goodness he wasn’t very far off when I found him.” She rubs his head and presses several kisses there. 

Byleth follows suit, only scratching his chin. “Oh, you worried us, Bud.” 

The dog basks in the attention they give him.

-

It’s festival of the sea spirits tonight and once again, after the demise of dominating presence of the Church, what had been considered ‘folk religion’, which the Church had been so set to destroy, finds itself back to the main beliefs of the people of the East, along the borders of the Alliance. 

The people once called pagans were free to dance and praise the deities of the nature around them. Edelgard had ensured that they were given back the domain of their ancestors, as the protectors of nature. 

A comet is predicted to pass over the area tonight, and after watching performances and sharing food with the people, Edelgard and Byleth rest under a tree, observing the canopy of the night sky mottled with the stars. 

Edelgard rests her head on Byleth’s shoulder and it’s quiet moments like these that make the rest of her body and soul still and tranquil, despite the mess that her heart becomes at the sheer amount of love and devotion that she has for Byleth. 

“El,” Byleth says, reverently, as if saying her name even louder would shatter this moment completely. 

“Hmm?” 

“It’s almost our tenth year.” 

Edelgard sighs. She knows, of course, but it escapes her how the years went by so quickly. “Is that so?”

She nods, kissing Edelgard’s forehead and every beat of Edelgard’s heart gets louder, seemingly in sync with Byleth’s. “Yes. I was thinking if you… wanted to…” she fiddles with the ring that rests on Edelgard’s collarbone. “If you wanted to marry me. Again.”

Chapter Text

“Yes. I was thinking if you… wanted to…” she fiddles with the ring that rests on Edelgard’s collarbone. “If you wanted to marry me. Again.” 

A ring that she had forged with the finest silver - with an amethyst rock sitting atop it - prior to agreeing to run away with Byleth makes their presence known as it has taken residence in the pocket of her trousers.

-

“I can hear you thinking.” 

She shifts from her position as Byleth’s little spoon, embarrassed by her unnatural stillness which melts when Byleth presses a kiss to the center of her shoulders. 

“Sorry, my heart,” she turns to face Byleth, their breaths mingling. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?” Her wife lies on her back so Edelgard can rest her head on her chest, the steady thump of her heartbeat soothing her as it always does. 

Clutching Byleth’s sleep shirt, she sighs and shakes her head. “Just nervous.” 

“About the wedding?” 

When Edelgard nods, Byleth’s stillness speaks volumes. “Do you want to call it off?”

That’s when she shoots up so fast it gives her momentary whiplash. “Absolutely not!” 

“Then what is it?” 

She chews her lip and just decides to come clean. “I’m just… it’s terrifying. How much I want this.” The blank expression in Byleth’s face tells her she must continue explaining that the want she experiences is similar yet so different from the want before. Edelgard laughs, somewhat somberly. “My plans didn’t reach this far. I mean, it did, yet I didn’t ever think this, between us, would be part of it.” 

“So it wasn’t in your plan to seduce me? I’m affronted.” Byleth chuckles, cups her face tenderly. “I’m sorry. I’ll be serious now.” 

Edelgard, obviously flustered, can only roll her eyes. “I told you at the Goddess tower a year ago that I never thought I’d have my feelings reciprocated,” she sighs, unused to having her heart on her sleeve, but this is Byleth, with whom she’d trust her life. “At some point, I was unsure if we could have won the war, but with you at my side, I knew we would. And we did.”

She fiddles with the ring on her collarbone, held by a silver string, a foreign but welcome weight. “I always wanted you to stand by my side, but I never thought you’d do so as my partner in life.” 

It’s truer beyond words. She had long accepted that this was surely a lonely road to tread on, and so she had no idea how to express the relief and gratitude she felt when Byleth chose her, and when the Black Eagles stood by her side, stuck with her, worked with her to be where they are now and where they would be in the future. 

It’s still quite hard to believe, six years later. She reckons this won’t be changing anytime soon.

“Is that a bad thing?” 

She hears the uncertainty in Byleth’s voice, so Edelgard kisses her in apology. “No, not at all. It’s just…” she trails off, unable to find words. “I was a mere, pining house leader and now we’re getting married in the morrow.” 

“You were never just that,” she assures her, then nods, letting out a breathless laugh. Edelgard feels some of the nerves wear off, and she joins in, giggling. The giddiness of it all is foreign and she feels undeserving of it, but she basks in the happiness that Byleth brings her. “And yes, we’re getting married in the morrow.”

My wife, Edelgard thinks, feels her heart swell. She never thought she’d see the day she could call someone that. 

After everything she’s done, after gaining so many years of her life back… Perhaps in her past lives, she’s done something good enough to have Byleth look at her the way she does: with love and pride and utter devotion. 

“But you’re sure?” Byleth asks, her thumb caressing Edelgard’s cheek so tenderly that it hurts from deep within. 

She presses forward to kiss Byleth before nodding. “More than I’ve ever been. What of you?” 

“I’ve never wanted anything more my entire life.” 

-

“But we’re already married, my heart,” Edelgard says as if she hadn’t always thought of renewing her vows, her hand pressed to Byleth’s heart. As if she hadn’t wanted to ask Byleth tonight, feeling that it would be special. As if she hadn’t had this night planned since they first began this trip. 

She notices the spike in Byleth’s heartbeat, and it’s still unbelievable that she can have this effect on her wife, whose pout is evident even under the dim lighting as they lay under the tree. “I just thought it would be nice to show you—”

Something about this night is special, she knew since this morning. Perhaps it was this entire trip. Perhaps it was the comet. Perhaps it was how Byleth kissed her sweetly this morning, as she always does. 

Edelgard lays a finger on her mouth to stop her from talking. “I would like nothing more. When? Where? How?” 

It doesn’t surprise her that Byleth says: “Right here. Right now. I don’t know.” Byleth fishes for a pouch from her pocket and pulls out a silver band, with three lapis lazuli rocks decorating it. It’s gorgeous and Edelgard’s heart soars.

She giggles and before Byleth can pout like a kicked puppy, she does the same and pulls out the leather pouch of her own. “I had these all those months ago, before you even asked me to elope with you.” 

This night is special. Perhaps it’s because they’re surrounded by summer fireflies, setting an ethereal glow. Perhaps it’s the gentle wind and the way Byleth looks at her now, eyes misting and lower lip trembling upon seeing the rings Edelgard brandishes. 

Edelgard had prepared for this, and her heart anticipates every moment so she relishes in the pure surprise that takes over Byleth’s face, laughing, kissing her even as she feels her own tears mist her eyes. “What, as if you’re the only one allowed to be romantic?” She says, despite the burning that crawls up the back of her neck. 

Byleth gives her a watery laugh, and Edelgard tugs at her glove to touch Byleth’s face. So much has changed in the years they’ve known each other; at the time they’d married, Byleth cried a cumulative amount of three times but as the years passed, it had been relatively easier to feel and be vulnerable, in each other’s presence. 

It turns out Byleth was very susceptible to tears,  particularly when she’s overwhelmed with emotions, still quite unused to feeling them. Edelgard knows this like the back of her hand. 

There were limits to how much of this romantic side she shared, even to Byleth, and she’s not about to tell her that while her wife left to report to the nearest station, she had borrowed a nearby greenhouse for tonight. 

(Edelgard also won’t tell a soul how she wanted to make it seem like they'd be breaking in, resembling reckless teenagers they never had the chance to be, but that would certainly be overdoing it.)

Yet Edelgard looks around, the light coming from the festival painting their faces an orange glow in the dark blue night. She sees the fireflies surrounding them. She feels the gentle wind making the grass sway around them, and thinks, uncharacteristically so, perfect . 

“Did you want to renew our vows?” Edelgard asks, her heart threatening to escape her chest cavity. 

Byleth shrugs, her lower lip trembling. Edelgard laughs and kisses her sweetly. “I actually don’t know. I just wanted to marry you again.”

Offering her hand, shakily she might add, nervous as the day she had approached Byleth to teach the Black Eagles and the day she married her 10 years ago, Edelgard says, “then what are you waiting for?” 

-

The knock on the door startles her, catches her off guard. She is tense, absolutely out of her damn mind, and Edelgard lets out a sigh when she finds out who stands on the other side of the door. 

“Edelgard? Are you decent?” 

“Do come in, Linhardt,” she calls out, but her eyes never leave her own reflection in the mirror. Over her shoulder, she sees him poke his head into the room, then let himself in. “What did you need?” 

He looks sleepier than usual and Edelgard knows someone woke him up to do whatever he needed to do here. “Everyone’s busy preparing and they asked me to tell you that the ceremony begins in a few.” 

If Linhardt sees the pathetic, defeated look in Edelgard’s eyes, he uncharacteristically doesn’t say anything. She’s frustrated that she’s too nervous to put her hair in a decent style, with no one to assist her since her chambermaids were exclusively ordered to leave her alone today. 

He steps closer behind her. “Do you need assistance?” 

She hesitates but thinks of all the times he has healed her, during battles and after, whenever she was practically bleeding to death inside and outside. 

Letting him do her hair, on her wedding day… she trusts him, most ardently so. She nods.

“Everything about you right now is beautiful, except your face,” Linhardt says, taking some strands and weaving them between his fingers. “You look like you’re about to hurl.” 

Edelgard, used to his candidness, only lets out a shaky chuckle. “It’s because I feel like I’m about to.”

“Not on your beautiful gown and my lovely tunic, you’re not.” He starts braiding her hair; Edelgard knows from his precise movements that it’s most likely a waterfall braid, and her heart constricts at the distant memory of her sisters doing the same. “Why are you nervous? Do you not love the professor?” 

“I do,” Edelgard says, and she realized that it’s one of the truest words she has ever spoken. She hadn’t had the words to articulate how much she loves Byleth, and how she would cross the murky and icy waters of hell and back if Byleth asked her to. “So much, and perhaps that is why.” 

Linhardt hums noncommittally, in the way he usually does when evidence is presented to him but he does not agree with it. 

“Something the matter, Linhardt?” 

He shrugs and shakes his head. “I never understood marriage. I only ever see it as something that subjects people into a rigid structure with rigid social behaviors.” He pulls away, taps at his chin. “But I see the appeal of having a ceremony to officially begin your life with someone, you know, after everything you’ve been through with them.” 

Like clockwork, Edelgard is struck by how much she and Byleth have been through. Once she had been a pining schoolgirl, too afraid to get close to Byleth and anyone in her house knowing the burden of her duties. 

She knew, then, that what she had to do would let her lead a lonely life, and yet here Edelgard stands, about to wed the woman who had countlessly stood before her to protect her; who, with their peers that Edelgard was so afraid to love and admit that she needed them, had aided in ridding Fodlan of the widespread injustice and inequality that plagued it before.

When Edelgard opens her mouth to reply, earnestly, about just how much this entire ordeal meant to her, she realizes that it’s terrifyingly similar to her vows. She opts, instead, for: “That’s not particularly comforting,” says Edelgard, but she smiles at Linhardt in the mirror. 

He takes some bands from the dresser, proceeds to secure the hair with them and some pins. Edelgard wonders that despite the fact that he has lovely hair, he never was the type to put it up nicely unless there was an extremely important occasion. 

“You know better than to look for comfort from me,” he says, but he’s smiling. Linhardt reaches over to take a smaller mirror, for Edelgard to see the elegant handiwork of her silver hair. “You deserve to celebrate the fact you gained those lost years of your life and spend it with someone you love dearly.” 

Edelgard’s eyes mist and she reaches a shaky hand to place it on Linhardt’s own, rested on her shoulder. “Thank you, Linhardt. I mean it.” 

“That’s not necessary. I know that all the time I spent not sleeping was put to good use.” Squeezing her hand, he smiles, then frowns. “I do hope you don’t spend them nagging me or the professor.” 

“I do not nag.” 

“You do.” 

“You are turning my mood sour on my own wedding day.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing, Edelgard. In moderation, it helped me and the rest of us. You know this.” He says, but Edelgard only rolls her eyes as Linhardt brushes the tangles away. “Shall we?” 

She takes his hand - acutely aware of the fact that his hands have healed and hers have been to destroy - to make their way to the grand hall with their friends and her bride awaits her. 

-

“Now I don’t know what to say,” kids Byleth, wiping at her eyes. 

Edelgard, unlike all those years ago, takes the plunge she was too terrified to take. “Well, you can gather yourself first because I do.” 

She takes Byleth’s hand, slips on the band with the amethyst stone on Byleth’s finger. Her hands are rough, and Edelgard still finds unparalleled comfort from them. 

“I take thee as my wife,” she repeats from all those years ago. So much has happened, and she no longer was the person she was before. Her heart has healed significantly, and her burden on her shoulders has been halved. “And choose to love thee for the rest of my days, whether filled with joy or with sorrow.” 

She leans closer to Byleth, laughs when a firefly rests on her wife’s head. “All those times you chose me, I could never find it in myself to believe it - when you chose to protect me when we met, when you chose the Black Eagles, when you chose to protect me in the Holy Tomb,” Edelgard feels tears brimming at her eyes, “when you stood by my side, as my friend, and as my wife. Thank you for doing so, every single day, even when it’s far from easy.” 

I will love you for the rest of my life, Edelgard had said a decade ago. She kisses the amethyst stone of Byleth’s ring, and amends, with utmost reverence, “I will love you in all my lifetimes, I promise you that.”

It’s only when she notices the thin streak of tears on Byleth’s face that she realizes that her face mirrors a few hot tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“I’m not sure how I can parallel that, though I’ll try,” laughs Byleth, wetly. She takes Edelgard’s hand, slips on the ring she had made for her with the gorgeous stones adorning it. Edelgard had never been one for jewelry, but the color of the first ring she gave her contrasts it nicely. “I take thee as my wife and choose to love thee for the rest of my days, in sickness and in health.” 

Her heart thumps madly in her chest, remembering how Byleth says it a decade ago and how she mirrors it, except that the Byleth stands in front of her has white hairs are sprouting from her head, laugh lines growing more prominent each day. She smiles more, laughs more, cries more. 

“My whole life was always decided by everyone. Even before I was born, there was this set path I had to walk. You know my story,” says Byleth, kissing Edelgard’s forehead with earth-shaking gentleness. Edelgard did. “Until I met you and I walked my own path, one you helped me see.”

“I know that the five years I was gone have caused you much pain and I will live the rest of my life making it up to you.” She presses Edelgard’s hand to cover her heart, feeling the thumping underneath her palm. “We were always victims of circumstances, but I’m happy that brought us together. Each time I chose you, I chose myself.” 

I will walk with you, until the end of my days, Byleth had promised a decade ago. She kisses the ring on Edelgard’s finger and amends, with her gentle ferocity, “I will love you for the rest of my life and all my lifetimes,” Byleth tells her, and Edelgard realizes that she’s smiling and crying. “The lifetimes we walk together and the lifetimes that we don’t—I love you.” 

Edelgard, for the first time in a long time, honest-to-goodness sobs, which doesn’t make for an optimal kissing partner. Nevertheless, Byleth kisses her sweetly, lovingly, with so much aching tenderness.

-

“Why are you crying?” Byleth laughs, as she slides the rings on Edelgard’s finger, even as tears stream down her own cheeks.  

Edelgard shrugs, playing off nonchalance, yet she laughs as well but it turns into another sob. “You’re crying, as well, my heart.” 

“I know. Isn’t it amazing?” Byleth says her before they meet in the middle to kiss, for the very first time, as wife and wife. 

-

It should bother her that they consummate their tenth year wedded to each other in a hostel. 

Yet when Byleth shows her exactly how much she loves her, her familiarity with her body still as exciting as the first. Edelgard, too, knows all the keys to make Byleth feel amazing. 

It should bother her, yet she is reminded yet again that any bed she lies in, with Byleth, feels like home to her. 

When they’ve celebrated their union twice or three times, they lay tangled in the sheets and with each other, happy and sated and Edelgard feels that being with Byleth will never stop feeling like this. 

She drums the tips of her fingers against Byleth’s collarbone, to Byleth’s still steadying heartbeat, teetering on the edge of sleep. 

They always whisper, after making love, as if speaking louder would break the delicate satisfaction that protects them from the cold and harsh world.

“I plan to abdicate soon.” 

Byleth raises her head, slightly. “Really?” Edelgard nods. “When?” 

She shrugs, unsure herself. “I suppose when we finalize the electoral law.” 

It had always been in the works, ever since Edelgard assumed power over Fodlan, yet never truly finished. 

Tapping her chin in thought, Byleth hums. “That’s no so far off from now, though it will still take a little more time.” 

She nods, knowing so already. The wait will be excruciating yet knowing that it will be very soon is enough of comfort to Edelgard. 

Byleth kisses her forehead. “What made you change your mind?” 

She chews her lip and realizes that it’s always futile to resist telling Byleth her most profound wants. “I want to live like this. With you. I don’t care where.” 

That elicits a small laugh from Byleth, yet Edelgard knows she’s delighted. “I share your sentiments. Where would we go?” 

“Back to the cottage,” Edelgard says, simply. 

Back to the cottage, living as artisans, where no one will know their names. 

“Just you, me, and our scruffy dog,” laughs Byleth. “Whom we should probably let in.” Buddy most probably slept on the pillow they left out for him in the outer room. 

It’s reminiscent of all the fantasies they’ve retreated to whenever either has had rough days or nights. 

This time, as she kisses Byleth before standing to let Buddy into sleep on their bed, she knows it is an attainable kind of paradise for the both of them. 

-

The sun streams into their chambers and Edelgard wakes with Byleth’s arms around her. She notices the ring she had forged, standing out starkly against her wife’s tan skin.

Her wife. She checks the ring on her own finger to see if it’s real, and it is so, so very real. 

“Good morning, my wife,” Byleth says gruffly, into her ear, and it makes Edelgard warm so early into the day with barely less than five words. 

She turns to see Byleth, eyes still closed with her dark blue hair sticking in every direction. “Good morning to you too, my wife,” she replies, giggling. Edelgard kisses her and wishes for mornings like this for the rest of her life.

-

She wakes up in a cold sweat. 

“Byleth,” she shakes her wife awake. Buddy cracks an eye open, but closes them again, uninterested. “Byleth.” 

She stirs awake. “What is it?”

“The cheese.” 

“The what?”

Edelgard chews her lip. “We forgot. The cheese. Back at the cottage.” 

Byleth sits up, clearly in shock. “ Not the cheese !”

-

Buddy settles beside Edelgard, tired after running and catching the ball they bought him from a bazaar a few nights ago. 

They had preoccupied themselves playing in the grassy fields as Byleth reported at the station, retrieving some letters and delivering one to Leonie to check back for the cheese left at the cottage, being the nearest friend they have there. 

Her wife finds them sitting by a few rocks, overlooking the grassy plains of Jeralt’s favorite place in Enbarr, where he often took a young Byleth to practice her swordsmanship. 

“Give me twenty minutes?” Byleth says, kneeling down to scratch Buddy’s head, his tail wagging excitedly. 

Edelgard leans into, kisses her cheek. “Take all the time you need, my heart.” 

When they had defeated the Immaculate One, they had rehabilitated the monastery and turned it into a secular school for the region, with subsidized education for all. Byleth, then, had requested that Jeralt’s grave be moved to somewhere he would have wanted to be laid to rest. 

Byleth settled for the lone orange tree on the hill, near a local stable and their favorite training grounds, not so distant from the capital but tranquil and open enough for solitude. 

We often rested under this tree after training , Byleth told her, as they stand before the newly minted marble stone with Jeralt’s name at the foot of the tree. It was our favorite place. 

Whenever they’d visit, Byleth would specifically ask to have a few minutes, alone. She always brings the same flowers and kneels before the stone, and Edelgard watches from a distance, with respect and uncharacteristic patience. 

But then this is Byleth, and this is the least Edelgard can do. 

After everything , the lingering darkness in her head stipulates, but Edelgard pushes it away, knowing that they’ve spoken about what had happened, as she assumed the role of the Flame Emperor, time and time again and that the anger and anguish that Byleth felt had melted away. 

Edelgard joins her, on the sixtieth minute, kneeling to lay some flowers she had found along the way. After doing so, she moves to stand and take Buddy with her to let Byleth be, but Byleth wraps a gentle hand around her wrist to keep her there.

She stays where she is as Byleth rests her head against her shoulder and Buddy is nestled comfortably between them. The leaves sway in the wind and she feels the foreign feeling of tranquility that she is not blessed enough to often feel. 

“I told him we got married again,” Byleth whispers, yet Edelgard catches it all the same. “I miss him.”

She has never been good with words of comfort, but she knows Byleth doesn’t need it. Instead, wraps her arms around Byleth and holds her close. 

-

They spend their last day on this lovely trip outside, by a small, hidden pond. Byleth fishes as Edelgard reads, their feet dangling from the stone that hangs above the water. Buddy runs around behind them, chasing butterflies with futile efforts, and Edelgard is thankful he’s too distracted by the tiny creatures that he pays no attention to the blackberry cream cake she and Byleth are sharing. 

She feels content and keeps the nagging worry a  presently empty seat of leadership, an awaiting parliament, and the legislation that will allow her this life and a better, democratic Fodlan, that will take a few more years to go into full effect. 

“What are you thinking?” Byleth says. It reminds her of the times Byleth had woken her up to go fishing, as rapport building, back at the academy. 

She leans her head against Byleth’s shoulder before feeding her a forkful of cake. “Did you ever like me, when I was your student?”

Byleth pauses. “No, I didn’t. You were my student, even if our age difference wasn’t much. I admired you, though.” 

Edelgard laughs, presses a kiss to her cheek. “So chivalrous. I see I was alone in my pining.” A light blush dusts her wife's cheeks and Edelgard relishes in being able to tease Byleth, despite its rarity. “I still got to marry you.” 

Her wife laughs shyly. “You did.” 

She can’t resist pulling Byleth closer to kiss her and press their foreheads together. 

“Thank you for this,” Edelgard says, with utmost sincerity and gratitude that she can muster at this very moment. “I needed it more than anything in this world.” 

I need you, goes unsaid, but when she said that all those years ago is still very much real at this moment, as well.  

“Of course. You among all people should see the change you worked so hard for.” Byleth presses her lips to Edelgard’s nose, runs a hand through her short hair that Edelgard has grown to love, for its meaning and its convenience. “I did feel like I gained some weight.” 

“ We worked so hard for,” corrects Edelgard, and shoots Byleth a skeptical look. Her wife remains in tip-top shape - pleasurably so, she might add - while Edelgard’s stomach and thighs have grown in size over the past few years. 

“Was the eloping to your liking?” She asks, laughing into the kiss they share, and Edelgard rolls her eyes. 

“We didn’t even run away.” 

“We could, right now.” 

Edelgard squeezes Byleth’s cheek. “I will push you off this stone.” 

“Try me, your majes—cold! Cold! Water cold!”

-

Their steeds trot closer to the drawbridge of their home, walking alongside their horses carrying their sparse luggage, gifts, and letters for their friends. 

Edelgard carries Buddy, who is noticeably more behaved with her than with Byleth. He smells a bit, and she makes a mental note to have the royal groomers give him a shower. 

They come to a halt, and Edelgard turns to Byleth, who carries a basket of mushrooms and herbs they’ve collected. 

Byleth, her past, her present, her future. 

“Ready for Ferdinand to absolutely lose it when he finds out he has longer hair?” Byleth chuckles, and it should be impossible just how much Edelgard falls in love with her even more. “Just a few more years then we can run away. Truly, this time.” 

Her voice is full of determination and love and dedication. Dreamlike, yes, but Edelgard feels so close she can touch it, take it in her hands, never let go. 

The glint of Byleth’s rings under the sunlight reminds her to look at the ones hanging from the silver string on her neck. 

Edelgard presses up to kiss her, then nods. 

They walk together, hand in hand, as they always do.