Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Edie! I need you.” Dorothea’s voice is nothing more than a hiss as she slides into the back room, quietly closing the door behind her like she's scared someone will notice her.

Edelgard looks up and pulls one earbud out. “Yeah? What's up?”

“There's, uh,” Dorothea makes a face and fixes her logo cap. “A customer we. Don't know how to deal with.”

“I'm on my break,” Edelgard says. “I'm sure you or Petra or Caspar can—”

“No, you don't get it. She's like. So intimidating. We need you.”

“What's the issue?” Edelgard takes the other earbud out and rolls up the whole cord and sticks em in her jeans pocket as she stands up.

Dorothea holds the door open a crack and they both peek through it. She gestures Edelgard to look in the corner of the seating area. A woman is using the furthest table; despite not only being indoors but also in the darkest place in the shop, she’s wearing sunglasses.

“She looks…cool,” Edelgard says, not entirely sure yet if she's being sarcastic. “I think.” She squints and thinks about it harder.

The woman is balancing a laptop on her thigh, legs crossed; typing away with one hand while sipping on a clear plastic cup of cranberry juice or something. She's wearing some classy gold bracelets and a white top with navy pants. She kinda looks older, but at the same time, her hair is dyed pale green, which definitely strikes Edelgard as having Young Energy. It's loosely gathered over one shoulder and it actually fucking slaps. Edelgard can definitely see why the others are threatened, though: the customer seems to be essentially radiating don’t tell me what to do and don't even think about fucking with me vibes.

That's a vibe Edel can respect. “She's not doing anything. What's the problem? She rules.”

Dorothea shakes her head. “I was just over there to wipe down the other table and I'm pretty sure that's just. Wine. I was close enough to smell it, dude. Just an open cup of wine.”

“Haha, what?”

“Edie, you know we can't have alcohol in here, even if we're not the ones who served it. And no outside drinks!”

“I know! I wasn't arguing with you, I just—what? Who does that?”

“SHE! Please go talk to her. We're too intimidated and we have work to do. I mean, you are the store manager and you are a hardass. Please bail us out!”

With that, without waiting for a response, Dorothea opens the door fully and darts back out into the work area. Edelgard hangs back for a second, grumbling, and then sucks it up. She strides out into the shop and over to the woman, who doesn't look up even at her approach.

“Excuse me,” Edelgard says, catching her attention at last. It's hard to tell behind the sunglasses, but she can somehow just feel the woman’s eyes on her. “We don't allow outside drinks here.”

The woman takes a deliberate sip of her drink through the straw. “I got it from you guys. Ask the kid in blue.”

Edelgard shoots a glance back to the bar, where Caspar is currently hard at work making coffees. Not only is his hair dyed electric blue, but he's wearing a blue tee under his work apron, too. The guy is real subtle about his favorite colors.

“There's no way my associate served you that,” Edelgard says, turning her attention back. “We don't serve alcohol. And, legally, we can't allow people to bring it in, either. I'm going to have to ask you to either dispose of it, or leave.”

The woman actually casts her a look over the rims of the sunglasses this time, and it roots Edelgard in place with a full-body shiver. Her eyes are clear green like her hair—too green. Edel feels like she's being looked at by a camera. By radar. By x-ray. Something that's scanning her through and through, even under her skin and into the crannies of her bones somewhere where a soul might reside.

Edelgard is all of a sudden incredibly on edge, but the woman smiles warmly and sips her drink again and says “Alright. That's a shame, but I guess it can't be helped. Can you toss this for me?”

She hands the cup over.

“Of course,” Edelgard says, taking it. “Thanks for understanding.”

Taking the cup away to the back room seems like an eternal walk, but Edelgard makes it there in the end. Only when she's made it there and closed the door does she lift the cup and sniff it.

It's still half full. And it's definitely wine.

Scrunching up her nose, Edelgard pours it out into the sink, watches the dark red swirling the drain. She rinses out the cup, too—just in case, so it won't smell even a little bit like alcohol—and only then does she notice the black sharpie on the clear plastic.

In tidy handwriting, it reads plain as day: “text me ;)”. The woman’s left her phone number underneath. It's still wet; the last digit has even smudged a bit onto her hand.

Edelgard is standing there holding the plastic cup and the only thing she can really think about is when the fuck did she write this?

Later, at the end of the shift, she flags Caspar down and asks him about the woman.

“She said you served her,” Edelgard explains. “I'm sure she was just messing around or something but—”

“No, I did,” Caspar says. “I remember. But…”

He trails off, checks his phone, looks around like he's embarrassed or maybe nervous to say it.

“But what?”

He scratches at his cheek thoughtfully and says, “I gave her a cup of water.”

“It's only half past six,” Edelgard mumbles, ignoring the download link in favor of rereading the message. “What do you mean, asleep?”

She returns to the groupchat empty-handed, but does grace them with a screenshot to prove she isn't lying.

Caspar, Dorothea, and Petra all think it's very funny.

Edelgard thinks it's stupid.  

But at least she has a name now; she saves the number to her contacts list as Rhea Wine Lady and puts her phone away.

In all her years she's never actually texted someone who gave her their number. Not even once. Of course Dorothea would be the one to push her into it. And of course the person on the other end would be the most conspicuous weirdo Edelgard had ever seen.

She thinks about Rhea the whole evening. About the wet ink on the plastic cup. About the wine.

Surely she had just poured the water out and replaced it with wine from a container. Edelgard can't fathom why someone would do that, and then not even put up a fight when they got caught, but it's got to be what happened. The writing is a bit hard to explain; Edelgard had been looking at her the whole time, and never saw her write. But there has to have been a moment. Some point where she looked away.

She thinks about Rhea’s eyes, so piercing and too pale to seem human at all. Her scrutiny had felt like being disassembled atom by atom.

Edelgard shudders and decides to watch TV instead.

Edelgard squints against the light of her phone in the pitch dark, rubs her eyes, and barely manages to type:

She gets double-texted immediately. Somehow, just hearing her own text tone twice in a row at 5 in the morning is enough to push her directly into Wrath.

Edelgard doesn't answer. She mutes and locks her phone and rolls over to sleep.

Chapter Text

Ugh. Edelgard stares at that last message, mouth twisting into a frown, but she refuses to dispute it—no doubt this weirdo would have some snarky reply already chambered for her. She can't expose herself to more of this back and forth; it feels like it might actually kill her.

She takes a shower instead and gets dressed for the day. It's all casual; she's determined to not put in more effort than necessary.

This Rhea woman texts with the air of someone who's used to others being at their beck and call, no matter the time; someone who knows they can get away with anything. Edelgard hates that shit. She's going to show up looking like Saturday Chilling if only just to prove to Rhea how much she Does Not Care.

Edelgard arrives at the meeting place twenty minutes early—a bad habit of hers, really, but who's complaining? She may not know what punctual means, but that doesn't mean she's ever late.

She decides to take the opportunity to secure a table, maybe get a tea or something to nurse while she waits, but as soon as she walks in that door she catches an eyeful of pale green hair and sunglasses and that silk-smooth smile that says “I win”. Rhea is already there. She's got a table. And she's been nursing on some tea or something.

Wow. It shouldn't be as annoying as it is. She's just had all the same generic ideas as Edelgard, but faster.

It's the “but faster” part that annoys her. Edelgard knows why she's early; why the fuck is Rhea already here?

Rhea sets her empty cup down and waves her over. Edelgard grumbles, adjusts her bag strap, and shuffles over to the table to sit down.

“You're here early,” Rhea says.

“Same to you.”

A vague smile and a shrug is all she gets. Rhea leans down and reaches into her own bag, drawing out a designer wallet. “What do you want?”

Edelgard pauses. “What do I…?”

“To drink?”

“You're offering?”

“Why wouldn't I?’

“I…don't have an answer for that,” Edelgard says, because explaining that when she's With Friends they all buy their own drinks seems to leave her vulnerable on two fronts. Either she can get trapped in the wait, we're friends? trap, which, no thanks, this is already awkward enough. OR she can get hit with a but this is a date ;) which would arguably be even worse.

Rhea raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“Earl Grey is fine,” Edelgard says, resigning to her fate. She leans back in her chair and watches Rhea go.

She looks annoyingly put-together. Too put-together. It's impossible to tell if she's dressed up for this or if her natural state of being is just pristine by default.

Today she's in white pants and a loose stripey top with half-length sleeves. Still got those gold bracelets; a necklace too today. That's about it, is the thing; it's infuriating how good she looks even in a simple outfit. It’s so fucking effortless that it's driving Edelgard out of her mind—because she's the one who went for “effortless”, and her Saturday Chilling vibes are bouncing off of Rhea like water off waxed cloth. Rhea already has her beat by miles in Not Caring. She just happens to look amazing in those pants while doing it. Ugh.

Her legs are so fucking long. Edelgard is glad that in both of their interactions so far, one of them has always been sitting. She doesn't want to even imagine how furious their height difference would make her. Edelgard is short and that's fine, but what's not fine is the mental image of Rhea smirking enigmatically down at her from up atop those goddamn stilts.

Anyway…while Edelgard has been mentally ranting, Rhea has finished getting them drinks. She comes back to the table and sets out one Earl Grey for Edelgard and an iced tea for herself.

“Not water this time?” Edelgard observes. “Or, should I say—”

“You can ask for water if you want some,” Rhea cuts in smoothly. “They'll give it to you for free.”

“I don't want any,” Edelgard says. “Oh, but. Thanks. For the tea.”

Rhea chuckles and sips her iced tea through a straw. “You don't sound thrilled.”

Edelgard bobs her tea bag, waiting for the tea to steep. “I just can't stop thinking about it,” she confesses, a bit angrily.

“About what?”

“You know what.”

Rhea smiles secretively. “I'm flattered to have left such an impression,” she says. Her mouth barely moves when she talks; her voice is silken smooth and a little husky at times.

“Call it whatever you want,” Edelgard replies, annoyed, while squeezing every last drop of tea out of the tea bag with her spoon. She sets the bag aside on the dish and reaches for the sweeteners. “The point is that Caspar gave you water, and somehow, without anyone noticing, you got out wine instead. And then you managed to write on a cup without me seeing it, while covering it with your hand.”

“Yes,” Rhea says, very seriously. She's watching Edelgard add sweetener like it's the most interesting thing in the world. “I'm sure there's a logical explanation for this. Your name is Edelgard, right?”

“Yes…”

“That's a lovely name. Can I call you El?”

Edelgard shoots her a look. “No,” she says. “If you must nickname me, you can use Edel.”

“Edel, then. And I'm Rhea, although my responder told you that already. Still, it's nice to introduce myself properly, don't you think?”

“Sure,” Edelgard says, not at all sure where this conversation is going.

Turns out it's going fucking nowhere, rapidly, because Rhea just sips her iced tea and says nothing. Edelgard nips at her own tea as well; it's scalding, and she burns her mouth a little bit, but tries very hard not to show it.

Rhea’s smile widens almost imperceptibly. “Careful,” she says. “This is why I'm not a fan of hot drinks, you know.”

She lifts her glass of iced tea as if Edelgard hadn't seen it before.

“I like them,” Edelgard says. “Especially now that it’s getting colder outside.”

“Ah, that’s fair.”

“Did you bring, like, a bottle of wine with you and refill the cup? What is the point?”

“What indeed? I do agree that sounds very silly.” Rhea purses her lips like she's thinking deeply. “I haven't bought wine in many years, you know. I couldn't name one if I tried.”

“What does that mean?”

Rhea seems torn between a sigh and a smirk. She leans a bit closer and conspiratorially murmurs: “Go get a cup of water. If you ask for one they'll give it to you for free.”

Then she reaches up and lowers her sunglasses, piercing Edelgard straight through with those unnatural eyes, and winks.

“Okay,” Edelgard says, deciding it'll probably be less painful if she just plays along with Rhea’s game for now. She scoots out of her seat while Rhea slides her sunglasses back up into place, hiding her eyes.

Edelgard asks for a cup of water. The barista gives it to her for free.

Sitting back down with Rhea, Edelgard puts the water in the middle of the table like it's a challenge. “Okay. I did it. What now?”

“Maybe drink some of it. It's a lot of water.”

“Are you fucking with me, Rhea? Be honest.”

Rhea seems to have ten million different smiles for as many different energies. This one kind of has excited coroner about to deliver Weird News about loved one’s body energy. “I'm not.”

“You're not very trustworthy when you smile like that,” Edelgard remarks, but she takes the cup of water and chugs about two thirds of it. “How's that?”

“Give it,” Rhea says. Edelgard does. Their fingers brush when Rhea takes the cup from her; it sends a jolt up her arm like she's been stung by an especially angry insect. It's not pleasant.

“Huddle in,” Rhea says. “For your eyes only, Edel. Mostly because we'll probably get kicked out.”

Rhea takes a drink of the water; only two-three mouthfuls or so are left in the cup. “Okay. That should be good.”

Edelgard leans closer, intrigued despite herself. They're huddled so that Edelgard is blocking most of the table from view with her body; Rhea seems satisfied with that and lowers her sunglasses again, looking up with glitter in her eyes like they're about to share a secret.

Maybe they are. Edelgard has no idea what's going on.

“Don't look away from the cup,” Rhea says softly. “Or you won't believe me.”

She sets it down on the table and positions her hand so that she's only holding on to the cup with her thumb and forefinger. “No sleight of hand,” she says. “Nothing. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Edelgard says, but before she can say anything more at all, the water starts darkening.

At first, it looks like someone's pricked a finger and let the blood drip into the cup; it's just a wisp of something red. Then the darkness grows darker; it swirls and overtakes the water entirely, transforming it into violet-red wine. As close to the cup as she is, Edelgard can smell the aroma of it already drifting up to meet her. The final hand on the masterpiece is a swirl of black on the outside of the cup; drawing itself into shape to read drink me! :)

Rhea lets go of the cup. “Observer verifies,” she says. “Have a taste.”

For a second, Edelgard is too stunned to even move. Mechanically, she reaches out and takes the cup and brings it to her mouth. Tips it back. The wine rolls down the plastic cup and flows into her mouth and it's actually fucking wine what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

She drinks half of it and sets the cup down and says, softly, but with much passion, “What the fuck.” When she pulls her hand away, black ink is smeared on the inside of her palm, like wet sharpie.

Rhea takes the cup and drinks the other half, destroying the evidence. She crushes the cup in her hand and three-points it into a trash bin. Then she leans her chin on her hand and smiles sweetly, looking at Edelgard over her sunglasses. “Well?”

“I'm beginning to feel like an idiot for thinking this would explain anything at all,” Edelgard says, returning to her very normal Earl Grey.

Rhea hums. “Yes, I feel much the same. But who am I to turn down a beautiful woman? Are you satisfied now?”

Deciding to not address the compliment, Edelgard leans back in her seat and sighs. “No,” she says. “I'm more confused than I was before. I already couldn't stop thinking about it. Now it's going to be worse. What the fuck?”

Rhea fixes her glasses, leaning back as well, iced tea in hand. “Indeed. Well, no need to lose sleep over this. It’s just a miracle, Edel.”

Edelgard wants so deeply to argue, to find some foothold and deny this mess, but she just saw the truth with her own two eyes—not to mention smelled and tasted it. Rhea can turn water into wine. She can just Do Magic. There's no reason given; there's no logic to it. She just can. She just did.

“I don't even know what to say,” Edelgard mutters, deflating in her chair a little more with each passing thought. “I was prepared to deal with any elaborate stupid explanation, but…you just… so easily.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Rhea says. “Hey, Edel, look at me.”

Edelgard drags her eyes up from the table to Rhea’s face. “What? If you say ’bitch’ I'm—”

Rhea smiles at her. It's the first open-mouth smile she's shown. Even when she talks, her mouth pretty much stays closed as much as necessary. This, however, is a full-on grin, lips parted to show a row of immaculate, inhuman teeth. For the love of god, she's got fangs in there; long and sharp-looking and definitely not normal.

“What are you?” Edelgard asks quietly, eyes fixed on the jagged carnivore teeth, knowing that behind those dark glass lenses are a set of equally intense eyes.

Rhea sips her iced tea. She pulls a smartphone out of her pocket and checks it; the screen barely has time to light up before she locks it again and pockets it. She doesn't seem to be in a rush like she feared, because she visibly relaxes after checking it. She shrugs and rolls her tongue over her teeth. “I'm a saint.”

Chapter Text

After having lunch with Petra at the park, Edelgard feels a bit more like a real human and a bit less like a wet rag being slapped around inside Rhea Seiros’s tumble dryer.

They’re sitting together on a bench in the sun; autumn is approaching on the horizon, so it’s not too hot out, and the sun feels more pale than—well, sunny. Petra—sweet, wonderful Petra—is more than happy to regale her with all the latest news from their friends and even friends of their friends. It takes her mind off all of that other nonsense. It's nice.

Edelgard has been friends with the others since elementary school, and Petra joined the group when they were in high school. It doesn’t feel like it though—maybe it’s because even high school was several years ago now, but she doesn’t feel like a later addition at all. They took to her instantly, like she had always been there.

Petra is maybe the sweetest person Edelgard knows. She’s just so genuine and strong and brave. She rules. Petra has boundless go-getter energy and is always bouncing around, like if she sits still too long she’ll atrophy and die; Edelgard has relied on her enthusiasm to get them through stuff plenty of times. Also they might have kissed once, but like, who’s counting? That’s the kind of take-it-easy—but-take-it mood Petra brings wherever she goes.

She’s so powerful. Edelgard can’t even imagine moving to a country without knowing most of the language, but that’s what Petra did all those years ago. It still blows her mind whenever Petra’s family calls her and she instantly switches to a whole other language. She’s got to have two brains in there to store all the words or something because it’s so seamless.

Petra is doing such a good job tastefully talking around Edelgard’s Weird Date(?), but then of course in the middle of their chat Edelgard’s phone goes off three times back to back and it's from Rhea Wine Lady and for the love of fucking god

Petra leans over. “Is that her?”

“Yes,” Edelgard grumbles, scrunching up her nose as she types.

“Her, uh, ’miracles’?” Petra raises an eyebrow. “What does that mean? It isn't some new innuendo, is it?”

“God no,” Edelgard says. “I wish it was.”

Petra blinks, apparently surprised, and opens her mouth to answer. She can't get to it in time because Edelgard’s realized what she just said and cuts in:

“No, god, not like that, I just wish it was that simple, is what I meant.”

Petra blinks harder this time and gives Edelgard a look and then just starts fucking laughing. “I’m sorry, Edie, but What On Earth have you gotten yourself into?”

Edelgard locks her phone before Rhea can compose any more shitposts, and puts her head in her hands. “I just don't understand her,” she says. “She's so annoying. It's like she doesn't have anything better to do.”

“Maybe she doesn't,” Petra offers diplomatically. “Maybe she already finished her work. Though, she's probably a busy person…”

“Her, … Petra, do you know who she is?”

“Hm? Seiros? Of course. It’s an…ah…what's the word—a brand. Its popular back home. Clothing and accessories, you know?”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! They have their own stores and everything. You don't really follow trends, so maybe you missed them—or maybe it's just the regions?—but back home all the wealthy girls are shopping there.”

“Huh. So she's like…I guess the owner, maybe? Since it has her name on it.”

“Probably,” Petra says. “I'm not familiar with her first name, but her business card does have the Seiros logo on it. So I recognized it!”

Edelgard unlocks her phone.

Edelgard is working really hard to ignore the big eyes and knowing smirk Petra is giving her.

“She is forward,” Petra comments, before slyly adding: “And you like her.”

“I don't,” Edelgard says. “I actively dislike her.”

But she is smiling. “You're smiling,” Petra says. “You are enjoying her.”

“Okay, maybe she’s a little funny,” Edelgard relents. “That doesn't mean I like her. People can be funny and still be assholes.”

Petra crosses her legs and takes out her own phone and starts typing.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Edelgard leans over to see. “You better not be texting Doro—You Texted Everyone. Wow. I can't trust any of you people.”

Meanwhile, in real life, Edelgard’s huddled up on the bench next to Petra with her knees pulled up and her head angrily resting on Petra’s shoulder. She's keeping an eye on both phones, but she loves Petra to bits, so she can't actually get very mad.

It’s the curse of childhood friends; she can’t get mad at them. These people have seen her do Some Shit. It's all in good humor.

But that doesn't mean she'll go down without a fucking fight.

Petra looks up from their phones. “It’s a good point,” she says. “Weren't you marching over to her in public to scold her for something?”

“Yeah,” Edelgard says, pocketing her own phone and sipping her drink. “Why?”

“This is kind of the same as they were saying, but: I don't think people are usually saying no to her. Maybe she is enjoying that about you.”

“She is pretty intimidating,” Edelgard says. “I mean, to other people. Wow. I guess you're right. Especially if she's, like…the owner of a massive company or whatever. People probably kind of let her do what she wants. And she's bored of it.”

Petra slaps her on the back. It kinda hurts a little, because Petra works out and is the fucking strong, but it's a friendly kind of sting that only makes Edelgard laugh at this point. She stops laughing when Petra says, “She likes you!”

“No way. She's just bothering me for a laugh.”

“Yes, because she likes you. She asked you out and everything.”

Edelgard is again met with the overwhelming sense that she cannot fully explain why she disagrees, because it involves too many absolutely bonkers events that would instantly shatter her credibility. It's not that Rhea wanted to go out with her, obviously. The sharpie thing, it was for—it was just to tease her, and then once Edel pushed back, this all became about proving her wrong. About winning.

About trapping her in this buck wild deadlock where she knows too much but can't really say anything because, hello, what the fuck???? Even if Edelgard hadn't promised not to tell—even if Edelgard was the type to easily break promises—trying to explain that Rhea “Wine Lady” Seiros has actual honest-to-god God Powers would be way too much. If Edelgard hadn't literally been there and seen it happen, she would never believe it herself.

In the end, she just sighs. “I guess,” she says. “Whatever. It's not like she's gonna hurt me, if she really likes me that much. She can do whatever she wants.”

Petra hums thoughtfully. “You know, back home, we have a saying…”

“What's that?”

Petra gives Edelgard the rest of her bubble tea and stands up, stretching like she's been sitting still for years. “Older women who are mean but funny are catnip for thirsty lesbians.”

Edelgard, now holding two cups of boba, tries to keep it together by nonchalantly sipping on one of them, but fails at the last second and starts laughing. “Fuck off!”

That night, Edelgard is brushing her teeth before bed and scrolling twitter when Rhea texts her again. She hasn't actually responded to any of Rhea’s texts since their meeting that day, but she opens this one idly.

Edelgard stares at her phone, toothbrush in her mouth, standing totally still, for like five entire seconds while she tries to figure out what she's feeling.

It's all Dorothea and Caspar’s fault. (Petra gets away with it.) If her friends hadn't fallen into the Psychoanalyzing Strangers snowball, Edelgard would have none of this pesky sympathy rearing its head inside her.

She angrily spits and rinses and then texts Rhea back.

Chapter Text

—6 days since the Wine Incident—

Edelgard opens today, so she’s at work bright and early and ready for anything. She hates opening; even though she’s got Hubert opening with her today, and the two of them get along great, Edelgard has never been too fond of the morning hours.

It’s because as soon as people start waking up and going to work, they’re all gonna stop by, and it’s gonna get so busy. Edelgard hates rush. She hates working at peak hours. But it’s her job, she laments, so she will do it.

She and Hubert open the store and barely exchange a single word beyond greetings. Hubert is kinda like that; he doesn’t talk much unless he has to. Edie is kinda like that too. Maybe other people think they’re a weird pair, at least aesthetically speaking, but they’ve known each other since—god—too long ago.

Hubert is tall dark and spooky. He has a really specific fashion sense that mostly includes looking like a cross between a tortured artist and a gay vampire—a lot of dark colors and brooding glances over here. He doesn’t smile naturally; it always looks pretty forced, unless he’s in private and really Really comfortable. Usually he prefers to melt into a shadow, or, really, stay in the back room.

Edelgard on the other hand can be pretty Loud to look at. She likes bright reds and overalls. Her favorite shirt has “church made me gay” printed in bright neon orange. She can’t remember where she got it but she’s pretty sure she was drunk at the time. Every day, she works her hardest to project a force field around herself of Don’t Fuck With Me energy. She’s short and maybe compensating for it. It’s hard to miss her; she doesn’t really blend in.

But they both hate pointless conversation. They both understand each other with barely any words spoken. That’s the synergy of hanging out for just over twenty years.

Dorothea, Petra, and Caspar soon show up to help with peak hours. It’s gonna get wild soon, once people start getting on their way to work.

Edelgard’s been friends with them for a long-ass time—she and Hubert were friends first, then Dorothea, and then through a whole cavalcade of dumb kid fights, Ferdie and Cas joined up. Petra showed up a few years later like she’d always been there. And now the whole squad works here—except for Ferdie, but she’s invaluable and it would all fall apart without her, so her presence is felt. (Mostly through Dorothea, who probably wouldn’t ever even get out of bed if Ferdie wasn’t around—not to mention she wouldn’t have the energy to monopolize Employee Of The Month for three years straight.)

It’s been so many years. Edelgard sighs, leaning on the counter, lost in thought. They’ve gone through change, learned together, grown up together. It’s nice, in a way, to spend every day with people who are like her family. Even if 7-10 AM is annoyingly busy, and morning commuters are the worst. She watches the clock race towards peak hours and can basically feel the energy in the shop change as it does.

Well. It’s like this every day. It’s not a new battle for them. This is an everyday war.

It sucks, but hey, it’s good business.

They manage to stay afloat today as well, until finally the crowd starts ebbing out. People are taking their coffee and going to work and leaving them Alone. The gang stands victorious once more in the shambles of what once was a pristine shop.

And who should mark the end of peak hours by sweeping in alone like she owns the place but one Rhea Seiros—today dressed in more Business, less Casual. She’s got a blazer draped over her shoulders like she doesn’t have time for sleeves, matching dark pants, and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. Of course, her signature sunglasses are in place, and her hair is loose as usual; unfortunately, the color still makes her look cool.

They haven’t seen each other in person since their meeting at the cafe—Edelgard has been responding to her texts, but seeing her in the flesh is an entirely different experience. It only took a few days for Edelgard to start forgetting how powerful Rhea’s aura is. The room is full of her as soon as she enters; a heady mix of Don’t fuck with me and also You wish you were me energy that seems to distill itself perfectly into a strong feeling of intimidation. 

Edelgard is pretty much immune to Rhea’s AoE, especially after chatting with her for days—her texting habits and tone have thoroughly declawed her. Edel scoffs when she realizes they’re both standing, but she stays at her post behind the counter. “Hey, what can I get you?”

God, she’s so tall. Edelgard is short, but she’s not unreasonably short—Caspar is the same height as her! But Rhea is way taller than anyone else Edelgard knows. Edelgard used to think Ferdie and Hubert were tall, but the entire scale has been blown. Rhea is tall. Just standing in front of each other like this, she’s got at least a foot on Edelgard.

Rhea flashes her a smile—for a split second, even showing jagged teeth. Gone in a flash; for Edel’s eyes only. “Yeah, can I have a cup of water?”

Leaning her hands on the counter, Edelgard smirks and says, “Are you ever going to actually pay us for anything, or is that just for the cafe across from us?”

“Aren’t you too old to be this petulant?” Rhea smiles (this particular flavor being suburban dad who may or may not have a manslaughter charge from intense game of bocce ball) and pulls her wallet out. “I was only joking with you, Edel. I’m going to be working a while; it’s only fair. Do you guys have cold brew tea?”

“Uh,” Edelgard says. “To be honest I don’t think I’ve even heard of that. We have cold brew coffee...and iced tea.”

“Iced tea, then.”

“Sounds good.” Edelgard rings her up and gets the drink together.

Everything somehow looks way more normal as soon as Rhea has an iced tea in her hand. She seems to always be drinking something, be it tea or wine; and she always uses a straw.

It dawns on Edelgard that the straw thing might be because of those big pointy teeth—a straw would be super comfortable between them. Fits right in there. She’s staring at Rhea’s mouth, but even when Rhea talks, her lips barely move; on purpose, Edelgard assumes, to hide the fangs.

“You’re cute when you’re doing customer service,” Rhea says idly. “More friendly.”

“That was only half and half,” Edelgard replies. “You should see me doing my full script.”

“That might be too much for me. I prefer your normal tone.” She shrugs. “Half and half is fine.”

“If you keep lingering at my counter you’ll be getting none and none,” Edelgard says, but she’s smiling. There’s no one in line; there’s no actual rush to her movements as she pretends to shoo Rhea away. “Didn’t you say you had work to do?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Rhea obliges gracefully, raising her drink in a mock toast before swishing off to her dark corner. Edelgard watches her settle in as though she can’t believe Rhea is actually going to do work.

She doesn’t even notice Dorothea coming up to stand next to her. “Wow. On main, Edie?”

“What?”

“I can’t believe I watched Edelgard do a Big Flirt...and in public at that.” Dorothea whistles. “That’s wild.”

“Yeah, you better not believe that,” Edelgard scoffs. “Because it didn’t happen.”

“Of course. Hey, Petra, come check it out.”

Petra pops out of the back room. “Yes? What?”

Dorothea subtly tosses her head Rhea’s way. Thankfully, Rhea seems to be pretty deeply into whatever work it is she’s doing; she’s got out a touch screen tablet and a stylus and she’s scribbling pretty furiously.

“Is that her?” Petra asks, almost at whisper level.

“Yeah.” Edelgard nods.

Petra hisses, “Why didn’t you tell me she was this attractive?”

“It wasn’t—I didn’t—you think she’s hot?”

Dorothea rolls her eyes. “Edie, everyone with eyes thinks she’s hot. Our problem was more the incredibly unapproachable aura she emanates. Does it not affect you, even a little?”

“Huh? No,” Edelgard says, and then immediately adds: “But I’m me. I strive for the same aura. Not to mention I’ve been friends with Hubert since first grade.” She winks. “We’re unapproachable by trade.”

“I guess that’s true,” Dorothea says. “She definitely likes you.” The emphasis is un-missable.

“This again? I’ve only known her for like—not even a full week.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. She’s interested in you. So that she can like you. Later. You’re not phased at all? Wow. I guess that’s what it’s like when everyone around you has a mandatory Crushing On Edie stage.”

“Damn right,” Edelgard mumbles, distracted by preparing herself an iced tea as well. “Just call me Edelgard von Heartthrob.”

Petra laughs and Dorothea resigns, holding up both hands. “You should go over and talk to her later, if she’s still here. It seemed like you were having a really good time. You’re off in your own little world. It’s kind of cute to watch.”

Edelgard sips her iced tea and raises both eyebrows. “If by my own little world you mean Hell, then—”

“Call it what you want! But as your friend for too many years—”

“—far too many—”

“—I know when you’re just trying to sound mad because it’s in your character to be. You can’t fool me!”

Edelgard smiles and shrugs and says, “Well, what can I say?” and then doesn’t elaborate at all.

Rhea is still there at the end of Edelgard’s shift.

After hanging up her apron and gathering her stuff, Edelgard meanders back onto the shop floor. She’s not entirely sure what the protocol for this is. Eventually, she just strides right on over to the corner table, trying for a nonchalant “This seat taken?”

Rhea looks up from her tablet. “Not at all.”

Edelgard lowers herself into the chair, not entirely sure what her game plan is here or what she even wants. “I thought you said you don’t really do any work,” she says. “That your family handles it.”

Rhea sips her drink—it’s like her fourth tea of the day or something. “I don’t like to admit it,” she jokes. “I told you: I lie.”

“You are exceedingly untrustworthy,” Edelgard agrees.

“I’m just correcting things,” Rhea sighs. “My brother’s sent over a bunch of the designers’ sketches and I have to fix everything I don’t like.”

“I assumed you were just like... The owner or something. Can I see?”

“Unfortunately, he has very little faith in me to keep the peace if he doesn’t force me to do some work myself. Here.”

She turns her tablet over to Edelgard for a second. Edel doesn’t really understand everything she’s looking at, maybe because she sucks at art, but it’s a fashion sketch—in some areas overlain with Rhea’s own decisive strokes in green. She seems to know exactly what she wants, judging by the evenness of her hand. She’s scribbled notes around to elaborate on her corrections, but either they’re in a different language or Rhea’s handwriting simply sucks ass, because Edelgard can’t read them.

“They do good work,” Rhea says, and Edelgard looks up. “The designers. But I’m here to push the design a bit more. Take it where it could go, you know? Sometimes you need two minds and four eyes to get all the ideas down. Or more.”

“Its a multi-step process, huh?” Edelgard hands the tablet back over. “I don’t really know anything about art or fashion, but it sounds like a lot of work.”

Rhea sets her tablet down on her lap, watching Edelgard openly. She even lifts her sunglasses up to sit on her forehead. “You’re being very friendly today,” she observes. “What’s up?”

Edel looks her in the eyes and wishes she hadn’t. It’s like that cold-shock of seeing something that sets your brain instantly into BAD THING TO SEE mode, like a cut on your body you didn’t know about until you saw blood. “No reason. You love to fight that much?”

“It’s not like that.” Rhea blinks sedately; the weird feeling doesn’t go away. “I’m just happy to talk, really.”

Edelgard doesn’t answer for a while, and Rhea eventually returns to her sketch. Her sunglasses stay perched on her head.

Just happy to talk. Then why be so obnoxious all the time?!

Picking at a loose thread in her shirt, Edelgard slowly (and once again) starts to feel like her friends were definitely absolutely 100% right in designating Rhea as lonely more than anything.

“Are you close?” Edelgard asks, and at Rhea’s curious look, quickly adds: “Your family.”

“Not particularly,” Rhea says, eyes dropping back to her work. “We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. We stick around each other but I don’t think we’ve actually connected in decades. Too many...” she pauses, lifting her stylus for a moment, chewing on her thoughts. “partings of the ways, I suppose.” The stylus comes back down.

She doesn’t seem upset, but Edelgard can’t tell if she genuinely is calm or if she’s just working instead of feeling. So she decides to bail her out, just in case, and jumps to the side of the conversation: “Did you just say Decades. How old are you anyway?”

Rhea perks up at the chance to be enigmatic and annoying. “Kind of rude,” she says, smirking as she glances up. “Don’t you know not to ask a lady her age?”

“It’s different when you’re talking to someone who introduced themselves as A Saint. The rules are different.”

“So do you take me seriously or not? I can’t tell.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Edelgard says. “If that’s what you’re worried about. How would I?”

“That’s not what I asked, although I appreciate it.” Rhea flips the magnetic cover on her tablet around to cover the screen, putting the thing to sleep. She looks at Edelgard with unguarded interest, like a scientist observing a new find to see what it does. It’s almost too much for the senses to handle.

“I mean,” Edelgard says, gripping the armrest of her chair as her entire body spontaneously bursts into gooseflesh, “You make it extremely difficult to doubt you about this. Liar or not, you’re very persuasive.”

Rhea winces as if she’s just remembered something and lowers her sunglasses to shield her eyes once more. “Sorry about the heebie-jeebies,” she says quickly, as the upset in Edelgard’s stomach abates. “I’m glad you believe me though. If nothing else. You can tell your friends if you want.”

“They would think I’ve finally lost my mind, so no thanks.”

“Oh, but they’re so curious. Your friend with the engagement ring has been trying to catch a whiff of this conversation from across the room the entire time.”

Edelgard turns around in her chair with her face in full Store Manager Frown. At the counter, Dorothea is trying to play it cool by feigning extreme interest in her own hands, but she’s clearly curious. As soon as she sneaks a glance and their eyes meet, Dorothea starts laughing, caught red-handed; she waves to Edel and innocently bats her eyelashes.

“She can’t hear us from over there,” Edelgard tells Rhea. “But she always wants to know what’s going on.”

She turns back around. Rhea has put her tablet away and is back to sipping on the last of her iced tea.

Rhea had noticed Dorothea’s ring more than anything else about her. Curious about her angle, Edelgard casually takes a peek—Rhea doesn’t have one. 

“Why did you come sit with me?” Rhea asks quietly. Her lips barely move, so for a second Edel thinks she’s making it up and Rhea didn’t say anything at all.

“I dunno,” Edelgard answers with a shrug. “I guess I just really want to know what your deal is.”

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all that,” Rhea smiles. “You’re going to have to be more specific, darling.”

There’s too many possibilities to choose from, and a lot of them feel more personal than Edelgard is willing to tango with right here and now.

“Why does it suck so much every time you look directly at me?” she asks instead, going for a softball instead of trying to pick apart Rhea’s actual feelings.

Rhea adjusts her sunglasses, taking pains to ensure her eyes don’t show even a little bit when she does. “My unshielded attention can be a bit...ah, overwhelming, I’m afraid, to the mortal brain...”

“Mortal brain,,,”

“Most humans do get used to it eventually,” Rhea continues, ignoring Edelgard’s echo. “But I’m afraid I haven’t been that close with anyone in a long time. It’s lonely on top, you know.”

She says it like it’s a joke, but in Edelgard’s brain the only thing happening is points for Dorothea and Caspar.

“The sunglasses mitigate it for most people,” Rhea says. “Although I’m generally seen as intimidating nonetheless. You never seemed affected, though.”

Edelgard shrugs. “I’m not scared of most things. It takes a lot to intimidate me, I guess. And at this point I’ve seen too many of your texts to ever be intimidated by you.”

To her surprise, Rhea beams—and this time it’s plainly written as normal woman who received a sweet compliment that warmed her little heart, which simultaneously doesn’t suit her at all and makes her entire being light up. “I really am sorry about the heebie-jeebies, you know,” she says earnestly. “I forget myself. I find myself wanting to see you properly. To look at you well. I get carried away.”

“I mean,” Edelgard says, unsure of whether that’s a compliment and how to address it, “it sounds like something you can’t really control, so... It’s okay? I guess? Am I that interesting, though?”

Rhea finishes her iced tea, savoring the last sip for a moment. Then she gathers her bag into her lap, sorting out her things before standing up to leave. “I get the distinct sense that, whatever my reply, you’ll get cranky with me.”

Before she knows why, Edelgard is rising to her feet as well. “It’s in my character, as Dorothea would say,” she says, a smile playing around her mouth as she picks up her own bag and slings the strap over her shoulder. “Answer the question, Rhea.”

The use of her name seems to catch Rhea’s attention even as she starts walking for the exit. Edelgard follows her, taking two steps for every one of Rhea’s, feeling like she’s moving at a scamper next to Rhea’s striding. “Interesting? I would say you are.” Rhea holds the door open for her. “You’re assertive, you talk back, you’re always acting mad even when you’re not really mad, like you’re scared of being hurt. But you’re funny. You’re kind. You’re patient. You’re interested in people. You contradict yourself like only humans do, always doubling back around. You’re a little pretzel person.”

“Wow, you’re right,” Edelgard says. “Any answer you give me instantly sends me into a blind rage.”

Rhea chuckles. She’s walking down the street in the early evening light and Edelgard is walking with her, no idea where they’re going but too busy talking to think about it. Rhea says, “See? But I like all that about you. I’ve found myself wanting to know everything about you.”

“About me?” Edelgard snorts. “Big words from self-proclaimed saint over here. I’m the one who wants to know everything about you, you know. You’re like a puzzle. You never say what you want or what you mean. I don’t know if I can trust you, but at the same time, I want to find out.”

Rhea walks in silence for a really long time—long enough for Edelgard to start wondering why she’s even following Rhea, but not quite long enough for her to reach the answer. Finally, Rhea lifts her sunglasses and glances at Edelgard.

Her eyes are practically glowing with interest; it’s a heavy weight to carry for a mere Mortal Brain, but Edelgard is stubborn enough to not flinch. Rhea looks Edel up and down with unguarded curiosity, eyes bright and vibrant pale green, weirdly refreshing in the way they jolt the senses. It’s the jumper cable and Edelgard feels like both her brain and her heart are the battery. It’s like getting stabbed between the vertebrae. Like a taser to the entire nervous system at once.

She can’t look away. Eventually, Rhea breaks eye contact, putting her glasses back into place almost ruefully. “In that case, it seems we are doomed to orbit one another,” she says good-naturedly. “By the way, where are we going?”

“What do you mean? I’m following you.”

Rhea abruptly stops. “I was following you.”

They both project too much confidence.

Edelgard is the first to start laughing; Rhea joins in a mere second or two later. Her laugh is understated, quiet even—but clear like a bell ringing. It’s the biggest evidence so far to her claim of divinity.

Apparently out of her mind, Edelgard says, “You wanna go orbit around some food instead?”

Chapter Text

In halting bits and pieces, Edelgard tells Hubert everything. She writes about the first day; about the wine and her conversation with Rhea. She even writes about the second meeting, about Rhea’s claims and powers. She writes it all down in a mess of messages. She can tell Hubert is there and waiting patiently for her to finish; his read receipts are on and it instantly marks her messages as Read because he’s sitting there with the app open watching them come in.

It’s the first time she’s explained the entire story with all its inane twists. But she knows her friends take her too seriously to interrupt or discredit her, so even when she’s finished and Hubert is quiet for a long time, she’s not really worried about it.

Finally, Hubert starts typing.

Then he stops. And starts again. Only to stop and reconsider.

Honestly, from the bottom of her heart, she can not blame him.

—11 days after the Wine Incident—

It’s Monday and at 4 in the afternoon, Edelgard tries texting Rhea, but gets the auto-responder. She sighs, and then catches herself—what the hell is she sighing about? Does she really feel that bad about being snippy with Rhea that first week?

Admittedly, she has been thinking about it a lot. Even though Hubert declared her Valid, she can’t help but feel like she’s always too defensive. Like she’s always out to hit a preemptive strike before someone else can get under her skin and hurt her. Like she’s turned herself to stone on purpose because she can’t trust the world with her skin.

It digs at her. She supposes it speaks to her actual, tenderest, nature that it does. But she also hates feeling like this.

She puts her phone on her chest and slides along the couch cushions until she’s laying down in the sofa. She stays like that for a long time, on her back staring into the ceiling, wondering about Rhea.

Rhea said before that she doesn’t sleep much. That she kinda sleeps when she can, and not a lot at a time. Edelgard looks at the auto-responder—i’m probably asleep—and finds herself thinking, good for her.

Edelgard stares at the ceiling and tries to picture Rhea sleeping. It doesn’t suit her; she seems to be always on, looking around with that air of supreme confidence like she’s daring anything to mess with her. She’s never seemed tired. Never seemed capable of getting tired.

But she must sleep sometimes; she even said herself that she takes naps. She does sleep! It’s just…very difficult to imagine.

Edelgard tries a bit harder to imagine it and it’s kind of a mess. She ends up imagining Rhea laying there with her signature sunglasses on, like she’s forgotten to take them off and is going to wake up with some impressive red dents from the frames.

What a dumbass. Edelgard imagines herself reaching over and gently removing them, folding the arms and setting them aside quietly as to not wake Rhea.

But even in her imagination, it’s no use; Rhea’s eyes only remain closed for a few seconds before she slowly opens them to look at Edelgard. She’s awake; she looks at Edel comfortably and she smiles. It’s warm; for once there’s nothing weird about it. It’s almost affectionate. And there’s no heebie-jeebies at all.

Edelgard covers her own eyes with her hand, dispelling the imaginary scene like wiping down a blackboard. Get it together. Jesus Christ, El. That was definitely, absolutely, terrifyingly, a whole lot of Yearning for just one imaginary moment.

Determined not to dwell on All That, Edelgard immediately gets up off the couch and decides to make something to eat instead.

Edelgard stares at the messaging screen for a bit. Then she opens up the contact settings and changes the contact name to just Rhea.

Chapter Text

— —12 days since Wine Incident— —

Rhea comes in to buy iced tea. It’s to go.

She also asks for a cup of water. Edelgard gives it to her for free, smothering a smile.

Rhea lifts her sunglasses only enough that Edelgard can see her winking. Then she takes her drinks and leaves.

Somehow, it was oddly endearing.

— —14 days since Wine Incident— —

— —14 days since Wine Incident— —

Autumn is coming in full force. Days are rapidly getting shorter, and the weather is rapidly getting shittier.

Edelgard doesn’t really mind; she likes being inside, and the sound of rain, and a warm drink.

Judging by her grouchy texts, Rhea does not agree.

— —15 days since Wine Incident— —

Dorothea elbows Edelgard in the side as soon as she sees Rhea walk in.

Edelgard elbows her back, and goes to take the order.

— —17 days since Wine Incident— —

Caspar goes to visit his family. It’s not a long drive, but it goes across the bridge to the island. While he’s there, the weather turns, and the bridges close for safety reasons. He can’t get home that day and has to stay the night.

Edelgard covers his shift the next morning. She feels like shit because it’s been a fuckin’ minute without considerable time off, but she shows up bright and early anyway.

The weekend passes with no chances to see how Rhea’s loneliness is holding up.

— —20 days since Wine Incident— —

It’s weird; Rhea’s presence seems less and less weighty. There’s still that tell-tale pressure around her, but Edelgard doesn’t really notice it anymore.

She tells Rhea as much via text, and the only reply she gets is

She’s getting used to whatever it is that surrounds Rhea, but the others seem to still feel it. Maybe it’s because Edelgard is either talking directly to or texting with Rhea almost every day now; she hears too much stupid shit from her to be intimidated. Even her unshielded eyes don’t get to Edel that much. She notices, yes, whenever Rhea looks at her; but it’s not the same kind of jumper-cable blood-jolt anymore. It’s just kind of normal. Which is weird, but, she does agree with herself that it’s infinitely better than getting heebie-jeebies every time.

— —22 days since Wine Incident— —

It’s Friday and Rhea texts her to ask if she’s busy. Edelgard tells her no, she’s kept her schedule clear, like she promised—and she can tell Rhea is both flattered and endeared.

They agree to meet up for lunch the next day.

Surprisingly excited, Edelgard is there a solid 30 minutes early.

Rhea is already there.

God fucking d—she really only hangs out with Edel, doesn’t she? She’s so excited to see people that she shows up way earlier than is reasonable?? Is she okay???

They laugh about it. Since it’s early, they go for a walk together to work up an appetite. It’s really nice, walking next to Rhea and bantering about whatever—it never seems to matter what they talk about. It’s always fun. Even if a lot of it is playfighting, they’re both kind of masters at the art. They know how much to push to keep it funny without going too far.

After the walk, they go to lunch, and Rhea treats her. Edel does dislike receiving things for free, but it seems to make Rhea oddly happy to spoil her, so she doesn’t say anything.

Time flies. It’s late before she knows it. And when they part for the day, there’s a weird wistful feeling in Edelgard’s chest, like she wanted to play a bit longer.

— —24 days since Wine Incident— —

Rhea seems to have more work than usual. Maybe it’s because of the upcoming company party. Edelgard leans her chin in her hand, elbow on the counter, and watches her. Every now and then Rhea glances up; they smile at each other.

She’s there practically every day that week.

— —1 month since Wine Incident— —

It’s Saturday; the day of the party.

Rhea has kept her posted over the weeks. The time and place have changed a few times; Rhea has been increasingly annoyed with it all, and also, increasingly apologetic, which is an unusual energy for her.

Edelgard doesn’t know when it happened—maybe it’s in direct, stubborn response to Rhea’s softer demeanor, like a counter—but she’s become determined to join Rhea at this party, so she’s really rolled with whatever. Maybe she’s curious about the catering, or maybe she really has gotten lonely, but either way she’s refused to retract her yes.

The most recent and final change was the venue again. Now it’s over on the island; it’s just under an hour by car from Edelgard’s house to the conference hall, so they agreed Rhea would pick her up and drive them there.

Edelgard had made a quip about the lack of a company driver and jokingly insinuated Rhea is, in fact, not Super Rich; Rhea pulled a flawless riposte by saying it’s nicer to go for a drive with just the two of them. The flip into earnesty—and possibly flirting, it’s unclear—really turned the conversation on Edel and made it both funny and solidly her loss. She had conceded.

For the occasion, Edelgard has obliged and shelved her favorite hard-to-miss overalls. That being said, she’s not above picking something else that’s red just to pull a minor gotcha. She actually has some lovely deep-red pants; not as glaring as the bright red, sadly, but she supposes she has to play nice a little bit. She’s really going for simple and clean; just a white top to go with. Sneakers, because fuck it, she looks cool. It’s a little touch, but her stud earrings do match the red in her outfit; no one can say she doesn’t know what she’s doing. She just chooses otherwise sometimes.

She checks her bag, slung over one shoulder; she’s got her phone, wallet—“because you never know,” as her brother would say—, and glasses case, again, “just in case”. Maybe she’ll get sick of her contacts. Or lose one. Or—look, she’s got a lot of weird worries and she blames Dimitri for 85% of them. The point is, she’s got all her stuff; looks good. She’s reaching for her keys when she hears a car slowing outside. 

Rhea is just on time, pulling up in a silver-gray car with a timeless design. She’s in her Casual Business attire again, looking chill but ready to go be the Owner Of A Big Business if anyone asks. Her top two shirt buttons are unbuttoned and her sunglasses are hanging from the third, which really relaxes her entire energy, and also, makes Edelgard really have to consciously look away from her chest.

“You look nice,” Rhea says when Edelgard gets into the car.

“Thanks. You too.”

Rhea smiles, shooting her a look that’s dead in the middle of a Venn diagram between old-timey doctor about to prescribe kind-of-poison for your Evil Digestion and dragon perched on its favorite hoard and Edelgard supposes that’s just what she looks like when she’s pleased with herself. She smiles back.

They talk about absolute bullshit the entire ride. About songs they like when they come on the radio. About stuff they hate. About the weather, and what they’re wearing. It’s nice. It’s like the car makes it easier to just talk without getting distracted.

When they’re driving across the bridge, Edelgard looks out the passenger side window. The sea is leaden like the gray clouds above. She hopes the weather won’t turn too nasty; autumn storms are frequent this time of year, and super annoying.

Rhea starts prepping her for the party. “You won’t have to talk to anyone,” she says. “But people might ask who you are since you’re with me. What should we tell them?”

Edelgard shrugs. “I dunno. I guess saying ’we’re just here for free food’ won’t do?”

“Ha, no. I guess just ’companion’ is fine. You don’t have to learn anyone’s names, but my brother will be there! You can meet him! He’ll be the guy who looks weirdly like me and who refuses to stop fussing over things. My niece might be there if she’s not too tired.”

Meeting Rhea’s family feels a bit surreal. That’s next level friendship. “I’m pumped,” Edelgard says. “I’ve never been to an event like this.”

“It’s atrociously boring,” Rhea says. “But with you there...I think it’ll be fun.”

They pull into a parking lot and park in a reserved spot, directly in front of the conference building. It has glass doors and fancy decor that practically screams “big fancy businesspeople hang out here”. Amused, Edelgard follows at Rhea’s side and they enter together.

The Corporate Energy hits Edelgard like a tidal wave. Everyone there looks incredibly boring. Even the venue itself is—it’s classy, but bland classy, like it has no identity behind “classy”. There’s music, but it’s being played so softly that it’s drowning, and her brain sees fit to take it into its own hands to replace the soundtrack with Corporate Pop fit for a “why we’re great this year” presentation. 

“Yikes,” Edel says under her breath to Rhea, who giggles and covers her mouth with her hand to stifle it. It’s adorable.

Rhea puts her other hand on Edelgard’s lower back, guiding her through the room as if she actually is her date and not her buffet co-conspirator. Rhea greets people they pass, and they treat her with a humble respect Edelgard would never dream of showing her. The hand against Edel’s spine is warm and grounding and she blushes only a little bit. The lower back is certainly A Choice.

“Who are these people?” Edelgard asks quietly.

“Oh, you know—investors, execs, directors and whatnot. The people mostly running things while I’m off drinking iced tea.”

“Ah.”

Edelgard’s formality level is proper, but she still stands out because her outfit is more colorful. She may have heeded the “no neon” command, but she’s still wearing red and white. The others in the room seem to have trended towards darker palettes or, in the instance of one dress, glittering silver.

She feels kind of—for lack of a better term, naughty. Like she’s snuck in somewhere she shouldn’t be. But it’s the kind that carries a weird power-rush, because even if she shouldn’t be, she’s here with Rhea Seiros, whose authority presumably supersedes anyone else in the room. She’s untouchable. And, most importantly, she’s getting really hungry.

After Rhea is done passing out shallow greetings, they make their way over to the food tables. Rhea was right; the person in charge of catering went all out. There’s tons of different dishes to try and they all look amazing. Secretly, Edelgard wants to try them all—but her eyes are definitely bigger than her stomach here. Gonna have to choose some.

A man’s voice interrupts her planning: “Ah, Rhea—you made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Rhea replies, smooth and definitely a little sarcastic.

Edelgard looks up; the guy who’s just greeted Rhea is absolutely, definitely, at a glance, her brother. It only takes a glance because he also has green hair, like what the hell is going on with this family? Rhea threw in an aside in one of her epic text rants once that her hair isn’t actually dyed, so Edelgard supposed this guy’s might not be either, which is wild.

“And this is..?” Rhea’s brother prompts, looking at Edelgard. He’s wearing a dark green suit and it actually really works. His eyes are unshielded; they have a Little of that first-time-punch Edelgard remembers, but it’s not nearly as strong as Rhea’s was. They’re darker and warmer and less shock-inducing.

Rhea puts a hand on Edel’s shoulder. “This is Edelgard,” she says. “I told you I was bringing someone.”

“So this is the rumored Edelgard!” He holds out a hand; Edelgard shakes it and nods. He says: “I am Seteth, Rhea’s brother.”

“Hey.”

Rhea looks around. “Is Flayn here?”

“Hmm...” Seteth also looks around. “She should be around somewhere. She decided to come after all, but she might be in and out. She really wanted to see you.”

“I’ll make sure to say hello.” Rhea smiles. “For now, I think Edelgard and I are getting a bit peckish...”

“I could eat,” Edelgard says, distracted by the plethora of dishes.

“Of course,” Seteth waves them on, clearly happy with his work on the event. “I’ll leave you to it for now. I’ll come find you if I find Flayn.”

He walks off, light-footed and confident. Rhea looks after him only for a second, and then returns her attention to the matter at hand.

“He seems nice,” Edelgard says while grabbing herself a plate to start piling stuff on. “He really did look like you! That’s wild!”

Rhea laughs and shrugs. “Well—he is my brother. And he has great taste in catering.”

After piling up their plates and finding a place to sit for a while, all Edelgard and Rhea do is talk and eat. Rhea seems to have something on file about every person they see, like she’s a sniffer dog trained on embarrassing personal lore—in that way, she actually kind of reminds Edelgard of Hubert. She seems to know everything about everyone, for no real purpose or reason.

They talk about the food. The music. Edelgard tells Rhea a bunch of stories about her and her friends that she thinks, surely, Rhea has no interest in—but every time she trails off, Rhea leans in and prompts her to continue, like she’s really listening. It’s nice. It’s sweet of her.

In return, Edelgard gets to learn more about Rhea’s family. There’s her younger brother, Seteth, and his daughter, Flayn—Flayn, who seems to have the opposite problem as Rhea: she sleeps too much. Offhand, Rhea says:

“She’s juvenile. It takes a long time for long-lived creatures like us to reach full adulthood. Her body needs a lot of energy to grow right now, so she’s always sleepy or hungry.”

She says it with a fond look on her face, like she’s reminiscing of her own youth. In the face of it, Edelgard doesn’t have the heart to express any kind of disbelief or surprise, even jokingly.

Apparently, Rhea has two more brothers, who aren’t around; Edelgard tries to imagine four of these people plus a kid, and it’s a bit too much mayhem.

The party goes on; they’re offered drinks. Rhea declines because she’s driving, and Edelgard does accept a glass of champagne because she’s wondering how fancy it’s gonna be. She’s not exactly an alcohol taster by trade but it’s pretty good, so she assumes it’s expensive. She’s only having one glass, so she’s making it last; Rhea graciously accepts some sparkling water instead and joins her for a toast.

At one point, Rhea’s brother gets up on a little stage and has a speech. Admittedly Edelgard doesn’t really listen, because she doesn’t A) work here or B) invest, so it’s kind of got nothing to do with her. She’s looking at Rhea instead. Rhea, who is politely turned the appropriate direction to listen, for once displaying very mild, obedient manners. Rhea, whose entire expression and body language seems so content and relaxed; effortlessly confident, like she doesn’t have to think about how she carries herself at all.

Rhea, who can turn water into wine and has no qualms drinking it where she’s not allowed to, but refuses to have a glass when she’s designated driver. She’s made an art of it; of bending the rules only far enough for her to have fun, and never enough to cause actual harm. Maybe that’s why she gave it up so quick that day a month ago. She instantly checked the limit and decided she had passed it. That putting up a fight would make problems.

She never meant to make problems.

She’s just trying to enjoy herself.

The speech ends and the two of them go back to talking. The entire time, Rhea keeps touching her. On the shoulder, the arm, the back when she can; it’s nice, in one way, and embarrassing in another. It feels affectionate, like Rhea forgets herself and reaches out before she can think it over. It’s cute. But her hands are distractingly warm. These days she always sets her sunglasses aside when it’s just her and Edelgard; she does so now, and her eyes glitter so wonderfully in the party lights. Despite the event around them, its din of voices and clattering plates and glasses clinking together, it somehow feels like it’s just the two of them.

It feels a lot like a date. They kinda said it wasn’t, but now that they’re here, it’s going that way fast.

But that’s fine, isn’t it? Edelgard chooses not to think about it. They’re laughing and talking and eating and it’s just an amazing time. The food is great, and Rhea’s company is fantastic, and most importantly, nobody else is coming to talk to them.

“Usually everyone is badgering me,” Rhea says in a conspiratorial murmur. “I have to talk about all this stuff I don’t care about. But today...they’re too busy trying not to be rude, and this conversation that I’m preoccupied with, it just never seems to end, does it?”

Edelgard smiles and it’s a little more than halfway devious. “It’s like I’m keeping you all to myself.”

“You’d better keep it up all night,” Rhea says. “I’m all yours.”

What a sweet deal—Edelgard gets free, super tasty food, and Rhea gets to be left out of conversations she hates. Win/win, really. So much so that Edelgard almost completely misses the innuendo Rhea just hit her with, and by the time she catches it, she’s convinced she’s making it up.

“Oh,” she says. “I will.”

Rhea looks away, crooked smirk on her face as she sips her sparkling water without commenting.

After a while more of this weird not-date-but-very-flirty meal, they do meet Rhea’s niece, too; Seteth comes over to their table with her in tow. She hugs Rhea, greeting her enthusiastically, bleeding affection. She greets Edelgard with a similar level of enthusiasm, albeit without the hugging, and introduces herself; Edelgard shakes her hand. 

“We’ve been working our way through the buffet,” Edelgard tells her.

“So have I!” Flayn lights up. “Delightful, isn’t it?”

“Seteth went all out,” Edel agrees, feeling like she’s just made a close friend even though it’s only been a few minutes at most. That’s the kind of vibe Flayn gives off. She’s your friend even if you haven’t met her yet.

Oh, and, of course, her hair is green too—but she has no heebie-jeebies energy. She’s got Seteth’s colors; Rhea is lighter, more intense than them. But they’re definitely family; aside from looking alike, there’s a natural flow to their conversation, interactions made casual and easy over decades—no, wait, Edelgard forgets herself; it’s millennia.

It’s weird, sitting there and talking to Rhea and her family. Like she’s become part of it, somehow. Not—not truly, of course, but a little bit. It’s nice. Even when Edelgard sits back and merely observes, there’s a friendly warmth about the table that seems to include her. It’s not isolating at all; but, if anything, it does make her miss her own family.

Rhea told her before that she and her brother don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things, but honestly, seeing them talking face to face, it doesn’t seem like they have beef. Maybe it’s deeper than that. Maybe it’s secret beef. But right now, in the public moment, this table feels homey and good.

Eventually, Flayn is yawning non-stop, and finally requests to go home. The little family gathering breaks, with some obvious reluctance on Flayn’s part. She and Seteth leave the event together; Rhea comments that she probably fell asleep as soon as the car engine started.

Edelgard can kind of relate. The rumble of an engine is pretty soothing, especially if you’re already tired. She says as much, and Rhea smiles.

“You two really got along,” she says. “I’m glad.”

“Your family is nice,” Edelgard says.

“I feel like there’s an implied ‘so what happened to You’ there.” Rhea laughs and sips her sparkling water.

“That’s not what I meant. I feel like I understand you better, actually. They really love you.”

Rhea smiles, looking at her hands and then Edelgard’s. “True,” she says. “And I love them.”

There’s a plainly honest air around her. Like she’s comfortably telling the truth. She seems at peace, and happy, and calm, and it kind of makes Edelgard want to hold her hand or something.

Edel keeps her hands to herself, feeling a strange cavity opening inside her chest. She doesn’t know its name, but all of a sudden, it’s all she can think about. It pulls everything into itself and it’s crying like it wants more.

It might be loneliness.

Chapter Text

The weather’s gotten a lot worse by the time the party ends.

Standing in the doorway of the conference hall, Edelgard is looking for news on her phone. The rain is pelting down, drops of water bouncing off the pavement like hail; it’s practically raining sideways to boot, what with the howling wind. The sky is gray-black and churning angrily. She can’t see the water from here, but she has no doubts it’s in an absolute frenzy.

Rhea comes up from behind like a storm of her own, jacket draped over her shoulders like a cape whipping about in the slipstream as she strides about. She stops next to Edelgard and frowns at the scene before them. “I called Seteth and asked him to check the TV. The main bridge has closed.”

 “I was looking for info but it seems webnews is a bit slower than live TV when it comes to local stuff, huh?” Edelgard locks her phone and stuffs it safely down her pocket. “What do we do?”

“Not sure.” Rhea rubs her face with one hand, looking like the concept of weather alone is ticking her off. “There’s another bridge within a couple hours’ driving distance but if it’s this bad, that might close before we get there at all. Or we could try to find a hotel or something that still has room. We’re not the only people stuck here though, so that might be. Difficult.”

Edelgard clicks her tongue. “I don’t really have faith in the other bridge, but mostly, I’m thinking about how much it’d suck to drive for hours only to get there and see it’s closed. Let’s just. Accept that we’re stuck.”

“Not a gambling type?”

“Not when there’s nothing on the line but a pain in the ass,” Edelgard scoffs. “Not like we’ll die.”

“Okay. Let’s do that. I think there’s one hotel near here, or else we can drive further in.”

Even though a man in a black suit hands them an umbrella, it’s not that much help when it’s raining sideways. Your legs are kinda doomed to get wet in that kind of situation. Still, the car isn’t parked very far away, so it’s not that bad; the wet rubber of Edelgard’s sneakers squeaks against the car mat when she sits but her hair and most of her body are dry.

It’s getting dark; not only does the season bring with it storms like this, but it also starts sinking the sun early. Sunset is almost all the way over, even though it’s only eight thirty. Rhea doesn’t say anything when she puts the key in the ignition and starts the car. The car radio, as soon as it receives power, turns on and starts playing music. It’s almost drowned out by the rain.

They pull out of the parking lot with the windshield wipers going a mile a minute. It’s not really working; they only clear the window for a moment before it’s covered again, reducing the world to a smear of colors. Edelgard looks out the passenger window; it’s all soft streaks of color and light, playing like glittering stones in a running stream.

“It’s probably for the better that we don’t try to drive for the other bridge,” Rhea comments idly, viewing the road ahead in flashes of clarity. “Driving this carefully? It could take more than just a couple hours, at this pace.”

“Yeah,” Edelgard says. It’s warm in the car; warm, and dry. She feels sealed off from the rest of the world; just her and Rhea and the radio. “This song is kind of sad.”

“It is,” Rhea says. “But I like this one.”

“It makes me feel lonely.”

“It does,” Rhea agrees.

Falling back into silence, Edelgard just watches her drive. Maybe it’s the rain, or the silence, or the radio, or maybe it’s something else entirely like the way Rhea’s hands hold the wheel or the delicate planes of her face, but something sinks its teeth into Edelgard’s heart and refuses to let go. It’s like loneliness, or something similar to it; some kind of wanting, or yearning, that suddenly her body is devoting all of its resources to. Like all her blood is trying to warm only her heart, it makes her limbs feel cold. Like every process, even vital ones, are closing down, it feels like she has to manually breathe—because her lungs are filled with some kind of pressure or salt water seeping out from every organ in her. It’s entirely internal. She’s not going to cry or anything like that. This sits deeper down and she’s not sure what its name is; whether it’s loneliness or longing or desire. Whether it’s good or bad.

It’s a twenty minute drive. At its end, they pull into an underground parking lot. The above-ground is all full, but the blurry-looking light-sign over the underground says there should be spots open. In the yellow darkness below ground, the radio takes the spotlight, as the rain fades away as if into another world.

“Now to cruise around here for a fuckin’ hour looking for that spot,” Rhea mumbles, and somehow the precision F-strike really cuts the weird tension in Edelgard.

She laughs and sits up straighter in her seat. “At least the wipers get a break.”

“At least there’s that. It’s probably way in the back somewhere, don’t you think?”

“Probably.”

And they’re totally right. In the far reaches of the hotel parking complex there’s a few meager spots left. Rhea parks and turns the car off and for a second its dead quiet.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Rhea says with a weary smile. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I’d known the weather would get so rough.”

“You didn’t know,” Edelgard says, undoing her seatbelt. “It’s really fine. Let’s go see if they’ve got rooms.”

The hotel staff seem mildly stressed, but are handling it well. As predicted, they’re far from the only people looking to book a room Right Away; accomodations are running out fast.

Edelgard is hanging out by a potted plant texting her brother and her friends; telling them she’s fine, but the bridge has closed and she has to stay over. Just to let them know she’s, you know—not been murdered or something. Once she’s done and puts her phone away, Rhea beckons her over. She put her sunglasses back on before they entered the lobby, but even that can’t hide her mildly troubled look from Edelgard.

“There’s only one room available right now,” she says, recapping her conversation with the receptionist. “Do we take it?”

“What kind of room?”

Rhea pauses for a moment. “Queen. We’d have to share it.”

“At least it’s a queen,” Edelgard says. “Could’ve been a single.”

Rhea laughs a little bit and turns to the receptionist. “Very well, we’ll take it,” she says, and before Edel knows it she’s got a finished keycard in one of those fun branded paper sleeves. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor and find the right numbered door. Edelgard opens it with her card.

The room is pretty small. There’s the little entrance party with a door to the bathroom, and then the main area, which is barely big enough to fit the bed and a low table. The table has one of those little baskets with Hotel Snacks in it, and a price list for said Hotel Snacks—as well as a printed menu of room service prices. Crowded in by the table, an armchair sits stuffed awkwardly into the corner. Across from the bed is a flat-screen TV, mounted to the wall to save space. But it’s clean, and most importantly it’s dry, so there’s not a lot of complaints to be made.

They’re both standing in the entrance party and it’s really cramped for two people, but somehow, neither of them can bring themselves to step further into the room, even with the door closed and auto-locked behind them.

Sharing a bed, huh? Edelgard’s stomach does a little flip. She acted blasé in the lobby, but now that she’s standing here, a queen size bed doesn’t really seem all that big. Not for two people. Not for her and Rhea to share. Maybe if it were someone else, then yes, it would be plenty big enough—but there’s a whole lot of Energy between her and Rhea that also has to fit. That weird feeling from before is starting to sink, from her heart to her stomach, like it’s contemplating where to settle in.

The brain is too logical. The heart is too emotional. The stomach is too negative, so what’s left?

Rhea’s hand seems scalding hot when she presses it against Edelgard’s spine and pushes her onwards lightly. “It’s cramped,” she says. Her hand is on Edelgard’s lower back. Her voice is right over Edelgard’s ear. It’s got a soft, breathy tone that sends a shiver down her spine.

“Right, sorry,” she says, kicking her shoes off and entering the main area. She sets her bag down on the far side of the bed—same side as the window, so she looks out it for a bit. “It’s really coming down, huh?”

If she seems distracted, Rhea is nice enough to not comment on it. “Certainly would not be surprised to see it last through the night,” she says. “Or even tomorrow’s night.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Edelgard says with a smile. She watches Rhea inspect the room; the way she moves around checking stuff out as if she’s trying to ascertain whether the room meets her standards. Thanks to her inspection, they uncover not only the world’s smallest little fridge, but also an electric kettle and complimentary tea bags that were hiding in the closet. Rhea seems satisfied to have uncovered the tea secrets.

She says, “They have Earl Grey for you.”

“Oh, nice.”

“Want me to put some water on?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Edelgard has no illusions that Rhea will be joining her for tea—she might have a glass of water, at best. But it’s still nice of her to do it.

For a while everything is peaceful; the electric kettle is sitting on the little table, plugged in and rousing the water to a hearty boil. Edelgard has a cup and a tea bag ready and waiting. She’s sitting in the awkward armchair with her legs pulled up, knees under her chin, as she stares the kettle down. Rhea is sprawled on the bed, flicking through apps on her phone or texting or something. The sound of rain and wind is the loudest now; they’re not talking.

Every now and then, Edelgard sneaks a glance at Rhea. She’s lounging around with her legs dangling off the foot of the bed, holding her phone up; her shirt has risen up enough to see a bit of stomach and the ghosting of her hip bone. Her sunglasses have disappeared off somewhere. Every now and then she’ll make a face; usually, an annoyed twist of the mouth, like she’s being pestered by someone.

When Edelgard looks away to stare at the kettle, she wonders if Rhea is stealing glances at her too. Would she notice anymore? She’s gotten really used to the feeling of Rhea’s attention on her. She might not notice.

But no, there it is. That weighty sensation. It doesn’t feel bad anymore, but she does notice it. Rhea is looking at her.

The kettle clicks and is done and Edelgard occupies herself with pouring the water, and Rhea watches her. Only when Edelgard sets the kettle down does the weight disappear.

Only it kinda doesn’t. The Actual weight vanishes; Rhea has looked away. But inside Edelgard there’s a lingering weight, and it’s not sitting in the brain or the guts or the heart. She wonders why Rhea is looking at her. Wonders if its the same reason she’s looking at Rhea.

She might be making it up, but it feels like there’s a weird atmosphere in the room. It’s been there ever since Rhea touched her—on the lower back, of all places! Who even does that? That’s the horniest place to touch someone while still being appropriate! And the—the bed? Sharing a bed? Edelgard is trying so hard to not make it weird, but also, she kind of wants to make it weird. Well, not weird, but—a little horny maybe. Or a lot. It might already be. For all she knows.

She sips her tea and the steam heats her face up. That’s what’s doing it. The steam.

Maybe she’s making it up, but it feels like there’s been a lot of tension between her and Rhea—listen, Edelgard’s been around, she’s had relationships, she knows what Weird Energy is like. It’s like a million unspoken words in the air and if you dare say even one of them it’ll catch on fire like a volatile gas. There’s no coming back. She may never have instigated anything physical while outside of a relationship, but even just the worldless attraction before entering one has a similar tension.

She can’t see herself asking Rhea for a relationship here. But she can feel some kind of expectation hanging over them, and this room, and that bed. And Edelgard’s imagination is already picking through its archives for the best stuff to show her.

She’s just kinda ruminating on that while her tea steeps. Then Rhea sighs and snaps Edelgard out of her weird, spicy thoughts. “I think I have to go,” she says.

“Go where? In this weather?”

“It’s my brother. He wants to talk. I told him we made it here fine and now he’s bugging me to come talk to him. I’m just going to drive to his house and see him.”

“Oh, okay,” Edelgard says, unsure of what’s going on in her feelings now. Is that relief or disappointment?

“I’ll be back,” Rhea says, and suddenly it’s neither. It’s just back to square one—looming anticipation and nervousness and maybe a little bit horny. “It’s not far. As soon as I’m done I’ll come back.”

“Drive safe, no rush,” Edelgard says. “Tell him hi from me.”

The smile Rhea gives her is weird and thin. She puts her sunglasses on and gathers up her bag—checks through it. Wallet, car keys, all set. “See you in a bit,” she says.

“See you.”

And then she’s gone.

Chapter Text

Edelgard cannot for the life of her relax.

To her credit, she puts in a valiant effort. She HAD been pacing around the room and trying to occupy herself for a long time, before she finally threw herself down on the bed and resolved to Stay and Relax. She’s almost demonstratively eating a bag of chips from the stupid little hotel snack basket and lounging like a sack of potatoes in front of the TV. She’s doing amazingly at the Theory of Relaxing.

It’s too bad relaxation is a practical course.

After what feels like 80 hours, but is actually more like 40 minutes, she picks her phone up and unlocks it. But she doesn’t go back to the groupchat; instead, she texts Rhea.

That’s pretty much a lie. She’s eating a bag of chips and not exactly planning to get up any time soon. She’s peckish but she’ll live. But it felt weirdly needy to text Rhea without any concrete reason.

The reply is almost immediate.

Edelgard relaxes a little bit better once she’s ascertained Rhea’s whereabouts. And she puts her chips away to maintain some degree of hunger. Don’t want to be rude.

It only takes a few minutes before she hears the tell-tale sound of a hotel lock opening. She sits up a bit, like she’s been actually paying attention to the TV at all.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Rhea says, “Everything’s still on lockdown. The other bridge probably closed. I think we made the right choice.”

“Hey,” Edelgard greets her. “I saw a local news report that said it closed for sure. It’s real bad out there. They said it might be clear enough tomorrow, but they’re not actually sure.”

Rhea kicks her shoes off in the entrance party. “No use bitching about it more than I already have,” she says. “I really am sorry, though, for trapping you here with me.”

Edelgard shrugs. “Like I said, it’s not like you could have planned it. Unless that’s one of your superpowers.”

Rhea grimaces, mussing her hair with one hand as she meanders into the main area. “Sadly, weather stuff wasn’t ever my thing,” she says. “That got given to one of my brothers. If I had that dominion we would Not be stuck here.”

She sets a white plastic bag down on the bed. It smells really good, but looks like it has more than just food in it. Edelgard sits all the way up, scooting back against the headboard.

“Seteth lent me some things,” Rhea says, moving the bag into the middle so that she can sit on her own side of the bed. She starts taking things out. “He’s kind of... he can’t rest unless he’s actively supporting someone, I guess. Whether they like it or not. Here. Clothes to sleep in.” She hands Edelgard a set of pajamas.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“They’re Flayn’s, but she’s around your height, so probably fits.” She’s setting aside clothes for herself too—probably her brother’s, considering how much taller than Edelgard she is. “I don’t even know why he has so many guest toothbrushes. And it’s only one night. It’s not like we would die.”

“Your brother seems really sweet.”

“Seteth takes after our mother,” Rhea says with a smile. “He’s a big nag, but it’s because he cares.”

After sorting out clothes and toiletries, Rhea finally hits gold and starts setting out to-go bags—fries and some pretty solidly built burgers. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy,” she says. “Burger place’s the only one still optimistic enough to think customers will come in this weather.”

“No, this is great. Thanks for the food!”

Rhea hands over a soda and throws the now empty bag on the floor. “What have you been up to while I was out?” she asks, getting comfortable on the bed and opening her bag of fries.

The fries are really good. Edel’s already stuck into her own. She quickly swallows and says, “Not much. I watched TV and texted my friends—keeping them posted and stuff, you know. That’s about it. What about you? How was it?”

Rhea has a single fry sticking out of her mouth when she scoffs and it’s maybe the most informal energy she’s ever had. “He’s a worrywart but I can’t be too mad. Anyway, he mostly wanted to talk about you.”

Edelgard almost chokes on her first sip of soda. “Me? Why?”

While unwrapping her burger like it’s a delicate puzzle-art, Rhea says, very evenly, “He has certainly noticed how much we hang out—by me mentioning you to him this last month—and formed some Thoughts and Opinions about it. He wanted to question me about my—” she frowns for a moment like the wrapper is annoying her, before she manages to fold it back the way she likes it—“intentions.”

She seems almost bored as she gives the burger a good chomp, but something in her eyes feels troubled. Like she’s covering something up and pretending to be unaffected.

Edelgard looks away because it’s a little easier to just focus on her own food after hearing the word intentions. “Oh, really?”

“Eh. He’s always like this whenever I spend time with someone.”

Edelgard really badly wants to ask so what are your intentions? but she can’t quite muster the courage to do it. And because she doesn’t, Rhea wriggles away and changes the topic.

“You’ve gotten pretty used to this.” It’s a vague statement, but she gestures to her unshielded eyes to make it clear what she means.

“Oh, yeah,” Edelgard says between mouthfuls, “It doesn’t really bother me anymore. I can definitely feel it but it doesn’t feel bad.”

Rhea holds a thoughtful silence that Edel has no idea how to interpret. And because she’s not sure how to read it, she doesn’t dare say anything. So they eat the rest of their meal in silence.

“That was so good,” Edelgard says once she’s crumpling up her wrapper to throw it away. “What time is it?”

Rhea checks her wristwatch. She’s like the only person Edel knows who still wears an actual watch. “Quarter past eleven.”

It’s pitch dark outside; the sound of the howling wind and the rain beating down is the only sign that the world out there exists at all.

“I guess I’ll get changed,” Edelgard says. “I’m not going anywhere this late.”

“Good idea.” Rhea is collecting all the trash and stuffing it in the white plastic bag. “Me too.”

Edelgard takes the loaned clothes and toiletries and hits the bathroom. The PJs do fit her; they’re light gray and the pants have white stripes and that’s about it. Blessedly neutral so it doesn’t feel TOO much like wearing someone else’s clothes.

She opens the toothbrush and brushes her teeth. Unties her hair. Takes out her contacts. She’s not sleepy at all.

“Bathroom’s yours,” she says when she steps out, carrying her day clothes. Rhea trades places with her. Wandering through the hotel room, Edel throws her clothes over the armrest of the chair stuck awkwardly in the corner. She fishes her glasses out of her bag and puts them on. On the table is a menu of room service options; she idly flips through it because she’s got nothing better to do.

Hotel prices. Wow.

She sets the menu down and stretches. She has no idea what to do next. Just in general. She kind of wants to text her friends, but has a feeling it’ll just make her more antsy.

She sits down on her side of the bed. Sits there thinking.

It’s not like she’s afraid. Well, not more than is normal when contemplating making a first move, anyway. She’s just not sure if tension exists at all or if she’s invented it.

Will she instigate something? The thought had barely crossed her mind. In all her imagined scenarios it’s always Rhea, but somehow, seeing her in the flesh, she seems far more held-back. Edel might have to chase after what she wants herself.

Oh, god, this is a nightmare. She can’t help but feel like Rhea exists on another plane entirely. Like, above all this, above weird thought spirals like Edie’s. Above getting hung up on the details.

But Edelgard is always hung up on details. She can’t ever seem to go with the flow. She’s hung up on the details and she feels like she wants to be close to somebody. Emotionally—no, physically.

That thought knots in her stomach. The now-familiar void inside her churns. It feels like loneliness.

It’s not like she’s actually lonely. She has friends. She has a fun life, for the most part. She’s never really alone.

But she’s rarely touched. Not intimately. She wants to be held. She’s lonely not in the sense that she’s alone, socially—she’s lonely in her skin. It’s dawning on her all at once now; that it’s not even necessarily about sex. It’s about being touched. About touching. She wants to be held for even just a minute. The realization rattles her; she thought she knew what was going on here, but maybe it’s something else entirely.

She wants something, anything, to fill that yearning. Someone to just hold her like they mean it. At this point, she doesn’t care who, as long as she likes them. As long as she trusts them.

It fucking sucks.

She’s still sitting there with her back to the room when the bathroom door opens again. Rhea’s rummaging around behind her.

“Are you sleepy?” Rhea asks.

Finally, Edelgard moves. She turns around, throwing one leg up into bed and letting the other one dangle as she stretches out. “No,” she says. “I just wanted to relax. How about you?”

Rhea chuckles. Unlike Edelgard, who might pass, Rhea is definitely wearing someone else’s clothes; the style isn’t hers at all. She’s wearing a washed-out gray flannel that’s maybe three sizes too big for her, and similarly worn sweatpants. It’s so extremely Dad Loungewear. She’s rolled the sleeves up to the elbow as if to get the Look together, but she still just looks extremely chill and laid-back in her baggy dad jammies. “It’s probably not surprising at this point—no, I’m not sleepy. Have I seen you in glasses before?”

She sits down leaned against the headboard, stretching her legs out and then crossing them. She watches the TV for a bit with vague interest, but it doesn’t seem like she’s invested. She’s thinking about something else.

“Nah, I mostly wear contacts, so probably not,” Edelgard says. Then: “You never get sleepy?”

“No, I do,” Rhea says. “But whether I’m sleepy is something entirely different than whether I’ll get to sleep. It’s... I don’t enjoy it much. Sleeping.”

“Why not?”

Rhea glances down at her. She seems indecisive, but her expression is soft—she’s not really upset or tense. “It’s not exactly suited for casual conversation,” she says lightly.

“Is any of this? We’re stuck together in god knows where for god knows how long. There’s nothing appropriate about this.” Edelgard says it jokingly, and Rhea does smile, but the wind outside intensifies as if it’s determined to cut them further off from the real world.

“What I meant to say is, it’s a heavy topic. I don’t want you to feel pressured to give a response. It’ll just make you feel bad when you can’t.”

“Okay, then I promise I won’t respond. I’ll just listen.” Edelgard folds her arms behind her head, swinging her dangling leg back and forth. “Tell me anything.”

For a moment, Rhea seems surprised. She holds her silence, sitting frozen. Only the storm outside and the mumbling TV make sound.

Finally, she folds her hands over her stomach and settles in, sinking into the stack of pillows at her back. “Well,” she says, in a low voice like she’s telling a secret—or like she doesn’t trust herself to hold a strong voice. “I’m afraid. Sleeping makes me anxious. I don’t like it. I can never sleep through the night. I take naps because I have to sleep, but I can’t make them last long because the anxiety wakes me up.”

Edelgard wants to say something, but she keeps her mouth shut and stares at the ceiling.

“It’s been like this since my mother was—since she died,” Rhea says. “In her sleep. I think something inside me is scared to die. I sleep better if I have someone watching over me, but it kind of feels like I’m being silly. After we lost her, my brother would practically stand guard over me to let me get some sleep. He wouldn’t even let anyone near my room. He was anxiously protecting me while I slept because he had the exact same fears as me. I made him cut it out because I didn’t like to be babied, and he needs sleep too. I can’t just rely on other people to watch me. So I just nap when I can.”

Edelgard feels her looking over, so she turns her head to meet Rhea’s eyes.

Rhea says, “They say it takes a year or two to cope with the loss of a parent. But I’ve been here a while longer. Maybe it scales exponentially. Maybe it’s because we were together for thousands.” She smiles. “Please say something. It’s embarrassing to be the only one talking.”

Edelgard nods and answers: “I’ve heard that too. It was pretty much true for me. About the two years.”

“You—?”

“Yeah. Both of my parents died. In an accident. It was years ago now but I was devastated for like a year and a half—could barely keep it together. Actually, I have a fussy brother too—well, step-brother, but at this point it’s all the same to us. So I kinda get it, on some level. I don’t really have any other family besides him, though. I’ve just kind of substituted it with friends.”

“I didn’t know,” Rhea says, apparently somewhere between regretful to have spoken at all, and relieved to find some degree of mutual understanding.

“I didn’t know about you either,” Edelgard says and lets her off the hook. “You said you sleep better if someone’s watching over you?”

“Sort of. I guess it’s like, if someone’s with me, or protecting me, it’s easier to believe that no one will get me.”

Edelgard rolls over a little, propping herself up on her elbow to face Rhea more. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” she says.

She’s never seen Rhea blush before. It turns out that when she does, even the tips of her ears go red. Her expression is wide open for a moment like she has no idea what’s going on. All she says is “What?”

Maybe she went a little overboard for a second there. Edel’s not entirely sure. It doesn’t seem like a bad energy has taken the room, but it’s certainly an energy. “I’m not going anywhere,” she says again. “I’m stuck here, remember?” She offers a lighthearted diversion—it’s a joke that Rhea can take and run with if she wants to bail from this conversation. It’s an exit.

It doesn’t seem like she’s taking it. She’s watching Edelgard like she’s trying to figure something out, but not in a negative way. It’s an open sort of interest stained blush-pink with uncertainty. And the less she bails, the more Edelgard feels her own cheeks getting hot.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Rhea says “Thank you.”

And that’s a way more earnest response than Edel was prepared for. She just kinda nods, not sure what to say, if she even should say anything. She looks at the ceiling instead, listening to the din of the TV and the storm beating against the building. The silence isn’t bad. It’s surprisingly comfortable.

Eventually, she says: “You know, maybe it’s weird to say it, given that we’re stuck against our will, but this trip has been pretty fun. Is that weird?”

“Nah. It’s been pretty fun. All things considered.”

“All things considered,” Edelgard agrees.

“You being at the party helped a lot. It’s usually kind of boring, you know. Just a bunch of people I don’t really know, talking about stuff I don’t really care about. But it was a lot of fun to go with you, even if it did earn me a Very Long Interrogation courtesy of my brother.”

“You don’t usually bring people?”

Rhea is quiet for a second, eyes flickering like she’s choosing her words. “I told you a while back. It’s been a while since I’ve been particularly close to anybody.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Seteth was all up in arms about it. I couldn’t tell if he was excited or, like, mad? But he’s worried about everything as usual. He wanted to know if I…” she trails off—the tips of her ears are red.

Edelgard scoots closer, intrigued. “If you…?”

“Do not torment me, you terrible little barista,” Rhea says, teeth snapping together like scissors in her mouth—she’s speaking freely here, not minding it, not caring if her teeth show. It’s nice to see her so relaxed, even if she’s pretending to be mad. She put some growl in her tone but her expression shifts to a languid smile that really sends a lot of messages through Edelgard’s brain—most of them going directly to her heart. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Heart pounding, Edelgard says, “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.” She’s being difficult and she knows it, but she’s not quite brave enough yet to speak plainly. “What did you tell him?”

Rhea turns to face her, leaning on her elbow with her face in her hand. She’s a bit above Edelgard, who’s just laying on her side; Rhea looks down at her, intrigued. “That I might talk to you about it. That it’s not really his business, but it’s very much yours. And that he shouldn’t be worried about either of us. It would be reckless of me to get involved with you without talking to you about it.”

Get involved with. Her mouth feels dry. “Go on.”

“I may look like this,” Rhea says, “but I am far older than you, and strictly speaking, not human.”

“Right. And, possibly, immortal?” Edelgard guesses, squeezing one eye shut like she’s taking aim at a difficult target.

“Unless killed, yes,” Rhea says.

“I kinda feel like once you and your friends start describing yourselves as ‘almost thirty’, you can kinda do whatever you want with age gaps, but I see your point, Miss Older Than What Is Useful To Put Into Numbers. Not really a normal situation.”

“One time I heard someone talking about this thing where you’d, like, add and divide something with your age to find out if the gap was too large…” Rhea starts laughing. “I was like, I guess that’s game over!”

“I heard about that too! I don’t remember how it goes either but I remember the idea. I wonder who came up with that, anyway? Look, as long as you’re not like, my boss, or my teacher, or something, I feel like I’m old enough to do whatever at this point.”

“Does ‘being a saint’ count as a position of authority?” Rhea muses.

“Not if I’m an atheist,” Edelgard says. It seems to be a perfect followthrough and punchline because Rhea starts laughing again, way harder this time. Admittedly Edelgard is pretty proud of that one; she’s laughing too.

She props herself up on her elbow to be level with Rhea. They’re pretty close here, side by side in the same bed. The distance between them is maybe about the same as Edel’s lower arm—not even a whole arm’s length. A half arm’s length. “I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me,” she says softly. “I don’t even know if you could. Even if our dynamic is built on a solid foundation of us both being rude, you’re actually really good at respecting boundaries and not pushing too far. You know that, right? It’s what keeps it—you know. Fun.”

“Cheers,” Rhea says, since there’s not really anything to add. She also doesn’t really get a chance to, because Edelgard sees her free hand laying there between the two of them, and takes it. After a moment to glance down at their hands and back up, Rhea asks, “Why are you holding my hand, Edel?”

Rhea’s hand is warm; her skin is soft. “Because I’m lonely,” Edelgard says.

“Lonely? Aren’t you pretty much always in touch with your friends?”

“Not like that,” Edelgard says. “I’m lonely in a different way.”

Rhea seems to understand. Her hand closes around Edel’s, holding it tight. “Me too,” she says.

“Then come here.”

Rhea hesitates for a moment like she’s not sure what she’s being told to do. Slowly, carefully, she scoots over. “Like this?”

It’s way less than half an arm’s length now. This is close enough to feel body heat and breath. That horrible yearning void is sobbing inside her. Edelgard lets go of Rhea’s hand and puts the arm over her, around her, pulling her into a hug. Pulling herself to Rhea’s chest. “I want you to hug me so tight I can barely breathe,” Edelgard mumbles into her neck. “Please.”

Rhea puts both arms around her and holds her so tightly that it seems to clench up her heart. Like she might actually cry. It’s warm and it feels safe and she needed so badly to be touched.

It’s a bit easier to talk when she can’t see Rhea’s face and couldn’t if she tried; she’s all pressed into her nooks and crannies, face in the corner between shoulder and neck. She says, “Earlier I was fretting about this setting. Just the two of us, and sharing a hotel room, with one bed. The way we are. It always feels like we’re just on the cusp of something. So I was wondering if this setting would… if we were going to sleep together. But I’m not sure that’s actually what I needed. I think I just needed to—to touch, and be touched, just like this, so that I know.”

“Know what?”

“I don’t know what. Just—so that I know.”

“I know.” Rhea’s grip on her tightens for a second. “I do know. And I admit it crossed my mind too, that there might be…I don’t quite know…an expectation? but now—I don’t think I’m…ready for that. Just like this is fine.”

It does give Edelgard’s heart a kick to hear she wasn’t the only one thinking about it, like she’s just been declared Valid at bed sharing court. “Yeah,” she agrees.

“One thing is on my mind, though.”

“What’s that?”

Rhea slips back, just enough to look her in the face again. The air is super-heated between them, despite the season and the weather; they’re not even under the covers, but the energy between them is enough, the way Edelgard’s heart is beating is enough. It’s warm.

They look each other in the eyes for a second that feels like a hundred before Rhea says, “Never mind.” She moves but it’s unclear if she wants to break the moment by getting back close, or by separating entirely.

“Wait,” Edelgard says, knowing she’s bright red but forging ahead anyway. “Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I asked if I could kiss you.”

Rhea has that look on her face again like she’s entirely bewildered by what’s happening to her, like she’s never anticipated something like this. “How did you know?”

It’s Edelgard’s turn to ask “What?”

“That’s what I was going to ask.”

“Did you change your mind?”

Rhea shakes her head. “I just realized—I thought I realized—maybe you wouldn’t like that.”

“Consider my question your reply then, I guess,” Edelgard says with a laugh. “Did you know your ears go red when you blush?”

Rhea draws her in, as Edelgard’s hands find her face. She says, “Are you teasing me?”

“I would never!” Edie grins because she knows that’s a ridiculous thing for either of them to say, but then she adds: “It’s cute.”

And then they kiss.

Chapter Text

When Edelgard wakes up, she’s sleep-warm and cocooned up, in that most comfortable way where her body has perfectly regulated her temp while she was out—toasty and very willing to just go back to sleep. She can hear the sound of rain, lighter than it was last night, and she can hear Rhea breathing.

Cracking her eyes just enough to make out hazy silhouettes of shapes, Edelgard discerns that she’s up against Rhea’s chest; a little closer and she could probably hear her heartbeat. She can’t see Rhea’s face from where she is, but listening to her slow, heavy breathing, it seems she might actually be out. Her arms are still around Edelgard, but her grip has gone slack with sleep. Edel is still holding her, too; Rhea’s shirt is riding up because, at some point in the night, it seems Edel saw fit to warm her hands on Rhea’s back. She’s not even sure what’s happened with their legs—it’s just kind of a tangle—but it’s comfortable, so that’s alright.

They’re under the covers. It’s dark. The rain is soothing. Everything is so peaceful. Edelgard has no idea what time it is and she doesn’t want to check.

She doesn’t. She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep.

It’s a bit brighter the next time she wakes up. She can sort of make things out without having to strain her eyes too hard, even without her glasses. She’s still snuggled up with Rhea, front to front, all tangled—but this time, Rhea is actually holding her.

So she’s awake.

Edelgard ignores that for a second and holds her tighter—just indulging in the feeling of the cuddle. Rhea makes a small noise, like how a cat goes “brrp?” if you touch it when it’s chilling.

“What time is it?” Edelgard mumbles.

“Um...I didn’t check,” Rhea answers sheepishly. “Usually I do right away, but I...”

“Didn’t want to wake me?”

“No, I—well, yes, that too, but—I was just really comfortable. I didn’t want to move.”

“I’m glad. Me too. Did you sleep well?”

Rhea pauses significantly like she can’t believe what she’s about to say. “Yes,” she says. “I did. Through the night.”

By the time they’re both washed and dressed and they’ve had breakfast in the hotel buffet, the weather has cleared enough for both bridges to reopen.

Rhea seems to be in an excellent mood when they check out of the hotel. Not that she’s usually in a bad mood, but today there’s an extra pep in her step, like she has more energy than she’s had in months (or years). Maybe it was a full night’s sleep that did it to her; maybe it was something else.

She and Edelgard get in the car. It’s weird—Edelgard feels really well-rested too. There’s like, absolutely no tension whatsoever, be it in her or between the two of them.

The radio chirps to life as soon as it receives power. It starts playing music. As they pull out of the parking complex, Rhea is humming along.

“You like this song?” Edelgard asks her.

“Yes,” Rhea says, still humming.

“Me too! I’m surprised. After yesterday I kinda thought you only listen to sad music.” It’s not said as a jab; Rhea clearly doesn’t take it as one.

“Well, I can’t wallow all the time,” she says good-naturedly, drumming on the steering wheel.

Edelgard smiles, looks out the window, and then joins her for the rest of the song.

They drive to Seteth’s house first, to give back the stuff they borrowed. He gives them an appraising look, to which Rhea loudly responds, “Seteth, your business,” and he smiles.

“Right. Right. Minding it. Did you sleep well?”

Rhea shifts her weight, for a second seeming like she’s retreating—or maybe like she wants to hold on to someone. “Yes, actually,” she says. “Very... Very well.”

Seteth seems happy with that. He takes the stuff off their hands and sees them off with a smile.

And then they’re driving home. The car retains the light atmosphere, but as they’re crossing the bridge, Edelgard keeps looking in the rear-view mirror.

It feels like she’s returning to the ordinary world from elsewhere. An isolated world that’s only just now been permitted to link back up with the rest. It’s a strange feeling.

There’s not really anything she can do with that feeling, though, so she shakes it off and starts talking about the catering again. “You gotta tell me if there’s any more events like that,” she tells Rhea.

Rhea chuckles. “Certainly. Seteth doesn’t like traveling, so they’ll all be in our area. They always are. I’ll keep you posted.”

A song comes on that Edelgard has never heard before, but Rhea gets excited and turns the volume up. Edelgard listens, leaning her forehead against the passenger window. It’s a nice one. It’s sweet.

It’s still drizzling outside, interspersed with bouts of heavier rain—it’s that deceptive kind of intermission where it feels like any second now the blue sky will peek through, and then it never does. But it’s day-bright now and Edelgard is happy, so she doesn’t mind that it doesn’t. Maybe if she were in a worse mood, it would feel dreary still.

Finally, as they’re pulling in to Edelgard’s driveway, she says: “Rhea?”

“Hm?”

“About last night—...”

Rhea finishes parking and kills the engine. For a second everything is dead silent; no radio, no engine hum. Edelgard trailed off and Rhea seems unwilling to interrupt her.

Finally: “I don’t know. I had something to say but I don’t think it makes sense.”

Rhea looks at her. They’re just sitting in the car, in a conversational limbo, and Edelgard realizes it’s because she doesn’t want to leave.

“Is it about, uh...” Rhea makes a gesture so vague it lacks any meaning at all.

“It was nice,” Edelgard says. “I realized I wanted to say something like ’thanks’ but that’s weird. So I’ll just say it was nice.”

“It was,” Rhea agrees. “You know how people have sex friends? What does that make us? Cuddlefriends? Kiss friends?”

“Feels like you have to kiss more than once to be kiss friends,” Edelgard says.

Rhea looks over and winks, like she means to say ’that can be arranged’, but what she actually says is “Whatever. I had a good time this weekend, and I slept well, and that’s all that really matters.”

“Agreed.” Edelgard gathers her bag up from the car floor. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Oh, certainly,’ Rhea says, smiling warmly. “I need my tea tomorrow.”

“Right. Right.” Chuckling to herself, Edelgard opens the car door and sets one foot out on the wet pavement.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Bye, Rhea.”

 That evening, when everyone is online, Edelgard starts the story over again from that first day a month ago.

As predicted, it’s a bit more chaotic with all of them there—but it’s kind of fun to hear everyone’s reactions. There’s a lot of all-caps disbelief (not at Edelgard, but at the world in general) and it’s really validating to see everyone flip out at the parts that made Edelgard feel like she should’ve flipped out.

She tells them most everything, but she does leave out the details of what she and Rhea talked about in the hotel room. She doesn’t need to be airing out someone else’s traumatic backstory or anything. Edelgard focuses on the magic powers and the heebie-jeebie-field and the green hair.

Chapter Text

—1 month, 12 days since Wine Incident——

It’s Thursday and Edelgard is on a closing shift and she’s so bored. The weather is awful, so a solid majority of their usual commuters have decided against going about their business on foot and stopping by for a coffee. It’s been a pretty quiet day; not all empty, but noticeably calm.

Known overachiever and busy bee Edelgard von Hresvelg quickly gets over the initial relief of a quiet day and ricochets directly into boredom. While the others are relieved and eager to chill, she gets pent up because she’s not doing anything but she also can’t leave. She’s trapped in activity limbo. So, basically, what that amounts to is, they’re extremely on top of everything, and pretty much finished with everything way in advance, because Edelgard refuses to stop doing dishes and shit. After being subjected to some uninspiring rounds of “hide the bagel” (the most notable attempt culminating in Caspar getting stuck halfway inside the ceiling air vent in his quest for a hiding spot Edelgard would never ever find), she let Caspar go home early even though he’s on pre-close—because all the big pre-close shit was quashed an hour in advance. It’s just her and Dorothea left. And she’s bored.

“You’re stressing me out,” Dorothea says. “Why don’t you take a break and let me loiter, unproductive, in peace?”

Edelgard snorts. “Hold on, which one of us is manager here? You’re not the boss of me!”

Dorothea, looking like she’s contemplating making a mess just so Edelgard has something to do, says, “Didn’t you tell Petra to personally kick your ass if she caught you not taking enough breaks?”

“She’s shift manager. She’s a cop.”

Dorothea laughs. “And you’re the chief of police,” she says, turning Edelgard around and pushing her toward the back room. “You big nark. Get outta here and let me chill.”

Grinning as she slaps Dorothea’s hands away, Edelgard relents and Takes A Break. She gets herself a drink and sits down in the back, pulling out her phone and earbuds.

She can totally chill! She’s good at it!

Actually, she failed her practical exam in relaxation last time she went up, but she’s not gonna think about all that right now. Cus it’ll only make her think about holding Rhea’s hand and kissing her. And that’s not an energy she needs to tempt right now, at work, with nothing to do.

But, like, screw it.

After finishing her drink, Edelgard meanders back onto the floor. Dorothea is deeply focused on making some new horrific concoction; Edelgard is hesitant to ask what it’s going to be, but by the looks of it, the answer is “a lot”. She just keeps pumping those syrups like she’s possessed. 

“What are the odds that we can just lock up and leave,” Edel says vaguely in Dorothea’s direction.

“Wait, that’s not very chief of police of you.” Dorothea stirs whatever that thing is and takes a sip. “Oh, dude, you have to try this. It sucks.”

“Ugh. What is that?”

“Okay, I was trying to make that coffee/tea drink that dude told us about, so I just did…half Earl Grey, half black iced coffee, but it tasted like shit so I spruced it up a little.”

“I think you’re supposed to use Hong Kong style milk tea to make that. Or at the very least, any kind of sweetener. I don’t think I want that in my mouth after the syrupening though,” Edelgard says, staring at the drink with suspicion and disdain. “Maybe if you add enough peppermint it’ll end up only tasting like peppermint?”

“Disgusting.” Dorothea leans on the counter. “By the way, did you hear Bernie’s back in town?”

“No way! We have to hang out! Did you invite her to the party?”

“I’m gonna! We settled on Friday, right?”

“Yeah, cause almost everyone’s got Saturday off. Sleep-in time. How is she?”

“Bernie? Oh, she’s good—same as usual.”

Edelgard smiles and leans on the counter next to Dorothea, staring out into the empty shop. “I wonder if she finished editing her manuscript. I wanna read it.”

“Right?” Dorothea sips her devil’s drink. “How come Lindy gets to, but not me?”

“Something about a second opinion or even, like, an editor, I guess. I wouldn’t trust you to be subjective about a story.”

“What’s that supposed to mean! I’m great at story! I did theatre for—”

“You cry when you watch Cats.”

“There’s a sad fucking song in that! The old cat grandma! It’s sad!”

“What I’m saying is, you’re easily able to enjoy pretty much anything. And what Bernie’s looking for is,” Edelgard pauses. “well—a butcher.”

Dorothea groans, putting her head down on the counter. “Don’t remind me. I had to sit through so many classes that were just Linhardt arguing with the teacher over the reading material the entire time. Classic Lit No Mercy Run.”

“Ha! And if you want your paper to get absolutely savaged, but also beefed up to get you an A no questions asked, ...”

Edelgard trails off. She’s thinking about the time she tried to catch Linhardt off-guard by asking for help on a civics paper. He had a reputation for only giving a shit about hard sciences and lit; everything else he just slept through. What actually ended up happening was: he took the paper without asking a single question, and stayed up all night studying it. Coming in with no sleep the next day, Linhardt handed the paper back with a slew of notes and suggestions. He gained a brand new interest in civics that would last for the next three months, wherein he kicked everyone’s ass at it constantly, before suddenly going back to sleeping through social studies as before.

After doing everything he suggested, Edelgard got an A on her paper. She never underestimated him again.

That’s basically Linhardt: he’s always either Off or On with no real gray zone. Either he doesn’t care, or he’s obsessed. He dual-wields absolute disinterest and astonishing focus like a champion, and he’s content with that pattern, although he does admit it’s occasionally inconvenient for him. And if he doesn’t have something to do he gets really, really ornery.

So, paradoxically, this sleepy dude with needle-point obsessions doubles as a Favor Handyman who can basically help out with anything if asked, because he needs something to do all the time. Bernadetta has called on him to proofread her manuscript, since he likes lit and she trusts him.

Bernadetta also went to their school, and is close friends with Linhardt—when they hang out they basically don’t talk at all, which is funny. Kindred spirits, sort of. She likes creative stuff; art and writing and textile, a little bit of everything.

It was a surprise to literally everyone, most of all herself, when she decided to leave the city; like her drive to be apart from her family conquered her fear of the unknown and in that one moment her path was set. Apparently, she’s doing pretty well on her own; most of all it seems that she enjoys living alone and not having to talk to anybody. She completed her studies in another city before returning with the first draft of a novel and a whole lot of souvenirs. Then she was off again. She had been anxious to leave and anxious to return; that’s kind of what she’s like. She settles into one thing and then fears change—over and over again.

It’ll be nice to see her in person again; she texts sometimes, or even sends cute handwritten letters, but Edel thinks hanging out is the best.

“Egh.” Dorothea has just taken a huge swig to finish off her drink, and is unable to contain the grimace fighting its way onto her face. “I gotta get my hands on some milk tea and try doing this one again.”

“Mm. It sounded pretty delicious when that customer described it. Let me know.”

Dorothea bins the plastic cup and checks the time on her phone. “We’re so close. Can I raid the pastry case yet?”

“Go for it.“

Dorothea helps herself to a snack. They close at ten; it’s like half an hour away, but there’s basically no chance in hell anything will happen before then.

It’s pitch black outside, of course, aside from the sallow light of streetlamps. The sun has long since set. The halos of the streetlights sway and waver in the wind.

“Do you think it’ll snow early this year?” Dorothea asks absentmindedly. “Or late?”

“It’s getting pretty cold pretty fast. Which do you want?”

She shrugs. “I don’t really mind. I just want one romantic snowy day and then it can melt for all I care.”

Edelgard laughs a little and takes a sandwich from the case. “You said it. I guess I’ll count up the tills.”

The store closes at ten, and because every chore is already done, they’re out by 10:05.

Chapter Text

 — — 1 month, 20 days since Wine Incident — —

It’s almost three weeks since the corporate party and everything’s exactly the same. Rhea comes to the shop every other day; sometimes she stays to work, and sometimes she gets a cup of water for free and to go. Edelgard and her friends work. It’s pretty calm, even as the days get shorter.

There is one thing looming on the horizon though, and Edelgard has a job to do.

Edelgard pockets her phone. The weather’s clear for once—in that dreary autumn way, but it is clear—so she’s walking to the store without an umbrella. It’s pretty chilly though, so she’s pulled out her favorite cozy hoodie for the occasion. It’s way big but that’s what she likes about it. She has to roll the sleeves up or they eat her hands and that’s just peachy.

All in all she’s feeling pretty good recently. Obviously, like any sane person would, she’s decided not to address her text slip from three weeks ago; not to her friends, not to God, and DEFINITELY not to Rhea. She’s thought about that thing she said, once or twice, and felt that weird dragging feeling inside, and just kind of set it aside for someone else to deal with. It’s Future Edelgard’s problem now. Thanks to that, she’s pretty chill! She does her job well, she’s hanging out with her friends, and she’s in—...........talks with Rhea all the time. It’s all good.

It’s not like she’s in denial about it or anything. She’s just not addressing it or talking about it. She’s fully aware of it. You know. It.

She’s got her earbuds in and she’s listening to the song she and Rhea sang along to in the car. She’s VERY aware of . . . It. This might be her favorite song now. Every time it plays she thinks about the drive, and being alone with Rhea, and being held so so so tight.

But, like…it’s chill. It’s fine. She’s fine.

She’s going to the store. There’s a pep in her step because she’s listening to her favorite song and she’s looking forward to next weekend. Everything’s coming up Edelgard and it’s great.

She has to go to this specific local store because it’s the only place that sells the stuff she needs. It’s just a grocery store, but it’s not a chain or franchise, and seems to stock whatever it wants—it sells things no other store in town does. Maybe no other store in the world. For all Edelgard knows, this could be the only place these wares exist, like they just materialize in the back room from nowhere at all.

Her mission: to purchase drinks for Dorothea’s annual Halloween party. There’s a large demand for sodas—specifically, niche local brews that are only sold at the niche local store. Everyone has a favorite one, so they usually get a bit of everything to share. Dorothea sent Edelgard to do it a week in advance because she’s Dorothea and she’s going to be extremely busy planning every minute detail of the party and her costume. She won’t have time to do it, and then by the time the event is drawing near, she won’t have planned a place to PUT all the soda, so it’s best to place them down first. You should start with the foundations when you’re building a house; it’s kind of the same with Dorothea’s parties and soda. Dorothea and Ferdie are out today, so Edelgard will drive the goods over tomorrow.

Edelgard enters the grocery store and makes a beeline for the sodas. It truly is a beeline, in the most realistic sense; the store layout is a bit cramped and weird, so it’s more like a bumbling path through a grocery maze than an actual focused direction. She’s just a confused little bee looking for soda in a big world. Suppose that’s the charm of small local stores.

Alright. She’s got her basket, now she just needs to fill the order.

Okay, first of all, Dimitri needs his disgusting one—it’s definitely soda, and it’s dark like cola, but it tastes weirdly like chocolate and it’s absolutely foul. Sometimes she wonders if the guy has tastebuds at all. Next is this pink one that allegedly tastes like raspberry—jury’s still out on that—and a few bottles of the brewery’s finest blackcurrant soda (for Hubert). She’s having a pretty good time collecting all the sodas and filling up her mental checklist. Of course, she needs some big bottles of the seasonal Halloween Soda—it’s purple, which is fun, and everyone drinks this one the most, so they need several. No one’s sure what it’s supposed to taste like. The label doesn’t even say. She assumes that’s the spooky part.

Edelgard is low-key obsessed with a passion fruit soda called Love and she’s just about to reach for a four-pack when she feels someone come up behind her. “That’s a lot of soda.”

She turns around abruptly, not sure she believes her own ears, but sure enough, her eyes agree. She takes one earbud out. “Rhea!”

Rhea is standing there, tall as usual, loosely draped in a scarf and a windbreaker. She lifts her sunglasses up to sit on her forehead. “Hello. How’s it going?”

“Great! I’m on a mission to buy weird sodas. How about you?”

“I’m on a mission to buy regular groceries,” Rhea says dryly, but she’s smiling. “What’s the occasion?”

Edelgard chuckles and grabs the four-pack. “Ah, it’s for a party next week. The weird sodas are part of the tradition. You know?”

“Makes sense.” Rhea eyes the soda. “I didn’t think anyone actually bought Love.”

“I may or may not be keeping it on the shelves singlehandedly. I plead the fifth. You don’t like it?”

“Love’s fine,” Rhea says. “I miss, uh…there used to be another weird one here but I don’t think the brewery makes it anymore. It was called something like Kiss? I think? It doesn’t exist anymore but it was pretty good.”

Picking out one of those orange sodas with a weird name like “Orango” for Bernie, Edelgard makes an incredulous face and says, “Seriously? It was called that?”

“Honest to god. Wait, you’re buying Orango and Love. Glass houses, Edel.”

Edelgard puts her hands up and says “You got me there. You live near here?”

“Fifteen minute drive,” Rhea says. “Wait, are you reaching for Viruz?”

“Ferdie likes this one.” Edelgard holds up the bottle of bright green soda. “Don’t ask me why.”

“You better not be going for the one that’s just called Red Soda. Is that one for you?”

“I see your point, but no, Love is for me. Red Soda is Caspar’s thing.”

“Now there’s a twist.”

Edie laughs, and Rhea looks pretty satisfied with that. “What are you getting?” Edelgard asks.

Rhea leans past her—well, more like over her—and reaches to grab a bottle of bog-standard sparkling water. For a moment when she does that, they’re so close it’s hard to breathe—a bit of Rhea’s hair grazes by Edelgard’s cheek and she just kind of wants to grab her before she can lean back, and give her a kiss—not the soda kind—but then Rhea has her sparkling water and is back to standing at Proper Distance. “I’m boring,” she says with a smile and a shrug, and then puts the bottle in her own basket.

“You are not boring,” Edelgard says, still a bit distracted. Then a lightbulb comes on in her head. “Hey!”

Rhea starts. “Hey?”

She probably jumped a bit because Edelgard grabbed her arm, which isn’t really something Edelgard usually does—like on the party date, Rhea’s usually more likely to get so into a conversation she reaches out to touch. But Edelgard’s grabbed her arm because she had an idea and was immediately too riveted to contain herself. “You should come with me to the Halloween party!”

“You’re inviting me?” Rhea seems genuinely surprised. The tips of her ears are pink.

“Yeah! I’ll even get you a weird soda. No one drinks this weird Flux Soda stuff, so maybe—”

“I mean, are you sure?”

 They both pause for a second, looking at each other. “Huh?” Edelgard tilts her head. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

Rhea drags it out for a while, rubbing her neck awkwardly and averting her eyes like she’s not sure what to do. It’s rare to see her so plainly insecure. A moment passes in silence. Then: “It’s just,” Rhea starts, finally looking Edelgard in the eyes again, “Are you sure that’s really okay? I’m sure I would just inconvenience them. I mean, you’re used to me, but—”

“Oh. Oh! You mean the—? The thing? Your AoE?”

“My what?”

“Your intimidation field? Your Pressure ability? Man, don’t even worry about it! You’re not a burden! You should totally come! My friends really want to meet you—I mean, like, properly meet, not like, as a customer.”

“They—uh—they do?” Rhea’s ears have gone from pink to red. “I don’t want to be a bother...”

Edelgard grabs her other arm. “I told them,” she says. “I told them about you. You said I could, so I explained it to them. It’s all right. Bring your cool sunglasses.”

Rhea looks away again, but this time it seems less insecure and more straight-up flustered, because of how red she is at this point. She frees one of her arms from Edel’s grip just so she can cover her mouth with her hand. “I’ll go,” she mumbles from under it, “If you’re really sure, I’ll go.”

“It’ll be fun! I already met your family three weeks ago. You should meet mine!”

Rhea lowers her hand to show that she’s smiling. “Okay,” she says, nodding. It kind of looks like she might cry, which is a weird look for her, but it doesn’t look like she’s sad at all. “By the way, that’s really a lot of soda. Did you walk?”

“I did,” Edelgard says, finishing up her basket with some Flux Soda and a few stragglers. “I’m sorry I can’t give you Kiss. You’ll have to guinea pig the Flux.”

“Ha! Yes, that’s fine. Do you want help getting home? That’s gonna be really heavy.”

“I can carry it,” Edelgard says stubbornly, and then relents. “Yes. Okay. Fine. Thank you.”

They finish up Rhea’s shopping together—normal groceries, like she said, but she has a tendency to choose weird local brands, which is probably why she shops here. It’s nice. Extremely domestic. Edelgard has even more of a pep in her step than before—she’s all flutter and smile even if all they’re doing is grocery shopping.

After they pay and bag up their stuff, they load all of it into Rhea’s car. It’s going to be a very short ride, but Edelgard does agree that carrying all of it would suck immensely. She also has a weird hunch that, just like her, Rhea is more than a little reluctant to say goodbye.

In the car, Edelgard gives her all the information about the party—the place, the time, the dress code. “It’s a costume party,” she says, and quickly adds: “You don’t have to—but it’s gonna be fun! No sweat though, we’re probably just gonna end up watching a movie or something anyway.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Rhea says gamely.

The drive is literally like two minutes, and they don’t really say much during it, but it’s still nice. It’s comfortable. Rhea pulls up behind Edelgard’s car in the driveway and for a second it looks like she might say something, but at the very last moment she changes her mind and just smiles instead. “I’ll see you around, then,” she says.

Edelgard thanks her for the ride and gathers all her crap out of the car. Rhea is watching her in a manner best described as “fondly”, and she tries not to dwell on it too hard, lest she get distracted by how Very Aware Of It she is.

She waves to Rhea as she backs out of the driveway, and then carries her stuff inside. Once she’s there, she remembers something, freezes, and whips out her phone.

Chapter Text

— — 1 month, 27 days since Wine Incident— —

It’s Friday and the party is this evening. Edelgard has finished all her preparations; the aforementioned soda run, her costume prep, and her schedule are all in the box. She’s got the weekend off, so she’s ready to stay up late and maybe even Partake Of The Devil’s Juice. No hangover can defeat her if she’s got the day off.

Rhea has been withholding information from her. Any time Edelgard tries to ask about her costume plans, Rhea sends her a smiley or an emoji or even a “wouldn’t you like to know”. Yes! She would! That’s why she asked!! So she’s pretty intrigued to find out what Rhea has been cooking up the past week.

Dorothea was delighted to hear that Rhea would come. She’s kind of a “the more the merrier” type when it comes to get-togethers. And, like Edelgard said at the store, she’s really excited to properly Meet Rhea in a setting where they can actually talk.

It’s sort of the talk of the groupchat. Everyone’s pretty pumped about Rhea joining them. They wanna see what the fuss is about—they all obviously know Edelgard is deep in her feelings, and they wanna meet the woman who did it to her. It’s natural friend group stuff. Somehow—irrationally—Edelgard finds herself hoping they like her. Like it’s a test for their approval or something.

Okay, so, her costume. She had most of the pieces already, because she’s a parody of herself. Like, she’s wearing a red leather jacket—had that from before!! It makes it really cheap when you already own half the costume. Today’s bad girl leather and red—she’s a nasty little devil. Maybe it’s not the most original, but it fits her like a glove and she’s determined to own it.

Mainly she had to buy some horns—red to match—and, of course, teeth. The teeth were optional in her mind until she thought to herself “Rhea won’t be the only bitch with fangs” and then suddenly it was Very Mandatory to complete the look with some chompers.

She didn’t really bother with costume contacts or anything. She didn’t really need to, turns out; her pale hair and eyes look pretty good with the red and black.

Admittedly, she looks hot. She can’t lie. Maybe it’s the teeth. Or the leather. It’s unclear.

The doorbell rings; that’ll be her ride. Edelgard scoops up her bag and strides down to the front door, all ready to go.

She opens the door to see Dimitri as expected. He’s all wrapped up in mottled gray-and-white fur and claws, looking haggard. Thankfully the last part is costuming too; he’s got make-up around his eye that makes it look like he hasn’t slept in a month. Perched on his head are two pointed wolf ears.

“Awoo,” Edelgard says.

“350¤ fine,” Dimitri responds. “You look cool, El.”

“You too!”

He’s gonna drive them over to Dorothea’s because he never drinks anything harder than root beer. Best part is: they’re picking up Rhea on the way. She will not be condemned to sparkling water this time, on Edelgard’s life.

 They walk to the car. It’s only the afternoon, but the air already has a cold bite to it. The year is marching onwards quickly.

Edelgard is kind of nervous about Dimitri and Rhea. He’s never even seen her at a distance before. Who knows how hard that Pressure Field will hit him. Edelgard has done her best to explain the situation, but she’s not sure he’s entirely conceptualized it. She can’t blame him. It’s a bananas thing to try and anticipate.

She and Dimitri are step-siblings, but since they grew up together, they can’t really feel the “step-“ part. In a lot of ways, they’re opposites—Dimitri isn’t nearly as loud to look at, Edelgard can talk to girls—and in a lot of ways they’re pretty similar (both got in a lot of wild fights before mellowing out; both can get really stubborn about their beliefs). He’s definitely quieter than her nowadays; he’s into gentle stuff now, but he used to be on a pretty crooked path. He likes calm hobbies. One of his friends taught him to knit. Stuff like that.

He and his dweeb friends work at a sportsgear store downtown. He’s been thriving ever since he found a therapist he actually likes. And he’s very sweet.

She has no idea how that weird saint vibe is gonna hit him, but she hopes he won’t be too shaken. They talked about it beforehand and he was all “I’m impervious to heebie-jeebies” so she’ll just have to hold him to that.

The drive to Rhea’s address is pretty uneventful. They ask each other how it’s going. They both say fine. Stuff like that. When they pull up in front of the house, they both get really quiet.

It’s a pretty fancy house—looks expensive. It’s not that Edelgard is surprised, but at the same time, she’s surprised. Does that make sense? She’s surprised to see it, but she’s not surprised that that’s where Rhea lives. It’s a modern two-story house with pristine glass windows, big enough to see the elegantly furnished insides of an empty sitting room on the first floor. As they watch, the lights dim, and the windows shutter themselves automatically.

Edelgard gets out of the car to greet when the front door opens. Dimitri does too. Not sure where they both got that habit from, but greetings are meant to happen standing. It might be one of those weird neutral traits they inherited from their parents when no one was looking.

Rhea steps out and her face lights up when she sees them. “Hello!”

“Hey there! Good to see you.” Edelgard looks her up and down, trying to discern what she is. She’s pretty; she has flowers in her hair, and an elegant white cape and gown combo accented in gold. She looks somewhere between regal and like she might beat the shit out of someone. Like no one would be surprised if she was also holding a sword. She doesn’t have a sword, though, so it’s kind of hard to place. Finally Edelgard gives up and just asks: “What are you dressed up as? I’m the devil.”

Rhea starts laughing. “Not just any devil?”

“It’s go big or go home.”

“It’s really good! This isn’t actually my final Look. I have one more thing. Do you wanna see?”

Edelgard looks at Dimitri, a little bit confused and maybe worried, like she’s about to be pranked. He shrugs. Edel says, “What do you have up your sleeve, Rhea?”

And then suddenly it’s really bright out. Or, it feels like it, for a second, before Edelgard’s eyes adjust. It’s actually not the kind of light that hurts to look at, despite how bright it is; it’s diffuse and warm and now Edelgard is laughing too because their costumes fucking match and they didn’t even plan it. “You have a halo!?”

Looking extremely self-satisfied, Rhea puts on her sunglasses. It looks so fucking funny—not because it’s stupid, but because it’s the most Peak Rhea she’s ever been. She has a halo; it’s not a prop light or anything, it’s just there behind her head, and then the sunglasses on—it’s really good. It’s really very good. “I’m a saint!” Rhea says.

“Are you going as yourself?” Edelgard asks incredulously, still laughing a bit. “What a move!”

“I thought it would be funny,” Rhea says with a crooked smile.

“It is funny! Oh, shit, also, I forgot to introduce you, this is Dimitri.”

“Dimitri! I’m Rhea.” She offers a hand and he shakes it, looking a little bit rattled.

“Nice to meet you. Devil and saint? Did you guys plan this?” he asks, apparently more intrigued by their costumes than by Rhea’s aura.

“No,” they both say in unison and then look at each other and giggle. Dimitri laughs a little and shoots Edelgard a look like I know that you know that I know, and you’re adorable, which Rhea thankfully doesn’t seem to notice.

They get back in the car. Apparently out of courtesy to the driver, Rhea dims her halo like it’s a lightswitch. Things are more lively with three people; Dimitri is asking Rhea all kinds of questions, about the pressure in the air around her and what’s up with that halo thing and is her hair really not dyed? Rhea seems to be in a good mood and she’s answering them all, but most of the time, she’s looking at Edelgard.

Dimitri seems to approve of her. He admits he’s feeling the weird pressure, but in true Dimitri fashion, he adds a mildly sinister “I’ve felt worse” and doesn’t elaborate.

Eventually they’re at Dorothea and Ferdie’s suburban adventure. The small house is all decked out in decorations that might be too big for it; the housefront is kind of drowning, but it’s cute. The early sunset is helping the evening lights shine—figuratively and literally—and they can view it in its optimal state: spooky.

Rhea, who’s never seen Dorothea and Ferdie go absolutely unhinged with party fervor before, whistles one solo note.

“We go all out here,” Edelgard says as they walk up the driveway.

“I can tell,” Rhea says, sticking weirdly close to her like she’s hoping to disappear in Edelgard’s shadow. An impossible project, given how disparate their heights are, but an admirable effort nonetheless.

Dimitri rings the doorbell. It only takes a few seconds before the door flies open and Dorothea is yelling: “Welcome to the party! Who are you?!”

“I’m a wolfman,” Dimitri says very seriously. “If you awoo at me you have to pay tax.”

“I’m the devil,” Edelgard says and waves. “Your soul is forfeit for talking to me.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Rhea says. She’s lingering at Edelgard’s back like a ghost.

Dorothea’s wearing mostly muted browns; a big trenchcoat, pageboy hat, and loose clothes cinched at the waist with a leather belt. She’s got some makeup smeared on her face like dirt. Edelgard has no idea what she’s supposed to be.

“Dorothea?”

“Yes?”

“What are you dressed as? I can’t tell.”

Dorothea puffs up a little in that tell-tale way she does when she’s about to go Okay So and lay out a whole ordeal. “Okay, so, I wanted to be Phantom this year, since, that’s pretty iconic. But Ferdie was like, ‘I had to read the original novel for an assignment and I am Sick Of Him to this very day’ so I’m like damn, I wanted to wear a tux but okay. Then because she’s an angel she started pitching other musicals to me to appease me—and we started talking about Les Mis instead—but we really went opposite directions because she was thinking about Marius and Cosette, you know, she’s into that cute endgame stuff—but I’m more of like, the tragic Éponine fan, the drama of it all—so in the end we forgot Marius was even a character in the story—”

“This bit has no audience,” Edelgard says, “But are you trying to say lesbian Les Mis? Les Mis? Les—”

Somewhere in the background, Rhea snorts. Dorothea puts her hands on her hips and looks quite self-satisfied. “Keep enunciating, Edie. You’ll get there.”

“You know what I’m trying to say, it’s just hard to say it!”

“I like Éponine, too,” Dimitri says. “She’s the most interesting character in the novel.”

Edelgard turns to him. “Agreed, but Ferdie does have a point. Cosette’s pretty sweet.”

From her spot in the back, Rhea says, “I like the cop.”

Dorothea looks up like shes only just remembered that Rhea is there, because she got so engrossed in her story-rant about costumes. She lights up and pushes Edelgard and Dimitri out of the way to pass between them. “Is that the fabled Rhea I see?”

“That’s me. Dorothea, I presume.” The two of them shake hands; Dorothea is giving an appraising up-and-down look.

“Edie’s talked so much about you, I’m excited to meet properly—off the clock, and all that,” she says, smiling, really turning on the charm like shes determined to make Rhea like her. Maybe she is.

“All good things, I hope,” Rhea says.

“Mostly bad things,” Edelgard says from the back. “Don’t worry.”

The slight trace of insecurity in Rhea is obliterated and she laughs earnestly at that. Dorothea turns and gives Edelgard A Look, and then turns back. “You know, Edelgard told us about the—uh—your Vibes, ma’am. Honestly now that I’m this close, I think I’m going to shit myself. But I must know what your costume is.”

“I appreciate the earnesty,” Rhea says, “And it does pass, eventually. I’m sorry for the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, I’m dressed as a saint.”

“Is that allowed?” Dorothea turns back to Dimitri and Edelgard. “Is that allowed? Wait, hold on, are you guys doing couple’s costumes now too?”

“I swear to God we didn’t plan this,” Edelgard says defensively. “She refused to tell me her plans! Also, Rhea, don’t be chicken, show her the light.”

“The light?”

Rhea looks around for a second like she’s making sure no one else is looking, and then everything goes bright. Dorothea instinctively covers her eyes, but like the others before her, quickly realizes the light somehow doesn’t hurt to look at, and lowers her arm—and then proceeds to lose her fucking mind. She is hooting and hollering like it’s the best thing she’s ever seen, and, honestly, she’s right. Again, it’s the sunglasses that really drive the comedy home. They are doing so much work for the costume.

“So when you say saint—” Dorothea says, wheezing a little bit, “You mean like—”

“It’s pretty much how I used to look,” Rhea says. “Except I also had a sword.”

Dorothea turns around and even in the strong backlighting from Rhea’s halo Edelgard can see the mix of ‘holy shit, it’s all true’ and ‘wait, I’m gay’ on her face. She ushers everybody into the house like they’re running out of time, and she’s actually doing a really good job masking the heebie-jeebies. They kick their shoes off in the already forming pile in the entryway and Dorothea shows them to the living room, where everything’s set up for the party.

“We’re still waiting for Petra and Caspar,” Dorothea explains. “Ferdie’s out picking up the pizza. Make yourselves at home.”

The last part is mostly for Rhea’s sake, since Dimitri and Edie are already pretty firmly aware that the formality level here is Zero.

Hubert and Bernadetta are sitting on the three-seater, chatting away; when the group enters and Bernie sees they’ve brought a stranger, she disappears into his shadow as if she was never there. Hubert reaches over her, holding out a hand to shake Rhea’s before anyone can even say anything. “It’s nice to properly meet at last,” he says.

“Hubert, I presume?” Rhea accepts the handshake. “I’ve heard much about you.”

Hubert looks at Edelgard with a subdued smile. “Only good things, I hope.”

“A-and I’m Bernadetta!” Bernie squeaks from somewhere behind the shadow of Hubert’s cape. He’s wearing a trim black outfit (of course) with cape and fangs (naturally) and even went to the trouble of finding red contacts (you guessed it).

Bernie is never scared of him, so she’s probably more than happy to hide out in his shadow. Bemused, Rhea says, “My name is Rhea Seiros. I’m here with Edelgard. It’s nice to meet you, Bernadetta.”

Bernie peeks out and smiles. “I like your costume,” she says. “The halo is cool.”

Dorothea points to the corner. “The pile of blankets is Lindy. He’s napping but don’t mind him. It’d take the end of the world to wake him up.”

“He’s asleep?” Rhea kinda passes the question to Edelgard under her breath.

“He probably got here early so he could have a nap,” Edelgard murmurs back. “Linhardt doesn’t sleep that well at home, so we let him crash whenever he needs to.”

Rhea nods very seriously, clearly Relating.

Edel makes herself at home, sitting down the two-seater and kicking back. After a moment, she tugs on Rhea’s cape and makes her sit down too. “Relax,” Edelgard tells her.

“I’m trying to.” Rhea smiles vaguely. “I just don’t want to bother anybody.”

“You’ll have to try harder to bother us,” Edelgard says.

“They put up with you, after all.” Rhea flashes her a wink and a smile, a sliver of pointed teeth that ironically defangs her quip. Honestly—all she has to do is show even a hint of how much she likes Edel, and Edel lets her get away with whatever!

Edelgard forces out a scoff, because she’s playing along with the bit; secretly, she’s incredibly invested in Rhea having a good time. “Has anyone ever told you you’re an absolute nightmare to deal with?”

Rhea smiles. All of her features soften at once. “Most decidedly. My brother tells me so every day. And you? Has anyone ever told you that you’re a most irksome little creature?”

“Oh.” Edelgard leans back in her seat, tucking one foot under the other leg, and says, “Don’t worry. My friends say that all the time.”

Finally, Rhea seems to relax. She laughs warmly, and the sound lodges itself between Edelgard’s ribs like a knife.

Ferdie comes back before the last two guests arrive. She’s only carrying pizzas; no need to order any drinks for this party. As expected, she’s dressed in a gown, hair loose, and ready to pose next to Dorothea and explain the entire ordeal that led them here. She’s outgoing as usual, and immediately gets into a lengthy introductory chat with Rhea that acclimates even Bernie to her presence.

Bernadetta peeks out and shuffles away from the safety of Hubert’s vampiric shadow. Her costume is cute, but no one can really place it; until Bernadetta, going very red again, confesses that she’s dressed as one of the characters from her novel.

“You made this?” Rhea asks mildly, and Bernadetta startles like a prey animal.

“I—yes,” she says, and quickly adds: “It’s not very good, I’m just a hobbyist, so it’s kind of badly done, and ugly, but—”

Rhea has an appraising look on her face that intimidates Bernie into trailing off. “You have a sense for this,” Rhea says. “I like your lines. The silhouette is very well-designed. Great work overall.” She rummages through her purse for a second and then hands over one of her foil-stamped Seiros business cards. “If you ever want to pursue textile and design as a career, let me know. I can help.”

Bernie short-circuits so badly that all she can do is meekly take the card, keep her head down, and blush. She can’t even squeak out a “thanks”; she just kinda sits there holding the card and staring down at it.

Luckily she doesn’t have to be in the spotlight for long, because the doorbell rings and as soon as Dorothea opens the door to yell, Caspar is also yelling. He comes stomping in, all excited, and he’s brought a metric fuck ton of candy.

His yelling even wakes up Linhardt, accomplishing the impossible. Linhardt looks up from his blanket nest, rubs sleep from one eye, and asks, “Caspar, what in the world are you dressed as?”

Caspar is wearing an all-black outfit and some blue paint smeared on his face. He says, “I’m obviously Blue Man Group.”

Linhardt blinks. “But there’s only one of you.”

“Okay, what are you supposed to be then, smart guy?”

“Um. I’m obviously a sleepy little boy, so mind your fucking business.” Linhardt sits up all the way and stretches, and only then seems to notice Rhea. “Hey.”

“Hello,” she says. “And you as well, Caspar.”

“Hey! Wine Lady!” Mortifyingly, Caspar chooses to go in for a high five as his greeting to Rhea. Looking a little bit disconcerted, she returns maybe the lamest high five in history. He doesn’t complain, though, just finds his spot in a bean bag chair they haul out just for him. The guy might be immune to bad vibes; that feels about right for him.

Petra arrives shortly after, and unlike Rhea, she DOES have a sword. She’s all Warrior Princess over here, ready to do flips and save maidens in need and whatnot. She looks fucking cool and won’t stop apologizing for being late, to which Dorothea mostly just scoffs and pushes a soda into her hands.

They eat pizza and decide to watch a truly atrocious movie Ferdie pulled out of god-knows-what-discount-bin. Since she’s sitting next to Rhea on the two-seater, Edelgard permits herself to scoot a tiny bit closer while everyone is focused on the movie. Rhea leans on her a little bit. She already seems tired; she’s probably not used to this amount of people and energy all at once.

Rhea does, however, seem to be focusing on the movie; a task Edelgard finds impossible. She resigns to just drink soda and eat pizza and try to chill, even if she can’t follow the plot when she’s all weighed down by Rhea leaning on her and the warmth of her body and all of that Awareness.

She’s absorbed none of it when the credits roll, but Rhea straightens in her seat and stops leaning on Edel before Dorothea can flip the lightswitch again. It makes it easier to think. 

As the evening wears on, Edel’s friends eventually can’t hold back their curiosity anymore. The wine thing inevitably comes up; Rhea smiles gamely and it looks like she’s enjoying the attention a bit more than she lets on. Edelgard wonders if she’s the only one that notices; Rhea’s coming off neutral-positive to everyone else, but as far as Edel can tell, she’s practically glowing (and it’s not just the halo). It’s unclear if she’s a bit of a show-off or if she just likes to be seen in general. Commanding a room suits her.

“I don’t mind showing you,” she says, and Dorothea is already on her feet on the way to the kitchen. She gets a clear glass of water for Rhea to do her witchcraft on. Everyone’s gone quiet to watch. The ones who haven’t witnessed her coffee shop antics—Dimitri, Bernie, Linhardt—hold an apprehensive silence like they’re not entirely sure what’s going on.

Watching Rhea do her thing while dressed like that, with a full on Real Halo, is really something. She lets Dorothea hold the glass to convince everyone there’s no sleight of hand; Rhea only touches a finger to the glass from below. In her white gown and halo it really looks like she’s about to bless the shit out of the entire household.

The wine unravels inside the glass, from the bottom where Rhea is touching it; it swirls like a tornado and fills the glass, staining the water deep-red until it’s entirely wine. Edelgard hasn’t seen it in a while—she forgot how cool it looks. Did she like it this much last time? She can’t really remember—all she can think about is the way the glass slides from Dorothea’s slack hand into Rhea’s, how she accepts it with grace as if it’s an offering, how she tips back a mouthful like she’s proving it’s drinkable. The sound of Caspar losing his mind in the background sounds far away and dim; Edelgard watches in slow-motion, her brain racing to absorb every detail—the way Rhea’s eyes close for a second as she drinks, and her lips on the glass, and the single drop of red that lingers on her mouth before she licks it away.

Rhea blinks and offers her the glass, apparently unclear on what exactly is going on behind Edelgard’s stare. Blushing, Edelgard just accepts the glass and has a sip. “Sure is wine,” she says, passing the glass back to Dorothea, who lost her grip on it before having a single taste.

The glass is passed around so that everyone can make sure it’s really wine. Edelgard tunes back in to reality, bringing the general clamor back into focus. The volume has been upgraded to raucous; even Hubert permitted himself a golf clap.

Rhea sits back down, hands politely folded in her lap like she didn’t just casually perform a miracle. She seems happy; to be included, to be part of something fun. It’s loud and boisterous but she doesn’t seem to mind the noise.

“This is so cool,” Caspar is saying. “You never have to pay for wine ever again!”

“Never,” Rhea agrees. “Although it isn’t my favorite beverage, sadly.”

“Iced tea, right?” Ferdie chimes in.

Rhea smiles and nods. “Cold brew as well.”

“What do you think about the sodas?” Petra asks, sipping her glass of purple Halloween Soda. “Have you been trying them?”

“No, I—” is all Rhea has time to say before eight different people offer her their drinks simultaneously. “What is with you people?”

“It’s tradition!” Dorothea says, and then repeats it, stressing every syllable: “Tra-di-tion!”

Bernie digs up some indignation from somewhere deep inside and pipes up: “If I had to try all of them, so do you!”

“How is the Flux, by the way?” Linhardt asks, intrigued.

“Its all right. Here.” Rhea trades her bottle for the one he’s holding out. She’s obtained the pink soda; it has a cartoon mascot on it and doesn’t look real.

“Oh my god, PLEASE tell me you’re going the round,” Edelgard says, stifling a giggle. “I need to see it.”

“If it is your command,” Rhea says with faux weariness and has a swig of pink soda. Her face scrunches up. “This is so...”

“I’m not sure what the flavor is meant to be,” Linhardt explains, “but it’s kinda nostalgic for me.”

“It’s very sweet and I have no idea what it is. Next.”

Rhea hands the pink soda back and accepts some blackcurrant flavor from Hubert. “This is so—dry,” is the review. “It’s a soda, but it’s dry.”

They go down the list like that. Ferdie’s bright green soda gets a surprisingly high rating. Bernie’s Orango is like a blessed island of normalcy in the middle of it all. The Red Soda is so sweet it looks like she might actually die, and she actually keeps it together really well when dealing with Dimitri’s horrible one. She’s too polite to grimace and passes it a softball “not my thing”-type answer. Very professional move.

“What’s your favorite soda?” Petra asks idly. “Not of these, I mean. In general.”

Rhea is keeping it extremely subtle, but she is definitely washing her mouth out with purple soda after tasting whatever Dimitri’s is supposed to be. “They don’t make it anymore,” she says. “It was called Kiss but it’s pretty old now, so...”

Dorothea mumbles into her bottle and it sounds an awful lot like “I know someone who can give you a kiss”. Edelgard is unsure if Rhea heard that, and ushers the conversation along.

“You didn’t try mine,” she says. “Here.”

For a second, it looks like Rhea is about to remind her that they literally discussed the flavor of Love at the store, and they both know Rhea has tasted it before. Then she pauses, says nothing, and accepts the can.

Working quickly, Edelgard then forces her to rank all of the sodas, and after that everyone’s too busy talking about who ’won’ and ’lost’ to bother Rhea. When the focus is off them, Edelgard cautiously reaches over and taps the back of Rhea’s hand, getting her attention.

“Yes?” She lifts her sunglasses up to look at Edelgard directly.

“Are you tired?”

“A little,” Rhea says with a smile. “But it’s not bad. It’s just been a while since I was with so many people and... you know... actually engaged with them.”

Edelgard nods. “I know they’re chaotic but,” she hesitates. “They’re good. I’m glad you came. I’m glad you met everyone.”

Rhea takes her hand for just a second. It’s nice. It’s a short gesture, but it really enhances the way she says, “Me too.”

Eventually, the party draws to a close. Edelgard is full of pizza and weird sodas and enough alcohol to definitely feel it, and she’s in a pretty good mood about all of it.

Rhea obliged everyone for a couple more glasses of wine that they then passed around and shared. She doesn’t seem to be feeling any of it, but Edelgard supposes that when you can conjure wine to drink at any time your tolerance rises with the practice.

 The two of them and Dimitri bid the party farewell; he’s driving them, so the three are kinda stuck together, which Edelgard thinks is a bit annoying. She wants to be alone with Rhea and talk about nothing at all and check on her a bit and maybe hold a hand. Instead she has to get in the car and let Dimitri drive them around.

It’s super late. Rhea seems tired, but maybe content? It’s hard to know without checking in. Edelgard is feeling a bit sleepy, and as the car engine starts rumbling, she’s really feeling like she’s about to fall asleep.

It’s dark and quiet and the motion of the car is soothing. She could sleep. She’s not going to, but she’s comfortable enough to. She thinks about her friends, and them meeting Rhea.

They all seemed to like her. Edelgard is glad. She’s really glad.

She thinks about how Dimitri is going to drop Rhea off at her house, and then Edelgard at her own. She thinks about going about her night alone after all that. Thinks about her own bed.

Finally, she says, “I don’t want to go home.”

Dimitri glances over at her for a second, then back at the road. “Um?”

In the back seat, Rhea lifts her eyebrows. “Where are you gonna go, then?”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Edelgard says. “Can I go to your house?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” Edelgard says.

Dimitri chimes in: “Just a smidge. I’ve seen worse. She’s just feeling it a little bit—she’s not all the way drunk. Tipsy at most. El just gets like this when she’s tired, and the booze doesn’t help.”

“Don’t rat me out,” Edel scoffs. “Even if you’re right.”

“I don’t mind,” Rhea says. “A sleepover sounds fun.”

So Dimitri drops them both off at Rhea’s. He says something about entrusting her to Rhea’s care and drives off while waving, quickly disappearing into the night.

“It’s incredibly late,” Rhea says as she unlocks her front door. “I hope you aren’t expecting to be entertained. We’re going to bed. Even I’m tired.”

“I know,” Edelgard says. “I wasn’t planning on staying up for anything. I just get so lonely.”

“You really are feeling it, huh?”

“Only a little.”

So that was a fucking lie. The rest is kind of a haze, but she eventually finds herself tucked in under the covers of a super-comfortable bed. She’s in the same top that she wore for her costume, and she’s kicked her pants the fuck off for being annoying, but it’s not cold at all. The duvet is thick and fluffy over her.

And Rhea is there.

They both sleep soundly.

Chapter Text

Edelgard wakes up and she’s not entirely sure where she is. The bed is way bigger than hers, and softer too. The bedroom is darker than hers usually is in the morning. And it’s practically barren of decor or clutter.

There’s a book on the nightstand—half-read, judging by the bookmark—and that’s literally it for personal items. It’s weird. There’s not even pictures or mirrors on the walls.

But there is a big window, shielded by an intricate automatic shutter, and that jogs her memory.

Also, perhaps more tellingly, (and perhaps more honestly,) it smells like Rhea here.

Edel stretches, feeling deeply rested. She’s alone. But she’s also not particularly groggy or queasy, so it’s all right.

She should probably put her pants on, though. She agrees with Past Edie’s assessment that they would suck to sleep in, but she’s quickly remembering that it’s late autumn and probably cold as fuck outside of the duvet nest she’s in.

She does that. It seems Past Edie even remembered to take out her contacts and prop teeth, which is good. Edelgard pulls her glasses out of her bag and puts them on.

Well, she has no idea about the house layout, so she wanders out of the bedroom in hopes of stumbling on wherever Rhea’s at. A living room or something.

No luck upstairs; she finds a bathroom and a walk-in closet and some random sitting areas and is this a library? but no Rhea. Everything is predominantly white lacquered wood and very... orderly. Again, there’s very few decorations or random clutter items. It would strike her as “minimalist” if it didn’t instead feel resoundingly “empty”.

Edelgard goes downstairs, trailing one hand along the smooth banister. There are actually some pictures hung alongside the staircase, which is refreshing to see; but they’re not family photos. They’re family paintings. The frames look old, and the composition and style of dress in the pictures confirms it; Edelgard has no idea how old they are, but they’re nowhere near contemporary. They all seem to be from different eras, too. There’s a big one of Rhea with her three brothers, a newer-looking one with Seteth and Flayn, and the oldest one is a portrait of a woman Edelgard has never seen. It’s not Rhea, but she does resemble her, and has that trademark green hair—so Edelgard assumes it’s a portrait of Rhea’s mother.

Edelgard stops and looks at the paintings for a moment. The woman’s portrait fascinates her; it’s like she can feel an echo of something like Rhea’s aura through it, even though it’s just a painting. Like something higher possessed the painter’s brush and bade it capture divinity itself, for just a moment. She’s convinced that this painting would’ve smashed at museums if it hadn’t been in a private collection. Critics would be talking about its Weird Pressure for centuries. Mona Lisa whom? But it’s not like it feels bad—at least not to Edelgard who’s used to Rhea. It’s weirdly nurturing. Like the woman in the painting is looking out for her.

Huh. Edelgard finishes going down the stairs and wanders through the entrance hall to find a living room. Rhea isn’t there either, but Edelgard can hear what sounds like cooking, so she’s pretty confident she’s on the right track.

It’s kind of weird, being in Rhea’s house—especially when she’s just wandering around without Rhea as a guide. Being in someone’s house for the first time is often weird, but it’s weirder when you have to spend the entire time trying to not think too hard about how in love with them you are. Despite the lack of much personal flair, it is still Rhea’s house; it’s where she lives and spends most of her time. It’s where she sleeps and cooks. And she’s let Edelgard just roam around it like that’s old hat when in reality it feels more like she’s slipped through some kind of barrier, like a scalpel under skin, to view everything from the inside out.

Or maybe she’s overthinking it and she’s just weird about being in people’s houses. It’s unclear.

She finds the kitchen and in doing so, finally finds Rhea as well. She’s making breakfast; she looks rested and well, and she’s wearing some real Saturday Day In clothes—loose and baggy and super comfy. She lights up when she sees Edelgard. “Good morning!”

“Morning,” Edelgard greets her, beaming back. “Was I very annoying last night?”

“No,” Rhea says, lifting the skillet off the stovetop and gracefully flipping a finished omelet onto a waiting plate. “It was cute. You hungry?”

As soon as Edelgard takes a seat at the kitchen island, like 3 different things pop off at the same time; the electric kettle is done, the toaster spits out finished toast, and a timer on the oven buzzes. It seems like a lot at once to Edelgard, but she watches Rhea handle all of it like this is exactly what she had planned.

“You timed that really well,” Edelgard observes. “I would offer to help with something, but I feel like I’d just get in the way. This is one well-oiled machine.”

Rhea looks up just long enough to slide a pack of butter across the table. “If you get up I’ll have to pull the ‘you’re the guest’ card, and nobody wants that.”

It really is best described as a flurry of efficiency; all the multitasking doesn’t seem to hamper Rhea at all. She serves the omelets and toast in the same movement as she finds a mug in one of the cupboards and slides it across to Edelgard. She pulls a tray with pain au chocolat from the stove and plates them while ensuring all the appliances and timers are off. She opens the fridge. “You want anything else?”

“I think I’m pretty good already,” Edelgard says. “You make a mean breakfast, you know that?”

“Well, I have a guest after all,” Rhea says, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a glass bottle. “Might as well spoil her a little.”

“Consider me spoiled. What’s that?”

Rhea sets the bottle down and finally sits down at her own plate, across from Edelgard. “Cold brew,” she says. The content of the bottle is almost clear, with a faint yellowish tint; floating freely inside is a bunch of tea leaves. “It’s been steeping since before we left yesterday.”

Edelgard sips her own very hot tea, intrigued. “It seems really obvious, since we make cold brew coffee, but I’ve never seen cold brew tea.”

“It’s good,” Rhea says. “It’s different from iced tea.” She’s got a little metal strainer that fits over her cup to catch any tea leaves that want to join in the fun when she pours herself a glass to drink. “It’s more refreshing.”

“Sorry, not to change topics, but this omelet shreds. How much stuff did you put in here? I haven’t had breakfast this robust in a hot minute.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Rhea says with a smile, sipping her tea. “It’s kind of a little bit of whatever I had around the kitchen, really. It isn’t that fancy.”

“Look who’s being so humble after spending all last night wearing a literal halo and performing miracles for show.”

“If you can’t handle me at my omelet humblebrag, you don’t deserve me at my saintly flex,” Rhea says, helping herself to chocolate bread and pushing the plate towards Edelgard. “These are parbakes so don’t get too excited. Only one humblebrag per breakfast.”

“Damn, I was going to keep it going,” Edelgard says, but she does have one. Rhea watches her, a smile playing on her lips, but she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t really have to say anything. Edelgard doesn’t have to say anything either. They finish breakfast in companionable silence and it’s so tasty. This is the pampering Edelgard deserves.

At the end, when Rhea is stacking their plates together to tidy up, Edelgard says: “Oh, yeah! I saw your paintings in the stairwell. They’re really cool.”

“Thanks,” Rhea says, although she looks a little embarrassed.

“It really hammered home the immortality thing for me,” Edelgard says. “I mean, those were—pretty old, by the looks of it.”

Rhea pulls the dishwasher open and starts sorting the stack of plates into it. “Indeed,” she says. “Actually, I had them restored not too long ago. I don’t think I’ve felt anxiety like that since.”

“I can imagine! The portrait one—is that your mom?”

Rhea pauses for a moment. “Yes,” she says. “It’s about…well…hm. Five hundred, maybe.”

“Years old??”

“Hence the restoration,” Rhea grins.

“Jesus.” Edelgard blows air like the concept of time is stressing her out, and it honestly kind of is. Rhea hops up on the stool next to Edel’s and pats her on the back.

“I know. Time.”

“It’s so much. I can’t conceptualize. But you can.”

“Hardly.” Rhea scoffs. “It starts to blend together. It’s not real after a while. Once you start getting into centuries, you just give up. You’d think that, in the ‘grand scope’ or whatever, things would start to feel shorter and faster, but there’s a hard upper limit on that. I might be a war saint, but I’m as bad at conceptualizing time as you are. It’s all a blend of years and it just goes on and on until I can’t grasp it all. So I just kind of. Try to exist in the present. As much as it’s possible with a life like mine.”

“I guess that’s reassuring, in a way.” Edelgard leans her chin in her hands, glancing sideways at Rhea. Rhea, who usually seems so untouchable, yet spent a good amount of last night seeming insecure in the presence of a bunch of twenty-somethings. Who projects an infallible aura but secretly is so fucking lonely. It’s nice to see her like this again; with her guard down, not bothering with all her little behaviors that usually cover up who she is. “You don’t have to answer this,” Edelgard says slowly, “And if you tell me to drop it I’ll drop it forever, but: I was wondering…about your mom… What she was like. And how long ago she…”

Rhea looks over. She seems surprised to be asked. For a second, there’s a clouding in her eyes that feels a lot like grief, and Edelgard regrets opening her mouth at all; then it settles and Rhea’s shoulders sink and she says, “A few decades ago. Maybe not very long in the overall scope of things. I told you a while back that I took over the company from her. It was kinda her pet project. She’s—she was—kind of like that. She had a lot of,” Rhea laughs a little, “Fleeting interests, I suppose. I guess after she died I decided to take over to, like, I dont know—keep it alive for her? Silly as it sounds.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s silly,” Edelgard says, pouring a second helping of hot tea for herself and cold brew for Rhea. “Sorry about asking so suddenly. We don’t have to talk about it if it makes you sad.”

Rhea accepts the glass and swirls it thoughtfully for a while before she says: “Nah. I don’t mind if it’s you.”

She leans back a bit, glancing at the ceiling and then the tabletop. She drinks for a while, just thinking. Eventually she sets the glass down. “My other two brothers,” she says, slowly like she’s not sure how to phrase it, “they decided to…go as well. To follow her. It’s sort of…it’s another way we can die. We can be killed,” she holds up one finger, “or we can just…let go.” The second finger. “That’s the two ways. They kind of decided that, okay, Mother isn’t here anymore, and we’d rather follow her than stay. They didn’t really have much love for humanity. Not like her. So they…”

“But you and Seteth stayed?”

“Mm. Seteth had Flayn to look after and I… I don’t know. Part of me wanted to follow and part of me wanted to…y’know. Look after the stuff she cared about. Because she—can’t.” There’s an odd but not wholly unexpected break in her voice at the very end. “She didn’t leave because she wanted to. I get why my brothers followed her. And I wanted to, too. But I was scared.”

Edelgard reaches out and holds her hand. “I don’t know if it helps, but I—” her voice gets stuck in her throat, helpless and impotent against Rhea’s loss. She swallows past it and tries again: “I’m glad you stayed.”

The look on Rhea’s face is somewhere in the crossroads between surprise and embarrassment and relief; compounded with the sorrow from just a second ago, it’s like it becomes too much for her. There’s too much of it at once. It’s like she’s always wanted something, but never known what that was, and once it was given to her she didn’t know how to handle it. It’s a complex expression. It’s too much to bear internally, and all of a sudden, it’s spilling out of her as tears instead.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “Sorry, I—whoo. That’s a bit—that was—”

It keeps coming, even when she tries to laugh it off or wave it away. It’s like a dam has finally cracked and she can’t keep a hold on it anymore. She can’t control it anymore.

Edelgard, knowing that she did this to her, is left with little to do but to reach in and pull Rhea to herself, to hold her; it’s a bit awkward when they’re on separate chairs, but it’s the only thing she wants to do. Rhea’s shoulders are shaking and Edel holds her like she can make it stop with just that. She feels Rhea’s hands on her back, gripping her in return—and steadily, letting go of herself, weeping in earnest without trying to stop it.

“I’m really glad you stayed,” Edelgard says again.

“I was really flattered,” Rhea says suddenly, looking up from her book. “Yesterday.”

“Hm?”

Edelgard is sitting on the couch in Rhea’s living room, watching TV and texting her friends at the same time. It’s been quiet for a long time and no one has even floated the idea that Edel should go home. Breakfast was hours ago.

Rhea’s gone and fetched her half-read book from the bedroom and she’s reading it; her eyes are still a little bit red and puffy from earlier but she’s calm now. Calm and tired, in that annoying way crying makes you tired. She had seemed more than a little embarrassed once she had managed to rein it in; no matter how Edelgard tried to assure her otherwise.

She’s been lying down on the couch reading; her head is in Edelgard’s lap. It’s warm and comfortable and she even lets Edel play with her hair.

“What do you mean?” Edelgard prompts her again.

“I don’t know, I just—you were all whiny about not wanting to be alone, and you wanted to stay with me.”

Edelgard scoffs. “Yeah. Who else? You think I’m gonna hang out with Dimitri? He’s not cuddly at all AND we agitate each other’s nightmares. You’re cuddly.”

“Aw, but it was so nice how clingy you were with me,” Rhea says, putting her book down on her chest. “Let me have this.”

“Okay, okay,” Edelgard says, setting her phone aside. “Fine. We’ll say it was because I specifically wanted to snuggle up with you, Rhea. Is that satisfactory?”

“Yeeees.” She grins, showing all her sharp teeth, and for a second it’s kind of like having a mildly annoying cat.

Edelgard might be being purposefully gentle with her after making her cry earlier, but Rhea actually seems lighter for it. Like she’s cleared out a blockage. Or received a momentous gift. Like just hearing those words out of Edelgard was all she needed. She seems happy, despite how fragile she looks.

It’s made her very clingy though.

Like the lap thing? She just scooted on up there like this is a normal thing they do. Okay, sure, fine, after not just one but TWO extremely tender snuggle-sleeps maybe this IS warranted and on the table, but Edelgard was still flustered into silence. It’s so affectionate. It’s so—couple-y.

Rhea hasn’t picked her book back up. She’s just staring up at Edelgard like she can’t ever look at her enough.

“What?” Edelgard asks her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing really,” Rhea says and closes her eyes with a slight smile. “Nothing at all.”

Edelgard runs her fingers through Rhea’s hair. It’s silken like a clear stream of water. “Liar.”

“Let me have this,” Rhea says. She pushes herself up to sit; Edel catches her book before it falls off and, a bit distracted, lets it tent over the armrest instead.

It’s been like a month since their night at the hotel and Edelgard has been thinking about kissing her again almost every stupid day. It’s fucking haunting.

Unfortunately for her, Rhea takes her sweet time getting out of her space. She’s definitely still thinking about something—maybe the same something as Edelgard. She malingers there in Edelgard’s personal space, even after sitting up; like she’s just a second away from leaning in.

“I actually have something I want to tell you,” she murmurs, “But I don’t want you to think I’m just caught up in the emotions from earlier, so I’ll wait. How about tomorrow instead?”

“I’m free all weekend,” Edelgard says, heart beating fast like she already knows what’s coming. “We can talk tomorrow for sure.”

They’re still so close. Rhea’s breath is on her face. “Do you want me to drive you home?” She asks. “Or do you want to stay?”

Edelgard pauses. She didn’t know that was on the table. “Um,” she says, fully aware of how red she is, “I do want to go home and pick up some comfier clothes, cus these pants suck ass, but I would love to stay if you’ll have me.”

“Sounds great,” Rhea says, abruptly (finally) leaving her space and getting up from the couch. She puts her bookmark back into the book and closes it, tossing it onto the couch where she had been sitting (er, lying). “We’ll drive over to your place then, so you can get comfortable. Do you want to do something after? We could go somewhere or...”

“Do you want to?”

“I’m asking if you—“

Edelgard laughs and waves her off. “Please, no, we’ll be here forever if we start going back and forth. I don’t really have anything in mind. I’m good with just hanging out like this.”

“Alright,” Rhea says. “It’s a home date then.” She stretches and wanders off to find her car keys.

“Yeah,” Edelgard says into the empty space. “I guess it is a home date. Whatever that means.”

“It means I don’t have to put on real pants,” Rhea says, peeking back in and pointing to her soft cotton pants that look like they may have been appropriated from a set of pajamas. “And then afterwards, let’s talk about what we’re having for dinner.”

It’s nice to see her spirits so high. Makes Edelgard feel warm inside. All evened out and in balance. That horrible yearning has quieted down and so has the biggest part of her embarrassment, and their equilibrium kinda makes a nice warm water that’s perfect to float around in. There’s a certain amount of longing, yes, but it’s tempered and rounded; and the embarrassment has shown its true colors and calmed down. It’s affection. It’s love.

She already knew that. She’s already been Very Aware Of It. She knows about it and it’s not like she’s in denial about it, she just hasn’t addressed it.

But wow! It’s love.

And, perhaps a bit optimistically, Edelgard feels like good things are coming her way.

Chapter Text

As the day settles, Rhea seems almost fully herself again. The fragility has either mended itself or been covered up and she’s back to normal; mildly unpredictable and somewhat chaotic, but simultaneously caring. She’s got her edge back.

“Edge” feels like an apt word, in the sense that conversing with her often feels like a swordfight and she’s a master. With every cross and parry, there’s that “no hard feelings” vibe from her as she runs you around, like a teacher who knows exactly where to push and where to relent.

That is to say, Edelgard is having a really hard time winning against her, and wishes she had an axe or something instead. She doesn’t exactly have a reputation for finesse. She’s losing the metaphor by the time she starts thinking things like, “she wouldn’t mind being cut down by her”, or whatever—it’s getting confusing.

The point is Rhea is the emperor of bantrestia and refuses to let anyone forget it. She’s firing on all cylinders. And it’s fun. Edelgard likes it.

She’s really thinking about what Rhea said about wanting to talk to her tomorrow. Her brain is buzzing with whispered ideas. A part of her is having a deeply anxious “We Have To Talk”-style response, but she feels fairly confident that it’s irrational. Rhea seemed excited about it.

So it must be something good.

After they drop by Edelgard’s house and she’s gotten a more relaxed outfit together, they drive to the store for some groceries. In the car, Edelgard idly asks:

“So what other powers do you have?”

“Always asking for more,” Rhea teases. “You know, it’s kinda sad. I got like a random grab bag of Generic Powers.”

“Oh, no! The poor baby!”

Rhea shoots her an amused sideways glance. “Listen here, you dastard—”

“What did you just say? You know, sometimes talking to you is like time traveling.”

“Immortality is stored in the vocabulary,” Rhea says, and adds like an afterthought: “You awful gremlin.”  

“There’s that time travel whiplash!”

“I got kind of generic powers and I’m not super powerful in any of them,” Rhea says, ignoring the sidebar. “All I had to be keyed into was war—so like, strategy and fighting. I was good at Punch and Sword. That’s not really a superpower. Like I can do healing miracles, but Flayn basically specializes in it, so if you’re urgently about to die you should probably go to her first. You know?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for when I’m fatally wounded on the battlefield,” Edelgard says with a lopsided smile. “I think your powers are cool, Rhea.”

“Are you patronizing me? Can you go back to getting heebie-jeebies whenever you see me, please?”

“Only halfway patronizing! The other half was earnest!”

Rhea laughs as she pulls into the grocery store parking lot, and their conversation quickly changes course as they start discussing what to eat.

They cook together in the afternoon; Edelgard gets to participate this time. They agreed to make a baked lasagna and Edelgard is convinced it’s because Rhea wanted to flex all of the appliances she owns. She’s determined to do it. She’s like a suburban mom peacocking in front of other, lesser moms, showing off her extremely well-equipped kitchen and saying things like “this is normal for me” or “wait, you don’t have this? (laughs)”. The lesser moms will leave in disgrace and lie awake at night consumed by jealousy, because Rhea has a lot of appliances.

Yes, she’s insisting on making the pasta from scratch, and yes, she does have a pasta machine. No, she will not let Edelgard use it. But that’s okay, because getting to watch is pretty good too. All the jokes about her flexing aside, she is good at cooking; she’s patient and even-handed and seems to enjoy it a lot. She’s doing the whole ordeal with the flour volcano and the eggs but she’s not even checking to see if Edel is looking. Normally Edelgard would assume she was doing it for Kitchen Chicks, but she seems totally in the zone. This is just Rhea Time.

Edelgard is in charge of assembling the bolognese, which isn’t actually that hard to do—it’s the long simmer that’s the bitch—so she has plenty of focus left over to watch while she stirs the cooking meat. Rhea’s rolled her sleeves up as usual, but this time With Purpose; it’s dough kneading time.

“You like this stuff?” Edelgard asks, redundantly. “Cooking?” Although the answer is already incredibly obvious, she just wanted to talk about something.

Rhea glances over mid-knead. “Yeah,” she says. “I dunno. It’s weirdly calming. And I like eating with people too, so it’s like a reward for all this.”

“I’ll be sure to love it, then,” Edelgard promises and starts adding herbs and spices. They collected and portioned out all this stuff from Rhea’s kitchen already; it makes it really easy for her now. “This is going to be so good. I can tell.”

After stirring everything in properly, there’s nothing much to do but put a lid on the pan and let that stuff Simmer with a capital S. In the meantime, Rhea has started putting the dough through the machine; over and over, folding it up and flattening it again. It’s repetitive work but oddly mesmerizing to watch.

“Do you like cooking?” Rhea asks absently, cranking that rectangle dough like it’s her job.

“Mm...neutral,” Edelgard says. “I don’t like or dislike it. But I’m not very good at it. I can follow a recipe, but I don’t really have the...sense for it. And, um, I didn’t really learn that many recipes growing up, either. Things were a bit chaotic for us, and then my parents—you know. But I know enough to get by.”

Rhea nods gravely.

For a bit of levity, Edelgard adds: “I think you having thousands of years to practice is kind of an unfair comparison, though.”

“Moving the goalposts, are we?” Rhea accepts her exit and goes with her. “I will have you know, Miss Edelgard, that being in charge of all war ever doesn’t really give you that much time for the culinary arts.”

“Okay, hundreds then. I stand corrected and yet I’m still correct.”

“You don’t want to know how much gruel I’ve eaten,” Rhea scoffs. “Being a decent chef and caring about how food tastes are hallmarks of peace for me at this point.”

“Wait—so, wait.” Edelgard hops up on one of the barstool seats at the kitchen island. “You could starve to death?”

“Um.” Rhea pauses mid-pasta. “I’ve never tried it.”

“Please don’t,”

“I think it takes me a bit longer than a human because my body is sturdy in general, but probably eventually yes.”

“Do you ever wish it was, like, unconditional? Sorry, I’m asking a lot of really weird invasive superpower questions today. Are these invasive? I don’t even know.”

“I showed you my miracles already, there’s nothing more invasive,” Rhea says with a glittering smile full of immaculate teeth. “But no, I don’t really think about it. It’s fine like this. I’m afraid to die, sure, but—I don’t know. It makes me feel more like I’m alive.”

“Oh, she’s profound,” Edelgard says, because Rhea is looking at her and thus can see the playful glint in her. “You can tell me to knock it off if all my questions are annoying, by the way. I’m just so curious about it all. About how you work.”

“Call me when you figure it out,” Rhea laughs. “I need to know. I don’t mind, though. It’s kind of nice to talk about it with someone who doesn’t know again.”

“Again?”

Rhea checks the thickness of her pasta sheet and folds it up again, adjusting her machine. It’s getting pretty thin, so this is probably the last setting. “It’s been a really long time since I was notably close with anybody mortal,” she says. “Four digits ago—it kinda blends together. I got distracted by some pretty big wars and by the time I was alone again I was just really tired. And then the times started going really fast; all that development kept me busy just trying to keep up. And then my mother was—you know. So it’s been a long time. But I did tell them everything.”

“Were you—...”

Rhea laughs good-naturedly and Edel trails off all on her own. It’s probably inelegant to ask, even if it was at least a thousand years ago; given her own current position in Rhea’s life, and also, how Rhea seems to cling to her losses.

Surprisingly, Rhea answers the unfinished question: “Yes. We were lovers. I told them everything and they insisted on staying at my side for the rest of their life.” She pauses. “And they did, happily. It was their choice. I was with them all the way; for decades, until they passed away. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t a surprise to either of us. And I knew they were happy. So it was sad, but it didn’t—didn’t tear me open like it could have. It didn’t ruin me. It was peaceful. I buried them. I got my closure. So don’t worry about hurting me, Edel.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything then,” Rhea says gently. “You don’t have to.”

Edelgard watches her work in contemplative silence. She’s thinking about what Rhea just said; even if she doesn’t know what to say, her heart is pumping out opinions like a factory line. She’s touched by the story; really touched. And Rhea genuinely does seem at peace with it. Edelgard can tell she was telling the truth about that. Furthermore, it didn’t seem to bother Rhea to tell it; she actually seems happy to have done it. Like she’s been meaning to tell this story.

Like she wanted Edelgard to know she wasn’t the first, maybe?

Here’s the thing: put in the same position as them, she would make the exact same choice. For as long as Rhea will have her, even if only one of them will age. She would make the same choice and she would be happy.

She kind of wants to say that. That she would do the exact same thing. But she reconsiders; she keeps her mouth shut. She’s aware of how incredibly Romantic On Main that would be. She feels like she’d be stealing Rhea’s thunder if she did.

Of course, it would be Rhea’s mistake for postponing whatever she’s going to say tomorrow, but even Edelgard is a good sport sometimes.  

“Do you want to cut this?” Rhea asks, pulling Edie from her reverie. The pasta has gotten really long and thin.

“Sure! How big?” Edelgard hops off the stool and reaches for the knife rack.

Rhea rummages around in one of the many cupboards and pulls out a glass dish. “About yea long,” she says, holding it up.

Edie stares at the dish for a second. “You know, this only just now crossed my mind, but this is gonna make a huge amount of food for two people.”

Rhea just kinda laughs and shrugs and sets the dish down, and Edelgard gets to work cutting the huge length of pasta down to size. While she’s busy there, Rhea gives the sauce a stir and puts the lid back on.

“I guess you can take some home tomorrow if you want,” Rhea says. “If you don’t mind leftovers.”

“Sounds awesome.” She looks at Rhea and smiles. “Prepping two days of food at once is something I’m pretty used to.”

So here’s the thing about Edelgard and cooking finesse: she doesn’t have any. She’s kind of a bigger picture kind of person. Detail work and careful strokes don’t really suit her.

And that’s why, as soon as she gets distracted and looks away, she anti-finesses the knife right into her own hand.

It cuts in easily because she doesn’t even know it’s coming, so her brain isn’t even trying to stop it. They say you can’t intentionally do things like bite through your own fingers or whatever because your brain kicks in and subconsciously stops it from happening. Whatever that function is, it’s not in play here. The knife bites into the meaty part at the base of the thumb, where it joins the palm; she’s taking a huge L right in the L part.

She does swear, very loudly, yanking her hand away like her primary instinct is “don’t bleed on anything”. And it is bleeding; it’s immediately welling up, like squeezing a sponge, and a very familiar cold-shock grabs her innards at the sight of it.

Of course, Rhea is there right away, asking redundant questions like “are you okay?”—stuff that’s just kneejerk habit.

“I mean, I won’t die,” Edelgard answers, a little sarcastic and a little panicked, clutching her arm as if it’ll stem the flow and holding her hand over the sink. “Do you have any uh—a first aid—thing?”

It hurts like a bitch. She feels like her eyes might roll back and she might pass out from how much it hurts. She’s trying to play it cool because that’s sort of who she is? She’s used to being the last man standing. The one everyone else looks to when all hell breaks loose. She’s the one who has to keep it together and carry everyone on her shoulders.

And in this situation it’s making her mildly delirious.

“Stay calm,” Rhea says, acting as a much better anchor than Edelgard is. The sight of blood doesn’t seem to faze her. She’s stepped up right at Edelgard’s side, almost unbearably close, and her hand is running down the length of Edelgard’s arm, fingers skimming along before finally smoothing against her skin once they reach her wrist.

She holds it there for a moment like she’s assessing the damage. “That’s quite a slip,” she comments idly, cool as a cucumber, right against Edelgard’s ear. “Forgive me if this is a little weird.”

The bleeding seems to be subsiding somehow, and Rhea runs the tap to wash out the wound. The entire area feels weird and numb; it’s surreal because it definitely looks like it should hurt, and it did hurt like a motherfucker just a moment ago, but now it’s as if all pain signals have been cut off from her brain. They won’t reach the command center.

It’s an open wound with no blood rushing to fill it, and somehow, that makes Edelgard a little bit woozy. She doesn’t wanna see that.

“Alright, stay calm,” Rhea says again, extremely soft and gentle and right into her ear. And then there’s distance drawn between them—enough that Rhea can get down in front of her, setting one knee to the floor. She’s holding Edelgard’s hand like a knight swearing fealty. It’s aloft above her head like it means more to her than her own life. Her eyes are closed.

As silk pulled together by an invisible ladder stitch, the wound begins to seal. From the deepest reach of the cleave, it heals from the inside out, tissue connecting once more as if the wheels of time are reversing.

Within a matter of seconds, the final layer of skin is closing over, leaving nothing but a thin white line behind.

Almost businesslike, Rhea opens her eyes and inspects her work, turning Edelgard’s hand over and manually working her thumb to ensure it functions. Then she gives her hand a pat, saying, “Feel better?”

For once, Edelgard finds herself completely speechless on every level. Not even her thoughts are coherent.

The first, incredibly stupid thing out of her mouth is, “I thought you said you weren’t very good at this.”

Rhea cocks an eyebrow and is clearly suppressing a laugh; perhaps this kind of delirious wake-up line is familiar to her. “It’s not my specialty. Look.” She grabs Edelgard’s hand with both hands, pulls the once-damaged skin taut with both thumbs. “I left a scar.”

It’s true; the pale line has stayed. It’s a neat and tidy scar, just a single clean line, faint against the skin but easy to see if you know it’s there.

Edelgard slides down with her back against the cabinets until she’s sitting next to Rhea, who’s still taking a knee while holding her hand. She feels all weak in the legs all of a sudden. “What the fuck,” she mutters, “You’re such a perfectionist.”

“Does it feel better?”

“I can’t even tell I was injured.” Edelgard rotates her thumb and flexes her hand, forcing Rhea to let go. “That’s amazing. That’s so amazing. Thank you.”

“No one gets hurt on my watch and gets away with it,” Rhea says. “Keep your eyes on your hands from now on, Edel.”

“I will. Just let me get my bearings first. I don’t think I can think about anything else right now.”

Rhea sits there next to her, watching Edel like she’s just happy to have helped. The color of her eyes is a particular cold shade of green, but here and now, her expression is oozing warmth.

Frankly, she can’t keep getting away with this. With being—this sweet and also hot. Surely it’s illegal.

“That’s classified as ’minor’ healing,” Rhea says, filling the space while Edel’s brain catches up to reality. “Also, blade-type wounds are kind of my specialty.”

“Right. Do you have a sword? I’ve been thinking about it since the party. That outfit looked like you should be holding a sword.”

Rhea smiles and reaches over to give her hand a reassuring pat. “I do,” she says.

So that’s Edelgard’s whole night, now.

Anyway after recovering from the shock and the awe, Edelgard finishes her job and they cook the pasta in batches. Everything else is smooth sailing because Edelgard has become hyper-aware of her hands and where they are in relation to any sharp object.

They let the pan simmer for a total of an hour and a half, and then assemble that bad boy with cheese and all that. Edelgard is really impatient while it’s baking in the oven, practically bouncing off the walls while Rhea contemplates whether it would be foolhardy to go ahead with the planned salad side. She ends up making it regardless of how big the main meal is, because Edelgard says Greens Are Good.

Over dinner, Rhea tells her, “Thank you, by the way. For earlier today—this morning. I don’t think I said that.”

Edelgard shakes her head and smiles a bit awkwardly, still feeling bad for making Rhea cry super hard right after breakfast of all times. “No need,” she says. “Sorry for making things so real.”

“Like I said, I don’t mind if it’s you.” Rhea looks down, apparently embarrassed. “It’s strange—as if all those years I was just... wanting someone to say that I made the right choice.”

She pauses and then quickly amends: “It’s not that anyone told me otherwise or anything like that—I mean, Seteth and Flayn were the only people who knew—but. You know. It’s different when the words are...said directly. That it’s okay for me to—be here. That I made a good choice.”

Edelgard nods. “I get it,” she says. “It’s all right.”

Rhea watches her for a moment, with all that same comfortable warmth as before, like she’s never seen anything so captivating. All Edelgard can do is try to act smooth and not do anything embarrassing like drop her food or miss her mouth or something.

“This is delicious,” Rhea says. “Well done.”

“Agreed. Well done.”

 They congratulate each other on the collab and laugh about it. It’s really silly and a really small thing, but it fills Edelgard with good feelings, because she’s helplessly deep in the hole at this point.

Late that night, when they’ve finally crawled into bed, Edelgard asks: “Why is this place so barren? There’s barely any visible Stuff.”

Rhea, settling down under the thick winter duvet like she’s getting ready for hibernation (which, to be fair, by Rhea’s usual sleep routine she basically is), looks her way and smirks. “Can I not escape this by claiming it’s minimalist?”

“Totally not,” Edelgard says. “It’s sterile even for minimalism.”

“I don’t know.” Rhea draws it out. “There’s no specific reason, it just ended up this way. I tidy when I’m stressed.”

“Yikes.”

“Wow. Yeah. When you put it into context that looks pretty bad. I promise I’m not that stressed anymore. It’s just habit at this point. I don’t like seeing traces of myself.”

Edelgard scoffs, but she opens her arms benevolently. Rhea takes the invite and snuggles up to her, face finding the soft crook of her neck, safely held in her arms. “Do I have to start making my own clutter? I think I left my glasses on the table downstairs.”

“Sure,” Rhea mumbles into her neck. “I don’t mind. Seeing you everywhere would be nice.”

Edelgard shuts up and is thankful that Rhea already cuddled in and can’t see her blushing. By the sound of Rhea’s voice, it seems like she’s already drifting off; suppose it’s because she slept normally last night as well, stayed up all day, and her body is trying to adapt to the new schedule.

Edelgard will feel kind of bad going home tomorrow, but she has work on Monday.

She wishes she could stay forever, just like this every night; held and warm. Touched. To sleep through the night and help Rhea do the same.

That’s the wish that soothes her to sleep.

Chapter Text

It feels like they’ve been doing everything in a weird order. Like they get aggressive and then back off in an unusual pattern.

It’s not awful; it feels comfortable. But it is a weird progression. It ebbs and flows like the tide. They went from weird banter directly into Weirdly Intimate Bedsharing (With Smooch) and then bounced back into banter. It’s taken another month to get back to cuddling and it’s like the weeks between never existed at all. It feels like time is yielding; like it’s not important. It can’t touch her feelings. The comfort is the exact same.

Back to the point: Edelgard can still taste the kiss from a month ago, and no one’s even confessed yet.

They’ve told each other a lot of things. Deep things. Personal things! But not this one specific thing.

But there’s an undeniable tension in the air after that setup Rhea did yesterday.

It’s really distracting, from the moment Edelgard wakes up (in her bed and arms!!) and all throughout breakfast. She tries to be chill but the half of her that thinks it knows what this is about is at all-out war with the half of her that’s scared it’s a “we need to talk” situation.

What is she going to say? What’s Edelgard’s response? Can she be frank? Is she bold enough?

Bold is definitely one of the top 10 most frequent words used to describe Edelgard von Hresvelg but in this exact moment she’s wavering. She’s a little shy. She’s just very tender, is the thing. Can one be bold and tender at the same time?

She’s been living in a wash of warm, tight emotions ever since she realized what she’s feeling. It’s been weeks but every time she as much as thinks about Rhea it tightens around her innards. It doesn’t feel bad, really—even though it’s mildly like choking. It’s warm. It fills her up and by the end of her thoughts she’s so chock-full that there’s no more room for air.

She wants. It’s not that desperate lonely crying as before, but she does still yearn. She’s wishing for plain, base, simple things. She would wax poetic and compose some flourishing language but there’s no point inside her own head. Her desires are simple in there.

She wants to hold, be held. To kiss. To see quiet everyday things, every day. A lot of these same things, but always. She looks at her hand, the one with the thin white scar from yesterday, and thinks I could hold hers with this. She wants to share every stupid thought that comes to mind. To walk into the kitchen hungry, and let Rhea feed her. And yet other things; even plainer things. To hold hands in public and say things like “this is my—

You know?

Eesh.

Rhea sits her down in the living room. They take opposite sides of the sofa and sit facing each other; it’s a little bit fake-casual even as Edelgard tucks her foot under her other leg and leans on the backrest. Rhea has one arm up on the backrest and is leaning her head on that hand; one of her legs is pulled up and tucked under, mirroring Edelgard.

They’re looking at each other. Rhea has a mysterious look on her face. It doesn’t feel like she’s upset, but it does feel like about a thousand thoughts are flickering through every second, forcing her Vibe to never actually land on any one thing.

She says: “Before I get to the heart of the matter, I would like to thank you for your excellent company; not only this weekend but on every previous occasion.”

Alright, sure. That’s fine. Not sure what’s up with the formality level there (is it a bad sign?), but Edelgard smiles and nods and says, “Well, you too.”

“Second, I also wish to apologize to you now, for anything untoward I may say today, or have ever said, or will ever say,”

IS it a bad sign? What IS that? It’s not going away, whatever it is.

“Finally an apology for the bored ancient and horny thing,” Edelgard jokes. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Uh—like what?”

“We’re severely time traveling right now, Rhea...”

“Ah. Right. Well. My apologies once more. I mean, my bad. I’m just a bit nervous.”

“What are you nervous for?” Edelgard says it in an attempt to calm Rhea’s nerves, but it actually seems to make her panic at having to come up with a response. “Don’t—don’t answer. Sorry for interrupting. Go on.”

“Um.” Rhea looks away briefly, then makes eye contact again. She joins her hands, fidgeting a bit. “What I was meaning to discuss with you is...this. If what I’m about to say is—as I said, untoward, or otherwise unpleasant, I understand and will rescind it all. But. I think it is best to say it.”

Not just “a bit”; she must be really nervous. Edelgard’s never heard her talk like this before. The words themselves and the way Rhea says them, they’re calm and composed, but—she doesn’t talk like this. It’s like she’s got an old niche that she knows she sounds more confident and clear-spoken in, and she’s retreated there; ironically, the difference is only revealing her nerves.

It’s cute. Is Edelgard allowed to think that? It’s not mean to say it, right? Rhea’s trying to sound all collected and authoritative but she’s so nervous she’s talking in circles and backwards in time. It’s pretty cute. Right? Oh, god, she’s in so deep. Two months ago this would’ve bothered her.

“Sure. I’m listening.”

“Alright. Well. I’ve no doubt you’ve noticed how much I like you.” Oh, she has, but her heart still jumps to hear it. “I wanted to talk about our relationship. Wow, that sounded really serious. What I’m asking is where you’re at, I guess. I know it’s a weird situation with me being who—rather, what—I am, but I—”

Rhea pauses like she’s standing on the lip of a diving board and suddenly remembered she’s scared of both heights and water. She’s been keeping her cool (sort of) but now she’s going pink. After a moment, she gathers her courage once more, and jumps in: “But I adore you. Maybe I’m too hasty, but I can’t bear to leave it unsaid for longer than it already has been. I would be delighted to be yours, Edelgard. I can take more time and court you properly later, but I wanted to say that first.”

No, actually, Edel’s feeling pretty fucking courted right now, honestly. Her face is red-hot. Oh, no, is she sweating? Her heart is beating so fast, like her entire body is getting ready to combust around her. Is that allowed? Can Rhea say that? Is that legal? How can she say stuff like—adore and be yours with just a mere blush? How is she alive?

Edelgard’s voice hitches in her throat and it takes her a second try to produce anything like a voice. “Wow,” she says. “I mean—we should time travel more, actually. I’m feeling pretty fucking courted, you know that? I don’t know what to say—except—yeah. Yes. Wow. Yeah. I—I would love to—shit, how do I formulate what you said into a reply?”

“I think it would be to have you.” Rhea’s smiling like she can’t help it. Her eyes are soft; loving.

“Uh—I don’t know, that sounds very suggestive,” Edelgard waffles, no idea what she’s talking about, but she scoots over. Rhea does give her a very meaningful look like she’s about to make some kind of joke, but ultimately holds her tongue. Edelgard sits right up next to her. “It’s been a weird couple of months,” she says. “I feel like we’ve been doing everything in a weird order. But it’s been fun. And I—hope it continues to be fun. I want to keep spending time with you. I don’t care about—well, that’s a lie. I think the saint thing is pretty cool, actually. I like that about you. I want to—be. With you. I want so many things I can’t even begin to list them all but most of all I want you to look at me and think about me like I’m—yours.” OK, she kinda sees the appeal: it feels good to say yours. “Because I really like you. I mean I’m—in love with you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Such a quaint little word,” Rhea muses, almost like she’s talking to herself. They’re right next to each other, so close their bodies are touching, and because Rhea’s taller she’s gazing down on Edelgard; her smile broadens and she reaches up to tuck white hair behind Edel’s ear. “I would like nothing more.”

It’s weird; Edelgard hadn’t expected her to say no, hadn’t really feared it at all, solely because of that look in her eyes. But somehow, when Rhea actually says it, accepts out loud, Edel feels a wash of relief and satisfaction as if everything had been riding on this. She hugs Rhea and Rhea puts her arms around her so tight, just the way she knows Edel likes to be held.

Mumbling into Edelgard’s hair, face almost hidden in the depth of their embrace, Rhea says it again: “I adore you. I don’t think you know how much. I love you. And—”

Her grip loosens a bit, like she’s trying to let go so she can look Edelgard in the eyes. Edelgard holds on for a moment longer, unwilling, stalling with: “And?”

Since she’s not letting go, Rhea is very close; the next words are spoken so near that every syllable is hot air on Edelgard’s cheekbone. ”And may I kiss you?”

Edelgard breathes a laugh through the nose, turning her face to the side enough that her mouth is touching the side of Rhea’s face. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I like to,” Rhea says, but accepts the answer and kisses her—first on the corner of the mouth like a trial run, like she’s not sure of herself. It’s gentle; Rhea’s eyelids flutter shut as Edel turns her face in for a better angle.

She kisses Rhea. It’s been a few weeks, but this is even better than she remembers. She’s kissing her and holding her and it’s so warm, and comfortable, and sweet, and she’s so in love, and that’s her girlfriend now. Maybe that’s what’s making it better.

Maybe it’s her imagination, but it tastes sweet like honey, rich like wine. Edelgard keeps leaning in, further with each subsequent kiss, until she’s practically on top of Rhea in the sofa. She’s a little short of breath; there’s no room for air inside her. She’s full up on other things. It’s brimming in her chest. She’s warm and impatient, heart thundering inside her as she keeps coming back for more.

“Rhea, I—” she tries to gather her thoughts between kisses. Rhea opens her eyes and her pupils are blown out and dark with hunger. “I know I have to—go, today, I have work tomorrow—but—” her fingers bunching up in the fabric of Rhea’s shirt sleeves like she’s holding on for dear life, Edelgard finally leans back enough to clear her thoughts. “But we should do something together soon. Like a date. A real one.”

Rhea licks her lips and says, “I’d like that, Edel.” She smiles and brushes her knuckles over Edelgard’s face, a ghosting so light it’s almost unbearable. “You are just beautiful, you know that?”

Edelgard smiles, more than a little bashful, and finally settles down on the couch again. She pulls her legs in under herself and sits cuddled up to Rhea’s side, a tad embarrassed, but delighted. Rhea holds her hand and Edel sighs, content, saying: “Call me El.”

Chapter Text

——2 months since Wine Incident——

It’s Monday and Edelgard is at work and she absolutely cannot focus. She’s doing a terrible job at being a manager. She’s not managing shit. It’s a good thing she’s very good at the rest of her job—she could do this in her sleep!—because if she wasn’t, nothing would get done.

“Where is my war general?” Dorothea laments behind clasped hands, “Where is my Emperor? So distracted is she, by the stupid thick milfisms—”

“The what?”

“—she cannot even lead us in the battle!”

Petra looks over at them. “Is this a new song? It has been a while.”

“I just composed it,” Dorothea says. “I imagined a really dramatic scene. We all have swords but Edie is unfit for battle so we have to make do without her. Even if it’s destroying our hearts.”

“I like it,” Petra says. “I’ll be carrying the crown in her absence.”

Edelgard, standing square in the middle of this conversation while it goes on over her head, is still hung up on the third line. “I would never back down,” she argues, trying to mentally move on from ’milfisms’. “I fight ’till I’m dead.”

Dorothea sighs. “It would be too tragic if you were killed because you couldn’t stop thinking about how much you’re in love with a cute girl,” she says. “I would have to leave a bad review for that.”

“Thought you were writing it, not reviewing it.”

“Still,” Petra says, “That would be romantic. If the story was already a tragedy anyway, I mean. That type of ending would really be a tearjerker.”

“Why am I dying in the battle?” Edelgard demands. “I’ll win! I’ll definitely win!”

“You’re distracted by the cute girl!” Petra says. “It’s making you weak!”

“Could you not invent character traits for me?”

Dorothea adds: “Oh, and you were wounded in a previous battle.”

“What?! You can’t just say that. That’s not fair!”

“It’s my play. Listen, it’s okay. Petra and I will make sure your affairs are tended to.”

“I don’t trust you two,” Edelgard says, leaning her head in her hands. “I’ll finish my affairs while I’m alive, thank you very much.”

“There she goes again,” Dorothea says. “She’s sliding. Look at that. Her eyes panning into the middle distance like she’s in a music video about Longing And Yearning. The song is going to fade in and drown our voices any second now.”

“No, sadly, I can still hear you,” Edelgard says dryly, glancing back at Dorothea before losing focus again. She gazes into the shop. The corner seat is empty. “Look, I’m fine, I—”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she whips it out immediately.

“Wow. Look who’s always telling me not to text while I’m on bar.” Dorothea gives Petra a meaningful look. Petra stifles a giggle.

“Sorry ’Thea. Her authority is higher than mine. I would be helping your fight if I could.”

Edelgard can’t help but feel disappointed. She sighs and types her reply—just ’K’—and pockets her phone.

This is ridiculous. She’s ridiculous. But she’s sad it wasn’t a stupid Rhea text.

Stupid girlfriend text.

“I remember when all you did was bitch about her,” Dorothea says, pretending to wipe away a tear. “I’m so proud of you for getting it.”

“I didn’t Get It,” Edelgard mumbles. “We’re at Kissing Stage.”

“Wow. Usually you don’t volunteer innuendos yourself.”

Petra quicks an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Edel?”

“No,” Edelgard grumbles.

No one has a chance to Get Her with a cheeky response, because the door opens and suddenly the room is full of familiar weight. The air floods hot like a tropical storm is coming through; that’s what Edelgard thinks, at least. Her coworkers freeze like it’s a blizzard, before shaking it off.

“Better than a text?” Petra asks jovially before Edelgard can get to her post.

She smiles obligingly and admits it: “Way better.”

Rhea is all cool as usual, in one of her trademark combinations: loose white top and navy pants. This time the shirt is a thick, warm-looking long-sleeve with a high neck.

“It’s too fucking cold,” Rhea says before Edelgard can even start her customer service script. “Ugh.”

“Get some hot drink in you? Warm you up?” Edelgard suggests it like it’s a joke, because in serving Rhea almost every day over two months, she’s never seen her even contemplate getting a hot drink.

Startlingly, she contemplates it now. “Maybe,” she says.

“Did I hear that right?”

Rhea squints at the menu. “Can I ask for a hot chocolate but like, a third of it is milk?”

“I mean, sure, but that kind of defeats the idea of warming up with a hot drink.”

“It sounds tasty though.” Rhea smiles. “How are you?”

“Wondering if my girlfriend is some kind of lizard or maybe snake,” Edelgard says, getting started on the order. “You know—cold-blooded.”

“Mm. I do love a good external heat source. You got me there.”

Edelgard does not miss the way it takes her a second longer than normal to reply. It was the G word (used in public at that!) that stalled her; of that, Edel is convinced. She’s determined not to flinch at it herself. Like she can somehow ’win’ at this by being the Most Casual About It.

She also doesn’t miss Dorothea and Petra looking at each other meaningfully, but part of ’winning’ here is ignoring them, so that’s what she does.

“Did you sleep well last night?” she asks.

Rhea rubs her neck like she pulled a muscle just thinking about it. “Awful,” she says. Her voice is low enough to not be overheard, but loud enough that Edelgard can hear the mix of frustration and embarrassment. “Not to be clingy after one day or anything, of course.”

“Nah,” Edelgard says. “Be as clingy as you want. It’s nice to feel wanted, you know. Here.”

She slides a cup of comfortably tempered hot cocoa to Rhea.

“Thank you. I am mostly joking, I don’t expect you to always be around. But you are definitely wanted, all the same.”

“Cute. Here, take this too.” Edelgard reaches into the pastry case and gets her a treat. “On me.”

Rhea isn’t used to being the one being treated to things; she pauses like she’s not sure what to do about it before graciously accepting the pastry. “Thank you,” she mumbles, a bit red; she looks away briefly and then smiles to herself and looks back. “Well, I’ll be in my corner. Talk to you later, El.”

True to her word, Rhea sits in the corner seat until close, working on her tablet and enjoying several hot (or not so hot) cocoas. It’s nice; a return to comfort.

Even after close, when all that’s left is staff chores, Edelgard lets her stay; she says something about not needing to face the cold just yet (and take your time finishing your drink!) but really she just wants to hang out a bit. They chat while she’s putting up the chairs and it’s just Rhea and the closers there, so it almost feels like a private get-together now.

Sadly, when all the chores are done, everybody does have to leave. Rhea packs up her stuff and flips up her own chair for good measure.

They’re standing at the front together, outside in the dark autumn cold, while Edelgard locks up. She had half expected Rhea to just fucking bolt to get away from the cold, but she’s holding firm just to be next to her, which is cute.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” Rhea says. “Thanks for letting me hog a seat all day again.”

“Company policy says I can’t kick you out for loitering as long as you’re actually ordering stuff,” Edelgard says, turning her nose up. She smiles: “I’m glad you came.”

“You want to get something to eat?”

Edelgard sighs. “I actually need to go pick up something i forgot at my brother’s—before he gets annoying about it.” She smiles good-naturedly and adds: “But I leave early on Wednesday if you wanted to go on a date.”

“Wednesday sounds good,” Rhea says. “I won’t keep you, then. See you around, El.”

She starts to move towards her car and Edelgard grabs her by the shirt-sleeve. “Wait,” she says.

Rhea turns around, curious look on her face. “Yes?”

Edelgard pulls her down to kiss her. With how tall Rhea is it’s really a two-man job to line it up, but she comes willingly, following her lead like it’s second nature. It’s warm; even in a night that bites ice-cold.

“Okay, now you can go. Love you.”

——2 months, 10 days since Wine Incident——

——2 months, 15 days since Wine Incident——

——2 months, 24 days since Wine Incident——

——2 months, 27 days since Wine Incident——

——3 months since Wine Incident——