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“Facing you... I grow weak...”
The reluctance in Edelgard’s voice made a small spark of hope burn bright in Byleth’s chest. Hope that the fighting could stop here, that she would not have to maim or kill the person in front of her. Person. Because as contorted as the proportions of her body were, what was in front of her was unmistakably Edelgard. The girl who she would’ve died to keep safe from Kostas. The girl for whom Byleth had been a spark of hope, her savior. And now the savior has turned into the executioner.
By the time Dimitri caught up with the professor, there wasn’t much that could attest to the fact that Edelgard Von Hresvelg, the Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, had fallen at that time, in that place, and by Byleth’s hand. The professor, in her most monotone voice and flattest affect, reported that, for whatever reason, the demonic beast had disintegrated when slain. Dimitri scratched his head in confusion and mourned, for a moment, what could have been. Until the very last moment, he wanted to offer her the chance to surrender, to make amends, to start anew. But he understood that if the professor deemed it necessary to kill her, she was very likely beyond any hope.
The realization of the finality of the war soon washed over the different groups of soldiers, moving like a soundwave from the Throne Room epicenter. Jubilation could be heard, increasingly louder, and Dimitri started heading back toward his troops. He noticed the professor did not follow, but he figured she too needed her moment to mourn. Hurting any of her students was very hard on her, and he figured Edelgard was no exception, regardless of what she’d done. “Dimitri”, Byleth called. “I need some time alone. I’m going on a walk. Please let the others know.” It worried him a bit that the professor was going out on her own while the snow still fell, but he figured after all this woman has done for him, the least he can do is to leave her to her own devices when she requests so. He continued to head to the front of the castle.
Upon making sure he had left and there were no prying eyes, Byleth let out a breath she had been holding since goddess knows when. She exited through a door at the back of the throne room and began following the trail of crimson expanding all the way past the palace gates.
Edelgard wasn’t sure if she was thankful or offended at the fact she was still alive. Her breathing was labored and she could not soothe the disorientation and nausea that she felt. She surmised she made it to one of the caves in the outskirts of Enbarr; although how she managed that, other than by pure adrenaline, or as a punishment of the goddess for her hubris, she didn’t know. She could see she had reverted back to her human form, a form she had been willing to sacrifice for her goals. Not that it mattered much-she would either bleed out or freeze to death soon enough. She wondered if the decision to not kill her and to push her through a back exit was an act of mercy or one of retribution from the woman she loved. That beautiful face covered in tears and anguish is the last thing she saw.
She was too hurt to ponder and realize her dear teacher was crying because of her.
When Edelgard next came to, she was in a bed, and bafflingly alive. She was still nauseous but was able to see her wounds had been covered and that some white magic had been used. She was still trying to get her bearings when a door to her right opened and Byleth, her fondest memory, lingered like a ghost at the threshold.
Byleth wasn’t expecting Edelgard to have woken up yet. She was taken aback by the small frame and unfocused eyes of the emperor. Hurt and covered in old scars, she looked so much younger, so vulnerable, a reminder that she was still barely an adult. The tightness in her chest that had been increasing in crescendo reached its zenith and Byleth wondered if someone without a heartbeat could possibly have a heart attack. She finally took the step to walk into the room and made her way as slowly as possible, to make it clear she wasn’t a threat. Edelgard stared at her and there was a twinkle in her eyes, perhaps because this Byleth moving toward her looked very real, very worried, and very gentle. Byleth put her warm, calloused hands over Edelgard’s, and the younger woman was too tired to deny herself this small comfort. She didn’t try to pull her hands away.
“How are you feeling?”, asked the goddess’ vessel. Edelgard responded with her own question: why didn’t you kill me? Byleth expected this question, yet still did not have an answer formulated. She gently stroked Edelgard’s hands and said, “because I love you.” Edelgard was sure at this point she was having a delirious dream, and for once, was speechless. Byleth took this opportunity to continue her explanation: “I’m not good with emotions. It’s still a pretty new part of my life. But I know that I had never hesitated to kill an enemy before. And I never have decided that I would rather hurt myself than the person in front of me. I’m not good with emotions. But if this isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.” Byleth placed her head atop Edelgard’s and gently hugged her. Edelgard couldn’t tell if the tears on her face were her own, or Byleth’s as they fell.
The world was different now. The church remained, but Rhea was gone. With the understanding that the Emperor was dead and the former head of the Alliance was gone, power consolidated under Dimitri’s hands. He had never thought much of the future, but now he worked intensely to reform it. It was the best way he could honor those left in the past. Byleth adjusted to her role as archbishop, which she reluctantly accepted. Unlike Rhea, she wasn’t around Garreg Mach too much. She traveled all across Fodlan to get a better understanding of the situations in different places, and she religiously took the weekends to herself. Every weekend, she surreptitiously made her way to a cabin somewhere in former Hresvelg territory. There, she would visit her lover, bringing sweets from all across Fodlan for them to enjoy together. Amid the sweets and the hot Bergamot, her lover would provide keen insight into situations that the Archbishop shared with her. For someone who lived off the grid, Ms. Eisner (she couldn't go around calling herself Von Hresvelg, after all) kept herself surprisingly well informed. They trained, they played board games, and at night, they would head together to the small bedroom the cabin had.
In each other’s arms, both could finally feel human.