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It hadn’t crossed her mind until the moment Dorothea jokes about it, in the middle of a battle - the first after the professor comes back, and Edelgard is sure of their success, more so now than ever before.
There is a new fire breathing into the revolution, and Edelgard sees it in all of them - sees it in the way Petra swings her axe on her wyvern with Ingrid and Sylvain; in the way Caspar and Raphael tackle enemy soldiers to the ground; in the way Hubert, Lysithea, Mercedes, Marianne, and Linhardt fill the battlefield with darkness so dark and light so bright; Ferdinand, Leonie, Lorenz in the front lines and leading their battalions so earnestly.
There is a light in Dorothea’s eyes that she hasn’t seen in so long, and a part of Edelgard had always blamed herself for being the reason for taking it away despite Dorothea’s constant reassurance, and the kindness, tenderness, and companionship they offered to each other on nights when the war was particularly difficult.
Edelgard swings Aymr to shield Dorothea from a bolt of lightning, making a loud crack before being sent back to the other side of the field.
Dorothea appears surprised, eyes wide, soot and dirt covering her pink cheeks and she looks beautiful and weary, but with the same fire in everyone’s eyes.
Edelgard loves her. Fiercely. Only realizes it in the middle of the war, in the middle of the battlefield.
Another bolt of lighting comes their way and Edelgard does it again, curbs it with Aymr, and helps Dorothea to her feet. She shoots out a bolt of lightning past Edelgard, then their backs are to each other, facing opposite directions, and Edelgard feels like the luckiest woman to have her on her side.
“Marry me,” Dorothea jokes, offhandedly, nearly drowned out by the sound of the war amongst them, darkness coming from her fingers to protect Edelgard from an assailant that charges from the corner of her eye.
They continue fighting, and Edelgard doesn’t realize it until she’s alone in her private chambers.
The war was almost over. She can feel it. Linhardt, Hanneman, and Hanneman were well on their way to finding a cure, of giving the years stolen from her and Lysithea.
Edelgard lies on the bed from her days in Garegg Mach as a student, but instead of the lovely red sheets her father had sent her, she uses the standard, rough pieces commissioned to the entire army.
She remembers Dorothea and that fateful day in the academy, with their own demons weighing heavy on their shoulders even then but at least they hadn’t known war, suggesting that maybe, in the future, they could have something special.
Dorothea had shied away, despite her sweet words, and Edelgard thought maybe she had scared Dorothea away, yet each gesture between them only ever grew sweeter, more careful even amidst destruction.
The smallest, hopeful part of her wishes that after all of this is over, maybe Edelgard can finally entertain thoughts about romance, about passion, about all these things she had pushed to the farthest crevice of her consciousness.
A glimmer of hope is diminished by her doubts, as she lies on her side, wishing that it had been one of those days Dorothea shared a bed with her for the sole reason of having someone near.
What if someone else had captured her heart? What if she had hated Edelgard for everything she has done?
What if, what if, what if.
The morning is always better. Edelgard walks into the mess hall, sees Dorothea who has already picked out Edelgard’s favorite food - albeit war-grade - with a seat next to her.
She smiles sweetly, holds Edelgard’s hand under the table as a greeting, with her eyes lingering just a bit longer than usual.
Edelgard has been through worse and allows herself to cling to that minuscule, barely noticeable hope that grows every single day she spends around Dorothea Arnault.
-
On particularly difficult nights, they find each other, and Edelgard can already predict it like the fine movement of her pocket watch — on bad battles, or rainy days, or whenever the nights are much longer during the winter.
“Hi,” Dorothea always greets, somewhat somberly, once Edelgard has opened the door. She is always punctual, never late, always arrives the moment that Edelgard sets aside her crown and lets down her hair.
“Come in,” Edelgard always replies. They go about their nightly routines, and lie together, tired from the day’s work.
Tonight, Edelgard turns to Dorothea, who faces the other way. In the dim light, she can see the marks left by magic and all the violence and bloodshed marking her tanned skin.
“Tiring day, I presume?”
Dorothea, still awake, chuckles and turns to face Edelgard. She isn’t prepared to see Dorothea looking so lovely even in her nightgown, facing her. “Don’t you know it, Edie.”
Edelgard did know, among all people, so she tucks her chin and looks away but Dorothea’s hands find hers under the sheets. “Let’s rest.”
This did not seem to be a day where they talked about their troubles, and Edelgard welcomes it nonetheless. She falls asleep with Dorothea rubbing circles on the skin of her hands - no longer afraid of showing her the truth of her skin and the truth of her past.
As she always is, Dorothea is gone when Edelgard wakes. With the recent discovery of her long-time feelings for Dorothea, one that has beleaguered her despite never having recognized it, she wished that Dorothea would stay, that this war would soon be over for all of them, to enjoy the mornings and have their favorite tea and biscuits waiting for them.
Edelgard lies in bed, chasing the remnants of Dorothea for a moment, then readies herself to be emperor.
-
“I see the heart of the leader of the new world has been taken,” a voice from behind her says, and Edelgard tears her gaze away from Dorothea as she picks the weed. Edelgard had just finished her shift.
“Professor,” Edelgard says, caught unaware. “You surprised me.”
Byleth only laughs. She had been doing so more often, recently, and Edelgard revels in it.
Once upon a time, she had loved the professor and the hurt she had prepared herself to experience had Byleth not joined her would have been devastating, and yet Byleth was here, back from an eternal sleep, fighting alongside them.
She still did, fiercely, now in a different way.
Embarrassment crawls up the back of Edelgard’s neck. “Ah, was I being too obvious?”
The professor laughs again. “Not quite. But I’ve seen that look before,” she teases, and Edelgard only ever rolls her eyes at her subtle jabs. “And I see the way she looks at you, too.”
When Edelgard says nothing, Byleth continues. “If I were being honest, I thought you were engaged. I didn’t question it until Mercedes told me otherwise. Many things have changed since our days at the Officer’s Academy.”
That, Edelgard agrees with. They have fought many battles with many familiar faces. The final march approached, and they were so, so very close with only a few smaller battles to fight.
Someone calls Byleth from afar, and Edelgard recognizes it as Manuela. She offers a gentle squeeze to Edelgard’s shoulder, affirming and tender and comforting. “Tell her. The war is almost over. You deserve it.”
‘You deserve it ’ echoes through her mind for the rest of the week.
-
It is the height of the war and yet she cannot find it in herself to run away from the realization that she loves Dorothea.
The simple fact permeates every being and Edelgard barely notices that her actions are manifestations of her complex emotions and her easy-to-understand affections for Dorothea.
Edelgard lifts her fist to rap at the wooden door before entering, ceasing the movement only when giggles ring from the other side - ones from Dorothea, Manuela, and Mercedes.
“Do you think, after the war, something can happen?” Mercedes inquires.
“My bets are all on you, dear,” Manuela pipes in, and Edelgard has no idea what the conversation could possibly be about, yet she feels slightly guilty for interrupting.
The conversation, as she expected, drops the moment Edelgard walks in but she is greeted by such genuine and warm smiles from the three women.
“Edelgard,” Manuela says, “how can we help you?”
She smiles before nodding to Dorothea. “I apologize for the interruption, but Dorothea is required at the strategy room. You may come with us, but if you prefer to rest after last night’s events, the meeting can wait.”
Dorothea’s eyebrows raise, slightly. “You came all the way here to tell me? Is Hubie okay?”
Oh.
Edelgard realized that she always called for Dorothea herself.
“Um,” she blanches. “I was on my way. Hubert was already there.”
She completely misses the quiet, sly glances Manuela and Mercedes throw Dorothea’s way, and Edelgard wonders briefly why Dorothea’s cheeks are dusted with pink when she stands and follows Edelgard out, as Edelgard waits for her.
The walk is tinged with a new kind of tension, similar to the tightening of her heart at the thought of being close to Dorothea again.
-
“Will it be a late night for you?” Edelgard asks, setting the tea down. Dorothea had wanted to stay in her room for tonight, but she requested for Edelgard’s company for a few short, stolen moments.
“No,” she replies, humming a final note then dotting it on the parchment, placing the quill back in the ink. “There was a tune I couldn’t get out of my head and it was driving me crazy.”
“New opera?” Asks Edelgard, genuinely interested. Her troops loved the entertainment that performers put out. It boosted morale in a significantly different way from her own speeches, also crafted by Dorothea, Lysithea, and Lorenz.
Dorothea smiles, her answer ever elusive. “Maybe.”
Edelgard can only roll her eyes. “I do hope it’s not a continuation of ‘ Hail, The Mighty Edelgard ’.”
The smile Dorothea gives her is the end of desire. “I’m not promising anything.”
She drops the subject, feeling a blush creeping into her cheeks already at the thought. It’s been five years and the thought that Dorothea composed that song in the very moment she thought of it is something that has never failed to sufficiently fluster her.
When Dorothea sings it again, continues it, purposely trying to fluster Edelgard, its effect is still not lost on her.
Later, as they walk side by side to go about their chores together, Edelgard thinks: I love her, I love her, I love her, with the melody of Dorothea’s voice in the foreground.
-
The first time she asks Dorothea to marry her is in a haze of pain, with a spear of lightning coming in contact with her hip. The sensation is searing, spreading through her body, and Edelgard doesn’t even recognize falling to the ground, almost doesn’t recognize the person coming to her aid. All she can smell and taste are blood and dirt.
There is a warmth replacing the searing pain and bright yellow light, her vision restoring by the minute. The first thing she sees, her eyes opening cracking open through the grime and blood, is Dorothea’s green eyes with hot tears at the brims of them.
“Edie, stay with me, help is coming,” Dorothea says, with what Edelgard realizes is panic in her voice. “Stay awake.”
All Edelgard says is: “Marry me,” she mumbles. Her mouth had less blood in it.
Through the tears, Dorothea laughs, the light of her hands dimming. Edelgard knows she struggles with faith spells but she was already reversing the damage done by the weapon. “Edie, I—” She laughs, then coughs. “Ask me again. Stay awake and ask me again later.”
Edelgard commits it to memory and waits, feeling better with due credit to the white magic of Dorothea’s fingertips.
-
Edelgard is awake, but she doesn’t ask again.
They don’t talk about it; Dorothea only demands to never scare her like that again, yet any venom from her words is crossed out completely by the tender kiss she places on Edelgard’s bandaged forehead.
-
It is finished.
The war is over.
They all embrace each other in the midst of the rubble but with the light of dawn washing over them.
-
Despite the war being over, they don’t talk about it again. Something about the new light in Dorothea’s eyes and the easiness of her smile in recent days prevents Edelgard than encourages her. What if her confession would turn her demeanor sour? What if she had fallen in love with someone else?
At the celebration, as modest as Edelgard insisted it be, she finds Dorothea amidst their peers, gravitating towards her as she does towards the light.
Dorothea, sweaty from dancing, leans close so Edelgard hears her. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Please,” is all Edelgard says, and their legs take them to the Goddess tower, their shoes - sloshed with ale - brushing against the ruined grass with dew drops on them.
Edelgard unclips her cape from her casual uniform for them to sit on, underneath the window, where the light of the pale moon spilled onto the cool stones. Her father met her mother here.
They talk, until morning, and in the break of daylight Dorothea smiles, truly smiles - all teeth, all cheeks, with her eyes closed and Edelgard loves her, has loved her, has wanted to love her.
Edelgard doesn’t ask to marry her, considering that she wanted to do this right, didn’t want to risk this being a union of anything else except love and understanding.
What she does ask is: “Will you kiss me?”
Dorothea does, sweetly, and Edelgard’s heart soars into the dawn’s horizon. They kiss and kiss and kiss and Edelgard doesn’t know how she has gone this far in her life without kisses like this.
What she does ask is: “Will you stay with me until the morning?”
“It’s the morning, Edie,” Dorothea giggles into her mouth.
“No, I mean whenever you sleep in my chambers.” Edelgard kisses her again, touches the softness of her jaw. “Stay with me. Until the morning. If you want.”
“I do,” Dorothea smiles. “As long as you’ll have me.”
Edelgard nudges her to lie down, so her mouth can reach the column of Dorothea’s lovely throat. “I always will.”
She’d be damned if she didn’t mean that, didn’t swear it to herself and to any listening deity out there.
The sun streams from the window.
They have their whole future ahead of them.
-
(The second time Edelgard asks to marry her is not on the battlefield, but in the Goddess tower.
Despite the silence, despite the quiet, her heart hammers when she asks as if she was facing a thousand battalions.
Dorothea’s sweet ‘yes’ is a victory. The thundering in her heart ceases but it beats, steadily, and will do so for the rest of their lives, together. )