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Edelgard and Claude lay in their bed, as the world falls down around them.
This time, they thought they had done everything right. They had three cycles of knowledge, they had all their memories this time, and yet, it wasn’t enough. Allying with Dimitri, uniting the three nations of Fodlan should have saved them, but it only made the followers of Seiros fight harder. Once the three Lords found themselves at the end of the Sword of the Creator, somehow, they knew it was all over.
Her arms wrap around his shoulders, pressing her head into his chest, shaking; they might have won the war, they might have saved Fodlan, but it wouldn’t save them. Even as Hanneman rushes to find some cure, Edelgard spends her last days in Adrestia. Claude hated that there was nothing he could do. That using all their knowledge still wasn’t enough, and he would have to watch her die once more.
“I told you, you shouldn’t have married me.” Somehow, her nagging only makes her pitiful state worse.
“What’s that quote, that it’s better to love and lose than not to love at all?” Claude responds, kissing her forehead.
“You could have loved me without becoming a widower.”
Weakly, he tries to keep the conversation light, “Have I ever been the type to do things by half measure?”
It works until it doesn’t, as she laughs. Laughter seems to hurt her, though, and she stops, “No, you most certainly are not.” He doesn’t know what prompts it, but Edelgard asks, “Next time, do you think you’ll still love me?”
Next time. Would there be a next time? Had they not broken the cycle? Rhea was dead, Byleth was dead, wasn’t that enough? Part of him hopes so, so that finally, their world can go on. But then... “I’ve loved you through you trying to kill me, why wouldn’t I love you next time?”
“I assumed you’d be tired of me.” A pause, and she clarifies, voice even weaker than before, “And tired of being doomed.”
“Tired of you? Never.” His heart feels like it’s breaking in half, “We could be trapped in this cycle a thousand times, and I will still love you. I will always love you.”
“Promise me, you’ll make the world better.” Her voice is so, suddenly serious. She looks up at him, her eyes full of storms, “Even if I’m not here-”
“Edelgard, that’s always been our plan.”
“Promise me.” She demands, voice hoarse and pained, “Promise me that people like us won’t have to fight for their love in the future.”
“I promise, I promise.” he relents, trying not to tremble.
He looks down at her, and the sweet, peaceful smile on her lips gives him pause. Even now, she rarely would look at peace, but right now, it’s as if all of her troubles had passed, as if that’s all she needed to hear. Through her chest, he could feel the weak, fluttering beat of her heart. Her grip on him loosens, as she starts to respond, “I…” she trails off, eyelids drooping, “I…” She tries again, and Claude understands the conclusion, before it’s too late. He hurries to stand, her arms simply falling where they were. Somewhere far removed, he’s yelling down the hall for doctors, please, please, hurry. “I love… ”
When he returns to the room, Edelgard is alone in their bed, and she stops breathing.
Not for the first time in their relationship, Khalid had woken up with a gasp, in a panic. He reaches towards the right side of their bed, and finding it empty, he only panics more. The stone walls - red in the light from their window, red like they always were, and he searches the room for Edelgard. She was nowhere, not at her desk against the wall, and if she was beyond the door, he couldn’t see her. Panicked, he screams out, “Edelgard! Edelgard, where are you!”
“Khalid?” she calls, though, voice echoing from down the hall, and he can see her walking towards him, but it doesn’t calm his nerves.
See, Edelgard and Khalid shared an apartment, on the upper east side of Deirdru, and both had been insistent upon a corner unit for this exact reason. No neighbors shared their bedroom walls, so, when one or the other woke up like this, the only person it would bother was their partner.
When Edelgard enters the room, she comes right to his side. She’s careful, and first, helps Khalid sit up. “Hey, hey,” her voice is reassuring and soft. “It’s just me, it’s okay.” Khalid’s breathing is erratic, so Edelgard starts counting, in two, three, four, hold, out, two, three, four.
In, it’s okay, out, I’m right here.
They do this for a few minutes, not bothering to talk, not bothering to mention the elephant in the room. It was fine to simply settle, it was okay, she told him, if they just were. No battles, no wars, just two fools in love, holding each other close in the early morning. Once Khalid is relaxed, once their breathing is in time with each other, Edelgard pulls his head to her chest, and runs her fingers through his hair, the motion soothing. “Are you having those dreams again?” she asks.
He nods, bringing his own hands around her middle. Khalid and Edelgard both had them, dreams of a time long ago, times of war that didn’t always add up. As if they’d done this, over and over and over again. Swallowing back his tears, Khalid feels Edelgard thumb at the corner of his eyes. He pulls back, and sees where he’s made a stain on her shirt - well, it’s his shirt, a white button up that she’d stolen and laid claim to. Choked, he can’t help but laugh a little. “I’m so lucky to have you.” he comments.
“Khalid,” she chides, rolling her eyes, “I’m lucky to have you too.” And she leans down, kisses his forehead, lips warm; Khalid closes his eyes, and takes in her scent… Which smelled surprisingly like burning. On cue, Edelgard gasps, “Oh, shit-”
She dashes out the room, and Khalid sits for only a moment. He looks over their bedroom, the dawn leaking in through the large, metal framed windows. Their apartment was small, and certainly not the opulent palace he’d dreamt of, but it’s home. He follows, sleepily.
Their kitchen is small, the remnants of last night’s dinner with their friends still sitting on the drying rack. Edelgard is turning down the flame on their stovetop, whispering obscenities under her breath, their cat pawing at her feet. “What are you doing? ” He asks her, leaning down to pick up the kitten that they had dubbed Bread .
Pouting, Edelgard huffs. “I was trying to surprise you with breakfast.” She flips the sandwich, it’s bottom side completely burned. “That one’s mine, I guess.”
Khalid puts Bread back on the ground, ignoring her meows of protest, and turns to their cabinet. “You were making a croque madame , right? Just above runny?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know.
“Hey, I’m making you breakfast!” She turns away from the stove to try and stop him, but as she does so, oil from the pan spills over, into the flame below, making a terrifying pop. Still, she tries verbally, “It’s your birthday month, so I make breakfast!”
“Okay, but since it’s my birthday month,” he plays along, not bothering to explain that measuring birthdays by month was silly, “Shouldn’t I get to make that decision?” He places his pan down next to hers, turning the burner on, and cracking an egg.
“... Fine.” She relents, jokingly mean. “And yes, just above runny.”
“Y’know,” Claude starts, “For a girl who doesn’t like her meat anything other than doner than done, you like your eggs barely cooked.”
“Chalky eggs are a blight upon mankind.” she responds. “And to be fair, I barely like meat at all. Done is just palatable.”
“Fair enough.” he laughs to himself, simply amused at her particularities, and heart no longer racing.
They cook in silence, the bubbling of oil, the melting cheese, bumping into each other occasionally. It’s nice, to simply have time like this. This time of morning was theirs, and theirs alone. Before the city had truly woken up and the only people awake were either returning from the night shift, or still blearily drinking their coffee. Edelgard had already put the kettle on the stove, filled with water, and as breakfast neared completion, she turned that burner on too. Turn the nob, click, click, click, and then as fire erupts, push it to medium high, so it’ll boil, but not burn.
“Hey, Khalid?” She turns to him, as they’re winding down and cleaning up.
“Yes, my love?”
“No matter how many times we do this, I’ll always love you.”
Khalid pulls her in, embracing their future and their past, “A thousand times over, and I love you too.” he tells her, and Edelgard leans up, up, on the tips of her toes, to kiss him. Two parts of a greater whole, they only pull away when the kettle sings, and they move to the kitchen table, chatting emptily about today’s plans, as if they weren’t going to curl back into bed, back into each other. It is their dawn, and they’ll take the free time they can get.