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Every time the wind shook her tent, Edelgard tensed under her blankets. She knew, logically, that there were guards patrolling the camp, and that anyone stupid enough to try and harm the Black Eagle Strike Force had been scattered when Garreg Mach fell. That did not stop her from reaching for her dagger when a particularly strong gust of spring wind rattled her tent flap.
Heart racing, Edelgard’s eyes scanned the dark tent. Her school uniform was folded neatly in the corner, having recently been patched up by Bernadetta herself. Edelgard had no plans to wear the garment again, now that she was Emperor, but little Bernadetta had looked so lost after the battle that Edelgard had felt the need to give her peaceful work. All the Eagles had seemed lost, actually. But one step at a time.
As well as her old clothes, Edelgard had Aymr in a stand by her bedroll and a bag she had packed before going into the Holy Tomb. One look would hardly tell you this was the Emperor's tent. Despite the insistence of many people, Ladislava for one, Edelgard had opted for a common soldier’s tent. If it was good enough for the rest of her Eagles, it was good enough for her.
Trying to settle herself, Edelgard slipped the dagger back under her pillow and drew the blankets up to her ears. She was safe. All her Eagles were safe.
Well, almost all her Eagles.
A terrible grief gripped Edelgard’s chest as the Professor floated once again to the forefront of her mind. There had always been the possibility that they wouldn’t join Edelgard’s cause— that she would have to suffer a mortal fight with her dear Professor Byleth.
But then the Professor had faced Rhea in the Holy Tomb, the Sword of the Creator held in Edelgard’s defense, and Edelgard had felt that fear leave her. Even running for their lives from the Immaculate One had not taken the glee from her step.
A guiding hand, a soothing voice, a calming nod— those few weeks after the Holy Tomb had been a wondrous taste of what to expect with Byleth and Edelgard as the leaders of the war. A taste of what it would be like to not be alone at the helm of a new world.
And now, scarcely a week later, while Empire troops cleared Garreg Mach for use just a few miles away, the Black Eagle Strike Force had an extra tent.
Pressure gathered behind Edelgard’s eyes and she angrily rubbed it away. Emperors didn’t cry about their teachers. They didn’t cower from the wind in their bedroll. They didn’t feel terror at what the coming years would bring.
Edelgard squeezed her eyes shut, snaking a hand under the pillow to rest on the cool steel of the dagger. Emperors didn’t wish they weren’t, for just a moment, the Emperor…
The dark had never seemed so oppressive. Edelgard imagined she could hear every twig snapping in the nearby forest. The bugs were suddenly too loud. Her tent was too empty. She was too alone and there was no one there to—
Something inside her softened just enough that she whipped back her blankets. Snatching up her dagger, she stood and left the tent. Her guards stared with no small amount of confusion as she went down the row of tents.
She stopped at a certain tent flap. Momentum begged her to go on inside dramatically but self preservation made her halt. Sprinting into any tent with this amount of tension in the camp was to risk bodily harm.
“Hubert,” she whispered. She listened for the sound of movement inside before finally stepping in. It was even darker in here— Edelgard hadn’t realized what Aymr’s subtle glow had done to her own tent.
In the middle was Hubert, sitting up amid a pile of blankets. He wore the white shirt from his uniform and Edelgard could just make out the waistband of a pair of thin black pants under the blanket.
He watched her with seemingly glowing topaz eyes. A hand disappeared under his pillow, obvious replacing a weapon of some kind. She knew he had many other knives within arm’s reach. It almost made her feel foolish for bringing her own.
Without speaking, Hubert shifted over. There was no dignified way to lay on a bedroll so Edelgard half flopped onto the free space. She heard him chuckle as he pulled the covers around them both. She set her dagger on the ground beside her and snuggled into the worn pillow, making a mental note to demand plusher ones for the Eagles once they became available.
For a time, Edelgard simply lay on her stomach, cheek nestled into the pillow and eyes closed. She had just begun to settle when she felt Hubert's hand brush through the long hair trailing down her back. He repeated this motion several times, soothing fingers tangling with strands at her scalp and following them to her shoulders, electing a sigh from Edelgard. Eventually she snuggled closer and he wrapped an arm around her. No one would ever accuse Hubert of being muscular but she knew the wiry strength in those arms. They flung magic and knives, held quills to important letters and doors she needn’t bother herself with.
And at the moment they were exactly what she needed.
Sleep was finally coming to her. As Edelgard began to drift away into a, hopefully, nightmare-free slumber, chapped lips pressed to her forehead and a voice as familiar as her own wished her goodnight. In that moment, it did not matter where the Professor was, or what the wind did, or who was crawling around camp.
Edelgard was most definitely not alone.