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Traditions were never Edelgard’s thing until she met Hilda. For someone as lazy as her, it was no surprise that she craved consistency—even if she would be required to do something, she was aware of it well in advance.
The holidays had been no different. Edelgard remembered the first year in their apartment together, how the night of Thanksgiving she insisted on setting up the tree. They didn’t get very far, considering even on the stepstool they weren’t able to put the top half of the plastic tree together, but they had laughed it off and drank liquor in front of the sad, incomplete tree. Claude came over the next morning to put it together in exchange for Christmas cookies—another tradition that had to be honored by Hilda. The first two years it had been fun, but by the third Edelgard was wondering why they should rush. The season would wait, the decorations would be easier to put up when they hadn’t just spent the afternoon and evening visiting family for Thanksgiving.
There were other traditions, too: Hilda dragging Edelgard around the neighborhood outside of the city to look at lights or seeing a play with Holst during December. Edelgard didn’t mind at first—she liked having things scheduled, after all—but the holidays were an exhausting time. They were a reminder of how her family was so broken that they couldn’t even exchange presents, that the way that her and her siblings were treated had left them scattered to the wind. Hilda offered help in writing them cards one year, but Edelgard had to admit that she didn’t know where most of them even lived. There was something terrible about asking after six years of not talking to a single other von Hresvelg. How could she admit to not wanting to see them—not wanting to remind herself.
Holidays were hard and Hida was bright and whined when she didn’t get her way. There was give and take in relationships, but she just wanted to take until Edelgard was drained.
(Although, Edelgard admitted, she could have afforded to be kinder, herself).
Edelgard continued to live in their apartment after they broke up.
It was the first time in years that there was not a tree in the living room, there wasn’t even music for the neighbors to complain about. It was just Edelgard in an empty home, no one dancing with her in the kitchen, attempting to shuffle her under the mistletoe to steal a kiss. They had fought last Christmas, Edelgard remembered, she had gotten fed up with Hilda’s desire to watch movies and snapped—wanting to be alone. She could have just asked for it, but she watched as the anger on Hilda’s own face morphed into a fear and Edelgard knew that she had fucked up.
They had lasted until February, Hilda breaking up with her on her own birthday after a dinner that was too quiet, too distant.
At the end of the day, Edelgard was work that Hilda wasn’t willing to put up with, not something she could prepare for like hanging stockings over the fake fireplace or watching Hallmark movies while the snow fell outside.
By one in the afternoon Christmas Day, Edelgard felt the loneliness like a chill that rattled her bones and seized her heart. She wants nothing more than to reach out to her friends, to see if there was another seat at their tables, but she couldn’t bring herself to throw away her pride. Dorothea had her two girlfriends, Hubert was likely at the von Aegir’s. They had each sent her a message filled with hearts, but she didn’t want them to know how much she missed Hilda’s cheer. Perhaps the holidays hadn’t treated her with care, but it was nice to know that someone else was able to enjoy them. She didn’t want to let the others know how much she missed her ex and her brightness around the holiday season.
Without thinking, Edelgard found herself on Hilda’s contact. It was still saved in her phone, even though they hadn’t spoken since the break-up. Well, they had spoken while she was moving out and when bills were due—enough words to completely erase Hilda from her life as if she had never been there in the first place. The contact picture was still a photo of the two of them at Holst’s wedding. The Goneril’s had welcomed Edelgard with open arms, letting her be a part of the family from the beginning. It was strange to miss a family that wasn’t even hers in the first place, but Edelgard wondered if they remembered her fondly or if they were upset at her for breaking their Hilda’s heart.
Edelgard could try to call Hilda, but she didn’t want to ruin her day. It was a day meant for cheer and Hilda didn’t want to be dragged down by her loneliness—not anymore. That’s why they had separated.
She still pressed the call button against her better judgement.
Tucking her knees up to her chest, she waited for the ringing to subside and for the call to go to voicemail. It was better than not knowing, she supposed. Edelgard would prefer to acknowledge the feeling that Hilda wouldn’t pick up rather than letting it sit in the empty space around her. She was on the final ring and she could say goodbye forever—
“Hello?”
Hilda’s voice startled her and she did her best not to drop her phone on the couch. It was her, a voice that was sweet and demanding all the same.
“Hello?” she asked again.
“Oh, hi,” Edelgard said, cursing herself for the hesitation and for pressing the call button in the first place. “It’s Edelgard. I just wanted to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas.”
She hated that her laugh sounded forced and awkward even to herself. She hugged her legs as she balanced the phone at her ear.
“Aw, how sweet,” Hilda responded without missing a beat, before calling out, “Holst! Edelgard wishes a Merry Christmas! He… oh, he and Baltie say the same. How are you? Are you with someone?”
“Oh… I’m at the Arnault’s,” Edelgard lied.
“That’s good, I would hate for you to be all alone.” The words spoke to the silence in her living room. “I’m glad to hear from you, Del. Really—” there was speaking in the background “—gotcha babe. Love you, don’t slip on ice getting stuff from the car!” Edelgard’s heart skipped a beat, still reacting to the pet name as if it were hers. “We have to be on our way to see the parents, but thank you for calling. Have a Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” Edelgard said, barely getting it in before the call dropped. She tossed her phone to the cushions of the couch.
Winter would pass—it would pass with Christmas and New Years and her birthday and Valentine’s Day. It would finally bloom into spring and maybe then Edelgard would be able to let go.
Until then, she tugged the blanket around her and cried over what could have been.