Chapter Text
I am drowning in a sea of my own design. Currents whip around my body and force me in every direction except the surface, pulling me down into the depths of inky blackness, where only the wretched are doomed to reside. For a moment, there’s a glimmer of hope, a flash of muted green hair and emerald eyes reaching a hand into the water from above. With all the strength left in my body, I raise an arm to greet her, pushing past the gravity that threatens to take me to the bottom of the ocean.
Yet this time, like every time that’s come before it, the touch of my hands spreads a curse through Byleth’s body, racing through her outstretched fingertips and into her heart, making her grow weaker and weaker, until the hand begins to grow limp, and I’m holding a cold ghost that I wasn’t sure was even real in the first place.
Edelgard von Hresvelg woke with a start in her bed, sweat ice cold against her skin as the inky blackness swallowed her up and disappeared from the forefront of her consciousness and back into the nagging itch just below the surface.
Before she could adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings, the four-poster bed, the sound of crows cawing at the balcony, the cobblestone floors of Garreg Mach, a knock at her door spurred Edelgard to bright awareness.
“Is everything alright Your Majesty?”
Hubert’s tone brought some sense of normalcy to this environment, but even so, Edelgard found no comfort in his cold and calculating eyes that seemed to read her every movement around the monastery. She struggled up and out of bed as the Emperor of the Adrestia croaked out an official reply through rusty vocal chords, “Yes, of course Hubert.” Edelgard silently struggled to get into her royal dressings before catching a glimpse of the sunrise beginning to crest over the monastery walls and light the unfinished portrait in the corner of the room. Pausing as she slipped on the dress that she’d grown so accustomed to in the last five years, Edelgard couldn’t tear her eyes away from the wide sweeps of oil to the intricate flares of gouache that seemed to sweep around the frame.
That was just the problem though. The patterns of the background and the stitching of the Professor’s robes was easy to create, a sole source of comfort even after a day of battle and sleepless nights of planning. Even the delicate patterns of Byleth’s tights were easy to recall and replicate. And as fate were to have it, the light of the early winter’s sun fell upon the face.
Unfinished. Blank.
Edelgard could not even bring herself to dot the canvas in an attempt to create the soft curve of the Professor’s nose, the flawless face devoid of any wrinkles that indicated a history of pain, or the eyes that could never seem to stay the same color. And although she could remember her features more and more as the war drags on, Edelgard’s hand seemed repelled from the piece.
The Emperor emerged from her chambers to find Hubert, Minister of the Imperial Household, standing guard directly outside the bedroom.
He bowed deeply as he greeted Edelgard, “Your Majesty. Is all well?”
Walking past the tall, dark haired man, Edelgard straightened her collar and strode towards the staircase to begin her morning affairs. “Of course Hubert. Although, I thought I told you that you didn’t need to replace the guard outside my bedroom.”
“Yes, of course.” He caught up to the Emperor, following in her footsteps as he spoke cordially, “With all due respect Your Majesty, I do not trust these common soldiers to protect you as well as I trust myself, should the situation arise.”
Edelgard shot a glance back at him as they descended from the upper floors of the monastery and into the courtyard. “They are the Imperial Guard, Hubert. You would do well to understand that I trust them with my life, and even if they did fail to protect me, I can handle myself perfectly fine.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
As had become tradition since taking position at Garreg Mach, Edelgard took her meals in the Cardinals’ Room, a chamber with a long, mahogany table that could seat at least 20 comfortably, and much more uncomfortably. Almost all of the Adrestian Empire’s decisions were first discussed here, among the company of the highest-ranking generals of the Imperial Army and the Black Eagle Strike Force. Edelgard had ended meetings early today, as many of the officers and soldiers wished to celebrate Millenium Day in some shape or form, even if the monastery had seen better days. And Edelgard kept it to herself that she wished to think of happier days too, if only she could allow herself to do so.
As the officials exited the Cardinals’ Room, Edelgard noticed that Dorothea seemed to be lagging behind, making a show out of struggling to gather some paperwork together before she left. Taking this cue, and leaping at the chance to escape from Hubert’s gaze for at least a moment, the Emperor turned and asked him to step outside for a moment.
He paused, seemingly taken aback as he too saw Dorothea, then bowed before exiting the war room. With him outside, Edelgard felt a tremendous weight lift off of her as she unconsciously took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders.
Dorothea stepped around the long table to get in a comfortable distance with Edelgard, taking note of the stress taking its toll on Her Majesty. “You alright Edie?”
Taking the chance to lean back, Edelgard rested on the edge of the table as she crossed her arms and traced the cobblestone with her eyes.
Edelgard forced a laugh. “I’m that easy to read, huh?” she said half heartedly.
Dorothea laughed too, encouraged by the sudden relaxation of the mood in the room. “We’ve known each other for more than five years. I think I can tell when you’re losing sleep over something.”
And it was true. If anything, the only reason Edelgard hadn’t been asked the same question by every passing guard or officer was probably a combination of their reverence for her, their assumption that any and all stress was from the war, and that she’d had a couple decades of practice pretending to be fine. That was one of the best things about Dorothea, and why Edelgard had taken to value her input more and more over the years: she never hid what she was thinking.
Edelgard sighed deeply.
“This war has gone for far too long.” Edelgard’s voice was suddenly exhausted, struggling to bear the weight of an entire nation on her own. “I never expected it to last one year, let alone five. And every sign points to there being years to come until we see the end of this bloody conflict.”
Edelgard turned to face Dorothea, expecting to see encouragement or conciliation, only to find watery eyes on the normally joyous songstress’ face. Dorothea wiped them away, keeping her makeup clean and neat as her voice cracked. “Sorry. I just...I know I should be happy like the others, but I can’t stop thinking about the way things used to be back at the Academy.”
Edelgard nodded, careful not to let her own mirrored emotions show.
Dorothea continued speaking into the musty air, words spilling out without a second’s hesitation, “And I believe in what we’re doing, I wouldn’t do things any other way, but I miss the simplicity of it all back then. Y’know? I miss going to class, I miss the gossip, I miss the other students there, and I miss the Prof-”
Edelgard winced as the woman across from her caught herself, skidding to a stop as the pregnant words came to a halt. The Emperor took the chance to speak her own mind, for once. It was Millennium Day after all.
“I miss her too.”
Silence.
Edelgard hardened her exterior as she forced herself to press on. “I’ve dreaded this day for so long, the day where we all promised to come back. I’m grateful that our losses have been so small, only losing one of us in a war this long, but the toll is still incalculable.”
A silent conversation seemed to happen between the two women, alone in the Cardinals’ Room, where without confession, both of them were able to admit to each other the pain that had overtaken them in the years since Byleth’s disappearance. The rest of the day dragged on with Hubert in tow as Edelgard attempted to strategize her way around the war’s deadlock. However, every mention of Millennium Day brought with it an arrow to Edelgard’s heart for reasons she had trouble explaining. Pain and suffering had begun to define the day for Edelgard, as the thought of returning back to her quarters only to face the stagnant portrait again made the bile rise up in her stomach.
When sunset arrived, it brought relief with it, even though Edelgard couldn’t bring herself to climb the stairs to her quarters. After the final meeting of the day was dismissed, a feast began in the Dining Hall to celebrate the successes in the war thus far, instead of the day’s original cause for celebration that stood opposed to the Empire’s goals.
Edelgard never was one for parties. In all the chaos, Edelgard managed to slip away from Hubert as well as her other allies. In a way, the night reminded her of the Ball so long ago, when she was still a student of the Officers’ Academy and the continent was still at peace. Striding in the cold moonlight of the monastery grounds, the memory brought an odd comfort. Back then, the Professor had slipped out of the party unannounced just as she had just done.
The sound of the classical accompaniment was easy to recall, as well as the warmth coming from the abundant candlelight and the chandelier hung from the rafters. She’d been asked to dance by some brave boy who she had never spoken to before that night. After an awkward twirl around the dancefloor, he returned to another group of boys that all slapped him on the back and laughed. It was humiliating at the time, to be seen as a trophy to be won. The nature of being the Adrestian Princess, she silently accepted at the time.
The Professor was the life of the party that night. As Edelgard watched from the sidelines, student after student insisted that the Professor spin around the dancefloor with them, boy and girl. Edelgard would be lying if she said that the thought hadn’t occurred to her, but the idea of shoving into line to get a moment with the mysterious Professor seemed...impossible. Although, now that she thought of it, Claude certainly didn’t have any trouble asking for a dance. At the time, the sight of it made Edelgard fume. She couldn’t quite put a finger on why. She never put much thought into it until that Millennium Day five years later.
Through her aimless wandering around the grounds, desperate to avoid the other officers as well as that accursed portrait, Edelgard stumbled upon the students’ dormitory. Although still in use by the few Black Eagle Strike Force members, it was practically deserted. Creaking open the door, the hardwood hallway extended out in front of her like a divine pathway as she felt pulled to a certain door on her right. Beside it, on a small brass plaque, read “Edelgard’s Room.” Creaking open the door let out the smell of dust as cobwebs began to loosen around the doorframe as it gave way.
Inside, things were the same as they’d always been. Despite the battle, despite the five years since, the books on the shelf were the same, the bedding was the same, even the small vase on her desk was the same, even though the flowers that Byleth had given her had long since dried up inside.
The bed creaked under Edelgard’s weight and sent dust flying into the space as she sat on it, feeling the expensive linen between her fingers. To say that her feelings about Garreg Mach and the Officers’ Academy were complicated was an understatement in the same way that saying this war had a long stretch ahead of it was an understatement. And yet, being here, sitting in one of the few pieces of her past that was joyful, it made tears come to her eyes. And for once, she let them flow without fear of anyone seeing.
Between quiet sobs, Edelgard heard the creak of floorboards at the end of the hall, the sound of someone else entering the dormitory. Adrenaline dried her eyes immediately, and for safety’s sake, Edelgard placed her hand on the dagger strapped to her belt. The door to the bedroom was entirely shut, so she silently glided to the wall beside it. Should anyone try to enter, she’d have a knife at their throat before they could say a word.
The footsteps came closer and closer, and the carelessness with which this would-be assassin walked surprised Edelgard. They didn’t care if they made any noise, which tightened her grip on the dagger.
Closer.
Closer.
Stop.
Right outside Edelgard’s student bedroom, the footsteps halted, and then nothing. For a moment, she thought it must be a ghost.
Then, the door began to be pushed open.
In a flash, Edelgard slammed her body against the intruder’s, shoving them against the wall as the edge of her knife found a neck to press against.
“Who are you!?” Edelgard said the words before she even looked, and she immediately regretted them.
After five years that felt like an eternal winter, pressed against her bedroom wall was her old Professor. In a split second, Edelgard processed every line, speck, and flash of color on the face in front of her and knew she’d never forget it. While Edelgard’s face softened and her dagger clattered to the ground, she could’ve sworn she saw the hint of a smile in Byleth’s eyes.