Chapter Text
Lone Moon 1, 1190, one month before the wedding
"How is it possible that planning a honeymoon is more stressful than planning a wedding?"
"You're the Emperor of united Fódlan, my heart. Everything you do is significant to the fate of the continent. Even your farts are significant."
Edelgard went bright red at that - one, for Byleth's charming endearment, and two, for the realization that they were now comfortable enough with each other to casually allude to each other's bowel movements. Byleth was always the blunt type, which was what Edelgard usually loved about her - her straightforwardness, her honesty, and her ability to pick out a grain of truth from a silo of lies. But to talk about farts, of all things…they were currently sitting in the castle garden with servants and officials bustling to and fro! Some nosy soul picking up their private conversation would be…well, more than a little embarrassing for the emperor!
"By," she hissed, and her fiancée grinned in response.
"I'll leave off it. So, the plan again?"
Quite honestly, the two of them had gone over The Plan so many times that they could both recite it in their sleep. After their wedding ceremony, they would spend a week wrapping up chores in Enbarr so that the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force (the name had never quite faded from memory) could take over governmental duties in their absence. From there would begin the emperor and empress-consort's five-month diplomatic tour of Fódlan and its surrounding nations, including a stint in Brigid (courtesy of dear Queen Petra) and Almyra (courtesy of - much to everyone's shock - King Khalid). The final route was a counterclockwise loop spanning the continent with every major city covered. Edelgard, ever the perfectionist, had developed itemized itineraries for every week of their trip, including but not limited to Plan Bs and Cs for potential weather delays, bandit attacks, and assassination attempts.
Those who slithered in the dark were finally dead and gone, but one could never be too careful. Byleth had fussed over Edelgard's many sleepless nights, but she of all people (except Hubert, perhaps) could understand her heart's sense of caution.
"Alright, I think that's enough for today," Edelgard rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands before sipping the remains of her now-lukewarm bergamot. "I must send another letter of confirmation to Holst and ascertain that he can accomodate us when we arrive in Goneril."
"Which you've already done twice, and he's already confirmed that he's happy to host us." Byleth's hands, calloused yet gentle, landed on Edelgard's shoulders. "Let's get lunch with the others. The kitchen's serving fish again."
The emperor smiled at that, placing a hand over her fiancée's. "I know you'd never miss fish, love. You could single-handedly stock the castle's entire pantry with your frequent fishing trips."
"Fishing's good for clearing the head." Byleth leaned down to peck Edelgard's cheek before they both made their way towards the dining room. The original grand hall where Adrestian emperors once hosted lavish meals for fellow nobles had been repurposed as a public clinic under Manuela's watchful eye. They instead made their way up the stairs and towards a sunlit area overlooking the gardens, where several of their "officials" were waiting.
"I apologize for being late. We were going over The Plan again."
"There is no need to apologize for being thorough, your majesty! One must always exercise caution in these matters." Ferdinand, upon realizing that his dominant hand was currently entwined between Marianne's, thumped his free hand to his chest.
Hubert silently leaned over and pulled out the chair for Edelgard - more of a force of habit than anything else - and she sat with a quiet word of thanks. "Ferdinand, there is no need for 'your majesty' here. You are among friends and equals."
"It is a force of habit, I'm afraid. By any means it is good to see you taking a break for once!"
Edelgard-of-then would have bristled at that comment, but Edelgard-of-now couldn't argue with that. Byleth took the adjoining seat, offering a nod to her former students. "It's good to see you all well. Ferdinand, Marianne, I've heard good news coming from Aegir territory."
"Yes, our clinical training campaign has been a huge success." Marianne hid a little smile behind her teacup. "Trained healers are now active in every village and township in Aegir. We're very proud."
"It was all Marianne's plan, too, from the very start," Ferdinand added. "Is she not brilliant?" (Marianne attempted to hide her entire face behind her teacup at her husband's gushy compliments.)
Byleth turned to the other couple at the table. "And you two have a lot to prepare for after this wedding…"
"Ah, yes." Hubert was often (read: always) hard to read, but the expression he turned towards Bernadetta showed nothing but fondness. "The timing is…not convenient, but staying in Enbarr for now will help us greatly with the transition. We have people we can entrust Varley administration to until the little one comes."
"I'm just glad the nausea's over." Bernadetta looked down at the swell of her belly. "But my cravings have gotten so weird! Last week, I couldn't stop eating cabbages and honey. Cabbages dipped in honey."
"That is unusual," Byleth remarked.
"Is it weird to talk about cabbages and honey at lunch? Oh, I'm really sorry - ahh, cut it out, Bernie!" She shook her head and cleared her throat. "We're excited, though. There's a whole lot me that's nervous, but Hubie and I are really looking forward to this."
"And I'll look forward to spoiling my niece or nephew when we return," Edelgard commented, a fond smile gracing her lips as she shared a glance with her oldest friend. A few years ago, she'd have never expected Hubert of all people to become a father, much less have any desire to be one. It spoke much about his current ease that he was now comfortable enough to turn his eyes away from the shadows and start a family with Bernadetta.
Their lunches arrived - two-fish saute with diced and roasted root vegetables, the last of Castle Enbarr's winter stock. Harvests were likely to be plentiful this spring, so commoners and (former) nobles alike could look forward to a year of full larders and bellies. A small tureen of sweetened berry sauce was also placed on the table, and everyone wisely said nothing as Bernadetta poured the contents over her fish.
"I'm excited to hear that Petra will be able to make it for the wedding," Ferdinand said during the meal. "And Dorothea with her, it seems. Have you heard from Caspar and Linhardt as well?"
Byleth fished out a slightly crumpled letter, singed at the edges. "They'll be here in time. Seems like they've been having fun in Sveng with the diplomatic mission."
"I'll have to confirm the number of extra rooms available," Hubert said, judgementally eyeing the still-smoking letter. "The nobility may be no more, but an emperor's wedding is still a significant affair in Adrestia. The palace and surrounding residences will be packed to capacity."
Judging from the list of wedding invitations they'd sent out months earlier, the majority of the Garreg Mach Officer's Academy Class of 1180 would be present. It would be awkward to see certain faces in the crowd, especially the ones they had once faced across a battlefield, but at bare minimum they were all cordial enough to speak diplomatically without coming to blows. (That was the hope, at least. Their preparations had included contingency plans for possible wedding violence.)
There were a few exceptions that came to mind, but Edelgard pushed those thoughts away for now and focused on enjoying food and good conversations with her friends and her love.
After lunch, she excused herself from a trip to the newly established Enbarr public park and made her way towards her and Byleth's quarters, citing the need for a nap before her usual round of afternoon meetings. The sweeping hallway leading there had once housed floor-to-ceiling paintings of former emperors; all but one had been tucked away into storage. The only portrait that Edelgard could not bring herself to put away hung near the door to their chambers - one of a young and newly crowned Ionius IX, standing with proud bearing and completely unaware of the tragedies that would befall him in his later life.
Her father's painting kept her humble, Edelgard thought. She nodded at a trio of passing guards and entered the apartment, making a beeline for their bedroom and a locked bedside drawer containing a locked strongbox.
The final siege of Shambhala had been the longest and brutal part of their campaign against Fodlan's tormentors. Once everything was said and done, she had ordered her frontline troops to scour the wreckage of the city, searching for anything that could prove useful. One of said discoveries had been a heavy metallic device with a large glass lens that everyone had been afraid to touch. Professor Hanneman, bless him, had been the one to accidentally discover its purpose after cleaning it and setting off a button.
Following further inspection of the device (and recovery from the shock of the blinding flash it emitted), Hanneman had dubbed it a camera, something capable of capturing still images of the real world faster and more accurately than any professional painter. The technology embedded within was still too sophisticated for Fodlani researchers to replicate, so for now the camera was reserved only for the most special of occasions.
The strongbox lock clicked open, and Edelgard smiled down at the small set of pictures - photographs, Linhardt had dubbed them - inside. On top of the stack was a post-Shambhala photo of the Black Eagles, bruised and battered but smiling from ear-to-ear from their hard-won victory. Next was a photo of Lysithea after her successful Crest removal surgery, Hanneman on her left and Cyril on her right, waving from her seat with a weary grin on her face. And there was one after Edelgard's own surgery - she could still recall the aches and pains and frustrations of the resulting months, but they were entirely worth it.
A few wedding pictures followed. Ferdinand, hair cropped and handsomely attired with an Almyran silk cravat, chastely held Marianne's hand. She had looked absolutely radiant at the ceremony, clad in a beautiful custom gown strewn with hand-sewn Deirdru pearls. Theirs had been a large wedding, officially tying Adrestia to the former Alliance by good old-fashioned marriage. (Edelgard had personally found the idea of politicizing their wedding distasteful, even if she was happy for her friends; they had fought a war against such values, after all.) Byleth had agreed, privately wondering whether Ferdinand and Marianne might have preferred something smaller, without the eyes of numerous power brokers following their every move.
Hubert and Bernadetta were luckier that way, she supposed, both of them being Adrestians in the emperor's closest circle. They had had the luxury of an intimate ceremony where only the people who truly mattered were invited. The photo she now held showed the two sitting on a swinging bench outside the Enbarr palace greenhouse, Hubert in a silver-lined black wool frock, an embroidered gladiolus fixed to his lapel, and Bernie in a flowing lilac dress passed down by her mother's family. Unlike the photograph of Ferdinand and Marianne's wedding, they were turned away from the camera and smiling at each other, lost in their own little world. Edelgard couldn't stare at the picture for long without feeling strangely intrusive, so she tore her eyes away and hastily shuffled through the rest of her pile until she came to what she was looking for.
Ah, there it was. The photograph wasn't anywhere as well-staged as the others, but she treasured this image of Byleth above anything else. Her love had been standing at the topmost balcony of Garreg Mach's cathedral and turned around just as Edelgard had called her name and taken the photograph. Byleth's features were slightly blurry from the sudden movement, her indigo hair wild from the turbulent wind, and yet she had never looked so beautiful.
She carefully brushed a finger across Byleth's picture and smiled to herself. To think that they would finally be married in just a month's time. Edelgard had to be the luckiest woman alive…
A knock came from the door. "Your majesty? I apologize for the interruption, but the guild leaders from Deirdru have arrived."
Edelgard startled and piled the photographs back into her strongbox, slamming the lid shut. "Thank you, I'll be there soon!" She called back, primly brushing nonexistent lint off the front of her dress and straightening her crown before opening the door.
Although she was making her way to another dreaded meeting with a group of nosy merchants, the emperor of united Fodlan did not shuffle or trudge. Her posture was straight, her eyes bright. This was the truth she knew: that she would marry the love of her life, surrounded by their loved ones, and that they would spend the rest of their lives together in a happier and more prosperous country.
(Truth, as everyone knows, can be a fickle thing indeed.)