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The sun was setting in the west over the gates of Fódlan’s Locket, where Hilda Valentine Goneril stood in the ramparts looking down below at her brother, Duke Holst Sigiswald Goneril, who was busy training the infantry. Balthus was nowhere to be seen; Holst’s husband could usually be found in the village tavern, making ill-advised bets. Hilda chuckled to herself. If her father knew Holst turned a blind eye to Baltie’s gambling addiction after years of swearing he wouldn’t support it, well… Holst wouldn’t actually face any consequences, considering he was duke now. The late former Duke Goneril would simply huff, rub his forehead, and give Holst the most disappointed look ever.
A yawn tugged at Hilda’s jaw. The day had been spent doing no hard work at all, but it was hard work always dodging training and the duchy’s responsibilities! Sure, Holst was the duke now, but he was intent on growing the family tree. Whenever Hilda found it in her energy to argue and point out he could do that exact same thing by adopting an orphan, Holst and Balthus would look at each other and laugh.
“Oh, Sister Mine, can you imagine what kind of child would have to exist who could deal with Balthus and I as parents?” Holst would chuckle, picking Hilda up and swinging her around by the waist.
“Yeah, and I’d probably need their pocket change to repay my gambling debts!” Balthus would chime in.
“Exactly! So, you see, dear sister, it’s up to you to bring about a suitable heir! I’ll arrange everything, you won’t even have to put in any work. There will be lines of suitors out the reception area for you to greet!”
“But that sounds like a lot of effort! Social engagements drain my energy faster than a wyvern fries its dinner!” was the protestation from Hilda.
But it was settled, nonetheless. Holst sent out invitations for a grand ball for the most eligible bachelors, nobility or otherwise, from the Leicester Alliance, the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and what remained of the old Adrestian Empire.
Even thinking about the impending ball, which would be within the fortnight, made Hilda yawn again. It was times like these when she missed Claude, who was probably enjoying a nice quiet dinner with Marianne in Almyra. Oh, how she wished he’d let her accompany him beyond the mountain range that divided the two countries. But no. Claude had entrusted the reorganization of the Leicester Alliance to her and Holst following the Holy Kingdom’s assistance with defending Deirdru from the Empire. She remembered him kissing her cheek, winking at her, and swinging onto the departing ship waving Failnaught over his head.
How quickly a year had flown by! Of course, she and Claude wrote each other monthly about the goings-on in Fódlan and Almyra, and Lady Judith Daphnel would make sure she stayed for dinner when she traversed between her territory in Leicester and Almyra. Claude himself hadn’t visit, though, like he believed the nobles he’d left behind wouldn’t want to see him that soon after the war. It was almost like he needed Hilda to host a momentous event as an excuse to visit. An event like… a birthday? No, Claude would just send a letter for a birthday. A Leicester founding day commemoration? No, too patriotic. What about a wedding? No, he’d already attended Balthus and Holst’s wedding during the war, so who could she convince to get married?
A very Claude-like flash of genius descended on Hilda, and she suddenly found herself looking forward to the ball like it was her own birthday.
~
Two Weeks Later
~
Holst was good to his word and then some. Processions of companies led by nobles in their flashiest armor waving various house flags, or trains of wealthy merchants with their older children dressed in their finest clothes, arrived daily. Hilda could care less what gender the suitors were; she just wanted to get the impression they would care for her like Holst and Baltie did, and if she cared for them in return, it would be an added bonus.
At long last, the evening of the ball arrived, and Hilda finished donning her fanciest gown and handmade accessories. Claude had sent her a letter wishing her all the best at the auspicious event, though Hilda hadn’t revealed what purpose the ball served.
She stepped out of her room to find Holst waiting to escort her to the ballroom. “You look like you’re about to make everyone in the room fall in love with you, my dear Hilda!” he said boisterously.
Hilda frowned. “You said you weren’t going to be all mushy, Holst! Stop it, you’re embarrassing me!”
“We haven’t even gotten downstairs yet!”
‘I know, but still…”
Holst paid her griping no mind, taking his arm and puffing out his chest. “No one would dare say no to you with me by your side.”
“That’s my point! Whomever I marry shouldn’t need to be threatened by your presence!” They continued down the hallway like this, but the entire time, Holst kept loudly boasting of how all of the suitors would be lining up to beg her hand in marriage once they caught a glimpse of his sister. Hilda seemed to shrink in height the more he boasted, and her face was pinker than her hair.
Before they entered the ballroom, however, Holst put both his hands on her shoulders and stared into her wide, pink eyes. “Hey, Hilda. I just want you to know that you’ll always be the best thing that’s ever been mine. You don’t need a spouse for that to be true. I will be so proud of who you become either way.”
Hilda was briefly taken aback. “But what if I don’t carry on the family?”
Shrugging, he replied, “The nobility’s legitimacy and necessity is waning either way. With Claude in charge in Almyra, who knows if we even need this military presence in the Throat anyways? Besides, I put too much pressure on you to get married and have kids. I want you to marry for love like I did with Balthus!”
“That’s sweet, Holst. But why didn’t you tell me that before you sent out the invitations?”
~
Hmph. What’s the minimum number of minutes I must spend with these suitors before I can move on without seeming rude? Hilda whined on the inside. She recognized some faces from the minor houses of Goneril, Daphnel, Riegan, and Gloucester (which immediately made her nose wrinkle in annoyance – she wouldn’t be caught dead marrying anyone close to Lorenz). None of her Garreg Mach classmates had been invited as suitors since so many of them had coupled up either at school or during the war.
So many young men and women made a point to ask her to dance, and she accepted most of the invitations. Sometimes, she could tell when someone would exert her social energy too much to carry on throughout the night.
One fellow in a wrinkled coachman’s coat, blouse, and trousers caught her eye: his eyes seemed to be taking in the event disinterestedly as he spooned what looked like vanilla pudding into his mouth. A merchant’s son, no doubt, but he was the only one not frothing at the mouth to ask Hilda to dance.
Hilda was unsure if she was upset or impressed by this lack of initiative. She eventually settled on “impressed” by his audacity. Oh, my. It looks like I might have to make the first move here. As soon as she finished with her current dance, she flounced over to the young man’s table and sat down next to him, making him choke on his pudding. “Hi!” she said brightly. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. I’m Hilda. What’s your name?”
The boy realized he had gotten pudding on his shirt and hastily tried to sponge it out with a napkin. His voice lacked urgency, yet he was still articulate. “Oh… hello, Hilda. My name is Gilear Faeth. I was under the impression that you were busy meeting other folks, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Why would you ever think I was bothering you?”
“Well, this event was arranged for you, was it not?”
“I guess you’re right.” Hilda sighed and surveyed the room. “Well, are you going to ask me to dance?”
“Aren’t… aren’t you busy?”
“Does it look like I’m busy?”
“Well, no, but –”
“But what? Would you prefer I ask you to dance?”
Gilear looked as if he’d rather swallow his tongue than utter another word as he stared into Hilda’s wide pink eyes. “Er – well, I wouldn’t want to interfere if you have places to be.”
Hilda laughed brightly. “Nonsense. I’m talking to you. Well, c’mon then. Let’s dance.” She stood up from the table and extended a hand to Gilear, whose face had been drained of all color. Eventually, he accepted her hand and let her lead him on to the ballroom floor.
They began waltzing in rhythm with the music, both unsure if they should hold eye contact for more than a second at a time. As they turned around in slow circles, Hilda saw Holst staring at Gilear and then jotting down some notes on a piece of paper. Gilear, on the other hand, saw the many single young people in the room glare at him with contempt and jealousy.
“So, um, Gilear! What does your family do?” she asked quickly to distract herself from Holst’s prying eyes.
“My family are merchants,” was the flat response. “I’m especially good at arithmetic, so I’m learning to manage the family’s finances when I take over the business.”
“Oh, fascinating!”
Gilear sighed. “It’s fine, you don’t have to pretend it’s not boring.”
“No, seriously! It is fascinating that you’re good at arithmetic. Seriously, you could capitalize on that and become a personal accountant for a noble’s family if you wanted to!”
“Really? I hadn’t considered that. My family doesn’t have the money to send me to a fancy school, though, so I’m content with helping them out.”
“I’m sure my family could help you. I mean, we’re always looking for ways to help out promising youth in our lands.”
“No need to worry, Duchess Goneril, I know my place in Leicester and I’m content with it.”
Shivering, Hilda said, “Ugh, please don’t call me Duchess Goneril. Holst is the duke, and while I may be duchess someday, it feels way too formal.”
“My apologies, Lady Goneril –”
“Not that, either! That’s even weirder. Please, call me Hilda.”
“Forgive me, but as I don’t expect to see you again after this, I thought it best to call you by your formal title.”
Hilda abruptly stopped dancing. “Wait, you don’t expect to see me after this? Why’s that?”
“Well, you have so many other suitors, I didn’t want to be presumptuous…” Gilear bit his lip and shuffled his feet.
“You thought wrong, then! You’re the most interesting person I’ve met tonight!”
The ballroom floor quieted when the other dancers heard what Hilda said and the string quartet ceased their music. More than one suitor couldn’t hide their obvious disappointment at Hilda’s declaration. She didn’t care, however; she took Gilear’s hand and led him to the veranda.
Gilear was visibly distraught when Hilda whirled on him with tears sparkling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Lady Gon – I mean, Hilda. I meant no disrespect. I just meant, out of all the people here tonight to wine and dine you, I shouldn’t expect to stand a chance against them.”
“Those paper dolls? They’re acting. As soon as I saw you sitting at the table eating pudding without a care in the world, I knew you were the most genuine person here.” Hilda was crossing her arms now. “There are so many expectations of what a noble match should look like. Well, I say screw that! I’d rather go on a date with you than all those fakers in there!”
Dumbfounded, Gilear flushed and shuffled his feet. “You… you really think so?”
“I’m Hilda Goneril. I may be a delicate flower, but I can read people. Or have you not been paying attention to a word I just said?”
“Well, I suppose what I heard was, you think I’m not faking with you, and you find that interesting?”
“Yes, in fact, I do. And I’d like to see you after tonight.”
The veranda door burst open and out walked Holst making a beeline for Gilear. Gilear instantly put his arms over his head and ducked, expecting a blow from a protective brother. Instead, Holst scooped him up in a bone-crushing hug. “I don’t even know your name, but welcome to the family, son!”
“Holst!” Hilda screeched. “Can you just not? He hasn’t even agreed to seeing me after the ball!”
It was too late: Balthus was right behind Holst, and as soon as Holst released Gilear from the hug, he proceeded to embrace Gilear.
“Oh, Sister Mine, I knew you could tell a good egg from a bad egg!” crowed Holst, picking up Hilda again and spinning her around.
“You’re embarrassing me! I don’t want Gilear to feel any pressure from me!” Hilda squealed.
Gilear was gasping for breath in Balthus’s arms, but he managed to say, “No, it’s quite alright, I may not seem like the hugging type, but it’s actually not what it seems…”
~
Six Months Later
~
The fortress of Fódlan’s Locket was covered in arches of white flowers, and the courtyard was filled with people of all ages and lands. Hilda peeked out from her room where Marianne von Edmund and Lysithea von Ordelia were arranging her wedding dress just so. Both of her former classmates were dressed in matching bridesmaid’s dresses. In the corner of the room, a nurse entertained Marianne’s newborn daughter.
“Oh, you look simply ravishing!” Marianne said in her soft yet sincere voice. “Don’t you agree, Lysithea?”
“Absolutely!”
Hilda blushed. “C’mon, you’re just saying that. I feel like a snow beast in this dress. I am glad I could rely on you two for most of the arrangements for this wedding. I couldn’t have done it without you!”
“Oh, no trouble at all, we’re used to shouldering your work for you,” Lysithea responded in a slightly joking, mostly serious tone.
Three short raps sounded at the door, signaling Holst’s arrival. He opened the door when Hilda trilled, “Come in!”
Holst’s large muscular frame entered the room, and he bowed to Lysithea and Marianne. “My ladies! I’m in your debt for helping my dear sister prepare for her big day.”
Giggling, Lysithea teased, “Oh, Holst, always the gentleman. She’s just about ready. How are things looking in the cathedral?”
“Well, Gilear looks like he’s about to faint if he has to wait another five minutes for this to be over. Otherwise, everyone’s seated and enjoying themselves. I’m ready to escort Hilda whenever you’re finished your amazing work.”
Hilda let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Why are weddings so much work? I want to get married, but I would’ve been fine with a secret ceremony in the cathedral. Well, I might as well get this over with.” She took Holst’s arm, who was beaming like a child as he led her towards the bridge facing the castle.
Both Marianne and Lysithea took their place in front of Hilda and Holst. Hilda caught a glance of Gilear’s slightly disheveled suit (definitely the same suit he wore when he met Hilda) and his groomsmen Ignatz and Raphael. Right before they began the procession down the aisle, Claude appeared at her side to take her other arm.
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” he said, winking at Hilda in his playful manner, “but may I have the honor of joining Holst in walking you down the aisle?”
Hilda’s face turned as pink as her hair and her eyes became misty. “Oh, Claude! That is so sweet of you!”
Contrary to his sister, Holst’s face became pink with annoyance. “It’s my job to give her away as her brother!”
Claude’s easy smile remained on his face. “I’m not trying to replace you, Holst. But Hilda is like my sister too! She saved my life more than one time at school and during the war. I feel responsibility towards her. Like if Gilear breaks her heart, I will shove that pudding so far up his ass –”
“Actually, he calls it yogurt,” interjected Hilda.
“Whatever. I will shove his yogurt so far up –”
“Okay, okay, I get it, Claude,” Holst relented. “It would be my honor as well for you to give Hilda away with me.”
Claude paused for a moment to take his wife’s hand and kiss it before turning back to Hilda and taking her other arm. “Well, shall we?”
~
Gilear stood at the altar by the priest. Ignatz and Raphael, who grew up with him in the Leicester merchant community, stood by him in their fineries. Raphael had given Gilear enough back slaps to leave permanent red welts when he heard about Gilear’s quick engagement to Hilda.
His proposal had happened about three months after meeting her, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. When he had invited Hilda to one of the ramparts of the Locket with a ring in his sweaty palm, stuttering out his undying love for her, Hilda had giggled and opened her own palm to reveal a ring of her own.
And now there she was, walking behind Lysithea and Marianne with Claude and Holst each holding one of her arms. Gilear knew if he ever hurt Hilda, he would answer to those two men, and it would probably involve pain and yogurt everywhere. That would never happen, though. He loved Hilda dearly and couldn’t imagine how he got so lucky.
At long last, Hilda, Holst, and Claude arrived at the altar, and Gilear’s soon-to-be wife winked at him. The priest welcomed the attendees and asked who was giving Hilda away, to which Holst and Claude said simultaneously in loud, bold voices: “I am!”
Hilda rolled her eyes and took Gilear’s hands as they stepped away to take their seats. Holst was exhaling like he had just finished a marathon, and when he sat down, Balthus handed him a handkerchief to dab his eyes.
The priest continued with the formalities, but neither Hilda nor Gilear was paying attention, just simply staring into each other’s eyes. The only moment they clued into what was going on was when they were asked to read each other their vows.
Hilda launched into hers without hesitation. “Gilear Faeth, as soon as I saw you eating yogurt by yourself instead of standing in line to meet me at the ball, I knew you were special. When I went to talk to you, you were sweet, honest, and open. I think we balance each other out really well, and I want you with me for the rest of my life. What do you think?”
Clearing his throat, Gilear said in his unhurried tone, “Oh, yes, I agree that adds up.”
“Gilear? Do you have anything you’d like to say?” asked the priest.
“I believe I do. Hilda Valentine Goneril, I wasn’t expecting you to even notice me at the ball. But without your forwardness and spirit, I would never have thought I had a fighting chance with you. Now I can say without a doubt I will devote my life to you. You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.”
Hilda teared up and yanked him into a kiss him without waiting for the priest to announce them as a married couple. The applause from the attendees was mixed only with Holst blowing his nose on a completely soaked handkerchief. As soon as the cheering died down, the priest decided it was time to wrap the ceremony by declaring them man and wife.
Gilear scooped Hilda into his arms, said, “Let’s go, Bean,” and marched her down the aisle. He tripped slightly at the end of the aisle, but in an uncharacteristically Gilear move, he recovered enough to set Hilda down.
As soon as the recessional was complete, Claude approached Balthus and asked, “So? What’s the total?”
“Holst completely soaked five hankies,” replied Balthus morosely.
“And my number was what again?”
“Five. You said five.”
“Pay up, then!” said Claude mischievously, and Balthus handed over five gold coins.
~
Two Years Later
~
Gilear dashed up to Hilda’s private chamber to find Holst pacing outside a closed door. He’d been in the middle of balancing the books for his new yogurt shop in town. “I just got the word,” he panted. “Is it time?”
Holst glared at him before responding with a tight-lipped nod. “Yes, she’s having the baby.”
“Hm. ‘Going into labor’ has ‘disaster’ spelled all over it for her.”
“Lysithea’s in there with her to ease some of the pain. I tried to go in there, but she threatened to melt me.”
“Oh, yes, that sounds like Lysithea. She showed up a few days ago from House Ordelia to help around the manor, and she may have told me my yogurt would eat me if I got in the way.” He sighed. “I suppose I’d deserve it.”
All they could do was pace while listening for any signs of progress inside the room. Balthus joined them as soon as he was finished training troops in the courtyard. Eventually, they heard Lysithea urging Hilda to push, and soon after, the tiny cries of a baby. Holst seemed ready to burst in through the door, but Gilear did the bravest thing in his life: he stood between the door and Holst.
“Get out of the way, Gilear. That’s my sister in there!” growled Holst.
“And she’s my wife. But if you open the door before Lysithea says it’s good, she will kill you.”
At that moment, the door opened with significant velocity, smacking Gilear in the back of the head. Lysithea stood in the doorway looking flushed, yet relieved. “I’m pleased to announce that you have a daughter, Gilear. And Holst and Balthus have a niece. You can go see her now.”
The three men rushed into the room to see Hilda lying on the bed holding a small bundle of blankets. Her pink hair was sweaty and splayed out around her head on the pillow. When she talked, though, it was in her usual chipper voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard in my life for someone else, but here’s our daughter.”
Gilear peered over the edge of the blanket to see a tiny, pale face with slightly pink cheeks and a shock of silver hair. The baby’s eyes were closed, so he kept his voice hushed when he said breathlessly, “She’s… beautiful.”
Holst and Balthus drew close enough to see the infant. The peacefulness of her face calmed Holst’s anxiety down.
“What’s her name?” demanded Balthus.
“Oh, I definitely didn’t think about that at all,” Hilda answered, her brows furrowing.
“You should carry on the family tradition! Name her something that starts with ‘h’!” suggested Holst. “What’s it gonna be?”
The new mother turned bright red, clearly not prepared to think on the spot. But she saw everyone’s eager face and said hesitantly, “Hilda… Hilda?”
“Oh, you’re going to name her after you? That’s – that’s good, that’s your choice,” Holst replied, his smile frozen on his face.
“No, I meant… Hilda Hilda. It’s not completely the same, and it starts with ‘h’! What do you think, honey?”
Gilear didn’t care. He was incredibly happy in this moment, any name seemed perfect for his daughter. “Hilda Hilda sounds good. Welcome to House Goneril, Hilda Hilda.”
Their tender moment was interrupted by the sound of Holst blowing his nose. Balthus dabbed his eyes with one hand and put his other arm around Holst’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Hubby. You’re going to love her as much as you love Hilda, I know it.”
~
One Week Later
~
The whole village celebrated the birth of Hilda Hilda Goneril with a week-long festival. The culmination of the festival involved an unveiling of a special dedication to the new baby. Hilda and Gilear brought Hilda Hilda out to the front of the castle to present her to the people. Holst grinned like a kid in a candy story as he took Hilda Hilda from her parents’ arms and held her up for all to see. Those gathered in front of the castle expressed their excitement.
“We did it!” Balthus cheered.
“Hey! I did it!” Hilda snapped.
After handing the child back to Hilda, Holst stepped forward and pulled the curtains off two street signs. “My dear sister, brother, husband, and niece: I present our dedication to Hilda Hilda. From now on, Fódlan’s Locket will stand at the corners of Hilda Street and Hilda Boulevard, as she is the cornerstone of a new Goneril generation!”
Hilda Hilda looked up at her parents and for the quickest moment, she appeared to give them an incredulous gaze. Frankly, Gilear was inclined to agree, but he kept his mouth shut since Holst was deeply proud of this accomplishment. Before too long, Hilda Hilda became colicky, and they took her insider for a nap.
~
When Hilda was finally alone, she walked around her room carrying Hilda Hilda in her arms, attempting to calm her down. Hilda knew she was going to have to take her to get tested for a Crest, as was tradition in Fódlan. Often, the discovery of a Crest in children laid out a path to leadership and a spot at the Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy for them. Hilda herself had attended the academy because of her own Crest.
Hilda wanted her daughter to create her own destiny without the structure of expectations. If she could pass as a delicate flower – which she was, obviously – yet still clear through entire platoons of soldiers while wielding Freikugel, then Hilda Hilda might be able to do as she pleases with her life.
Her baby reached up to put her hand on her mother’s cheek. Hilda felt her fears slowly drift away staring into her eyes, and Hilda Hilda began to calm down as Hilda walked her out to the balcony. “Oh, Hilda Hilda. You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.”