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Dorothea had a million reasons not to come here, and she knew it.
It was foolish, really, to come here. She knew exactly what she was getting into — only one person would slip a note under her door. Only one person slanted their letters and crossed their ‘t’s in the manner of that ‘secret’ messenger. And who else would ask to meet at this time of night, in this place, to talk about an undisclosed topic?
Yet as the moon dripped the faintest touch of silver light onto the grass carpet of Gronder Field, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around. No silhouette graced the stone platform that lay in the middle of the clearing yet. There was still time to change her mind if she decided as such.
The raised surface was easy to climb, its steps smooth and sturdy if slightly uneven; time and wear had done it few favors. When she reached the top, she took a deep breath, shivering as the chilly midnight air filled her lungs.
She could still remember the first time she’d seen this place, during the mock battle so many months ago. She’d stood in this exact spot, watching Edie fight out of the corner of her eye as the enemy swarmed around her. Her classmate was as natural of a fighter as she was a leader, moving effortlessly about the field as if the battle were nothing but an intricate, well-rehearsed dance. Edie would have made a good performer; Dorothea was sure of it. If only she hadn’t turned out to be such a traitor.
Maybe she should’ve left by now, or maybe she shouldn’t have come in the first place. Countless times, she’d told herself that this was a horrible idea, that she might end up killed or caught and questioned. She wasn’t sure which was worse. Either way, she wasn’t running low on excuses.
But as the faintest flickers of movement appeared in the trees surrounding the clearing, she didn’t move a muscle. Flashes of memories upon memories flooded her mind. Edie was everywhere — smiling warmly at her from across the classroom; attempting not to laugh at a horrible joke Professor Byleth had made during a training session; curled up in Dorothea’s arms, fast asleep but still with a faint, contented smile on her face.
She was approaching, the grass swishing and rustling as it parted in her wake. And oh , though Dorothea could barely see her outline in the crushing darkness, already her heart leapt up into her throat as if it had grown wings. Edie was here — her Edie was here — and all at once, the chilly night was ever so slightly more welcoming. Despite her attempts to stop it, a grin crept onto her face for a moment. She forced herself to shove it deep down inside of her, as far as it would go, and replace it with a blank stare.
This was what she was used to, after all: swapping her emotions with false ones, wrapping her face and voice with something new in order to be something other than herself. She was a performer at heart. It was what had led her to her life on the stage. But to employ the skill for use on someone she had once thought she could trust with her life… she’d never thought such a thing would ever happen.
As the figure approached, the feather-light glee rising in Dorothea’s chest faded and was replaced with a weight like a brick that sank down to her stomach. She knew at once that this wasn’t the beloved Edie that she’d fallen in love with over dozens of hours locked in each other’s embraces in the dead of night. This woman held herself differently, taller and stiffer than usual, as if she was used to being above others. It was a new level of confidence, as well as an unmistakable declaration of her status that left a bad taste in her mouth. This, more than the grand armor and the way she’d pinned her hair instead of letting it fall loosely down her shoulders, spoke of change beyond comprehension.
The figure, however, had no such problem. From the moment they were close enough to make out each others’ features, her placid, almost bored expression was exchanged for a smile. Her voice, as soft and loving as it had been during their many late-night meetings at the monastery, carried across the remaining stretch of field and straight into the lump that was slowly beginning to form in Dorothea’s throat.
“Thea…”
“Emperor Edelgard.” The title felt clumsy and unnatural, like the vocal equivalent of attempting to wear too-heavy armor. Only slightly better was her former lover’s full name, a word she hadn’t uttered since they’d met. She bit the inside of her cheek hard, not unclamping her jaws even when the coppery taste of blood coated her tongue. Her face transformed into a blank mask, as unreadable as she could manage to make it.
By the way Edelgard’s face fell as she ascended the platform, Dorothea knew her choice of words hadn’t gone unnoticed. It was for the better, most likely, to create that distance. Even so, it was impossible to miss the thick layer of hurt running through her voice. “Formalities aren’t necessary, are they? Edie will do fine.”
“No, it won’t.” For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed the bitterness she’d stored away for so long to rise to the surface. The ideal of Edie was long gone. Edie was someone who loved her and who would never abandon her; Edie was kind and caring; Edie was the warmth on her lips and soft hair pressed against her skin. Edie was not this disloyal excuse for an emperor. This woman was a complete stranger. “You lost the right to be called that when you attacked my home.”
Edelgard’s face contorted into an expression that was somewhere between pleading and devastated. “Thea-”
“Don’t call me that.” It was easier now, to deny her. In her mind’s eye, blood ran down the steps of Garreg Mach monastery. Professor Byleth vanished, never to be seen again. Far, far too many innocents slumped on the stone floor, their life force flowing steadily out of them. Edelgard was at the center of it all. “You made your choice.” Despite her best efforts to stay stoic, her voice broke for a moment as she added, “You chose your ambitions over me.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
The response was uncharacteristically loud, so much so that Dorothea had to glance nervously in the direction of the monastery. Realistically, no voice would carry that far from here, but she couldn’t help but check. She couldn’t be too careful while conversing with an enemy of the church.
Something closed tightly around her wrist and she automatically yanked her hand back to try and break free from whatever had caught hold of her. A sudden high-pitched yelp of surprise came from Edelgard, and she whipped her head around to look at her. She found the mighty Flame Emperor stumbling forward, one hand still gripping her wrist.
“What the hell?” She blurted out, attempting once more to yank her hand away. It was no use; despite her small stature, the former house leader was incredibly strong. “Let me go!”
Only when Edelgard loosened her grip did she notice that her hand — no, her entire body — was trembling violently. When she spoke, her voice had a similar quality: Shaky, quiet, and laden with emotion. “Please… don’t leave… I never meant to abandon you.”
Dorothea felt her resolve slip dangerously close to failing her completely. She’d never planned on leaving so soon, but how could she even think of ever leaving her alone when even the idea was this painful? This was a different Edelgard, not so fearful of showing weakness as she’d been back at the monastery.
But, of course, she’d known she was different for a long time; that was the problem.
She sucked in a deep breath. “No. You knew what you were doing. Do you have any semblance of an idea how much blood was spilled because of you and your goals? You left it all behind, Edelgard.”
“You don’t know what I’m planning — what this means for Fódlan. I’m going to change it for the better, and that requires sacrifices.” The fierce yet controlled tone of the emperor’s voice fit the situation far too well. She’d once loved that voice for its passion. It had the ability to make every cause seem worthwhile; she could say that it was time to go to the dining hall for a tea party and everyone would follow her command like soldiers off to war. Now, however, its familiarity combined with the subject matter to twist uneasily in her core.
This wasn’t supposed to happen; this voice wasn’t supposed to be saying these things. Her Edie wasn’t this cruel. She wouldn’t think that change was worth taking hundreds of innocent lives. This was an impostor, a trickster. No matter how she looked and sounded, there was simply no way for the girl she had known and loved so dearly to change this much. Those same lavender eyes that had once stared deeply, lovingly, into her own couldn’t now narrow fiercely as their owner spoke of such a bloody plot. Those gentle yet strong hands that tugged her away from danger countless times couldn’t be so bloodstained.
Those hands… they had let go of her wrist. Dorothea examined her arm for marks left from the tight grip, but found none — a small mercy that meant less questions about her whereabouts in the morning. She looked at Edelgard again to find a silk-gloved hand extended in her direction. Unlike the sudden movement from before, this was a question.
“Come with me, Thea. We can rule over Fódlan together. Under my rule, no one’s status will be determined by their bloodline or crests. We can create a system that benefits everyone. ” There was that pleading tone in her voice again. It seemed genuine, but then again, so had the promises that she had woven long ago — promises that Dorothea would never feel helpless or alone in this world again. “I know how you feel about the current state of things. Our opinions aren’t so different.”
Dorothea had been preparing to tell her why this was all wrong and maybe even manage to change her mind. But her words ran dry and all the sympathy she may have felt for her former lover left her at once. She knew all too well what Edelgard was attempting to get at, and she didn’t like it in the slightest. When she finally spoke, her words flowed harshly, fiercely, like water from a geyser. “Don’t try to compare me to you. We aren’t the same and you know it. Harboring bitterness isn’t the same as killing hundreds of people, Edelgard!”
“I never said that, you’re putting words in my mouth-”
“But you meant it.”
There was no way to argue against it; the comparison had been made. What does one do when the love of their life asks them to join an army attempting to topple the only religious system they’ve ever known in the bloodiest way possible, at the same time implying that their bad feelings towards the aforementioned religion meant they shared the same bloodlust?
Part of her lay in wait for another protest, or the moment when Edelgard finally made it make sense somehow. Maybe they could call off the war and retreat to a calmer life free of all of this mayhem.
But the moment didn’t come. Edelgard stayed silent, hand still an outstretched olive branch. She met Dorothea’s gaze with the same unyielding stubbornness that she remembered from their days at the Officer’s Academy, but her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Her chin no longer tilted up as far as before, leaving her to cast her eyes upwards instead.
For just a moment, her face lit up as Dorothea took her hand. The silk glove sheathing it was smooth and strange-feeling — the texture would have been unfamiliar if she hadn’t held these same gloves covering these same hands half a million times. What was truly unfamiliar was the feeling of gently but firmly pushing it down and back to its owner’s side. Though Edelgard could easily overpower her, she didn’t fight back. Her head tipped down, down, down as she watched her arm fall.
When she looked up again, she somehow seemed even more deflated than before. She didn’t cry, but the way her entire body quaked suggested that she might when she could escape solitude. Her voice shook and broke with the effort it took to keep herself together. “I really did try, you know. To lessen the impact while still achieving my goals, and to have you by my side.”
“You say that a lot.” The emperor stared blankly at her, and she clarified, “That you tried, that it wasn’t meant to be this way… Did you ever think that maybe you should’ve stopped when it looked like you were starting to fuck this all up?”
Edelgard opened her mouth, but Dorothea wasn’t finished speaking. Glimpses of all the lost faces — staff, soldiers, their dear professor — flashed through her mind, one by one. “I know how dedicated you get about things you’re passionate about, but there’s a point where you have to take a minute and realize how fucked up all this is .”
“It’s a means to an end, Dorothea, and I intend to follow through.” Her voice was firmer now, though whether it was from anger, resignation, or an attempt to cover up her disappointment, Dorothea didn’t know. The sudden switch to her full name felt like a slap to the face, and for a moment she considered revoking her decision to call Edelgard in a similar manner.
But no. She couldn’t let herself get attached again. Perhaps this was a test set up by Sothis, intended to guarantee her loyalty over the years of war that would inevitably come. It was despicable, but she knew the path she had to take. “Then you’ll follow through without me.”
She took a step back, then another, startling for a moment when the ground seemed to fall away beneath her feet before she caught her balance and remembered the stone steps. The faint swish of cloth came from the spot she had just occupied, and she was surprised to find Edelgard’s face inches from hers. Her eyes screwed closed for a moment, half expecting the blade of an axe to embed itself in her torso, or some other horrible fate resulting from refusing her offer.
Instead, when she opened them, she was met with that familiar pale stare, eyelashes wet from newly-falling tears. Edelgard’s whisper was thick and gravelly with emotion as she pleaded, “Then… Can we just… kiss one more time? Please?”
The logical part of Dorothea wanted to deny her this. It would be easier for her — for both of them — to simply walk away and forget this conversation and each other. If she gave in, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever stop thinking about this final kiss.
And yet she couldn’t stop herself from drawing closer, until her eyes closed from years of practice with this very action; until her head tilted to the side just enough to keep her nose from slamming into Edelgard’s; until the warm, familiar pressure of lips against hers consumed her. Her arms automatically pulled Edie close to her and for just a moment, the missing piece she’d lost all those months ago was reclaimed. The world was still despite her racing heart, and all was warm and safe and wonderful.
When she finally pulled away, the faint fall chill in the air startled her. Edie had wrapped her arms loosely around her neck, her head lowering to rest against Dorothea’s shoulder. They leaned into one another for a moment, the way they came together naturally so many times before. It seemed there were some habits neither time nor betrayal could break. They always seemed to love the same way.
The gentle embrace ended too quickly, leaving the cold air to work its way into Dorothea’s bones again as she was forced to get used to the sudden, wrong feeling of loneliness once again. With even greater reluctance than before, she stepped backwards once, twice, until her feet found soft grass beneath her instead of stone. It was only then that she turned away. Her pace quickened automatically as worry began to sink its fangs into her again. What if she had been watched? Being seen in as compromising of a position as the one she had just been in was dangerous, and no one would believe her if she denied association with the emperor after that display.
A voice called to her from behind her, its normally stern tone lacking its normal determination.
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
It would’ve been easy, so easy, to turn back to her now. The memory of her kiss was still fresh. Was it not more painless to wallow in the light sting of a cut than to clean it? On the tip of her tongue perched the words to end all of this: I love you too, and I’m sorry.
She stopped, but the words slipped away when she tried to reach for them. As the only other possible response became clear to her, so did her knowledge of what would have to happen here, in this field where they’d fought together an eternity ago. It had all seemed like fun then, nothing more than a play fight between six year olds. When did it all get so real?
But that didn’t matter. The past didn’t matter. All that was left was the present.
“I know.”
It didn’t matter when it happened; it was far too late to indulge a fantasy now. The moment the words left her lips, Dorothea strode into the woods surrounding the edge of Gronder Field, leaving her childhood, this love, and Edie — no, Edelgard — behind.