Archive of Our Own ^beta

The wind gusted relentlessly up at the top of Fódlan’s Locket. The whole day had been like this, their group traveling under a bright sun unimpeded by clouds, wind pulling at ties and clothes and spooking horses. It gave Edelgard a sense of being exposed. 

Entering Leicester territory often did. In all the years that had passed since the war, her reception here had never warmed past a chill. Why would it? She was first and foremost a symbol of the invasion and siege of their capital city. From there she grew into the leading force behind policies that sought to upend the region’s power structures, which were slow to fall but far from impervious.

And then there was Claude von Riegan, the Alliance’s last independent leader. Though he had fled to Almyra after his defeat, he never seemed to be very far away, spending years meddling creatively in his former territory before his influence waned and with it, her opportunities to see him. 

Not to zero, of course. 

Down below, on the grounds on the Fódlan side of the border, the wind tossed the cape and hair of someone instructing a group of archers that were clearly struggling with the unpredictable gusts. Brown hair. Edelgard's gaze lingered. She knew it wasn't him, this captain in vintage Goneril colors weaving stiffly between lines and pausing to adjust stances and grips. She watched anyway. Absently, her mind drifting. 

In the past, she looked forward to seeing him with an ache that she would have been embarrassed to acknowledge. Their arrangement was simple in the sense that it didn’t formally exist. There were no rules, just habits. Like now, and the element of reliability they had grown into. Some might say predictability. Even so, it had been a long time since she’d seen him this far north, and she was beginning to wonder if they’d missed their chance this time.

The weight of politics was always in the room with them, try as they might to avoid it. Some of the memories she had of their past meetings were distasteful because all she could think about was what was going on at the time, the fights she was in, the politics back home. Problems that made her act out in one way or another. 

Other memories had the opposite effect: she couldn’t remember anything that might have been happening outside of their door. She might remember the faces of one or two of the dinner guests she’d excused herself from, or the smudged parchment she may have been holding – him in a hurry, staining his left hand – but anything else may well have been a dream compared to the intensity of the feeling that remained. 

Those were the memories she returned to, that kept her alert when she was in this area. Nevermind how long it might have been. Skin and laughter and time, the general sense of stealing time and using it well. Nevermind how long she’d already been in Leicester this trip without any sign of him. She always returned to this. A glance returned, eyes that saw everything and still said, Come here. And in a voice that said, No questions. That said, I’m done talking now, aren’t you?

Edelgard’s gaze drifted as the instructor below finally turned and she saw a face, featureless from such a distance but still another pebble giving decisive weight to the "not him" side of the scale and allowing her to shift her attention over to the general by her side.

"... last repairs in six weeks, maximum."

Edelgard was silent, sifting through memories of the original outline of the project. Details some might consider beneath her level... perhaps. But being attentive to detail often played in her favor, and all the more when it wasn't expected. The general shifted uncomfortably; likely her silence came across as disapproval. 

But then, they would think what they liked no matter what she did. Each time she went out, Edelgard saw fewer faces that she knew. Most of the time, this meant her policies were working. But it also meant she was unlikely to be given the benefit of the doubt.

Her aide Henrik stepped in. "Is that timeline contingent on anything? Weather? Border activity?" he asked.

The general seemed slightly unsure of who she should be addressing. After taking a breath, she continued to talk to Edelgard.

"No, most of what remains to be done is interior. General defense reinforcement was completed first as our top priority. Although we've seen far fewer skirmishes instigated from the Almyran side over the last year or so… There is some concern they're preparing for a more concentrated attack."

The wind died down briefly, replaced with the faint sound of two dozen arrows hitting their target. What was the point of training in the wind if you didn't shoot in it?

"Fewer skirmishes can't be just that?" Edelgard wondered aloud. "It has to mean something more dire?"

"I plan for the worst case scenario, Your Majesty," the general answered with a slight nod. "I'd prefer to be alive to complain about any wasted preparation. It beats the alternative."

"Mm. You are the expert, of course," Edelgard allowed. "I recognize this is an area in which I have little experience. So I would like to see your reporting around the issue: when the pattern changed and what you think may be behind it." She nodded to her aide to indicate the matter would be followed up upon. The general inclined her head again, her face betraying nothing.

Would the request be seen as an insult, or a good sign? Did they welcome or resent the emperor's interest? It was hard to tell, the former nobles and others with power in this corner of the continent were fickle; most of the time those near the border were more practical but with that came a certain ownership and pride. There was a fine balance to be struck between lending support and stepping on toes.

But details mattered. Sometimes she could spot him, there between the lines. Nothing she’d ever advertise, or even admit. But privately, she thought it gave her an edge. Unique insight. The satisfying thrill of… figuring out a puzzle.

Below, workers were fighting the wind to set up the banquet tent, prompting more memories. How many shared looks stolen across how many crowds? How many dinners abandoned? 

It would be more his style, anyway, to show up just as she stopped looking for him…

“We certainly look forward to seeing the construction tomorrow. Your crews have a reputation for quality and innovation. It’s a pleasure to see such an important example firsthand.” Henrik again, running the show. She must have been acting just as tired as she felt. 

+

Edelgard had an hour to herself to freshen up before joining the population of the fortress for a dinner in her honor. She spent nearly all of it before a standing mirror in the corner of the exterior room they’d procured to be her quarters. Most of her staff was a hallway away, but she liked to be near the outside. Fresh air, easy escape.

She had originally paused to admire the mirror itself: tall and ornately carved, it spilled intricate petals and lush bunches of grapes from each corner. If the frame was novel, the image reflected was the same as always. She was pinned into a familiar form. Clasped. Locked. 

Whatever havoc her dueling crests were wreaking on her insides, on the outside she looked much the same. She stood very still, an expression on her face that brought to mind the word unforgiving. Her glare was a challenge with no one to meet it but her reflection. Imagine burning up from the inside. Imagine being hollowed out, maintaining a thin shell until a bare touch sent all that ash crumbling down. 

Not now. Now, you could take a hammer and chisel and good luck to you. Now her skin looked frozen as in a portrait, except she knew how it would pull with the press of a calloused thumb at the top of her cheek. It could bruise and blush. It would betray her with goosebumps. Fatigue, when it came, was still fleeting. It was the heat that remained.

The more she looked at the mirror, the less she looked at the room's lone window, empty and black in the night. It wasn’t realistic to imagine someone climbing in, but the suggestion flitted like a ghost in her periphery anyway. By the time a knock came at her door, she received it with relief.

+

Halfway through the third course Edelgard found her dwindling attention drawn more and more to her wine glass, while her surroundings faded into the background. If the half-moon night outside was heavy with stars, inside the tent the air practically sagged. Magicked lights filled every corner in an impressive display of coordination. The effect was pretty, but it gave a slight charge to the air that was further dragged down by the heat of two hundred bodies, steaming plates, and a constellation of staff doing their best to work up a sweat.

“Kitchen’s understaffed,” Henrik commented in a low voice from his spot at her left, eying critically the criminally overdone piece of steak he’d just cut into. “Or, someone’s not doing their job.”

“We’ve had far worse,” Edelgard replied boredly, her voice barely louder than the amicable clinking of silverware all around them. The wine was good. The food was fine. The atmosphere was at turns bizarre and painfully mundane. Probably it was all normal, and she was the one who couldn’t make up her mind.

All off-duty troops and staff had been invited and encouraged to attend. Her own significant guard seemed to be mingling fine. They, like a good portion of the fortress’s current denizens, hailed from all corners of Fódlan, part of programs her administration had started in order to increase movement between regions. Plenty were bound to be new hires. Mistakes could be expected.

Like the mage on the far side of the tent, the one who was presumably responsible for setting up the lights and keeping them running – he was slouched, eyes drifting shut from time to time as if he was having trouble staying awake. Would they have any redundancy in place to allow him to take a break? Meanwhile, confusion was apparent by the kitchen entrance, where new plates had begun to come out before the previous round was cleared. 

Edelgard had privately thought the chaos convenient, at first. This was the kind of busyness that made it easy to get away with being a little distracted, with not listening a few too many times, with slipping out early. 

She still found it amusing, and far better entertainment than her dining companions. But the element of fun shrank as time passed without any hint of him. What replaced it was disappointment that in itself made her irritable. The minutes ticked by more slowly, she felt more acutely her tiredness from the long day of travel and being in public. She felt homesick. She felt the blur of days, the way the details of life got sanded down. 

She felt that more and more. She wasn’t losing her touch; it was something she had asked for. Planned for. They’d all agreed: Ferdinand, Hubert, Bernadetta and the rest of those who’d been there from the beginning and who had stayed. Put me out of a job. Replace me with something better. 

For awhile there was so much work to be done, it was hard to imagine her wish becoming reality. But then the first of their changes took hold, and they started to get more ambitious. Things picked up momentum. And now here she was, not on the field, not writing or debating policy, not even meeting with much of anyone except the merchants who had bribed their way to her table. On a tour. Showing up with her face, her fame and her ax. The Last Emperor.

It wasn’t her favorite feeling. She was looking forward to replacing it with another. She wasn’t going to say he always made her feel good, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he always made her feel something.

Nothing wrong with that.

Edelgard reached absently for her glass and found her elbow held fast at the same time that a familiar voice said Excuse me – this way, Your Majesty near her ear. She allowed herself to be led away, looking straight ahead with as blank a face as she could manage, biting back a smile by sheer force of will. 

Above, lights flickered and wavered oddly. Then, as they neared one of the tent’s three main entrances all of the lights inside went out at once, eliciting a murmur that swelled and pressed around her. Edelgard kept her gaze fixed on where she knew the exit to be, reminding herself it was close, but tensing up anyway. 

Outside was better, scattered torches threw pools of light with borders that expanded and contracted in a soft breeze. They stopped at the edge of one of these and Edelgard turned from the entrance to Claude, who kept his hold on her, her elbow an anchor, his back to her and his attention elsewhere and everywhere. But after a moment – and without any word – he parted from her and jogged around the side of the tent and out of sight.

Edelgard watched him go, her ears hot from precisely two and one-half generous glasses of red wine. It had been awhile since she’d been rescued. She wouldn’t complain… unless complaining became convenient. 

How long, exactly, since she’d seen him last? Suddenly it was hard to remember. Was he dressed like the staff? Why? Surely things hadn’t gotten so dire. 

She stood primly, waiting for him to return. All of her prior apprehension was instantly extinguished, forgotten, forgiven. She smiled now, slowly, in anticipation.

Momentarily she turned back to the entrance, where a steady stream of diners was exiting in annoyance, disoriented by the interruption. One pair apologized with horror as in their distraction they almost bumped into her; a second later a dark-haired woman took a step toward her, looking puzzled, but then turned away and wandered off to follow another group. 

There was distant cursing, then a heavy taste in the air and the lights came back to life, slowly but surely reversing the flow of people. Claude returned a moment later, still looking over his shoulder. He slowed to a stop a couple feet from her with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face.

Handsome face.

Belatedly, Edelgard remembered she was smiling.

“Nothing,” he was saying, eyes flicking back the way he’d come. “I mean, nothing I could find.”

“Hello to you, too.”

Claude blinked and the subtle changes in his expression made her feel like he were seeing her for the first time. She knew how she looked, she didn’t have to wonder. She knew he liked it. Seeing how she was put together. Figuring out the best way to take her apart.

“Hi.”

Edelgard shifted under his gaze and crossed her arms. “All this just to get me alone? No need to be so elaborate. You could have just asked.”

“I was planning on it.” That sheepish look again, or – what did they say? Wolf in sheep’s clothing? “But… things started getting strange.”

Tell me what else you were planning, Edelgard thought. She licked her lips. “Care to elaborate?”

He gave her a look that said, No, Not Really. And he said: “Maybe later.”

Edelgard could feel her smile peeking out again, almost a sneer. “Later,” she said, as if considering it, and gave him a lazily up-and-down look that made him laugh. “Well.” She struggled for words. Thank you? Sorry, what’s going on? Hope I don’t have to repay the favor? Is it still considered a favor if nothing happened? 

“Well. If it wasn’t some elaborate plan, then why are you wearing this costume?” With a pointed gesture at his white linen shirt and forest green vest and pants, which indeed matched the general uniform of the kitchen staff serving the event. 

"This?” He smoothed his vest down. “You know, I really don’t mind it. It's rather practical.”

“And how long were you in there? I didn't see you.”

“Heh. You know people tend to see what they want to see. Look at this." He slid a pair of slender wire-rimmed glasses from a vest pocket and put them on carefully. Between these and long, blocky sideburns, his face was a bit different – needing a second look, maybe.

"Pretty good, huh? They're from Ignatz. I can't see a thing." To prove his point he pulled an exaggerated frown and held his hands out in front of him, searching for her with graceless sweeping motions until his palm collided with her collarbone. Long fingers pressed at her shoulder blade and swept gently up the back of her neck. He took the glasses off and grinned, again focusing on her, and dropped his hand back to his side. Edelgard raised an eyebrow. 

"Your hair's different."

Her eyebrow inched higher. "It's not."

She resisted the urge to touch the familiar style, the pins and the hairs at her nape that still tingled, her resolve hardening when she caught the teasing edge of his answering smile. His gaze wandered lazily over her face and her mouth began to feel dry.

"What else is different?"

Sandpaper tongue. Rug pulled out from under her voice; almost a whisper:

"Nothing."

He held her gaze, drawing the silence out and using it to look at her again in his leisurely way. 

I’ll prove it, Edelgard thought. Just try me. But in that moment movement sparked in the corner of Edelgard’s eye in the form of Henrik appearing at the door, looking for her. 

It startled her into action. 

“Thank you,” she said loudly in Claude’s general direction, returning to her aide. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She accompanied Henrik back to her seat in silence. He had been with her long enough to know how she felt about being in dark, enclosed spaces. She wouldn’t have to make excuses. The fact that she was on the move before the lights even went out went unnoticed. 

The conversation around her had moved on in her absence, and she wasn’t feeling keen on diving back in. Several men were talking about an upcoming trade forum that was to be held by Edmunds, the former noble who’d lost his title while managing to cling to most of his wealth. 

While she listened, she watched across the tent where Claude was held up at the kitchen entrance, forced to balance an increasingly precarious tower of dishes while he tried in vain to extricate himself. He looked ill, and Edelgard had to look away to keep from laughing out loud.

Her attention returned to her table just as a merchant who had introduced himself as Timothslee made an explicit connection between the summer forum and her own tariffs. She was well aware of their unpopularity in these parts, but the intensity of concentration from the rest of the group told her they had been waiting for this moment. Edelgard eyed them, listening and hiding a smile. Finally some action.

“We hear nothing but talk of strength and solidarity, but in reality the benefits go only to those who already had their hands on the resources in the south and the northwest,” Timothslee said, his voice growing in volume as he noticed his audience. “What about us? We’re being flooded with Adrestian goods. Enough already.”

“Edmunds flouts your policies, and others will copy him. What good is a policy like that if– ”

Edelgard pushed her wine glass away and finally spoke up. “He flouts it, does he? How is that?”

The second man, Gavin was his name, looked uncomfortable. “I only mean that he operates at such volumes that it is as if they do not exist. And so they may as well not.”

“If that were really the case, he wouldn’t have much reason to complain,” Henrik muttered from her side.

“Indeed,” Edelgard said, her voice taking on a patient tone, “Mr. Edmunds pays my tariffs and at the same time continues to expand his business. This money is distributed to various programs across the continent, through our officers. In going against the spirit of the law, Edmunds plays by the letter and helps improve his nation. He runs a profit while doing so. The law is not ‘keep Edmunds from making money’. Or anyone, for that matter.” 

That was a different law, one she hadn’t yet signed into action.

“I understand you want an advantage,” Edelgard continued, standing. “I suppose it’s natural. But in Fódlan, under my reign, we help each other first. All of our neighbors. And when we face the outside, it will be under a united front, not behind the cloaks of those few merchants who got in early. Good night.”

Edmunds and his cronies would cry real tears when her quotas were announced. Let them feel a little pinch before they all went back to the negotiating table. She needed their capital and talents focused inward. And they, apparently, needed further motivation.

These thoughts drifted from her mind as she scaled the stairs back to her quarters.

"I’ll look after myself tonight. Thank you."

She released her attendant with one hand on the door, fingertips on wood and brass fixtures as though she would be able to sense through touch that something was different inside. Not just another unfamiliar bed to spend a long, lonely night. Maybe the feelings would drain into the woodgrain from her fingertips, the detached disdain that bloomed from weeks of being tolerated, her presence casting silence on every nearby conversation.

Good. Let her be empty. Let her feel whatever it was that he felt when he looked at her. A reflection, but one that penetrated.

Edelgard closed her chamber door quietly and slid the lock into place as Claude stepped out from behind the mirror in the corner. The room was stuffed with temporary creature comforts; there was the mirror, a bed that was practically more pillows than mattress, and the rug under it was plush and new. Such a display tucked inside the otherwise stark fortress made her feel a little silly, but it wasn't really about her, and anyway she barely got to use it.

On a marble-topped side table next to an armchair lay a burnished tray holding crusty country bread, a quarter rind of cheese, and a bunch of perfectly sugared grapes that managed a delicate twinkle in the candlelight.

Claude made his way there as she turned and leaned back against the door, watching as he produced a small vial and tipped a few drops of colorless liquid from it into the large ceramic water pitcher near her bed. He took a handful of grapes and chewed them thoughtfully as he peered into the pitcher to see what would happen.

"Should I be worried?" Edelgard asked, crossing her arms.

He was concentrating, and didn't look her in the eye. "Did they tell you the lights cut out because their utility mage fell asleep? Yeah. But he didn't fall asleep, he passed out. I saw it all… It was something he drank, I’m sure of it. I found residue on his cup. And then there was some scuffling when the lights went out, although that may have been a coincidence… did you know there was a door right behind where you were sitting? An unsecured flap?”

“I prefer it that way,” Edelgard shrugged. “You know the value of an easy exit.”

“Some say exit. Others say entrance,” Claude said. “I thought someone might have gone in when the lights went out but… well, I don’t know. I didn’t see anything. Maybe they changed their plans when they realized you weren't there. But that doesn't mean they've given up."

"Changed their plans,” Edelgard repeated. The plan being, to get to her in some way. And probably not to hand-deliver a thank you card. Who were “they”? It could be anyone. It didn't really matter. She let the words stand on their own a moment before adding, “That's quite the claim. How sure are you?"

Claude glanced back over his shoulder and shrugged a little.

"I've been called paranoid," he said casually, dusting sugar-coated fingers on the opposite sleeve and moving to pour some of the water into a glass, which he then held up to the closest light. He seemed satisfied with the results, and at the same time almost disappointed. He returned the water to the pitcher and made his way to the armchair, snagging a piece of bread and another small branch of grapes on the way.

Edelgard straightened from the door and began to unclasp the line of hooks running up her back, one by one. He had come to meet her but she still felt almost as if she were chasing him. He kept to the edges of the room, constantly in motion with a string of distractions. Nevermind if they were legitimate. He was only looking at her through sideways glances and now the reflection of the mirror. Probably struggling to keep his thoughts there in the room with him. Edelgard wished he would. 

She watched him smush together a crude sort of grape sandwich. 

"What, did you miss dinner?"

"Busy working," he grinned, settling back in the chair as though he’d just noticed her undressing and was ready to take notes. Then, as though it didn’t affect him after all, he held up a silvery grape. "How do you think they do this?"

"Egg white," Edelgard answered, letting a long, low breath out as her dress loosened its hold on her ribcage.

Poison, stabbing, ambush, arrow. Something about his nervousness invited all sorts of gruesome images into the room. She would have to tell Hubert, of course. Assuming she survived that long. A bad joke, but assassination attempts had long ago lost any sense of novelty. Even if this were a real one, she had a hard time getting worked up about it. She had her guard. Her own instincts, her own ax. And maintaining a normal front was important. 

Plus… she had better things to do, and by now she felt she’d waited long enough. 

As soon as the angle got awkward she moved over to him, presenting the last hooks at her upper back and beginning instead to work on her hair, unwinding the updo into a long ponytail that fell over her shoulder. He removed his gloves and made quick, silent work of the last of the clasps, his fingers brushing only faintly over her skin, holding back to allow her to be the one to shrug off the material so it pooled at her waist as she sat on his thigh and sighed. He circled an arm around her hip, making a show of studying the starched fabric of her gown. It was patchy, this forced attempt at nonchalance. 

"You'd think they'd have picked an easier target," she said, resting an arm on his shoulder. “I mean, the choice of location is surprising.” He cleared his throat a little, but didn't respond, didn't adjust his gaze. She rested one hand on his shoulder and with the other touched lightly at his jaw.

"You know, I pay a lot of people to worry about me," she said.

"Maybe it's time for a performance review," he muttered, finally looking up, and cleared his throat again.

“They would have intervened–”

“In time?” Edelgard pursed her lips. No denying that he got there first. “Guess we’ll never know,” he said, gaze steady on her now, his fingers caressing the bare skin at her waist.

She touched the corner of his mouth and traced her thumb lightly over the fullness of his lower lip. She would pause at the center, mark it as the first spot to kiss when he finally stopped holding his breath. But something make her stop short with a frown. His pupils were like pinpoints, almost lost in the deep brown of his irises. And his lip – his lips – that wasn't fullness she felt, they were swollen, and reddening.

"Claude," she said loudly, going to stand, but for a moment he held her down, looking confused. Then his next breath wheezed audibly and he pushed her off in a near panic, scrambling for his pockets. For her part, Edelgard leapt for her bed, where she always fixed a stash of antidote under the mattress.

The tangle of her dress twisted around her legs like a vise, tripping her to the floor. Edelgard grunted and crawled forward, stretching to grasp the bottle. Once she tugged it free it fell harmlessly to the thick rug under the bed and then she had it in hand, rolling over on her back and holding it up triumphantly. 

Claude was bent over on the floor, almost on all fours, clumsily sorting between a few glass vials he’d pulled from somewhere. He nudged one toward her and it rolled across the stone with ominous tinkling noises. Edelgard kicked her dress off and snatched it up with a frown.

“Of course you have your own… What?” He was pointing to an eye. “Yes, I see it.” He pointed again, violently. “What? You always think it’s organic over magic. Just take both. Does it matter which comes first?” He made a grab for her wrist. “Ok, this one. Open wide.” He shook his head and attempted to hold an eye open with shaking fingers. Edelgard blinked rapidly. “Oh…” And quickly took action to push him back against the chair, straddling him and tipping his head back onto the seat. 

He wasn’t breathing at all anymore, one hand curled into a fist, eyes wide, the other hand worming up in a poor attempt to assist. “Sorry,” Edelgard muttered through gritted teeth when after her second time pushing his hand away she pinned it to the ground under an unforgiving knee. She held one eye open, pressing hard on his face to fix his head to the cushion and pulled the tiny cork stopper from the vial with her teeth. The whites of his eyes were shot through with a red so dark it was almost black.

“You’re okay,” she said in a clear, firm voice that few would consider comforting. “Focus on me.” 

One drop hit home and he jerked as if burned. Edelgard eyed the amount of liquid left in the vial and tipped it down again, her grip pure iron. A muffled, agonized sound escaped his throat and at last the crest of Riegan manifested, purging his eyes of the strange color and allowing breath to escape his swollen throat. 

Edelgard let out a breath of her own and went to lean back but he caught her arm and lolled his head to the side, presenting his other eye while the first leaked copious tears.

“Sorry,” he rasped. 

Edelgard bit her tongue against any comment and moved her hand to cover his mouth firmly, dropping the rest of the liquid into his other eye in one smooth movement and looking down and away while he squirmed under her. 

He sat up, letting his eyes run, his mouth slightly open, recovering. Edelgard extricated herself slowly, pressing her own forgotten antidote into his hand.

An insistent knock came from the thick door, accompanied by a muffled Your Majesty?

Edelgard shot a look first at Claude, then pointedly at the antidote. He nodded in a dazed way and pulled himself a few feet to the side and out of sight. She shrugged on a heavy housecoat and opened the door a crack.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, but I heard—"

"I almost knocked over a pitcher," Edelgard interrupted with an apologetic smile. "Diving to save it was a clumsy affair but it would have been a shame to break it. Thank you."

The guard nodded and she closed the door and again latched it.

"Now, what's the point of being Emperor if you can't be honest about your extracurricular activities?" Claude wondered from his spot sitting, legs sprawled, on the floor against the armchair, his voice low and rough between slow, wincing breaths. She crossed to him and sat on the floor by his knee, hugging her own up to her chest.

He gave his voice an annoyingly affected accent: "Excuse me, I am busy with my young,—" Edelgard snorted, he ignored it "—acrobatic companion, please come back later, and when you do, bring water and a spare towel because I will be," he coughed a few times, paused, pressed a hand to his heart and finally finished, his voice cracking, "so very worn out."

"Mm... You're right, I'll have to try that one the next time I'm with one of my young, acrobatic companions," she said, earning a flicker of a smile in response.

They sat in silence, her eyes tracing the grout between the floor stones, his resting on her.

"It probably wouldn't hurt to be a little worried," he said after a minute.

"Your voice sounds better," Edelgard commented. The idea of being worried was exhausting in itself, and she found herself pushing down annoyance at him for even mentioning it.  

"For example," he continued, "it wouldn't hurt to put a little distance between yourself and this so-called stronghold."

Edelgard frowned at the floor. "My visit is scheduled for two more full days. I'm not going anywhere." Just be happy you were right, she thought, unfairly. She didn’t need his interference, or his unfamiliar concern, beyond that. 

"Oh, good, plenty more chances then. If I were after you right now I would say thank you so much for spreading this beautiful array of opportunity before me."

Edelgard raised her eyes and then her voice, mockingly. "What an intriguing thought! Tell me more about what you would do, if you were after me. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear you have it all figured out."

"Don't change the subject."

More silence.

"I don't want to leave, I made a commit—"

"You're the Emperor, you don’t have to care what anyone thinks. They'll probably be glad to see you gone."

At this her gaze sharpened noticeably, but he didn't budge. His face, his voice, were flat, even a little mean.

"I don't want to leave," she repeated, slowly, as if it were a question of comprehension. "Plenty more opportunities for them to attack me also means more opportunities for them to be caught. Whoever they are, whoever or whatever they represent."

"Is that how Hubert would play this?"

She didn't answer that, nor did she look away.

"What if it's someone in my retinue? Then leaving wouldn't change a thing except to bring me further from people I trust."

Something she could manage just fine without going anywhere. 

Like now. Like the stubborn six or eight inches of empty space between their knees. The last five minutes might as well have been a dream: what else could change everything and nothing at the same time? 

Like noticing how much time had passed, all the time you were and weren’t watching somehow adding up to something greater and more terrible than the sum of its parts.

Like waking up in a rowboat to discover you've drifted just out of reach of the dock and you have no idea how to get back to shore. You stretch, she thought. You don't panic and you don't just let it happen. You stretch out as far as you can and you hold your balance and if you can just get one fingertip to touch...

He looked away first, that muscle on the side of his throat twitching like it often did when he was holding something back.

He was moving but he wasn't moving any closer. His lips were still a little puffy, a little off. Even if she wanted him to kiss her, and she wasn't sure she did, he wouldn't; he'd be too worried about what might be lingering on his tongue. Not poisoned words, not this time, this time the real thing. There was something ironic there, but creeping exhaustion prevented her from completing the thought. 

Claude stood and offered two hands to pull her up and, to her surprise, straight into an embrace.

She fit her forehead in the crook of his neck because, she told herself, she was tired. Or because it was impossible not to reciprocate in some way, when you felt someone reaching for you. Stay, she thought with deliberate but silent clarity.

"You know I'd stay if I could," he murmured into her hair, "but I'd only keep you awake." And not in a fun way. She could feel his pulse, wild with the extra burst of energy his crest would have produced. He'd be lucky to get any sleep at all. She knew. She'd been there.

Again she found herself extricating herself, pulling away before limbs got too tangled, before anything could settle. She felt suddenly embarrassed by her silent plea; the naked concern showing through his body made her feel too strange.  

“You’ll stay, though,” she said, perfectly hugging the line between statement and question. “Here.”

“If you’re not leaving, I’m not leaving,” he said. “Too curious. Gotta check out the competition.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t some puzzle I’ve arranged for you, I–”

“Talk to your guard,” he said with an edge of annoyance. “Heighten your security, but quietly. Whoever is behind this will likely assume you just didn’t eat anything, and they’ll try again. Maybe we can catch them – and I’d prefer to do it without anyone getting hurt.”

“And you?”

“I’ll do my own investigation. You pay attention. Look for anyone suspicious, anyone who always seems to be nearby, whether or not they have a clear purpose. People who are too distracted, or too focused…”

She could think of one person who fit the description, but she wasn’t going to make the joke a second time.

“Be suspicious of everyone. I get it,” she sighed. “Alright. Enough. Enough excitement for one night.”

His goodbye was a crooked smile, and a moment of hesitation at the window. "Do you think the bread's okay? I'm still really hungry... no, never mind. Good night."

Edelgard closed the window after him and after a second of indecision, locked it. Exhaustion was making her bones feel molten and she sank into the bed with a sense of relief so deep as to feel otherworldly. 

She had been Emperor for well over a decade now, approaching two. She had been on this stage in wartime and supposed peace, in hostile territory and through several rounds of routing an ancient enemy. Once she'd told Hubert she would feel more concerned if people weren't out trying to kill her. He hadn't found it funny.

Maybe she was wrong to be so calm, considering the circumstances. But the thing was, when something came at you, you could face it. Take it down on your terms. And she wasn’t alone. This was the thought that held fast as sleep closed around her. No question, no analysis, no judgment, just the fact of him there. Her there. A problem they could agree on and share, simple in its immediacy. It was easy to limit her thoughts to the next day, and relish the certainty of seeing him again. 

+

People see what they want to see.

Is that why Edelgard spotted him immediately the next day? But no, she'd been looking for him before, hadn't she? It's that this time, he was looking back. Squinting into the sun that was just beginning its descent at her back, a polite half-smile plastered on his face. He was carrying a clipboard and papers, pretending – she assumed pretending – to take notes. Too busy to talk to anyone. Not too busy to catch her eye from time to time, his face inscrutable. 

She saw where the land had been regraded to prevent standing water. She was shown how foundations were shored up, where stonework had been replaced and strengthened. Brass fixtures gleamed on new doors. Mortar was patched and solid. It was a neat job, long in the making, and the workers touring them around seemed proud. 

Claude wasn’t part of the tour but started within view, then made his way to the outskirts, and finally blended in as part of the overall party, plenty of others coming and going as small projects continued around them. Messages ferried back and forth, calculations and notes made, inventories checked and recorded. He had a natural sense of ease and authority that helped him blend in, Edelgard figured, trying not to look at him too frequently, which became increasingly difficult as he wandered closer and closer. How was it that no one else seemed to notice him?

If they did, it wasn’t in the sort of capacity she would ever expect. Like this: a foreman jabbed at different spots on a thick sheaf of blueprints, explaining to her how they had improved upon old designs. When he finished making his points he looked around with the papers held out expectantly, and found Claude’s obliging hand. Claude accepted the stack wordlessly, glancing over them a moment before turning away to tuck them in his jacket. 

Edelgard eyed him sharply but her attention was called away by the next stop on their tour, and it was another hour before she found herself by his side as she trailed behind her group, examining in greater detail a section of decorative stonework. 

“Seen anything interesting?” he asked quietly. “Not that all this isn’t fascinating in itself…”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s been most educational for you,” she said dryly. He only grinned cheekily.

The busyness of the day was waning around them as the shadows grew longer. Edelgard enjoyed being in the thick of the action, hearing the crews shout to each other, the odd scrap of laughter and the common scrape of stone on stone. Hammers falling, curses flying, dust thick in the air. 

A few pebbles and small chunks of broken stone bounced merrily down around their feet.

“I didn’t think this area was still on the to-do list,” Edelgard remarked, squinting up the wall the debris had rolled down and removing some from her hair at the same time. 

After, she couldn’t be sure if time had slowed or if she had somehow managed to teleport, as improbable as it was. She had no memory of moving. One moment they were by the wall, and the next they were six feet away, a pile of rubble where they’d be standing, panicked shouting filling the air. Her grip on Claude’s arm was tight enough to bruise, and trembling. 

They exchanged one look, his face gray. Not an accident, then. Quickly, Edelgard stepped back and out of the growing cloud of dust, while Claude used it to slip away and presumably make his way to the top of the wall, where a wheelbarrow lay tipped, its side wall split with clean, straight cuts.

Her party rushed back to her side and followed her gaze. The staff looked stricken, and bewildered.

“Mistakes are more likely to be made at the end of a long day,” Edelgard said matter-of-factly. “I hope you are providing your workers adequate breaks. Now, shall we continue?”

+

One day gone. Edelgard waited outside her quarters as they were searched before her entry. One guard would stay just outside the door, closer than before. When she was finally allowed in she sat at the edge of the bed, thinking, until a series of soft clicks from a low bookcase in the corner brought her back to her feet.

The bookcase swung open and Claude tumbled out with a disgusted look on his face, cobwebs plastered over his hair, forming a dusty gray wig.

“Before you ask, no, I don’t think anyone else knows about that passage anymore,” he said, allowing her to help get the webs off. “I saw a rat in there the size of a small dog. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And you…?”

“Unlocked it last night so I could get back in. You know, they haven’t looked very deeply into those blueprints they’re always waving about. I’m disappointed. The Alliance used to have certain standards when it came to this sort of thing.”

Edelgard opened her mouth to reply, but he was already moving on.

“Anyway – let's go.”

“I told you, I–”

“Just for an hour or two. We’re coming back. I just want to shake up your routine. So far, everything that's happened has coincided with one of your official events. I can't tell if you're being followed or if it was all planned in advance against your schedule. I scouted this place out earlier – let's go and see if we can draw them out.”

“And if we can’t?”

Claude shrugged. “Then you will have wasted your evening on a beautiful walk in the forest with me.”

Edelgard allowed a small smile. There were worse things. 

Claude led them through empty kitchens, through a maintenance door and out into the mild night. It didn’t take long to be swallowed up into the forest, the torches and magicked lights of the fortress quickly fading and being replaced by moonlight and the steady sound of their footsteps on damp leaves.

They started on a narrow path but quickly left it behind, Claude navigating with a surety she decided against questioning. Despite his confidence she kept catching him looking back, eying her, reaching out to help her around the terrain even when there was no need. Another time, she might have found it sweet. Now it just made her suspicious, not of his motives but of his general state of being. What was he so worried about? It couldn’t just be her wellbeing. She wasn’t that old, was she? That fragile? Did he understand what a triumph it was that she had survived this long? He must not, not really, otherwise he wouldn’t be taking all of this so seriously.

After ten minutes of walking they began to stop from time to time so that Claude could set up a series of some sort of wire-based contraptions at foot level between trees. She conjured lights to help him see, stealing glances at him in his distraction, still trying to figure out what his concern was supposed to mean.  

Eventually she couldn’t take it, and when he paused to point out a root underfoot, said,  “You know, I was serious last night. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Claude looked up, and briefly she wondered if her exasperation had injured him. Or had it just surprised him? “Worry,” he repeated uncomfortably, mulling over the word. He didn’t agree, or didn't want her to think he did. With the phrasing or with the sentiment? But his sensitivity to her own supposed vulnerability only exposed his own. 

“No, you’re locked up tight.”

They walked in silence, Edelgard thinking of all the things she’d rather do than ask him to elaborate. It was a long list, but she still found herself giving in, spitting out “Go ahead” in a voice that was a little too terse to be a taunt. 

“Isn’t that your strategy? Pull the borders tight around you. It’s remarkably Seiros-like. Insulating yourself to police all your pawns.”

Edelgard barked out a laugh in response. He couldn’t be that worried, if he was trying to make her mad. Unless this was his way of making a point: That she was wrong, and everyone saw it, and therefore he was right to be concerned.

He was still going, pushing through her derision. “But it doesn’t matter how closely you watch for threats, some will still slip through. As we’ve seen. Even here! Among your own infrastructure and your own forces.”

“Those are separate issues. No amount of looking inward or outward is going to keep me perfectly safe. I’ve never believed that.”

“No,” he agreed easily. “But it’s not all about you, is it?” 

Edelgard stopped, and Claude a half-step later, a challenge that hinted at a grin shining through at his eye.

“It is or it isn’t. Make up your mind,” she snapped. 

As if she needed a reminder why they rarely stayed together in the same place long enough for their discussions to scratch any surface. Well, maybe she did. Here it was. He wouldn’t be forthright about what was on his mind, he’d only be critical of what he suspected was on hers. He’d change the boundaries of the argument at will, change tack without warning, seek confirmation on secret points and opinions. Edelgard was not someone who tolerated interrogation. But he managed to slip under her guard… and enjoyed doing it. 

Claude gave her a patient look that she found unspeakably infuriating.

“You think you’re making Fódlan stronger by limiting your focus – not just you, your whole administration – to domestic affairs. You think there will be a magic day in the future where Fódlan will be ready to open up. You – your administration doesn’t seem to understand how much time and opportunity you lose by forever postponing that day. I’m not saying you need to throw open your borders. It’s not all or nothing. You can do more than one thing at the same time. Isn’t that the point of not leaving everything up to one supreme leader?”

“Fascinating,” Edelgard said dryly, and started them moving again. The only thing worse than questioning the sincerity of his emotions was receiving advice from him. “We could use a sharp mind like yours, to tell us everything we’re doing wrong. I’m sure you don’t have any baggage that would prevent you from presenting as a candidate…?” 

“I have a job,” he said with a smirk. “But thanks. And in thanks, I’ll give you something for free. It sends a message, building up your border fortresses. In a time of peace. And with little other active diplomacy happening. Do you know what that message is?”

“Maintenance and staffing of Fódlan's Locket is important to Leicester. I don't have to tell you that.”

“There are many “important” things in Fódlan that are little more than vestiges of a bygone era. You already have a natural border here, what's the concern? Why build such a thick wall, why the need to be impenetrable?”

“It doesn't seem to stop you.”

She'd meant it lightheartedly, but the comment was met with a stony look. Something about it made her feel defensive in turn.

“What did you want me to say?” She waited a beat, challenging him. “That if only there were no skirmishes, we wouldn’t need a fortress?” He didn’t react. “I wonder how long that would have to be the case, for the local population to agree. I’m sure someone’s done the math.”

In fact, wresting any sort of extra claim and power away from the Goneril House and other former lords would be in her favor. But she couldn't see a way to do it, not without force. And then what? And if things didn’t stay quiet? It could backfire in so many ways, it made her dizzy. He had to know that. Things couldn’t be that simple. 

Claude betrayed nothing. “You can’t think of everything like an invasion. Things don't just come in through a border, they go out, too. Lucratively.” 

“You sound like your old friend Edmunds,” Edelgard commented lightly. He wanted to change his angle? Fine, she’d just follow.

Claude skipped any Who? or Do I? and instead said, “Edmunds. He was only ever focused on one thing. He couldn’t see beyond his pile of money.” 

“Sounds like an easy man to manipulate,” Edelgard said. The closest she would come to an accusation. She could start to see his fingerprints everywhere, if she wanted to.

Again Claude refused to take the bait. “Well,” he said, lending her a hand as they crested a short but steep hill, “Weren’t you just saying your administration had an opening?”

Edelgard bared a humorless smile before crouching to conjure a new light for him to set one last trap.

“What do you think, are we far enough away from your security detail now? Where would you say we are, Fódlan or Almyra?” 

Despite the teasing tone, Edelgard tensed. “I have to assume you're just trying to make a point.”

Claude stood and dusted pine needles from his hands. “Did it work?” She recognized the slight smile on his face as him trying to diffuse the tension and lead them back to solid ground, and found herself resisting, though only out of spite. Why did he always do this? And why did she let him? 

They came to a small clearing and slowed to a stop, abreast. Points of golden light flickered in the air in front of them, filling the clearing and the trees ringing it. For half a second, Edelgard saw sparks: fire starting, flames growing, danger, destruction. But they were only fireflies.

“When I was younger, we used to try to catch them,” Claude said softly, reluctant to break the spell. “You can put them in a bottle, some cheesecloth over the top. Carry it for a few hours.” 

“And then let them go,” Edelgard guessed, flatly.

But he wasn’t going for the moral she expected. “If you're kind,” he said seriously, “and you think ahead.”

She turned to him. He had his face tilted slightly up, but he met her eyes when she spoke. “What did you do?”

“Me… I watched them until there was nothing left to watch. And then I never tried to catch them again.”

Edelgard considered this, and turned back to the spectacle. “It sounds like something a child would do,” she said mildly. “Wait until the lights fade to give them up.” 

He hadn’t moved. His presence was like a weight at her side. “I had to know.”

It wasn’t a comment that invited a kiss. But when she turned to him again, attempting to interpret his tone of voice, she felt something twist in her to see how his wry smile was barely hanging on by a thread. The closest he would get to asking. Or to an accusation. All this time alone in the woods and you haven’t once…

With a rush of feeling Edelgard found herself stepping forward and raising her face to meet his. Like she could show him something, and a kiss could set him at ease. And put an end to the way he kept checking on her, the lingering touches and the quick, pointless looks. And keep him from worrying. Would that absolve her of the implication of her own touches taking on a different tone? Something unfamiliar, that recalled different circumstances. Ones that might have ended with them calling their relationship something else, or anything at all. Ones that didn’t exist.  

At first he barely responded. She passed a hand over his eyes playfully and fixed it there, and then she was kissing his smile, still looking for a way in. Her tongue tracing over his lip, her breath, the feeling of coaxing something out. Give me the chance to convince you. I’m here. She was restrained. He was slow to melt, he was distracted but he still held her as an anchor. Let himself be tethered. She was covering his eyes and if she had another hand she’d cover his ears, too, point him to herself and block out everything else. She didn’t. She draped her wrist over his shoulder, she pinched his ear, she smiled back and gave her lower lip to his teeth and somewhere nearby a cluster of small, explosive pops was followed by the eery silence of a million suddenly-speechless insects.

They broke away at the same time, two heads turning to pinpoint the origin of the sound.

“Caught someone,” Claude said, and took off like a shot, Edelgard barely half a step behind.

He pulled ahead almost immediately, quickly reaching the disturbance. Pine needles and dirt sprayed in the air as a figure cloaked in brown struggled on the ground. Claude dove to tackle the figure just as they were pushing themselves up to run, and took a boot to the face for his trouble. He held on tight, attempting to immobilize the person’s legs and climb up them at the same time. Edelgard pulled up at a distance and began to circle around the back of the pair. 

When Claude had made it up past their knees, holding on tight, the person stopped struggling and took his hair in hand, yanking his head back. With their other hand they batted away a wild attempt from Claude to shake their grip, and unsheathed a long knife. 

Edelgard had barely registered the weapon before she stepped into the fray and pulled her own, a short ax, from her belt. A single sharp blow delivered to the back of the person’s head with the blunt end was all it took to drop them like a stone.

Claude rolled away and pushed himself to his knees. The insects had started up again. Edelgard knelt and conjured a soft light with steady hands. The figure was a woman with thick, dark hair. Her face and hands were unmarked, her clothes were well made. And she wasn’t breathing.

Edelgard searched for a pulse at her throat, and then at her wrist, and finally gave up, putting her hand down reluctantly, almost tenderly, before looking over to Claude.

Claude spat a pink stream off to the side and dragged the back of his hand across his dirt-smudged forehead. "Anyone you know?" he asked, still catching his breath.

Edelgard took another look. The woman was neither familiar nor unfamiliar. “I may have seen her around the fortress,” she said with a shrug. “But… No." After a few moments too many of silence, she asked, "Do you know her?" and glanced again at him. 

He was looking down at the woman's body, studying her clothes and her boots.

"Yeah," he said in a strange voice. "I believe I do. In a manner of speaking."

Edelgard felt a jolt, like someone was pinching her stomach from the inside. What was that supposed to mean? She stood and opened her mouth, then closed it, waiting for him to explain. But he was busy thinking. A breeze rustled the branches above them, sounds that filled the silence with an expansively lonely feeling. Finally she gave up.

"Someone you know was sent to kill me? I hope you can tell me a little more than that."

For a minute Claude didn’t answer. He was thinking hard. About how to explain it? Or just putting the pieces together, going over those last couple days under a different light? Eventually he looked up at her in a way that she hated. Studying her so he’d know her exact reaction when he finally spoke up. 

"Someone I know was sent to kill me," he said.

"What?" It was only a reflex, and she cut off any followup with a flap of her hand. "I heard you." At once questions bubbled up, things she would never normally ask but in that moment felt she had the right to, that it was urgent, and that she could use her surprise to cover her self-centeredness. 

"Why?” She started approaching him slowly, irritation haunting her steps as examples came to mind, unbidden, of all his secrecy past and present. Mostly she thought of the low profile he was always showing off, sneaking into places, coming unannounced, dressing up for crying out loud… “Why you?" And then, regrettably, but before she could stop herself, “What did you do?”

Now he’d take his time and only decide how best not to tell her. Why did she bother asking? Sometimes it was to let him know how much she knew. This time, though, she realized it was the opposite – she was exposing her ignorance. Edelgard felt herself adrift, far from shore. She wasn’t prepared for a straight answer anyway. If she were, she wouldn’t have needed to ask.

"Where to begin?" His move to deflect was basic but it got the job done. He got to his feet and looked at the body for a long time. When he next spoke, that was who he spoke to. "You know… At first she was only trying to get away. But when she saw my face, everything changed. Her whole expression, everything. It was like she stopped worrying about escaping." He glanced over at Edelgard, the marks on his face underlining the point as if it weren’t already more than obvious. "I didn't know her," he finished. "I just think I know who sent her."

Edelgard swallowed, staring at him without really seeing him and feeling like the echoing emptiness growing in her stomach might turn her inside out. The predicament was no longer hers. Which only really meant it was no longer under her control.

At last he turned away, brushing roughly at the earth covering his clothes. "Would you believe me if I told you I can be a hard guy to find?” 

How would she know? She’d never had to try. 

“So, now I have a problem. Someone's figured out that they can track me.”

Edelgard frowned, for a moment forgetting her discomfort as she grappled with his statement. “Do you come here often?” The crux between their two worlds. Fódlan’s stronghold and weak point. What would it mean, if he did?  

“They tracked me through you."

"That's absurd," she protested.

“Your schedule is usually public. You’re easy to find, and even easier to plan for.”

Edelgard fell silent. When the two of them did coincide, they typically kept in close proximity… Very close.

"Yeah. You can imagine. But I also have an opportunity. I have a sliver of an advantage now and I'd like to hold onto it for as long as I can. If we leave the body here, anyone who might find it will probably figure there was just some sort of altercation. That's better for us. I'll use all the time I can get while they're waiting for news." 

They? Who were “they”? Who was the woman? Who did she work for? Who were they?  

Details mattered. She’d rip their heart out.

Claude started walking a slow circle around the body, making sure they weren't leaving anything behind, and patting carefully at his pockets to check what he was carrying on himself. 

"In fact, it's probably best I just leave from here. If I leave now... You can get back on your own, right?"

"Yes," Edelgard answered numbly, feeling very far away. You’re worried, she thought, trying to chide herself out of it. How does it feel? Nothing to worry about, right? Let him take care of it. But then… what did she know? She knew nothing. No, she knew this: she didn’t want him to go out alone because she didn’t know what that would mean. Where would he be going? Would he be alone when he got there? 

He wasn’t just leaving without answering any of a hundred questions, he was leaving before the questions could even be formed. 

Fine.

Edelgard started walking back the way they’d come, bad feeling clenching her fists until she could feel her nails digging into her palms even through her gloves. She heard Claude break into a jog to catch up but she didn’t slow, struggling in silence, too many thoughts warring for her attention. She made it maybe twenty yards before he finally planted himself in front of her, stopping her with his body.

"Hey," he said, at first only ducking his head in an attempt to catch her eye, then taking hold of her upper arms in his hands and squeezing gently. She stared at the ground, willing the frustration from her eyes. He could read her at a glance, even as he himself turned more opaque by the second. It was no good. "Look. It's okay." Edelgard met his eyes warily. "I know what I'm doing," he added.

Words spilled out on a bitter tide. "How am I supposed to believe that?"

For a second he considered her, and Edelgard felt that helpless, drifting sensation again. Then he lowered his gaze. He's going to kiss me, she thought, watching him. And when he does, that'll be him saying not to worry. That’ll be him closing the door on any further comment, for both of their sakes. 

He kissed her then, sweetly. Chastely, almost shy. An incredibly bad goodbye, even by their standards. It was barely a distraction and it didn’t say anything at all. It was a kiss from a stranger. And then it was over.

He touched his forehead to hers and she felt the brush of his eyelashes and his breath by her ear. When he spoke his voice was quiet and maddeningly reasonable. 

"That's not really my problem, Edelgard." 

His hands grazing up her arms. That was a distraction, or just maybe distracting. It pulled her through the suspended moment where she couldn’t do anything but stare the comment in its face, speechless. 

When she didn’t pull away, he kissed her again, and her moment transformed into the urge to make it his problem, grazing his lip in a warning that he ignored. Instead he slid his hand up behind her neck and pulled her in, pressing his tongue between her teeth. 

The sweetness was still there. It wasn’t like him, and that made her mad. No teasing, no distance, nothing halfway. Just patience and steadiness. He was trying to bury his words in contradiction. She couldn’t let it work. 

He kissed her condolences, becoming expansive and open, like if she advanced he’d welcome it, he’d pull her down further and he’d keep her there. Or he’d come after her himself. He leaned in, his hand sliding up to her jaw, so lightly at first, his fingers curled, before cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed her browbone and his fingers inched to her hairline, holding her in place. She turned her face into his palm and when he pressed closer, bit at the flesh of the heel of his hand, and took hold of his wrist to pull his hand back down her neck. Her other hand, still gloved, went into his hair, the fabric catching close to his scalp, stuttering and probably tearing at his hair. She didn’t care.

She felt hot behind her eyes. She felt petty. She twisted his hair around her fingers and pulled too hard, she pulled away and made him come after her. It meant nothing, her teeth meant nothing, it was all an act. Building a perimeter for the sole purpose of forcing him to take it down piece by careful piece. Ensuring she had all of his attention, just to see what he would do with it. Relishing it. Only pretending to judge it. 

She couldn’t decide if she was asking for him, or attempting to punish him. But it didn’t matter, he had his own agenda. He pursued her relentlessly. And when he had her in range, every swipe of his tongue was a preview and a promise to consume her. He didn't hold back from the sort of reassurances he'd only ever press into her skin at a time when she was raw enough to play along. 

Lies, all of them. But they grew more attractive with each repetition. 

When she felt a sudden chill at her wrist she was surprised to realize her fingers had untangled themselves from his hair, that her hand hovered an inch from his head. She dropped it slowly and drew back reluctantly, if only slightly, only an inch, and then two. This time, he didn’t follow. He had slipped a few fingers into a high pocket on her jacket and now he flexed them, pulling on her without pulling her forward. He was looking off into the distance, a million miles away, his touch already fading. 

He had to be thinking about his dilemma. What was next. And she was stuck reaching out to make sure she could still touch him. Hadn’t she just felt it, that same impulse, from the receiving end? The only possible expression of a feeling they’d long ago not-promised to never say out loud.

Edelgard stood miserably among the chorus of insects, amid the remaining fireflies that had the audacity to keep winking softly there in her periphery. Sometimes she saw herself as the ice that tears your skin when you pull away. But if that were really what she was, she would have turned her back when he gave her the chance. So instead here she was as icicle: frozen in place, shedding layer after layer, sharp until the end.

+

Edelgard sat straight on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, watching bucket after steaming bucket pour into the wash basin from the nervous hands of an attendant. 

Her own thoughts and emotions had dripped slowly out during her solo hike back. Hadn't she wanted to feel something? She was left feeling wrung out. All the many ways they'd ever parted… It was only one more.

This one ended with that kiss, her trying to pull him in and push him away at the same time. So finally he gave her a private look, and took a few steps backwards, and she took a few steps of her own, propelled by the weight of that look until she had to stop to look back, one hand catching and pausing against a smooth birch trunk. He was no longer there. The weight, imagined.

She had been met just outside the fortress by a trio of distressed guards, who she dismissed with a terse I took care of it, her eyes hard, her face flushed, bare smudges of blood on her gloves and dirt on her leggings. She knew what it looked like. She wasn’t in the mood to make up a story or talk logistics. Let them create their own story, it would surely be more impressive. All that mattered now was that the threat was no longer. 

The small room was heating up. Edelgard was impatient to be truly alone. She rolled her neck, stretching, and caught a glint of something under the armchair across the room. 

The attendant emptied the last of her buckets and eyed the water level of the basin apprehensively.

Edelgard excused her, never letting her gaze stray from the small object. “It's fine,” she said. “That's good. Thank you, that will be all.” 

She went straight for it once she was alone. Her fingertips closed easily around the small vial. She sat in the chair to inspect it. 

It was small and exquisitely made, the glass free of imperfection. Tiny, flowing characters that she recognized to be Almyran script were etched or painted around the bottom – characters and numbers. An address? Edelgard rubbed her thumb absently over the markings and then put it safely away with her scarce personal belongings and began to strip her clothes off, moving slowly and without thinking, guiding herself into the hot water and then rubbing it, hard, over her face.

An address? A name? A person or a business?

He’d said Ignatz.

Who else?

There were other names, plenty of them, if she thought back far enough. There was Ignatz, there was Raphael. Leonie, and Marianne. Lysithea, of course. And those were just the ones she knew off the top of her head. Would they tell her anything? She had never tried to look for him before. Though if she started now, well, apparently she wouldn’t be the only one.

All the questions he never answered. Did he come here often? He didn’t deny it. His “costume” to blend in with the kitchen staff, he never explained it. He slipped in and out of the kitchen, her quarters, construction areas. No one ever seemed to give him a second glance. That exit to the woods. What else could he access? Planning meetings? Strategy? Defense? Trainings? 

Just how long had he been there?

Edelgard shivered and hunched lower in the water, willing it to stay warm.  

Had he come here for her, or had he already been there and just stuck around to see her? Why should it bother her, if she weren’t the only reason? She never had been in the past, at least, she didn’t assume she had been. She remembered his thoughtful study of the structure. Hiding a laugh as he was distractedly handed blueprints, and immediately tucking them away. His hands, calloused, his hair deliberately styled, more than the work of an impulse or even a few days.

He's going to kiss me. And when he does, that'll be him saying not to worry.

Or saying just trust me. Or I’m sorry. Or goodbye.

If he could hear her thoughts now, he might say something like I guess we’ll never know.

But he couldn’t. It was just her. 

Edelgard rose from the tub, water dripping down her skin, the scars on her arms catching and diverting the streams. The mirror in the corner was fogged over. She gathered a thick towel around herself and went to open the window to allow in a whisper of fresh night air, her mind calming and crystallizing around new possibilities.

If he could hear her thoughts now… If he could hear her thoughts now… She wished he could. She would add something just for him.

Only one way to find out.