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It had been a year since the Nabatean Dynasty ceded to the burgeoning Empire of Adrestia. Six years since the self-styled Emperor declared a war of independence that would rock the foundations of the continental theocracy. And only a month since Edelgard von Hresvelg, heretic and revolutionary, signed a treaty binding their nations in a non-aggression pact. Yet it was this essential document which nurtured her current uncertainty.
The Emperor stared hard at her reflection, taking in the lines of stress carved into her brow. A stranger regarded her in return, garbed in vermilion silk. It was garish and wasteful, offending her sensibilities with every gold stitch and patterned ruffle. She pursed her lips until they ached, skin blanching snow-white. The veil tied to the imperial crown prickled unpleasantly against her cheek.
“Thoughts?” Edelgard glanced to the far corner where a dark figure stood. Hubert, her oldest friend, swept a calculating eye down her frame.
“You look radiant, Your Majesty,” he said eventually. She frowned before rolling her eyes.
“Come now, Hubert. That’s not what I asked.”
“I suppose not. Pardon the gaffe.” The man’s expression was still, carefully measured as always. Someone unfamiliar with his tells would assume he felt nothing, but Edelgard was learned in his quirks. She easily caught the minute flexing of his jaw. “My thoughts are… preoccupied. There is plenty that needs to be sorted once your vows are exchanged and the ink settles. Our guests from the Church also require extra surveillance.”
“They're not keen to break this pact any more than we are. I see no reason for them to renege. Yet perhaps it won’t hurt to have a few watchful eyes just in case.” Edelgard folded a hand over her midsection, smoothing the material. Her eyes drifted to the mirror once more. “I’m relieved I don’t look half as dreadful as I feel. Better a beautiful disaster than a hideous one.”
“Impossible, Your Majesty. You’ll be the subject of envy and ardor for years to come.”
“I could do without either, but the sentiment is appreciated.” She smiled at her reflection. The stranger mimicked the gesture, eyes lidded and narrow. There was no humor or joy to be found there. Would her bride see the conflict boiling beneath her skin? Would she see the reluctance and dread? Edelgard couldn’t be certain. Perhaps Ser Eisner would see only what she wished and nothing more. “...Hubert, am I doing the right thing? Speak true.”
“Respectfully, I believe you know the answer.”
“Humor me, please. As… as a friend.” She could feel his gaze upon her, sharp and considering like a hawk. There was a lengthy pause before she heard the distinctive tap of Hubert’s shoes. His familiar visage appeared in the mirror, as tall and stalwart as ever.
“This union will unite Fódlan and cement Adrestia as an independent country free of the theocracy. Right is relative, but it would serve to end the war ravaging both our nations.” Hubert’s pale, green eyes met her stare within the mirror. “However, as your friend, I struggle to accept any arrangement where your happiness must be compromised.”
“My happiness has always been secondary. So long as my country is free, no sacrifice would be too great.” The Emperor forced her voice to remain strong, unwavering. Yet she could feel her throat begin to strain from the effort. When she next spoke, it was but a pitiful whisper. "I hear she's pretty. At least that much is certain.”
“All of the Nabatean royal family are striking. Befitting of the Goddess’ direct descendants. Still, it’s a mystery why Archbishop Rhea was so quick to offer her only granddaughter.”
“She could hardly offer herself or Princess Sitri. There was only one sensible choice, loathsome as the suitor might be. I do not relish marrying the woman who killed countless of our people. The Demon of Nabatea… only someone cruel and inhuman could be deemed something so monstrous.” Edelgard tore herself away from the mirror. She flipped the veil until it obscured her face. “However, it’s time to bid the past farewell. No amount of dawdling will change what must be done.”
“You will always have me, Your Majesty. Ferdinand as well.”
“Thank you, Hubert.” She knew the words were intended as reassurance, and they did as designed. Yet Edelgard was no fool or simpering maid awaiting a fairy-tale. No one could save her from the indignity of this farce. No one could shield her from whatever whims her Nabatean bride held. And if her soul should wither and the silly dream of love to break, what did it matter? No, neither Hubert nor Ferdinand could protect her from these intangible dangers. For the good of her people, Edelgard would weather it all with a smile.
“Come. We have a wedding to attend.”
When the saintly Archbishop, head of the theocracy which had ruled Fódlan for millennia, called for a truce between their forces, Edelgard had assumed treachery. The fighting was still thick and fierce, neither side willing to cede. Then as if on a lark, the Archbishop suddenly decided to accept the Emperor's play for secession. She was wary of it from the start, but Edelgard was hardly in a position to refuse. So she agreed to Rhea’s little moot, though she had no expectation of it bearing significant consequence.
How wrong she had been. Faintly, the Emperor wondered if anyone understood the Archbishop’s actions. Surely this was as much of a surprise to the Nabatean royal family as it was for Edelgard. Perhaps even the supposed bride could not have anticipated her grandmother’s abrupt decision. A strange sort of comfort followed this musing. Indeed, Ser Eisner must be just as overwhelmed no matter her fearsome reputation.
As she strode into the audience hall, arms linked with Hubert and Ferdinand, Edelgard clung to the thought. She would rather think of the woman as someone just as daunted rather than complicit. Unkind as it was to wish suffering upon another, at least it leveled the field. Yet as the Archbishop and her party swept within the hall, gilded in gold and white, Edelgard saw none who hinted at such feelings. They flowed to their seats like a murmuration, each as sharp-eared and painted in bright greens as the last.
Archbishop Rhea, as ever, was inscrutable with her placid smile. She inclined her head in the Emperor’s direction, stare direct and expecting. The Emperor never cared for that look. Even as a simple vassal within the theocracy, Rhea’s presumption needled. The woman wore her power with too much certainty and wielded it just the same. Edelgard bristled, realizing that she would soon be wed to someone who bore the Archbishop’s likeness. All of those with divine blood shared the same coloring and disconcerting beauty. She masked her distaste bitterly.
“Just say the word,” Edelgard heard Ferdinand whisper to her right. “Say it, and we’ll spirit you away from here. A carriage has already been prepared. You need only give the signal.”
“And ruin a lovely occasion?” She forced herself not to glance at him, tone low as she could manage. “Your support is noted, but I would rather not ruin the day by breaking oath and sending our people back into war.”
“No… You’re right.” She heard him swallow thickly. “I knew it would be for naught. You’ve never shirked your duty, no matter how great. Still, the offer remains. It was all I could do to assuage my guilt, and all I could rightly offer as a wedding gift.”
“You could have sent a fruit basket instead, but the meaning isn’t lost on me. Thank you.” Edelgard squeezed his arm once before letting go. “It means a great deal to be given a choice. And I have chosen this. Do not despair, Ferdinand.”
“Of course, Your Majesty…” The man sounded more miserable than convinced, but Edelgard could say nothing to change that. To her left, Hubert shifted in agitation. Neither was pleased with this affair, and the Archbishop's presence possibly soured them further. She could feel it within the displeased frown her retainer wore and anxious lip-chewing of his counterpart.
“I’m shocked the Archbishop deigned to come,” Hubert said, mouth twisted with derision. “She’s always struck me as a dispassionate sort, even towards her family. Perhaps the rumors are true and she does favor her granddaughter over the rest. Fitting, considering the numerous victories Ser Eisner has claimed in her name.”
“Do you think the other rumors are true?” Ferdinand asked nervously. “The whole bit about drinking from the skulls of enemies and bisecting a horse with one sword swing?”
“I should hope it’s exaggerated. But with the Nabateans, one can never be certain.”
“My only concern is whether she’ll show at all.” Edelgard scanned the crowd for the aforementioned woman. No one appeared inclined to broach the altar, and the mass of Nabatean nobility remained steadfastly seated. “Punctuality is not of her virtues, I take it. I had hoped to conclude this as fast as possible, but my darling bride is content to prolong this charade.”
“Maybe she’s done us all a favor and run for the hills.”
“I fear the result would be the same regardless. Let us hope that isn’t the case.” Hubert's gaze flitted to the doors with abrupt focus. "Ah… And here she is now.”
Edelgard tensed, following his line of sight. She nearly asked him how he was so sure, but the answer was immediately apparent. A woman strode towards the altar with resolute steps, abundantly impressive in the service dress of the Nabatean knights. She did not bear the chartreuse shades of her kin, wearing instead the colors of the sea, as if brokering a compromise between her divine mother and mortal father.
When she drew near, Edelgard could see the sharp lines composing her profile. The woman smiled thinly upon reaching the modest altar, lips pink and full. Her eyes, blue as imperial hydrangeas, drank in her surroundings with clear interest. True to the many tales spun in her honor, Ser Eisner was beautiful— the Emperor could admit that much. A pity such beauty accompanied bloody deeds and speculated madness. Ser Eisner dipped cordially in her direction. Edelgard returned the gesture, swallowing her reluctance.
With the final piece of the ceremony finally in attendance, the droning words of the book of Seiros filled the hall. The service was far from elaborate or wracked with meaning. The bishop spoke quickly, possibly wise to the Emperor’s waning patience, and skipped several of the flowery sentiments that would have marked a traditional occasion. When the first promise was given, from one bride to the other, they refrained from sharing a kiss. The only intimacy they shared was a brief binding of hands as a symbolic lace was wound between their fingers.
Ser Eisner’s palm was warm and coarse, betraying her commitment to war. Edelgard spared a moment to ponder if the knight’s love for battle would outweigh her grandmother’s desire for peace. The Emperor did not know her character, but what she did know inspired little confidence. As Edelgard spoke the last binding oath and nestled a golden circlet atop the woman’s head, their eyes met. It was the first time she stared at Ser Eisner directly and despite herself, Edelgard experienced a spike of panic.
What was she doing, crowning this stranger as her spouse and equal? Who was this woman she was forcing upon her country and asking them to love when she did not? Were politics suitable enough reason to entrust her with such a weighty title? Even if the treaty held, there was no end to what Ser Eisner might do once she was given the mantle of Empress. Edelgard could be inviting a viper into their midst.
“Are you alright?”
Edelgard blinked, rousing from her panic. She swallowed as she noticed blue eyes taking her measure. The other woman had not risen nor had the Emperor relinquished her hold. The circlet felt cold and heavy between her palms. Suddenly, Ser Eisner’s brow smoothed with something that might have been pity.
“There is still time to stop this,” she said. Her voice was low, drowned beneath the continued chants of the bishop. “I can stand and deny my grandmother for all to witness. It’s your decision.”
It was a mercy Edelgard did not anticipate. She balked for a brief moment, unable to fathom the knight’s motivations. The offer was… tempting, in truth. Should the burden of guilt be placed upon Ser Eisner’s shoulders, Adrestia could not be held accountable. This marriage would end before it could ever begin, but so would their treaty in all likelihood. And nothing, not even the death of her happiness, would be worth the continued strife of her country. Edelgard mustered her courage and released the circlet.
“Rise, Byleth Eisner,” she commanded definitively. “And stand by my side as Adrestia’s Empress.”
Ser Eisner’s head tilted slightly, searching the Emperor’s expression. Then the woman’s smile returned and she rose to her feet. Ser Eisner was taller by a head; not an impressive feat by any means, but Edelgard found herself annoyed regardless. She struggled not to flinch as Byleth – her wife – kissed the back of her hand.
“My blade and heart are yours, Your Majesty.”
* * *
Edelgard was no stranger to forcing polite conversation. Whether witty commentary or firm opinion, she never strained for words. Currently, she found yanking her teeth would be more worthwhile than speaking to Ser Eisner. The Emperor muffled a sigh, staring pointedly at the passing scenery. She deftly ignored the other woman seated within the carriage; an arrangement that seemed to suit her bride.
Admittedly, it was hard to tell with Ser Eisner’s ever-placid features. She was stoic as she was pretty, and the combination grated Edelgard’s nerves in ways she couldn’t quite place. Perhaps the unknown of it all niggled more than anything. Those practiced in concealing their true nature were not to be trusted. So rapt in her pondering, Edelgard nearly missed the faint laughter coming from the woman.
“Is there something amusing to be found, Ser Eisner?” she asked stiffly. A sharp edge of defensiveness saturated Edelgard’s tone, and she had to steel herself from wincing. She had not intended to wear her pique so blatantly. Ser Eisner did not appear bothered either way, merely shaking her head.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I don’t mean to offend, but…” The woman's blue eyes were bright and clear as she eyed the Emperor's frame meaningfully. “You’re balled so tight in that seat, I could mistake you for a pangolin. Unfurl yourself as you please. It’s your carriage, isn’t it?”
“You presume too much. Perhaps I prefer slouching into the corner.”
“Truly? And here I was thinking it was for my benefit. You’ve done all you could to not touch me since the ceremony.”
Edelgard stiffened, eyes narrowed in displeasure. She loathed her behavior being so thoroughly placed, yet she could not muster the audacity to deny it. Ser Eisner seemed to recognize this and offered a consolatory smile.
“I’m only thinking of your comfort, Your Majesty. If it’ll soothe your mind, I promise not to take liberties should our knees brush.”
“Don't be absurd," Edelgard said, forcing a scoff. She unwound her legs and arms hesitantly until they rested in a more natural position. The faint pain in her spine she had refused to acknowledge lessened a smidge. "There. Pleased now, good Ser?
“Ecstatic.” Blue eyes crinkled at the edge, revealing the good humor within. They were expressive, Edelgard found. Far more than her other features. “Your bones will thank you later. I imagine I’ll receive none of the credit, but a good deed doesn’t require comment. I’ll relish your gratitude in silence.”
“The cheek of you to think I’d feel anything of the sort.” Despite the situation, Edelgard felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips. She quashed it soundly. “Regardless, I never meant to imply I felt threatened. The day has been… trying, to say the least. A political marriage was the last condition I expected of your grandmother.”
“Your hesitance is well-deserved. It came as a great surprise to the rest of my family as well.” Ser Eisner crossed her knees, hands resting idly atop them. The movement felt too slow and calculated to be habitual, but that could just be the Emperor’s stirring paranoia. “If I may, while our marriage may not be borne out of affection, that doesn’t mean it can’t be nurtured. We are in this together after all.”
“What exactly are you proposing?” Edelgard eyed her companion warily.
“Only to make this marriage palatable for the both of us. It’s my understanding that we have a moon before we return to Enbarr. We should use this opportunity to acquaint ourselves as most couples do.”
“Are you… suggesting we court?”
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t. At the very least, friendship might blossom.” Ser Eisner smiled fully then. It was pleasant and broad, dashing everything Edelgard thought she knew of the woman. Perplexingly, she couldn’t see a hint of the merciless brute her reputation alluded to. “I hear Boramas is beautiful this time of year. Do you know the area well?”
“...I’ve only been to the Boramas estate once,” Edelgard revealed after a brief pause. She wet her lips, eyeing the other woman askance. “Ser Eisner…”
“You may call me Byleth if you like.”
“Very well. Should it please you, I accept your offer of courtship. Tentatively."
The Nabatean woman’s eyes flashed with something unknown before her smile widened. “It does please me, Your Majesty. Very much so. “
Edelgard didn’t know why that elicited a rush of warmth to flood her cheeks. She cleared her throat, glancing outside once more. Ser Eisner was charming, far more than she had anticipated. However, that didn’t mean she could afford to relax her guard. Even if the woman’s foul deeds were greatly exaggerated, a fraction of the truth must exist. One did not gain such notoriety on rumor alone. So the Emperor decided to humor Byleth on her terms and no other—though she would later discover the task to be harder than expected.
“When we arrive at the estate, shall we shake off our lethargy with a brisk ride, Your Majesty? I hear you’re a skilled equestrian.”
“Skilled is wildly understating. I’m excellent. Fair warning, I won’t slow should you lag behind.”
“I wouldn’t dream of holding you back. Give it your all and I will give mine.”
In truth, Edelgard could only blame herself for being so easily cajoled. Her competitive nature and ingrained pride had got her into trouble more than once. So as they raced through the trees, Edelgard atop a sleek appaloosa and Byleth favoring an Almyran paint, she predictably forgot her self-imposed reserve. With the wind tangling her hair and the sun on her face, Edelgard could only think of the present moment. She had never laughed freely in a stranger’s presence, but the rush of their little race elicited a peal of elation she could not stop.
“Not bad,” the Emperor breathed out, heart thudding against her ribs. She directed her horse over a grassy knoll and glanced to the rear. Byleth arrived only a second after, hair tousled even more than usual. “That’s my win, Ser Eisner! You nearly had me at that last bend, but you took it too fast. Next time, give the corner berth before rounding it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.” Byleth chuckled. To her credit, she seemed sporting about the loss. Her stare sparkled with mirth. “You’re quite graceful. Have you considered mounted combat? I firmly believe you would race circles around most cavaliers in Nabatea.”
“And what makes you so sure I haven’t?” Edelgard asked cautiously. Byleth’s reply was fast, accompanied by a brief shrug.
“All the reports say you lead on foot. 'Wrapped in crimson plate and bearing a shield matching her height, the Emperor takes the field in stride.’ I nearly didn’t believe it.” The Nabatean woman patted her mount on the neck before looking at the Emperor, eyes creased puckishly. “Yet once we met, I knew they had been telling the truth all along. You make a lasting impression, Your Majesty.”
“Drop the title, please,” Edelgard requested gently. She fiddled with the reins, staring at the distant juncture of land and sea. Her chest felt tight suddenly, heart leaping in tune with something she couldn’t name. Flattery came often, but never with such disarming sincerity. “When it’s just us, I prefer you use my name.”
“I can manage that.” Byleth sat tall in her saddle, raking a hand through dark, teal strands. A droplet of sweat cascaded along the graceful slope of her neck. As Edelgard inspected her covertly, a daunting revelation took hold. I’m attracted to her, she thought numbly. With Byleth’s smiling eyes and comely features, it shouldn’t have been shocking. Yet it was, and the Emperor didn’t know how to proceed. Married though they were, the women knew nothing about each other. Any burgeoning feelings would only leave her open to potential weakness… and heartache.
However, as Edelgard met Byleth’s gaze once again, she could not ignore the surge of something exciting and new coursing through her veins. Perchance, despite the odds, Byleth was worth the risk.
* * *
The first week they spent together was sedate and illuminating. Byleth, true to her word, proved committed to the task of courtship. She behaved like a proper suitor would—taking her on impromptu strolls around Boramas, inquiring after her history, and providing good company in general. The Nabatean knight appeared deeply interested in Edelgard as a person, listening intently as no one ever had. And while Edelgard was initially leery of her motives, she found herself warming to Byleth’s easy temperament.
If the woman felt irritated or impatient, she never revealed as much. And if she resented the Emperor’s actions against Nabatea, Byleth kept it to herself. Edelgard half-suspected the woman was just too lackadaisical for enmity, an impression that grew the more time they spent together. She was almost too staid at times, preferring to let Edelgard speak ceaselessly without rejoinder. Yet on the occasions she did reply, Byleth proved to be articulate and thoughtful.
It was a rare sort of person who could keep up with the Emperor without becoming an irritant. Even rarer for Edelgard to grow fond of them. Friendship did not come naturally to her. Many found her abundant confidence and opinionated nature grating. Others choose to keep their distance rather than invite her wrath by mistake. Suffice to say, Byleth’s rapt interest was unusual. Welcome yes, but mostly puzzling. She admitted as much to her one day as they relaxed in the study, skin flushed from daylight and wine.
“I can’t place you, Byleth,” Edelgard said. She was curled along the divan, watching her wife with a hooded stare. The Nabatean woman stood by the window, frame lean and sharp. Her profile was soaked with sunlight; the lines of her face indistinct. “We could have gone our whole lives without caring a whit for each other— playing our roles with satisfactory aplomb, taking lovers discreetly, and only suffering the pretense of marriage for diplomatic functions. However, you decided otherwise.”
“Does my insistence displease you?”
“I didn’t say that.” Edelgard’s reply was hastier than she liked, and her face warmed. “I’m only remarking on the irregularity of it all. Most arranged unions are miserable, as I understand. Had I been bound to anyone else, no doubt I would’ve been the same. Honestly, I had resigned myself to loathing you… yet I don’t.”
“I’m relieved.” Byleth’s silhouette remained blurred from the evening light, but the faintest impression of a smile could be discerned. “I had wondered whether we were romantically compatible. But after speaking with you at length, my worries have been put to rest.”
“Well…” Edelgard sipped on her wine delicately, ignoring the rapid flutter of her heart. “Perhaps I feel the same. Still, compatibility is only the start. Excellent friends don’t necessarily translate to wonderful lovers.”
“Do you have experience with this?”
“Not first-hand. What few admirers I received weren’t quite to my taste. I entertained having dalliances when I was younger, but the grim realities of my country took precedence.”
“Adrestia’s subservience to Nabatea, you mean.” Byleth’s voice was low but not harsh. She pushed away from the window, striding towards the divan. Edelgard fixed her stare upon the woman’s collar, adverse to any potential recrimination she might see.
“Quite. Relationships of any kind felt like too much to bear when so much injustice plagued my people. Any happiness I felt eventually soured into guilt. It was this consuming empathy which spurred me to declare war on Nabatea. In the end, I suppose you could call it an obsession.”
“There is no shame in this. I think it’s inspiring that you love your country so deeply.”
“Even when the result of my love was at the expense of your country and personal freedom?” Edelgard watched Byleth’s expression carefully, keen to dig beneath her placid veneer. But the woman surprised her once again.
“I can’t deny the veracity of your grievance. To do so would be disingenuous at best and craven at worst.” Byleth took the opposite chair, unusual solemnity marking her features. “We all knew my grandmother was in the wrong. Perhaps she did as well. The draconian stranglehold the church holds over independent governance needed to be put to an end. Countless centuries of unjust sanctions and harsh reprisals make for a deeply unhappy people. I imagine Leicester will follow your example soon.”
“I’m shocked you of all people would say that.” Edelgard blinked, at a momentary loss for words. “Please don’t misunderstand, but I had assumed you would be a stalwart supporter of the theocracy. You are of the royal family, and therefore divine-blooded.”
“Only by a quarter. I might be descended from the Goddess, but I don’t care for the trappings of authority as some of my kin do. Moreover, I’ve often felt such distinctions unnecessary. My father is a plain man of low-breeding, and yet he is one of the finest people I’ve ever known.” Byleth leaned back, gaze distant. She played idly with a strand of her hair. “Father refused to take part in the war. If not for my mother, he would have likely been put to death for treason. A part of me wanted to follow his example, but I couldn’t ignore the summons of my grandmother.”
“I see. Then you didn’t willingly participate.” Edelgard exhaled, relieved. “I had wondered, considering what I know now. I just can’t imagine you doing anything heinous. Are all the rumors I've heard about you fabrications?”
“I suppose it depends on the rumor,” Byleth replied. She laced her fingers together, crossing her legs as she had in the carriage. Her gaze was distinctly pensive as it fell on Edelgard. “I have done many a cruel thing in the name of my family. My grandmother has never stood for opposition, and as her sworn blade I have acted in defense of her rule. Not all of it was noble. Not all of it was terrible either. Unfortunately, this includes the uprising of Adrestia. My part in the war was never a secret, and I knew there was a chance you couldn't see past my deeds. Because of this, I feared you would come to hate me. I still fear it.”
Edelgard stared at her silently. She searched the woman’s features, noting the tight pinch of Byleth’s lips and the lines scoring her brow. She appeared to be awaiting her wife’s condemnation, yet Edelgard could not muster any outrage. The Emperor wasn’t guiltless. She had stained her hands in the name of liberty; a worthy cause, but not all of it was righteous. To judge Byleth for fulfilling her duty would be hypocritical. Edelgard cleared her wine glass before setting it aside.
“Hate...,” she began, wandering close to her wife. “...is the very last thing I feel for you. You’ve been inordinately kind to me since the moment we met. Whatever your past faults, they can be set right by helping me usher Adrestia into a new dawn. Perhaps even Nabatea can begin again. This treaty—our marriage can be the start of it all.”
“You make a compelling point, Your Majesty.” Byleth looked up at her, blue eyes brimming with warmth and a multitude of unspoken emotions. “A new beginning by your side… I want that more than anything.”
* * *
The rest of the moon passed faster than it had any right to. Edelgard had expected it to feel as a century was passing and not a scant handful of weeks. But with Byleth as her company, the days progressed with alarming ease. She discovered many things about her wife that charmed her to no end, such as her deep love for small animals and her obsession with fishing. Edelgard wasn’t quite interested in the hobby itself, but Byleth’s obvious joy in teaching her was infectious.
Soon, it was nearly time for them to return. And Edelgard, to her surprise, despaired how fleeting their time together had been. She consoled herself by thinking of the future. The Emperor’s duties often kept her preoccupied, but they could find small moments in between.
We could share quarters, Edelgard mused with a smile. Perhaps taking our meals in private and while away the evening hours recounting the day. And once we wake, we’ll share our dreams before trading a kiss farewell. Such soft and airy thoughts weren’t becoming of an Emperor, but she didn’t mind. How long had it been since she felt her age? Youthful infatuations came sparingly and had faded fast once she realized its futility. However, with Byleth, she need not compromise between desire and duty. I’ll be hers and she’ll be mine.
Edelgard chanced a look at her wife, feeling lighter than air. They were on a pleasant morning stroll, the sun not yet high enough to bead their skin with sweat. Byleth was quite fetching in her short tunic and polished boots. Only the woman’s unerringly straight posture betrayed her martial background. Lavender eyes traced the carved lines of muscle composing the knight’s frame.
They had long spoken of the war since their initial talk, neither holding back from grisly detail. Some might consider it morbid to discuss such things, but Edelgard found it cathartic. They had both struggled and lost plenty during those years. It was humbling to understand there was a deeply human person behind the feared Demon of Nabatea. Edelgard felt a lick of chagrin as she considered her unjust thoughts during their wedding.
“Is something troubling you?” Byleth halted on the forest path. The canopy of trees dappled her face with light. “You’ve been rather quiet.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? We can always return to the estate if you’re unwell.”
“I’m sure, Byleth. You needn’t fret over me.” The Emperor offered her wife a smile. “I was just recalling our wedding. I knew nothing about you, and I feared you would be… well, monstrous. Your reputation didn’t help. But it all seems so silly now.”
“You had every right to be worried,” Byleth said, expression soft. Her lips caught the light most intriguingly and Edelgard yearned to feel them.
“True, but no less than you must have been. I was so focused on my concerns, I thought little of your feelings. What a fool I was! I can only imagine the horror you felt when your grandmother broke the news.” Edelgard laughed gently, expecting Byleth to follow suit. Yet she didn’t. The older woman’s face was still, the blue of her eyes dark as a midnight swell.
“About that… I think it’s time you hear the truth of this arrangement.” Byleth stepped closer. The even cadence of her voice caused Edelgard to tense. She waited, breathless, for Byleth to continue. “My grandmother wasn’t the one who offered my hand. In fact, she was thoroughly irate over the matter. I had long been her heir presumptive, even if no official title was given. It took several months before she relented.”
“I don’t understand. If it wasn’t the Archbishop, then who…?”
“I was the one who pushed for a betrothal. I knew it was the quickest way to bind our nations together and end the war.”
“You…” Edelgard leaned away, gutted by this reveal. She had thought they were equal in this marriage, bound by expectation but gradually finding comfort. The thread of solidarity she had felt snapped with betrayal. “You lied to me—made me think we were together in this. Yet the truth is you held all the cards from the beginning.”
“I never lied.” Byleth frowned. “I misled, yes. But I always intended to reveal the truth when it was time. As I am doing now.”
“Your prudence is commendable, Ser Eisner,” Edelgard spat. “Perhaps I should thank you for gracing me with clarity at last. Do you know how much I reviled the Archbishop for forcing this union? I should have saved my vitriol for you.”
“Edelgard, I don’t see why this should change anything. I am still the same person. Everything I’ve told you has come from the depths of my heart.”
“And why should I believe you? Because you’ve suddenly grown a conscience?” Edelgard tore her eyes away, unable to stomach the sight of this woman whom she had recklessly grown to care for. “I do not care for dishonesty, Ser Eisner. Had you revealed this from the start, I would not be so incensed. Yet you’ve allowed me to think otherwise for weeks and curried my favor without shame. How can I trust anything you’ve told me? How do I know this isn’t an elaborate ruse to destroy Adrestia from within?”
“I would never hurt you, or anything you loved,” Byleth whispered. Her pretty eyes glittered with hurt, but Edelgard was unmoved.
“You’ve already wounded me deeply. You were not the one who relinquished her pride in the name of peace. You were not the one who spent months dreading a union she did not ask for.” Edelgard swallowed, pushing back the sting of tears. Her shoulders hunched as she retreated. "Our marriage cannot be undone. I would never take the hope of peace from my people. However, don’t expect me to forgive you. My trust isn’t easily earned, and you’ve already rent it in twain. From here on, we are nothing to each other.”
“Edelgard—”
The Emperor strode away, not stopping to hear the rest. Yet as deep as her anger was, the emotion paled in comparison to the heartbreak. She had thought Byleth was too honest and good for duplicity. Edelgard had dared to dream of their future together and a love that she previously believed beyond her.
No longer. She would not be made a fool nor be taken advantage of. Byleth might be her wife, but she would make it clear the Empress’ decisions were not to be heard over the Emperor’s. Whatever the Nabatean woman’s aims, they would be stopped before any harm could be done. Edelgard stiffened as a sharp crack sounded from behind her. She whirled around, ready to scold Byleth, when her stare settled upon a large furry mass.
A wolf crept from the undergrowth, manged and visibly undernourished. Edelgard reached for her axe, but quickly realized her folly. There had been little reason to carry weapons around the estate and the deceptively peaceful waters of Boramas. She cursed her carelessness as the wolf turned its dark eyes upon her. Its muzzle opened, baring a maw of slick fangs. The beast’s flank rippled as it prepared to leap. Yet before it could, a dark blur pounced atop the wolf.
Edelgard watched, stunned, as Byleth wrestled the animal to the earth. Woman and beast struggled for dominance in a flurry of violent motion. Claws raked across Byleth’s neck and face, but she gave the beast no purchase. With a heave, she sent the wolf tumbling across the grass to collide with a nearby boulder. The creature whimpered before scurrying into the brush. Victorious and ragged, Byleth stumbled against an oak before sliding to the ground.
“Byleth!” Edelgard hurried to the woman’s side, aghast. “What in the world were you thinking? You should have run!”
“And allow you to be mauled?” Byleth husked out a chuckle, blood dotting her throat and chest. Her shirt had been brutally torn in the attack and she clutched it with a wince. “Ah! That stings. Still, better me than you.”
“You silly fool. Tossing yourself at a ravenous beast… Of all the ridiculous nonsense.” Edelgard knelt beside her, fishing out a handkerchief. She wiped Byleth’s face clean of dirt and blood. “If you fancy I’ll be impressed by feats of stupidity, think again.”
“I wasn’t thinking, really. I just wanted to speak to you. The wolf was a stroke of misfortune.” Byleth folded her palm over Edelgard's. Her eyes sought with naked plight. "I couldn't bear knowing I might lose you forever. It would have ruined me.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Ser Eisner. I could have fended off the wolf just as easily as you did.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Byleth’s beautiful features contorted with agony. “Oh Edelgard… loathe me forever if you must, but I will no longer hide the truth. You were right to be cross with me; just know my affections are true. They have been ever since the day we met.”
“Our wedding was hardly the most auspicious of events. Nor was I the most pleasant of company.” Edelgard bit her lip, uncertain. Yet she stayed where she was, unable to leave. Despite her anger, she still cared deeply for this arresting and confusing woman.
“Not then,” her wife corrected softly. Byleth raised her head, gaze hesitant. “You don’t remember, do you? Or perhaps you didn’t realize…”
She paused, appearing to gather her thoughts. Edelgard allowed it, curious despite her better judgment. Eventually, Byleth spoke again.
“It was towards the tail-end of the war, a year before my grandmother surrendered. You and a small contingent had settled near the Oghma within the grove of Black Tree. The area was named for the mountain shadows covering the brush, as was the village…”
“I recall,” Edelgard said. Her eyes narrowed as she thought of those distant days. “It didn’t take long for Nabatean forces to encroach upon our position. We barely had time to secure the perimeter. I had assumed they were there to gain a foothold from our side of the Airmid.”
“That’s right. What you didn’t know was that I commanded them.” Byleth closed her eyes as she rested against the tree’s trunk. “Grandmother ordered me to seize Black Tree and press inward towards the capital. I hadn’t anticipated the fierce resistance I would be met with. For four days and nights, we clashed amid those black timbers. While my men were greater, you were able to hold the land from a surrounding ridge. Whenever we would gain ground, you were quick to take it back. Eventually, both of us realized we were at a stalemate. Then...”
“I called for a duel to break it. Their leader against me, the heretical Emperor.” For the first time, Edelgard analyzed her wife from the eyes of a warrior. Her adversary back then had been broad-shouldered but not exceptionally tall—a generous few inches over her own stature. Wreathed in leather and plate, their features had been a mystery. “So it was you I fought. I had no idea my opponent was a member of the royal family.”
“I thought not.” Byleth shrugged, looking oddly timid. “I fully expected to cut you down with ease, but you surprised me at every turn. We were as well-matched on the field as we were in strategy. It felt like an eon had passed before the sun finally dipped below the horizon. And still, a victor was nowhere in sight. I was impressed, but mostly confused why this inconsequential grove meant so much to the Empire.”
“I remember that. You kept asking me why I still fought. And I told you—”
“‘These are my people’,” the knight spoke gravely. Her eyes were glazed with reverie. “‘I will not yield a single one to Nabatea.’ After I heard this reason, I could no longer fight. Your love for them—for all your countrymen—stirred something within me. I did not lie before about the impression you made. It was lasting and powerful, shaking the loyalty I held for my homeland. And though you were unaware, it was the spark which caused me to push for surrender.”
“You forced your grandmother to cede because of me? Byleth…" Edelgard blinked, a new wave of emotion causing her chest to tighten. “I never dreamed I could affect someone so deeply.”
“You did. And my heart was yours from that moment forward. I did everything I could to learn more about you. The more I learned, the more I adored.” Byleth squeezed the Emperor’s fingers before letting go. Her hand fell to the grass limply. “I’m sorry for concocting this whole affair. To be completely honest, it was more than the promise of peace which guided my actions. I selfishly wanted you, and so I selfishly pursued you. I’m rather spoiled, you see. And I knew Grandmother never could tell me no. If you want nothing more to do with me, then I’ll accept my punishment with grace.”
Edelgard stared at her, mind racing with everything that was revealed. A part of her remained mulish and irritated by her wife's methods. Yet she couldn't deny feeling more than a little flattered. It wasn't every day someone ended a war because they fell in love with her. More importantly, she couldn’t deny what this vexing knight made her feel. She noted the chagrined set of Byleth’s jaw before placing her palms against the woman’s cheeks. Blue eyes widened owlishly as Edelgard leaned in for an ardent kiss.
Byleth was warm, tasting of blood and salt. The gritty tang should have been off-putting. However, Edelgard relished every moment it lingered atop her tongue. Her wife’s lips were chapped from the sun, but the imperfection felt appropriate rather than irksome. Overall, it was a lovely first kiss, and she could ask for no better a person to share it with. A heady rush of love buzzed beneath Edelgard’s skin as they parted.
“You silly fool,” she repeated. “Byleth, you ended the war in Adrestia’s favor. No matter what happens next, I will forever be grateful for that. As for the rest, I cannot say I’m pleased about the deception. But I also can’t deny how much happiness you’ve given me this past moon. I thought love was something I would never know. You proved me wrong.”
“Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?” Byleth asked, face brightening with hope.
“It means our feelings are mutual, and perhaps I overreacted a tad. Lies do not sit well with me, even well-meant ones. However, you’ve already proven your love is true so...” The Emperor trailed off, somewhat embarrassed by the rampant flush spreading across her skin. She forced herself to speak the rest without shirking. “S-So you may call me El, if you wish. I would prefer it actually."
“Then I shall." Byleth took her hand once again and held it tight. “El, the ceremony might have been a farce from your perspective, but I meant every word. My sword, my heart, my soul; all that I am is yours. I’ll prove this to you until the end of my days. So, knowing this, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
“Well, Ser Eisner... I suppose I can be merciful this one time." Edelgard dipped her head to steal another gentle embrace. Her words fluttered against Byleth’s lips. “In all the ways I can say it, my answer is yes.”