✾

The Adrestian Emperor was privately frustrated. Sadly, her allies were living a fool’s dream, refusing to accept the reality of the situation; the war was far from over. 

While Archbishop Rhea and Thales’s evident demise was a tremendous victory, Fódlan remained divided. The cardinals of the Central Church still lived, undoubtedly hidden away by Dimitri, and it was only a matter of time before they elevated someone among their number to replace Rhea.

“It stands to reason that peace will not occur in Fódlan until the Kingdom is completely eliminated.”

The Alliance leader disagreed. “Eliminated? Ha, kinda extreme, don’t you think?”

“Hm!” the Emperor huffed. He was no different from Ferdinand, Dorothea, and the others. As far as they were concerned, the battle should have ended with Rhea’s demise. “That’s rather rich, coming from the man who thought it would be to ‘more thorough’ to kill Rhea.”

Indeed, Claude had been the one indicated that nothing short of Rhea’s total and unequivocal surrender or death would be enough to topple the Central Church. All Edelgard had wanted was to capture her!

“Well, pardon me for thinking that keeping her locked up like an animal for all eternity would be cruel compared to a good clean death.”

She frowned. As Edelgard believed people like Rhea, Seteth, or even Flayn had to be dealt with, lest they abuse their longevity to control the people, their imprisonment would have allowed her leverage against Thales. He despised the Children of the Goddess. Them, and the so-called ‘Fell Star’, the ‘heteromorphic vessel’, the ‘Anti-Saviour’, that all those who slithered screeched and howled about, insisting Her return was imminent. Doubtless, it had been “imminent” for thousands of years. 

But Claude wasn’t to know that.

Now, Thales and Rhea’s deaths had perfectly synced. Edelgard couldn’t have planned it better. Her only regret was that she never had a chance to question Rhea about the location of the lost holy weapons and Heroes Relics. Not to mention the Sword of the Creator…

“Rather unfair of you to equate Dimitri to Rhea, too,” Claude continued, snapping her out of her thoughts. “The best course of action be to make peace with Faerghus, wouldn’t you say?”

Edelgard arched an eyebrow. “The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus has every reason to continue this war. The disappearance of Rhea incentivises the Cardinals of the Central Church to select a replacement.” The worst thing about the cardinals was that no one knew who they were. Even Hubert was stumped as to their identities. They were certain Seteth was counted among their number, but the others remained a secret. That made them harder to kill. “And Dimitri will protect them. You know he will. He will never bend to our point of view.”

(Therefore, I must break him.)

“‘Our’ point of view, huh?” Claude scoffed, grin ridged. “Huh. If I were a less discerning fellow, I’d outright accuse you of tyranny. Your determination to continue this fight with the Kingdom  doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy inside, Edelgard.” 

“I would be concerned if war did make you feel ‘warm and fuzzy’,” she told him.

“But didn’t you learn anything from our stint in that godawful place your merc friend dragged us into, Edelgard? You spoke with Dimitri, didn’t you? You know he’s willing to try and talk things out — anything to avoid needless bloodshed.”

If Edelgard took anything away from her conversation with Dimitri, it was that they would never see eye to eye. As much as it pained her, for reasons she couldn’t entirely recall, she and Dimitri were destined to clash. She would have to destroy him – and the old regime he represented – to create the Fódlan she sought.

“Dimitri and I cannot work cooperatively. Our differences go far beyond our perception of the Church.”

Claude narrowed his eyes. “Well, I think I could work cooperatively with Dimitri, if need be. And it would be easier to achieve social change in Fódlan if Dimitri is in one piece. He’d have plenty to gain from a reformation of the Church. See, there’s this little thing called ‘compromise’, Edelgard—”

A laugh burst past the Emperor’s lips. 

“You? Compromise?!” Hearing Claude von Riegan’s call for a centre point seemed like a bad joke. This man would doubtless take the legs of anyone who offered him a hand if it suited whatever his goals were.

He lowered his eyes. “Yes. Compromise. What do you think our partnership is?”

There was a cold glint in her eyes. “A means for you to avoid attacks against Leicester, given your vastly inferior numbers?”

“And you wanted to escape that pesky war on two fronts you voluntarily started because you didn’t expect my ‘vastly inferior numbers’ to give you the hard time they did.” He looked positively conceited. “Funny how things work out, eh?”

Edelgard could not argue. She presupposed the Alliance was too fragmented to put up a fight, allowing her to safely occupy the eastern side of the Airmid and slice out a land route to Garreg Mach. It had been a foolish mistake, one that almost cost her Count Bergliez and did cost a large number of soldiers. Even their hurried rescue was undone, thanks to the Ashen Demon alone. Bergliez escaped, but no one else did, and it took eight commanders to put to rout that woman.

Then, there were the western Kingdom nobles. Edelgard had worked for years to secure their loyalty and cooperation, only for that coward Count Rowe to fold to Dimitri’s strength. Then, there was that disaster at Mateus territory. Ironically, had it not been for that weak-willed fool’s sabotage, Lord Rodrigue may have been able to rally and then… Well, they would have suffered heavy losses, no doubt. Again, that battle was so close because of the Ashen Demon’s role.

(How fortunate she is contracted to the Empire now.)

“I see your point,” she said at last. “What do you want?”

Then, the Alliance leader sighed. “I’ll lay it out for you, Edelgard. I owe you that much. Take it as a final warning.” 

“Warning? How ominous!”

Still, Claude’s sudden seriousness ensured Edelgard’s attention was entirely on his words. 

(His gloves are, seemingly, off.)

“The people in Leicester aren’t exactly thrilled with this ‘agreement’ between us,” he said, painfully frank. “I’m not talking about House Daphnel or Goneril, either. Forget them. I’m talking about the everyday commoners who make up my vastly inferior numbers. That speech you gave in Ailell, brimming with bellicose and pugnacious cries of ‘supremacy’? It left a lot of people ill at ease. My men-at-arms have been fearful, terrified that you’ll drag us further and further into conflict with the Kingdom because we lack the numbers to oppose you–”

“Are these really your people’s thoughts, or yours?” The crack in his voice indicated the latter. 

Claude tilted his head, jaw stiff.

“Your casus belli is lying dead at the bottom of a ravine. If you continue down this path…!” He stopped to catch his breath.

“Yes?”

He closed his eyes, pensive. Then, they opened again, and the mask was back—that impish smile splintering across his lips again. 

“Then? Well, I may start losing your messages.”

“Hmph.” Edelgard shook her head. It was a threat, no doubt. Ending it with that grating tone and hollow smirk did nothing to take the edge off his words.

(Well, he did say this was a ‘final warning’.)

“How uncharacteristic of you, Claude. You usually prefer to stab people in the back, don’t you?”

“Ha!” His smile did not falter again, voice completely recovered as he launched into faux offence. “I am wounded that you think so little of your allies, Your Imperial Majesty. Better to be honest about my boundaries rather than springing it on you at an inconvenient moment, wouldn’t you say?”

✾

That evening, Edelgard walked Garreg Mach’s grounds, collecting her thoughts. She had managed to give Hubert the slip, taking a rare instance to break away so she could take a moment to ponder the open sky above her. It was starless, cloudy and comforting, as though she was tucked beneath the world’s most enormous blanket. A part of her hoped for rain. How good rain would feel against her face and skin, almost as good as the taste of the humid summer air…

But she struggled to enjoy the night, her head still very much on Claude and his warnings that afternoon. His avowal concerned her. It was not like him to be so… candid. 

(Should I be second or third-guessing Claude?)

Edelgard wondered if he had obtained a concord with Dimitri and that they might spring a trap on her at any moment, or perhaps he had concocted an elaborate ruse to destroy her and Dimitri. She prided herself on her ability to read people, but when it came to Duke Riegan, he was written in an entirely different language. 

(He’s a disquieting bedfellow.)

Claude was an eccentric man governed by pure caprice. Edelgard couldn’t put anything past him, as though she was just waiting for the subterfuge to reveal itself or the dagger to drop on her head…

“There you are.”

(Claude?!)

Edelgard spun, startled out of her rumination. No one. Not even a shadow. Looking above her head, the waxing summer moon was high and bright, yet his light did not reach the Emperor. Nor was there a sign of Claude. 

Then, she heard the faint crunch of boots on grass from the other side of the tall hedges. The Emperor turned towards the shrub, taking a small step towards it to look.

A dulcet titter of laughter—clearly a woman’s.

Edelgard stopped.

(Does Claude have a lover?)

This discovery mildly amused Edelgard, never mind the questionable venue he had chosen for this dalliance. This was hardly a secluded spot. After all, this is a public (enough) garden, so they couldn’t be upset at being caught. In fact, Edelgard was keen ’round the corner to reveal herself; the idea of flummoxing Claude with her sudden appearance amused Edelgard. She seldom found opportunities to laugh, and laughing at Claude’s expense would be exceptionally gratifying.

The Duke clicked his tongue, tone toying. “Hey! Are you just gonna stare at me after blanking me for weeks and weeks and weeks—?” 

The hedgerow shook as two bodies collapsed against it, startling Edelgard. For a second, she wondered if they would fall right through, landing at her feet. There followed the unmistakable sound of lips meeting. 

Kissing.

(So, he does have a lover!)

Immediately, Edelgard felt shame for encroaching. 

(I am an interloper!) 

Guilt started to set in. Edelgard was loitering as her political ally canoodled with some unknown. Lover or dalliance, it was none of her business. As suspect as Claude could appear at times, he was still her ally and deserved some privacy. 

(Leave Claude to this imprudence.)

Edelgard turned to leave.

(Although…) 

She halted. 

(Hadn’t Hubert once told her, “a man will tell his lover everything?”)

Edelgard suspected Claude kept his cards pinned to his chest even when naked, yet it might be prudent to stay and listen. Something worth hearing might slip out, something he wouldn’t divulge during their diplomatic meetings but might in the throes of passion—

Claude let out a breathy laugh, words punctuated by kisses. “I’d forgotten how good you taste.”

His partner panted a few ‘ah-has!’ At last, the woman spoke, voice amused. Flattered. Highly recognisable. “I’ve been drinking honeyed-fruit tea.”

(Wait, that voice is–!)

“Exactly,“ Claude chirped. “Very sweet.”

The kissing continued.

The Emperor swallowed a gasp.Her thoughts bombinated her brain. She clambered onto her hands and knees, unsure of the logic of why. Perhaps she was just that surprised.

(No, this has to be seen to be believed!) 

Edelgard snuck on her knees gingerly, crawling to peek around the corner. Finally, she could see the pair — and her heart skipped a beat. 

There she stood. The Ashen Demon, or the “little terror” as Hubert liked to call her, wrapped around the Alliance leader like ivy as one hand rested upon the small of her back, the other buried in her bright-teal locks. 

(What would it be like?)

To be kissed or touched intimately by someone or anyone? Another quaint thought struck her. What would Claude’s mouth feel like? Would his lips be soft? Was his skin stubbled and rough or close-shaven? She, this whoever, seemed to like whatever he was offering, so… 

(It might be quite agreeable.)

Edelgard blushed. She banished the thought from her mind as quickly as she had conjured it. Still, she had to forgive herself for that brief reverie. He is very handsome. Beautiful, some might say.

And what about the Ashen Demon…?

(Claude said she tasted sweet.)

Lips parted.

The Demon gazed up at Claude with an expression that made Edelgard feel odd. Claude’s face was equally dazed—such a strange image. 

Edelgard felt ashamed; she didn’t know anything about this woman. She had not spoken with her as much as she would have liked. It annoyed her because Edelgard was sure the mercenary possessed the same crest as she did. A gut feeling overcame her when they were face to face, and she knew she carried the flames within and far more potently, too. 

(The lost Crest of Nemesis.)

She wondered how this Byleth came to acquire it — was it through the same unnatural means that the Emperor received hers. Somehow, she doubted it. The Demon was barely cognisant that she even had a crest. And though her hair had changed colour, it was not devoid of pigment. 

(No, it was not due to blood experiments.)

The most logical explanation would be that she was a true descendant of Nemesis, the King of Liberation. Edelgard felt this would be poetic. She secretly admired the much-maligned Fell King. And despite how terrified people seemed of the infamous Ashen Demon, little was actually terrifying about her. In many ways, she reminded Edelgard of herself… 

But this scene was utterly alien.

The Rogue and the Demon. It left Edelgard deadened, and she had no idea why. She had no meaningful relationship with the Demon, and as for Claude…

(Well, he can do what he wants.)

Claude brushed a loose strand of hair from Byleth’s lip, a remarkably intimate gesture. “I… missed you.” He sounded sincere. Edelgard had never heard him speak in anything other than a blithe arch voice. “I’ve thought about you a lot since you left.”

“Really?” The Demon sounded hopeful, a tone quite unusual for her. Not that Edelgard had heard her speak much at all. “I’ve thought about you, too.”

Claude’s smile could be heard in his response. “Yeah?” 

“Yes. A lot, a lot.”

“Hmmm, so I left an impression, have I?” Claude’s smile could be heard in his words. “Well, I guess you’re even more….” An amused snort. “Y’know, kissier than last time.”

A nervous hem., a shyness tinged her voice. “I’m sorry if I’m being forward.”

“No, no!” Claude protested, kissing her again. “I like it. I like this.” His hands found her hips. “I like you. A lot, a lot-a lot.”

“I like you, too,” her cheeks shone pink. “I didn’t know I could… like someone like this.” He leaned down to kiss her neck, making her sigh, “I figured you’d forget about me.”

“Ha! I don’t think anyone could forget you easily, By.”

(‘By’?! How… overly familiar.)

“I couldn’t believe it when I heard Edelgard had roped you into her army,” the Duke said, fingers twirling around strands of green hair. “Hell, I couldn’t believe it when I heard the Kingdom had contracted you. The way you made it sound, Jeralt would sooner leave Fódlan altogether.” 

“I was almost as surprised as you. Jeralt told me we’d have to avoid the Kingdom for the foreseeable future, so when he agreed to take the contract with Rodrigue….”

He cupped her cheek. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Byleth nodded, but her voice was sad. He didn’t say anything, observing her. At last, she continued speaking as though the words had weighed on her for some time. “It’s… I regret that I couldn’t save him.” 

Claude nodded. “I’d only heard good things about Lord Rodrigue. I… I hate that he was killed the way he was, too. This war… really has brought too much bloodshed.”

(As if you wouldn’t have done the same in my shoes.)

Because he would, wouldn’t he? Edelgard shifted on her feet a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Uncertain.

“Rodrigue was a good man,” Byleth nodded. “That’s a rare thing in my line of work. Employers rarely speak to me like a person. Just bark orders, or ignore me entirely. He never called me a ‘demon’ or ‘monster’ when he did speak to me, either. He—“

She released a sad sigh.

“If it hadn’t been for that Mateus man, maybe I could’ve…” Byleth shook her head. “Sometimes, it feels like this war kills all the kind people, leaving only the worst of us to profit.”

 The back of Edelgard’s neck burned. 

(Is she referring to Mateus… or me?)

Claude’s hands ran down Byleth’s neck to her shoulders, then forearms. He took hold of Byleth’s hands, raising them to his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to trudge up bad memories.”

Byleth shook her head. “You didn’t. What’s done is done.”

“But for what it’s worth,” he quickly added. “I don’t think there are good or bad people, just people trying to do what they think is right, whatever that may be.”

“Perhaps.” The Demon’s eyes shifted to one side. “Rodrigue promised Jeralt we would not have to fight alongside the Knights of Seiros; they were the ones my father wanted to avoid, not specifically the Kingdom.”

“Huh! And he was their Captain once, right?”

“So Alois says. A lot. He’s a never-ending source of stories about my father. I know more about him now than I ever did growing up.”

“I can imagine! Did you ever discover why Jeralt was so desperate to avoid the knights in the first place? The way you made it sound last time, it seemed like he was ‘on the run’ from something.”

“Yes, Jeralt told me….” Edelgard instinctively leaned forward, wanting to hear more. “It’s a weird story, Claude. I’m still trying to make sense of it.”

Claude tilted his head. “Oh?”

Byleth nodded, placing her hands against his chest. “But I’ll tell you later.” 

There was a coquettishness to her that took Edelgard by surprise. But not Claude. He snickered. “Gonna keep me in suspense, eh? Well, fine. The night is still young. I’ll get to the root of all your secrets in good time.” He kissed her crown, starting to play with her hair again. “Like this new look of yours. Is that a secret as well?”

“That—!” Byleth scowled at the shimmering lock curled around Claude’s white-gloved hand. “That is a whole other story and one I definitely still don’t understand.”

(Her hair.)

That gave the Emperor pause. It was harder to tell when the eyes and hair were darker, but now? They had brightened, changing from dark to pale teal, as though pure power coursed through the follicles of each strand! It was stunning, intriguing and terrifying. It was just like Rhea’s. How disappointing it would be if they were related! If the Demon indeed was something other than human–

“I’ll tell you…” Byleth smiled, moving closer to him. “But again later.”

“Tease! Well, fine. I’ll let it slide for now.”

Edelgard felt a little disappointed Claude didn’t push further. “Captain Jeralt is very adept at covering his tracks,” Hubert claimed. No amount of digging had uncovered the whole story when she asked him to look into the Blade Breaker and his child. “It has even been a struggle to find evidence of the Terror’s birth, let alone who her mother was.”

Still, it was polite – if a little un-Claude-like – for the Alliance leader to let the issue rest.

“Ugh, whatever Jeralt’s reasons, I’m so glad our paths crossed again.” Claude’s hand rested upon the small of Byleth’s back again, pulling her closer. It looked unnervingly intimate. “I was worried he’d uproot you guys from Fódlan altogether.”

“Worried?”

“Heh.” Claude pressed his mouth against her temple, mumbling into her flesh. “You took off so quickly. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“I thought you might be angry with me.”

“Huh, why?”

“Two reasons: first, I failed to subdue our enemies.”

It felt peculiar for Edelgard to hear that, knowing Byleth was referring to the Adrestian forces and herself.  

Claude scoffed. “Failed?! You practically handed Count Bergliez his testicles!”

“I should have recaptured him.”

“You couldn’t. Edelgard threw everything she had left at you while he slunk off. And even then, you made her and her top commanders look like a joke. “

Edelgard frowned, wishing to challenge that notion in her own mind. But she couldn’t. It was true. It greatly annoyed her, but it was true. She thought about it earlier — what a remarkable impact the Demon – ‘Byleth’ – had on any battlefield she stepped on. That day in Derdriu, she could have ripped Shez in two, but she didn’t. She seemed in conflict with herself, caught between finishing the other mercenary off and letting him go, and it was the latter part of her heart that won out…

That day the Demon transformed.

Now, Edelgard was the beneficiary of the Ashen Demon’s power; she dreaded – genuinely trembled – that a day may come when that immense power might be turned upon her again.

“You’re a single person, By. It’s not like you didn’t earn your keep.” Claude traced his thumb over Byleth’s bottom lip, “What was the second reason?”

Her expression was coy. “The other night. You know when we nearly…?”

Claude’s cheeks reddened. 

“Oh. That.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault; it’s mine. Thinking back, it probably wouldn’t have been smart under the circumstances.” He looked down at her hands, still flat upon his chest. “Sleeping with my employee.”

Edelgard’s lumbar quaked. So, they had – or nearly had – been intimate. It shouldn’t have surprised her, given everything she had witnessed tonight, but it still left her feeling… peculiar. As though—

(Stop, this is a childish thought!)

Byleth peeked up at Claude, lips simpering. “I’m not your employee now.”

They exchanged a look that made Edelgard’s arms and legs shake.

Claude cocked his head to one side, smirking assuredly. “I suppose that is something. I no longer have to feel guilty about doing this.”

They kissed again—slow, warm, indulgent. A happy hum escaped Byleth’s lips as a gratified growl ripped from Claude’s throat. This was not innocent and pure. Suggestive, sensual moans thrummed from their lips. His hands journeyed over her hips and rump, and the Demon’s fingers and nails brushed through his hair. It was a senseless mix of sweetness and indecency…

And Edelgard felt a pang of covetousness. 

“From the moment we met, I felt like…” Claude uttered, pausing kisses. “Like my heart was calling out to you….”

“I know,” Byleth hummed against his lips. “It’s strange. Like they’re connected….”

The Emperor flinched.

“I liked fighting alongside you,” the Demon added. “At Ailell.”

“Ha, we definitely made a good team! Though it was pretty dicey. There was a moment where…” Claude stopped, expression suddenly serious. 

“What is it?”

He cupped her cheek. “It’s weird, but… did you get a sense of finality during that battle? Like, we were ‘ride or die’ in there?”

The Demon gasped, surprised by her own reaction. “I… Yes. I know what you mean. That valley is hot, but I still felt shivers. Like we were walking over our own graves.”

Edelgard remembered Ailell. The Ashen Demon was among the few at Edelgard’s disposal who could stand up to Dimitri’s mammoth strength, and she had fully intended to hold her back for that purpose. Yet when Claude requested assistance, Byleth volunteered herself — and was off, not waiting for Edelgard’s approval. It worked out well, as the Demon’s choice freed up what would have taken four or five soldiers otherwise.

(That woman was worth ten times her weight in gold and a thousand soldiers in battle.)

But it still vexed Edelgard that Byleth took matters into her own hands like that, especially now knowing It had never occurred to Edelgard that Byleth did what she did because it was Claude. 

(Because she likes him.)

“Thank the gods we were wrong, huh? Unless we’ve died, and this is purgatory.” 

Byleth just laughed, lurching forward to meet his lips again.

Edelgard could feel her cheeks aglow. She had never been kissed. Not like this. Only by siblings and friends, passionless and pure, childish pecks upon the lips of lost loved ones to whom she could no longer place faces or names. Watching Byleth and Claude now was entirely foreign. How ardently they embraced! Kissing, touching, rubbing… it was awkward to kneel there, ogling: Byleth wrapping her leg around Claude’s waist; him squeezing her buttocks, murmuring unintelligible words into her neck, collarbone, bust line, sucking her pillowy skin… 

It was all so… risqué. 

“I—!” The Demon’s eyes were pleading, dark, and hungry. “I want—I want you!”

The Emperor cringed.

The Duke blurted out a “Ha!” and continued to embrace the Demon. But his mind was readably caught on an idea. Suddenly, Claude pressed a finger against Byleth’s lips, blocking a further kiss. There was a glint in his eyes. 

“Then, come with me.” 

Byleth stared, dazed. “H-Huh?”

“Your contract is pretty much up, right? So, come with me.”

“With you? You mean back to Derdriu?”

“There. Maybe elsewhere after that. Come with me.”

“As what?” Then, a little dispirited, she asked, “As a mercenary?” 

Claude chuckled sanguinely. “As whatever you want. We make a pretty good team either way. Allies, friends, companions. Anything. I reckon we could make any arrangement work.” 

The trespasser was affronted.

(Is that what this is?!) 

Was he attempting to seduce the Ashen Demon to curry favour, to convince her to join him? To steal her out from under Edelgard’s employ? 

Byleth hummed ruminatively. “I…”

“No, no.” Claude pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t need to answer now. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. We can talk about it later; I want you to really think about it, okay? Right now, though?” 

He switched their positions, making Byleth squeak uncharacteristically as he pressed her into the wall of greenery. 

“I know what you want from me right now.”

He tugged off his glove with his teeth and threw it to the ground with a careless thud. Pressing a pair of fingers into Byleth’s mouth, she unquestioningly supped them like a sweet. The Emperor knew she ought to leave, but whether it was curiosity, indignation or something else, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Byleth’s lips parted, releasing Claude’s fingers with a salacious pop. Tiny pants escaped her as he reached between them, a pliant plaything in the Alliance leader’s grasp—

Edelgard gasped, spinning on her heels. Back against the hedgerow, she heard the rustling as the pair ceased their torrid activity with baited breaths.

“Shh!” The Demon’s voice was a low, ardent purr. “Did you hear that?”

“Yep.”

A charged pause. 

The Emperor held her breath and scrunched her eyes closed. 

(Like a foolish child…)

Compromising as Claude’s actions with the Ashen Demon were, Edelgard couldn’t bear the ignominy of being caught spying. She weighed up her options: scramble to her feet and flee before either could round the corner or say a prayer and hope that the pair would be too embarrassed to seek out their spy.

(Ha! Pray!)

Pray to the deaf Sothis, who had never answered her pleas for freedom as a child, locked away in that dank, rat-invested dungeon, to spare her from public humiliation?! No, that prayer was futile. Sothis would not hear. 

As Edelgard worked up the courage to bolt and run, the Demon’s heels crunched on the grass. “Can we go inside?” Byleth’s voice was barely audible. “Somewhere private?”

“Uh-huh. Do you, aha, wanna maybe come to my… quarters…?”

A shy chuckle. “Yeah. I’d… I’d like that.”

If any more was said between them, the Emperor did not hear. They pulled away from the hedge. By the ‘Goddess’s’ grace – they walked in the opposite direction to where Edelgard was crouched. 

She remained silent.

Still.

Until everything was dead.

Only then did Edelgard allow herself to open her eyes. Quiet. She steadily got to her feet. Tip-toeing, she hesitantly peeked around the corner, half expecting to be jumped.

But they were gone.

A deep, relieved breath escaped her. 

(Gone.)

Edelgard cast her sight upward towards the sharp-edged moon. That was when the full realisation sank in, what she had witnessed and what it meant. It left her feeling… lost. Sad. Dispirited. 

Was it because of her crest, which she was sure she shared with Byleth? The Crest of Flames. How stupid Edelgard had been! She struggled to fully comprehend the confusion, resentment, and shame she felt. Of course, a crest was nothing. It didn’t make a friendship or bond, no matter how rare or unusual. It hadn’t occurred to her to speak with the Ashen De—with Byleth. Other than to “bark orders” at her and “ignore her entirely.”

(Have we even ever exchanged a word?)

Guiltily, she couldn’t remember.

Mind muddled, Edelgard stumbled a little on her feet. Bracing against the stone wall, a gleam of white caught her eye. Claude’s glove—still lying in the grass. Absentmindedly, she reached down to pick it up and found it was still warm.