Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You were never a fan of drinking, the bitter stouts that your half-brother and his husband liked never held any appeal for you. Neither did the expensive wines and cocktails your uncle peddled at his dinner parties. The drunken escapades that your dear friend, Dorothea, always dragged to you, held none as well, but still you could never say no, not to her. Not when she'd give a beaming smile in the mirror as she helped you with your makeup, or when she spent far more time than you ever did, going through your closet and finding the perfect outfit. You were thankful that this time you were able to keep it fairly low-key.

And like any other time that's how you ended up at Thunderbrand, Catherine's own bar that she always claimed to have built with her own hands. You always doubted that was true, but no one pushed the woman's buttons less they found themselves on the street outside the only queer friendly bar in Garreg Mach.

You were sitting at a table, a sweet hard cider in hands as you watched Dorothea take Petra's hands and guide them to her hips. It got increasingly difficult to watch the dance floor and had to turn back to your bottle. You tried to drown out the ugly green feeling inside you, the one that was downright furious at your friends, eager to lash out. Eager to make them feel a fraction of what you did. You did your best though and stomped it down, after all. It wasn't their fault. They were the ones who took you here to make you feel better. Just because they were happy and in love didn't give you the right to hate them for it.

Not when you already loved them like dear sisters. Not when they offered to take you to the dance-floor, but you had refused on the basis that you only knew the waltz and other forms of ballroom dancing. It was true of course, you did only know the forms of dance that came from years under your uncle's thumb, pretending to be the perfect niece at his galas and fundraising events.

It just wasn't why you refused and no matter how you tried to hide it behind fake smiles and half-truths, you knew that they saw past it but chose not to push. Your friends were kind like that.

Of course, your refusal wasn't a slight on them. They've been your best friends since you all were children, since long before you all left Adrestia. They were just doing their best to cheer you up.

A truly difficult task as you wished for nothing more than for you to be back on your couch with a tub of Anna's & Anna's Caramel Swirl, your favorite.

The worst part of it all was the fact that you did all of this to yourself.

You were the one to spend the last two years trying to win over your professor without even checking if she was in a relationship or not.

Spoiler alert. She was. Actually married at that, with an older man and a daughter apparently. A fucking daughter . You've been in love with a married woman this whole time and all that made you want to do was wack yourself upside the head with an axe.

You drained your bottle and went up to the bar to order another. You caught Dorothea's eyes for a moment, a worried expression on her face. You weren't a terribly strong drinker. In fact, usually half of what you've had so far during the event was considered your comfortable limit. However you were far too stuck in your desire to drown your sorrows and to hopefully suffer from some form of short-term memory loss.

Your next drink was a mixed cocktail that was a deep ocean blue and smelled like an alcoholic blueberry. 

The color was just like her hair that you couldn't help the tears that pricked your eyes. She was like the deepest parts of the ocean; treacherously beautiful, unfathomable, and unattainable, for you were stuck on the shores. Doomed to only watch from a distance.

"Edelgard, I'm glad you could make it." The Professor had called you and asked if you could visit her in her office after hours. You dropped everything to race over there after you received her phone-call.

You could never say no to her. You had a secret hope when you called you, that perhaps she had noticed your growing affection, the gifts you had sent to her office, the poems, the flowers, the handcrafted portraits that you spent entire days pouring over. Efforts that you poured your heart and soul into. How could you not? Your love for her was like a crimson flower during an eternal spring, every day it bloomed just a bit brighter.

You couldn't resist her pull even if you tried, every time she stood at the front of the lecture hall, every-time she asked to speak to you after class, every time you didn't hesitate to volunteer to help her. You often spent many nights in the library with her or in her office. Often gazing at her face as she scrunched it in concentration. You of course, helped with anything she asked; grading other students essays or tests, helping with lecture prep. Dorothea often joked that you'd slay a dragon just to see her smile.

Of course, In the end, you were powerless to resist her commands.

You took the seat across from her and tried your best to not fidget. For too long you've been under this veil of being her student, her pupil, a younger woman.

It's been a few months since you completed your graduate studies when you received the call, and you were trying your best to seem as adult as possible. You had earned an internship at the law-firm without the aid of your uncle for one. You had signed a new lease somewhere better than the dorms or the closet-sized basement apartments you shared with several rotating tenants for another. You had finally bought a nicer car than the Crown Emperor you poached off a scrap yard when you moved away from Enbarr.

All of this was for your own ambitions of course; you cared deeply about combating injustice, you wanted to make the world a better place… however that didn't mean that your heart didn't do a little flip every time the Professor congratulated you on your success. If that caused you to work a little harder or stay up later, than who but you could say?

Ultimately though, you wanted her to see you for you; as Edelgard, a woman whose heart she held in her hands.

You watched as Professor Byleth did some fidgeting of her own, which was strange of itself. Byleth Eisner did not fidget. The woman was usually a vessel of calm movements and peaceful serenity. It was something you always loved about her. Now, you are seeing an entirely new side of her and its even more endearing then before.

Was this a result of your most recent gift? You had stepped up your efforts by sending a single carnation, your favorite, along with a poem that professed everything you love about her. Did this mean that she finally noticed your feelings? Your heart swelled with the possibility.

But when Byleth, your teacher, steeled herself before you and pulled out a wedding band attached to a necklace out from under her blouse, you realized how wrong you truly were.

Your world shattered before you.

"You good there, Edelgard?" You looked up to the strangely concerned face of the bartender, Catherine. Your eyes drifted downward, you were envious of the way she so easily had her sleeves rolled up, to show her strong forearms, her blatant pride in her body. A trait that you never had. You had pride, but it was always in your skills, your intelligence, your drive, never in your body though. You could never bring yourself to show bare skin, even swimsuits made your skin crawl like rats were crawling all over you.

If you were a woman like Catherine, so unabashedly unashamed… Would Byleth have accepted you then?

You found that you couldn’t squash that feeling despite the fact that that wasn’t the reason she rejected you.

You tried your best to flash a smile at her as you tried to remember how to, about to reply ‘that you were fine’, despite that you really weren’t, but you weren’t about to share your entire life story with someone just because you and your friends were regulars at her bar. You weren’t even willing to tell Dorothea most of the thoughts that swam inside your mind.

Unfortunately that seemed to draw a frown on Catherine's face, who was about to say something but she stopped in her tracks as she turned her head to the door. You looked at her with a perplexed expression as her face turned absolutely delighted.

'Ah. Must be Shamir', you thought before you turned back to your drink. You thought about going back to your table, but at a glance you saw Dorothea and Petra still dancing and you didn't want to be there all alone or to disturb their happiness either. So you stayed by the bar for now, somberly going through your blue drink that tasted more like paint-thinner that sat next to a bowl of fruit more than anything else.

Next to you, Catherine started to wave excitedly like she was a Leicesterian Shepherd Dog, you were certain that if she had one, her tail would be wagging. You couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed by her actions. By the Goddess, if Shamir and Catherine started flirting in front of you, you knew that you couldn't take that final blow. Maybe it was time to call a cab. That tub of ice cream called to you once again.

You opened your phone to look for a distraction only to find no solace in social media. Your feed was covered in pages of your friend's honeymoon; looking like the sun and moon went out for a stroll on a beach. Even Hubert had an uncharacteristic, albeit faint smile on his face.

You throw your phone into your pants pocket, thankful that you were able to talk Dorothea down from the skirts and dresses she tried to put you in earlier. Maybe if you actually wanted to be at the bar, you would have dressed better than just a long-sleeved red blouse and charcoal colored pants. You finished your drink and was about to ask Catherine if you could pay yours and your friend’s tab, but when you turned you found that she was busy pouring a bottle of wine into a glass, to which you were fairly certain was the only wine glass in the entire bar.

You looked over and were greeted by a cascade of seafoam green waves that sat just a seat away from you. Her face and features were obscured by her locks, but you saw at least that she was tall, easily at eye-level with Catherine, quite a trait since the blonde bartender towered over most except for the tallest of men.

Catherine was regaling her with a story. “So no shit, there I was. Knee deep in wyvern shit, with Ashe at my side.. Equipped with only our rifles, a packet of cigarettes and a limited edition toothbrush I won in a card game…” You mentally blocked out the rest of the story as it sounded like total hogwash. Did Shamir know that Catherine was trying to pick up women?

You called for Catherine’s attention and they both turned.

Oh. The woman was very striking, her facial features were strong and sharp, if Catherine was a guard dog, this woman was a wolf… and yet her face was without a single imperfection, she had an almost ageless quality to herself. Her eyes were much like the same color of her hair, only slightly darker, they seem to almost slit slightly pierced into you with a scrutinizing expression. There was something familiar about her that you couldn’t quite place.

“Ah, Edelgard forgot you were there!" Little surprise there, you supposed. Catherine was visibly vibrating. "Meet Rhea! She’s an old war buddy of mine!” You tried to not roll your eyes, Catherine had three types of stories she liked to tell to anyone who would bother to listen; drunk stories, war stories, and drunken war stories. You usually tuned out her braggart tales.

Still, even you had heard of a woman that half-dragged Catherine through the majority of the Albinea Conflict so perhaps there was a glimmer of truth there. Well, perhaps if you were in a better mood you would deluge her, but you didn't care for watching the two of them flirt either.

So you faked a smile, an unfortunate talent of yours, and said. "Well it's lovely to meet you, Rhea, but Catherine, could I please pay our tab?" The allure of home where you could sulk in private and get over yourself before you faced work on Monday was far too tempting.

Catherine grumbled, likely annoyed that she had to do actual work , but she did leave for a moment, which left you and the mysterious woman, Rhea, alone. A woman who kept glancing in your direction, not that she was alone in that. You were unable to shake the feeling that there was something very familiar about her.

"I'm sorry, but have we met?" A part of you had to know, and the drive for understanding kept the loneliness at bay for just a moment.

Rhea looked more than a little surprised that you asked, her eyes widened and her mouth opened. It looked… cute. But you blamed it on the alcohol as the surprised look was gone in an instant replaced once again by an aloof and calm demeanor. "Ah. No. I believe not."

"Oh." There was a feeling inside your stomach that only expanded the loneliness that had invaded you so much in recent days. You turned back to the last dregs of your drink. How foolish you felt, you couldn't even have a normal conversation with another woman.

You didn't look up and see the regretful expression on Rhea's face.

Catherine came back after you stewed in the awkward silence caused by your failure with a receipt and your card. You pocketed both and moved to get up. You thought about just leaving Dorothea and Petra there, to not ruin their good night just because of you. 

"Wait." You stopped and turned, to your surprise, Rhea had turned in her seat and was facing you with a glimmer of determination in her eyes.

"Yes?" You asked. Was she going to tell you that you had something on your face or that you had stained your shirt? That would certainly be within your luck.

To your absolute befuddlement, she asked something completely different. "Would you like to join me for a drink?"

"What?" Your voice broke just a bit as your face felt hot. What was this? A final joke on you this evening? Or Perhaps she recognized who you were? Maybe she knew your uncle, which was a scenario that was about a hundred times worse. Just a ploy to get closer to him through the once-legitimate heir of your father's old company.

Still she repeated the question and… you couldn't find it within yourself to say no. Maybe it was the loneliness, the fact that you had the rest of the weekend with nothing going on, or maybe it was the horror of facing an empty apartment and an empty bed despite the allure of comforting sweets, or maybe it was just because it was only one drink.

You warily took your seat at the bar back and she smiled. A full genuine smile that did things to your heart that you weren't prepared for.

You looked away as Catherine sat out another glass, though you were right about there being only one actual wine glass in the building as you received a drink from the same bottle that Rhea was enjoying.

You still weren't much of a wine drinker, for they reminded you far too much of your disdain for your uncle, but your tastebuds were still resentful from that blue drink you had earlier, so you took it in stride.

You took the plunge. "So, do you come here often?" Did that sound as lame to her as it did to you? You were a mess… but to your surprise the woman genuinely laughed.

"No, I just moved here, but I did live here before, long ago." The way she spoke was almost wistful… like the way Ferdinand spoke about Reunification Era clothing, but he was just a historian with a flare for fashion.

"Ah. Did you come back for the university?" It was difficult to pin down the woman's age due to the ageless quality she had, but the Albinea Conflict took place while you were in high-school so that placed her at least the later twenties-early thirties. Though you were a firm believer that age didn't matter for an education, only a willingness to learn. It was something, your teacher always said.

Rhea chuckled and replied. "No, I'm much too old for that, my family persuaded me to move here."

Catherine joined in the conversation without prompting as was expected of her really. "Did you finally manage to talk him down from sharing to you having your own apartment?" Rhea flushed just a bit red in her face from it.

She then elaborated because of the confusion on your face. "My brother can be a bit… overprotective at times."

"More like a controlling asshat with the personality of wet cardboard."

"Catherine!"

"What! It's true! Shammy agrees with me! Edelgard, back me up here. Would you move in with your brother if he demanded that you live with him, his wife, and adult daughter?" If you were more sober, you'd give an answer that would be akin to 'depends on the circumstances', but you had already drunk half your wine and you at that moment hated the idea of living with a married couple. Or married couples on principle.

So you backed up Catherine, for the first time ever. Only you meant to say, I agree with Catherine, but it turned into. "I agree with Cardboard." Much the amusement of Catherine and Rhea.

With what felt like the first smile you've had in days, you found that you didn't mind their laughter all that much.

You stayed there for several hours chatting with the two of them, you found that Rhea was just as bad with small talk as you were. Awkward and stilted, like she's spent several years without anyone to talk too. The two of you relied on Catherine more than you cared to admit.

Though eventually it did pick up, and the conversations started to ranged from pets, to which you learned that she had a cat named Sothis that she spoiled far too much, to food, where you delighted that she too had a sweet tooth and you pointed her to your favorite bakery in town, to even ancient world politics which caused a hilariously heated debate about how awful the the Crest System was and that it was a good thing that it no longer existed, only for the two of you to realize that you were both arguing the same point.

But what you were the most pleased about was that you found that Rhea was much like you in that, she didn't know how to dance anything besides old world dances either. Which led to the ever eager to please Catherine changing the bar's music to a waltz and to a gentle pair of hands in yours. It was firm and strong and you were able to see how Rhea could have been a soldier.

Though you could only ever picture her with a sword and shield instead of a rifle and fatigues for some alcohol induced reason.

And when you found yourself with your back slammed against an unfamiliar apartment door, soft lips locked with your own, you couldn’t help but think that maybe things were looking up…

Until you woke up at least.

The sounds of a gentle shower and the faint singing awoke you. Feminine and soft, you kept your eyes closed as you just enjoyed the moment.

Wrapped up in silver silken sheets, you lounged in the afterglow of a night you wouldn't/didn't want to forget.

Slowly, but surely you greeted morning, the sights of a sunlit room unfamiliar to you greeted you back.

A room that was mostly unpacked, but had enough boxes around that it was clear that its resident was still in the process of moving in.

You smiled as you got up and stretched, your body sore from use. A feeling you haven't had since you and Hilda Goneril had a thing back in your freshman year.

You drifted out of bed and towards the shower, you grabbed your underwear on the way, it would suit you until you could get back to your place and get some fresh clothes. You quickly found your phone and sent a few texts in response to the missed calls from Dorothea. A quick 'I'm not dead. She turned out to be nice, Ttyl.' Solved that problem if the dozen heart emojis you got in response were anything to go by.

You grabbed your stuff and lingered by the door to the rest of the apartment. Did you want to leave? The shower was still going on. You could join her, you reasoned. After all, what awaited you back home? It was a Sunday, so that meant that no work, just a couch and a game of twenty questions with your friends.

Suddenly the ice cream didn't sound as appealing as it did last night.

You moved to the door that connected the bedroom to the bathroom, the sounds of a still ongoing hot shower came from the other side. You undressed and were about to open the door when you noticed something on the dresser.

A set of framed photographs stood tall on top of the antique dresser. 

You shakily stepped forward and grabbed one.

It was a family photo; Rhea next to what you presumed was her brother with similar colored hair, only slightly darker, and a shorter young woman in front of them. His daughter.

But what freaked you out was the man's arm wrapped around another woman's waist.

Her deep blue hair and eyes were just like the ocean; treacherously beautiful, unfathomable, and unattainable.

You shakily sat the photograph back down just as you heard the sounds of the front door opening up in the apartment.

A familiar voice called out.

"Rhea! We're here! Are you ready for church?"

You just slept with Byleth's sister-in-law.

Chapter Text

You woke up with your face pressed against the cold hard stone. The still darkness enveloped the room like a weighted blanket; the quiet was almost comforting. Almost.

You attempted to right yourself to a sitting position; the ache of your body and the weakness of your limbs made it almost an insurmountable task. By the end of it, you were sweating and gasping for breath. You squeezed out a wheezing exhale, and sucked in a breath of stale air; the scent of decay burned your throat. You wiped your sweaty, tear-covered face with your sleeve. The worn cloth had long become scratchy and tattered.

You knew the truth. You were going to die down here and the worst part of it all was; you could only blame yourself. It was all your fault.

You neglected your duties to watch and nurture all to do little more than buy time for your experiments. You bid the health of the world on false hope and forbidden magic. You had let humanity keep blood, stone, and bone without them knowing the truth and when their greed only grew? You turned away and let themselves ruin each other.

You had let them govern themselves on a bed of lies and when one of them finally looked down and saw the injustice of it all, they saw who to blame.

You had caused this and you despised yourself for it.

The heavy thump of heavy boots and sabatons against stone steps disrupted your penance. Their steel mail and scabbards clanged together in a militaristic cadence. A steady march towards the only occupied cell down in the deepest cell of the lowest layers of this forgotten dungeon. It was a part of the palace that was unknown to all but the most inner circle of your captors. Even to you, the one had aided in the construction of this palace and its ancient walls. You had laid the foundation of the Palace above; brick by stone brick, alongside Wilhelm the First.

In your hazy self hatred, you were left to wonder. Was this dungeon created for you? Had they all along been planning this? Once your most staunch allies and now the seeds and sprouted weeds of rebellious and violent liberation.

The only evidence that said otherwise were the half a dozen or so old blood stains against the far wall, all browned and faded with time, but still present enough to be your permanent roommate.

"To your feet, prisoner." Said the guards at your door, but they were quickly cut off.

"She can stay down if she wishes.” Said the emperor, before she turned around the corner to face you,  “ How have you been, Seiros? " Her lilac eyes burned through the darkness and your world closed on itself in response.

Then you opened your eyes and were faced with that very same face. You clenched your teeth and pressed your hand against your mouth to muffle the scream. You were fortunate; the sleeping woman mumbled something and rolled over. Her sleep messed chestnut hair covered much of the nearby pillows and her bare neck. 

It would be quite the beautiful sight that would lure anyone to climb back in and join her once again in slumber. If only you weren't on the verge of tears and covered in a cold sweat. If only the thought of touching the other woman didn't send chills and tremors throughout your entire body. If only your body did not rebel against the idea as if the woman would leap up with an axe and drag you kicking and screaming back to the dungeons beneath Enbarr.

If only you weren’t absolutely petrified by the woman in front of you.

It was a ridiculous notion of course, logically you knew this well enough. You had spent the entire past evening learning how insane it truly was. You were the one who reached out to her last night after all. The Edelgard you met last night was not her.

The woman that slept so peacefully next to you was not the Flame Emperor. She was not allied to the Agarthans, who had long since faded away, either dragged into the light by your successor or slain after you had felled Shambhala under the weight of your wrath.

She was just Edelgard. A woman who only shared a name and the same lilac eyes and face as the source of your terror. This Edelgard that you had met last night was radically different from your long past tormentor. The woman you had met and dragged to your apartment on an impulsive whim was sweet, intelligent, kind, and an absolute gentlewoman. You had lost track of how long you and her had spent swaying in each other's arms long after Catherine’s bar had closed.

You weren't in the dungeons beneath Enbarr. You were at your apartment. Your home. In your bed. In Garreg Mach, a thousand plus years after the war. You were safe. Humanity has long since moved on and yet… why can't you?

Tears of frustration pooled as you slowly took one shuttering muffled breath after another. You had to remind yourself again and again that the sweet woman you had taken home wasn't the Emperor and that you weren't Seiros any longer. Neither of those felt particularly true at that moment.

The urge to be anywhere but there rose and you did your best to silently shuffle out of bed, only momentarily stopped by Edelgard rolling back over and sleepily grasping for something, her eyes still closed with a trickle of drool on the corner of her mouth. You couldn't bring yourself to look at the marks you left on her skin. 

You placed one of the bed's pillow's into Edelgard's reaching grasp. Your guilt only rose at the sight of her innocent face as she smiled in her sleep and cuddled the pillow. Still you could only see her crimson armor and axe in hand, set to drag you and your kin into the hands of the Agarthans.

You couldn't bear it any longer and made your escape into your connected bathroom and promptly threw up into the toilet. At least you could partially blame it on the fact that Nabatean anatomy and alcohol didn't mix all that well. Even if it never stopped you or Seteth from indulging in the occasional glass. You still recalled that one time Flayn in a rare bout of teenage-ish rebellion had snuck her way into the communal wine storage, egged on by Claude von Riegan, though he was completely unaware of Flayn's feat. The young Nabatean woke up the next day to only puke all over Seteth's shoes when he came to wish his daughter a goodmorning. Claude had woken up with a detention slip slapped across his face with no clue why.

The warm memory helped smooth you and you staggered away from the toilet and dipped your mouth into the sink faucet. You rinsed out your mouth and met your reflection in the mirror like an old nemesis.

Seiros the war-worn warrior sneered at your weakness. Her winged gold diadem sat perfectly on her brow. She was clad in bloodstained saintly cloth armored with mythril armored plates. Her eyes were glowing brightly and shaped like slits. 

The blood of the slain slowly dripped down her face, a testament to all those she's struck down without a single thought or care thrown in their direction. Their cries for mercy fell on deaf ears.

She told you to go back into that bedroom and wrap your hands around that pretty little neck.

You couldn't bear to face her any longer and ducked away into the basin of the sink. The cool water that you left running soaked your face and you kept your eyes closed until you were sure that there would be no red. You kept scrubbing until you couldn't feel your fingertips.

And then you breathed; deep and long, over and over again.

One.

Two..

Three…

You opened them once again and looked up. a woman half naked with sleep-messed hair stared back at you and you let go of the breath you held. It was you. Just Rhea. You've been just Rhea ever since you had woken up in the new world after a long needed slumber. No longer an Archbishop or Saint and barely even a soldier. You were more like a washed up retiree with far too much time on your hands.

You were alive. You were fine. You were safe.

You could face her . 

No. She wasn't her.  

She was just Edelgard. Edie, El. After all that's why you invited her over in the first place.

When you saw those lilac eyes you knew instantly who she once was, but was no more. You had encountered many souls recycled and put back out into the world. Many of them lived different lives, some barely changed, but the one thing that always stayed the same were their eyes.

You reached out to her, not for the chance at love or some other mystical reason that you didn't know if you believed in anymore. No, you asked if she wanted a drink because you were so eager to prove that you were more than just a collection of millennia old trauma.

Seteth disagreed. Especially when you ran off to join the military. If he had his way, you wouldn't leave the house without so much as a multiple paragraph text detailing every why, who, where and when. And then he would free up his schedule and chaperone. Because goddess forbid you have a life without the constant need to look over your shoulder or be wrapped in bubble wrap.

Your hand paused on the door handle and then you turned around and turned on the shower. Like a coward.

You reasoned with yourself even as you stepped into the warmed water. After all, sweat did stick to your skin like a second layer and your body still held the slight funk of last night’s activities.

However, reasoning with yourself was not a sign of courage and bravery and you knew that.

You even hummed a little song to distract yourself.

You breathed easier beneath the pouring water. A sigh of relief upon your sore muscles. Hardly for the first time, it made you want to stretch out your wings and take flight. A luxury you haven't had since you had awoken from your great slumber and welcomed the modern age.

Perhaps you could convince the ever-worrying Seteth to allow you that sort of freedom.

Perhaps you could show Edelgard…

You quickly stomped that line of thought, even if she was a different person than her revolutionary counterpart. She was still a human and a human blissfully unaware of what else lurked in the world at that.

The moment she knew what you truly were. Nabatean or the war-like saint of the sword, she would run and never look back, or worse, she might prove to be more like her.

Absentmindedly you heard the sounds of your apartment doors opening below you. The voices of Flayn and Seteth and Byleth…

The Vessel… the Enlightened One…

The completely ordinary human now that your Mother had been laid to rest and her power stripped from Byleth.

You basked in the peacefulness of the moment until you remembered.

‘Oh fucking shit.’

It was Sunday and that meant your brother’s latest attempts at dragging you to the wooden pews of the nearby Church of the Goddess. An activity, you once held dearly, but now despised.

When you were the Archbishop, you attended and performed sermons quite fervently. However now every time you squeezed in between your brother, niece and the once vessel of your mother on a wooden pew, it felt wrong. It felt blasphemous.

The Goddess was gone; the millennia had finally run the vessel dry of her power and all that was left was a woman who knew every sin you have committed, but still pretended as if it wasn't your fault.

And you never got the chance to say goodbye. Away in Albinea with Catherine, when the crest stone finally just broke.

Now every time you found yourself within Church walls, you couldn't help but tear yourself apart on the inside.

You dissected every sermon, every depiction, every, every remnant that your successor left in your ‘honor’ in the wake of the Emperor's defeat. Every reminder of your Mother was just another stake through the heart.

Crests faded with new bloodlines and the relics were buried forever within their tombs. But still your saintly legend continued on. It still told of your bravery and courage, and of your devotion to the Goddess and Justice. You had no one to tell truly how much that now felt like complete mockery.

The very name, Seiros, was a testament to your sins.

You rested your head against the warmed wet walls of your shower and breathed in the steam, ill-prepared, but trying your best to formulate a response that was kinder than telling your brother to go take a hike.

Then you heard a cry that was not unlike that of a strangled raccoon and you remembered who was within your bedroom walls and to your absolute horror, you couldn't bring yourself to not descend into a fit of giggles at your luck.

—

You found her perched on the railing of your balcony, half over it in a position that could only be called parkour by the blind and the enthusiastically naive. She froze when her eyes locked with yours. You had to release the breath held in your throat, but you found yourself able to look at her. Maybe it was because she looked the furthest thing away from an heretical Emperor, more like a feral squirrel with her frazzled chestnut hair and wrinkled clothes.

“What are you doing?” You asked to be more polite than anything else as it was fairly obvious what she was doing.

Edelgard steadied herself on the railing, and tried to look something close to nonchalant and said, “oh. You know. Just hanging.” Before she immediately cringed at her own word choice. Was the Edelgard of yore this much of a dork too? You couldn’t help but feel your mood uplift itself.

You were even tempted to say, ‘Wilhelm behold! Your mighty descendant!’ But settled on a more diplomatic answer. “I can see that. Would you like to come back in?” You asked, not particularly keen on the idea of peeling her off the sidewalk. She was aware that you lived on the third story, right?

Edelgard clearly had an internal debate with herself, likely on if she wanted to throw herself back off the ledge or not, thirty feet be damned, before she slowly got down and stepped back in. You noticed that she was barefoot, but didn't say anything, even though with a quick glance you couldn’t locate her flats.

“I apologize, I don't do this often.” Edelgard had said, her face was bright red, though the shade was far different from her imperial armor and that made it easier for you to look in her direction and even smile at the sight of her attempts to fix her wrinkled clothing.

“Hang off on people's balconies? I never would have guessed.”

“What? No obviously, I mean- wait, you are teasing me!”

“Noooo, what would ever give you that impression?” You said with a step forward, with every moment of Edelgard’s tantrum easing the dread from earlier. You even found yourself wrapping your hands around her hips like one would hold a startled cat. She squeaked and you once again found that easy feeling that you chased last night. The same sensation that caused you to spend the night dancing away with the reincarnation of your mortal foe. You found it easy to press your lips against hers, especially when you closed your eyes and shut out the lilacs that haunted you.

You were alive. You were okay. You were shrouded in the warmth of another. She was not the Emperor and you were not the Archbishop.

You found peace in that moment… at least something that resembled it.

And then it was shattered by the reminder that you two were not alone. “Rhea! Are you awake? We're going to be late!” Seteth's voice called from the other side of the bedroom door occupied by a round of harsh knocks and that made you deeply desire to defenestrate him.

You spoke softly into Edelgard's ear, “apologies. It's my brother. I wasn't expecting him today.” which was true, after all the last time you talked to him was before you spent your Saturday at Catherine's bar, and it was hard to call that shouting match a simple friendly ‘talk.’

You had not lied to Edelgard when you said your brother was overprotective and Catherine wasn't wrong either.

Besides, Seteth knew that you prefer it when people called first before accosting your door, so really that was just another factor in his rudeness. So he had no one to blame when you decided to personally show him Edelgard's attempted route.

Edelgard gave a soft hum in response. You were taller than her, enough that you could set your head on top of hers. She protested slightly when you did so. She was small enough that you could easily pick her up and slam her back onto the bed like the previous night… perhaps a preview of what would happen the moment Seteth disappeared.

If your brother wasn't at your door, you might have done exactly that. Eager to count all the ways your Edelgard was different then the one of millennia-past you could have spent your entire Sunday doing so. And what better way to accomplish that than another thorough examination in the light of day?

“Excuse me for a moment.” You said as you pulled back as you had exactly ten more seconds before your brother started to fear the worst and opened the bedroom door. again.

You moved to the door with a haste, “wait Rhea. Perhaps you should?” you heard from behind you but you already had your hand wrapped around the handle and peaked it open. Your brother, stern-faced and dressed in his Sunday best, was on the other side. You two locked eyes and then he glanced down.

“By the Goddess, Rhea! Put some clothes on!” ah. That's right. You didn't bring any clothes with you into the bathroom and in the confusion of Squirrelgard, you didn't have any time to don anything. At least that explained why Edelgard eye's were clearly focused on other things. 

Several years of sharing a barracks with Catherine and the rest of your platoon hammered out any prudish concerns you had about personal modesty. So, you simply rolled your eyes at your brother's objections. “Good morning to you too, Seteth. Did you need something?” you responded innocently and even heard a faint chuckle from behind you.

“Did you not see Byleth's text? It’s Sunday. Service is in twenty minutes.” Ah, well to be fair, you were certainly occupied, also you had no idea where your phone had even ended up. You were never very good at keeping track of it or even remembering to keep it charged. You didn’t particularly care for the device. It was loud and noisy, always lit up with the most useless of information. Seteth insisted that it was important to have for emergencies, you insisted that you could solve any emergencies just as easily.

“I must have misplaced my phone.” You said rather dismissively. Your best guess was that it was still on the kitchen counter charging from where you placed it… three days ago.

The word ‘again’ hung in the air alongside Seteth's frown, and you were certain that if he wasn't pressed for time, he'd say it.

You still tried your best to at least sound apologetic, even though all you wanted to do was close the door in his face.

Well perhaps, you did still hold some animosity from your latest argument regarding the purchase of the apartment you were currently residing in. It was already a month since you had moved and he still acted like it was the end of the world.

“Well. Please get ready quickly, at least rate, we're going to be late.” You wanted to laugh. Be late for what? To listen to a sermon you wrote a millennia ago, but has been translated several hundred times to the point of being complete nonsense? You still remembered the last guest speaker's attempts at re-framing a tale of Saint Seiros into a lesson about ‘purity’ and the sanctity of ‘chastity’ as if the real flesh and bone Seiros didn't have one night stands.

“Seteth for the love of Sothis please , can we please take a rain check?” You asked.

“Sothis? For your cat or the Goddess?” Seteth replied snidely, and you couldn’t help but notice the fresh scratch on his hand. The cat never particularly liked him.

You had quickly grown tired of this conversation. “Please, Seteth, I will explain later. Just go on without me.”

“Sunday is family day.” Your brother said in a way that you knew that he was not going to budge. Because even if you and Seteth were angry with each other, he would still do everything in his power to keep to whatever asinine itinerary he had conjured up.

Maybe if you didn't have a woman who equally aroused you as she did terrify you in your bedroom, you would have gone with. If nothing else then to get Seteth to stick a sock in it.

It wasn't always like this. When you had re-awoken, left unsure and adrift in a world you knew nothing about you had quickly latched onto the closest liferift you could. Now after the years spent in the modern world in Seteth's house both pre and post enlistment, you couldn't have ran fast enough. You needed independence, space, the opportunity to truly experience the new world. And most importantly you needed to not live with a man who got huffy whenever someone put the toilet roll on backwards.

Seteth tried to peek around your body, his nosy nature never quelled, never satiated. He moved to the left and you moved to the right, he moved the other direction and you blocked him just as easily. This was made easier as you had at least two inches on him, and about twenty more pounds of muscle. Your workout sessions with Catherine and Balthus always paid off.

“Reach for my hand, I'll soar away~” 

Unfortunately, you didn't account for Edelgard. You turned at the sound of the music and the sight of Edelgard’s rapid attempts to mute her phone.

“Into the dawn, oooh~”.

The music was quickly cut with a huff and Edelgard looked at you and muttered an embarrassed “sorry.” and then she gave you a little wave. Though the strangled gasp you heard next to you meant that perhaps the wave wasn't meant for you.

You watched, frozen, as your attempts at deception were rendered to nothing and Edelgard seemed to have come to her own decision about the next course of action. Determination formed on her face as if she was ready to march onto the battlefield. Her wrinkled ‘fun night out’ clothing shaped effortlessly into her armor, and her cellphone slid into her pocket like a weapon into its sheath.

She strode forward with all the grace and authority of an Emperor and the focus of a soldier. You knew that this woman was little more than a college graduate and a law intern, and yet you couldn't unsee her crimson armor and Amyr at her side.

You watched as Edelgard pushed past you. Her hand extended outwards in a friendly yet powerful handshake, and with a clear concise voice she said, “Hi, I'm Edelgard. It's nice to meet you.”