Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Edelgard had left for Zanado for an excavation, she felt excited at the prospect of uncovering something groundbreaking; understandably so, for an archaeology student in her Master’s program. Being invited to visit and study one of the most important archaeological sites in Fódlan’s history is an honor for her, especially since the expedition is headed by the esteemed Professor Eisner—one of the youngest and yet forefront experts on the War of Heroes and the Church of Sothis. To be given the chance to go on-site and discover something that could rewrite everything they know about the time period? Oh, the honor Edelgard would bring to her name! 

In fact, as she continues to dig through the site with great care and enthusiasm, Edelgard feels the thrill of finding the truth of the existence of crests. The myths tell of the goddess bestowing upon noble men of days past unimaginable powers that brought glory and peace to the entire nation of Fódlan, and the impact this would have had on the continent’s politics and power dynamics has been her research interest ever since she applied to the graduate school of the University of Garreg Mach.

She remembers being nine years old and asking her stepfather what he would do if the stories of crests being real magic were real. He only smiled at her, saying he was glad they weren’t, and told her to go to sleep. Edelgard never understood why.

It became one of the main driving forces for Edelgard to pursue archaeology and history in general. The idea that a large chunk of Fódlan’s past had been lost to time intrigues her to no end. One must understand the past to move forward to the future—and putting together this last piece of the Fódlan puzzle might provide valuable insight to the politics of the modern day.

Maybe she’d finally understand what made her birth father such a vile, corrupt man.

She could be digging herself into a dead end here, but seeing as Zanado has always been known to be a significant place in history, Edelgard believes something of note could be just around the corner. She would’ve expected something like a mosaic that depicted the gifting of Crests to man, or a pottery fragment emblazoned with the symbols that seem to represent the long-lost phenomenon.

What she did not expect to discover was a body.

Inside the tomb is a woman. At this point in time, Edelgard is too stunned to understand just how significantly this event would affect her entire life. The body—an honest-to-goodness living and undecaying body—lies inside the open-faced coffin, wearing a silky white dress seemingly untainted by time, her hands clasping a jagged silver sword, and—the thought comes unprovoked—she is beautiful.

The woman’s green hair stands out against the sandstone of her resting place, her strangely pointed ears sticking out from underneath. And although her form is lithe, the formation of her muscles is perfect. Each limb carries a shimmer of gold from the bracers that protect them, and a crown of wings settles comfortably on her head. Edelgard finds herself completely dumbfounded at the sight, even as she creeps nearer.

She grips the trowel she’d been using to excavate the deeper parts of the tomb, hoping it would ground her in some semblance of reality. She blinks to see if it would reset her worldview, as if this mirage would disappear in the moments between. But the woman yet lives. Edelgard watches the slowed, steady rise and fall of the woman’s chest, breathing too real to ever be a trick of the light, and rushes out of the tomb to call for the one person who could confirm if Edelgard had truly lost her mind.

When she returns to the tomb she’d unearthed with her slightly perplexed professor in tow (as much as Professor Eisner could look perplexed), the ethereal form of the woman remains just as Edelgard had left it. She’s real, and not just a hallucination born of a potential heatstroke. And Edelgard still grips her trowel as if it was the last remnant of her sanity.

Professor Eisner blinks dispassionately at the not-corpse, definitely-alive-if-unconscious woman in the ancient crypt.

“Oh. That’s grandma.”

Edelgard drops her trowel. The trowel falls upon the unconscious woman’s thighs, which jiggle from the impact. Yep. Definitely alive. And it kind of does something to Edelgard that she really doesn’t want to get into right now because there’s a more pressing concern before her: Professor Eisner’s perpetually blank face has melted into a grimace. Professor Eisner is emoting. And she just called the woman who has likely been buried in the rocks of Zanado for centuries her grandmother. What in the actual fires of Ailell.

“I beg your pardon, Professor Eisner?” Edelgard asks as her eyes dart back and forth, trying to process the scene before her, on top of the original conundrum she’d brought the professor in here for.

Professor Eisner puts a hand to her forehead and frowns, closing her eyes. She sighs as though all the world’s burdens have been thrust upon her.

“Oh, goddess,” Professor Eisner whispers. “It’s grandma.”

Edelgard eventually finds herself sitting in Professor Eisner’s office, surrounded by the good professor’s entire extended family, most of whom happen to be school staff or administration. This only worsens Edelgard’s feeling of being interrogated for a heinous crime. 

(If you had to start hauling a body out of a tomb while your archaeology professor walked away with all the valuables on that body’s person… you, too, would feel like you’d just committed a heinous crime.

“Archaeology is just scientifically justified grave robbery,” Professor Eisner had said in response to the grimace on Edelgard’s face, and Edelgard had no idea how to react to that because she was technically correct.) 

In the room with her and the professor is the professor’s mother Sitri, the beloved yet mildly terrifying groundskeeper of the university, her husband Jeralt, captain of the campus guards and who is looking especially displeased at Edelgard for what has transpired, and Flayn Assal, daughter of the dean and at the top of her class at the medical school for being extremely blasé and even fascinated by medical gore and affliction. Fun crowd. At least the dean himself was currently preoccupied with watching over the woman Edelgard had unearthed.

Professor Eisner pinches the bridge of her nose. “On behalf of my student, Edelgard von Hresvelg, I apologize to all of you for what we have inadvertently unleashed upon the world…”

A collective shiver runs through the family, save for the eternally serene smile resting upon the professor’s mother.

“...Grandma,” Byleth whispers with a grimace.

Edelgard wants to retort, saying that she never signed up for… whatever this is. How was she supposed to know what she would’ve found in that excavation? Or that opening that tomb had apparently disastrous consequences? Why is she being blamed for it?

“Before you accuse me of anything potentially apocalyptic, can anyone at least explain to me what’s going on? Preferably regarding the fact that Professor Eisner’s grandmother was buried deep underground for centuries untold, alive? ”

“The good news is that it’s nothing truly apocalyptic,” the daughter of the dean says with a strained smile. “Lady Rhea is… simply a bit much.”

Edelgard has heard stories of Flayn Assal from the medical school. This girl finds necrotic tissue and osteosarcomas cute . Her nonchalance towards the horrific has earned her the fearful awe of students and faculty alike. What could there be about this Lady Rhea that the notorious Demon Doctor-in-Training finds a bit much?

Edelgard finds herself growing irritated at the lack of verbal acknowledgement around their current situation. “Alright, but that doesn’t answer my question about the impossibility of a living person being found inside an ancient crypt twenty feet deep into a mountain. Or how this woman who should be dead and mummified happens to be related to all of you. Why exactly are we all gathered here?”

Captain Jeralt shakes his head. “The answers to your first two questions are a headache. The answer to your last question is to relieve ourselves of an oncoming headache.”

“Jeralt,” Sitri scolds, “that isn’t a very nice thing to say about your own mother-in-law.”

“It’s not nice, but it’s the truth,” Jeralt says, leaning over Professor Eisner’s desk. “You know how she was the last time she was up. If she’s going to wake up to this new world, someone has to either put up with her insistence on being stuck in the past, or we force her to see the new world and meet new people so she can finally let go and we can all move on with our lives.”

A moment of silence passes around them and Edelgard finds her apprehension increasing. The professor’s entire family glances at each other, a meaningful look on each of their faces. While she may not be a mind reader, Edelgard can tell that they have reached a collective consensus. She feels like she walked into someone else’s family drama, and she has, and they’re talking about this relative of theirs who lived hundreds of years ago as if she’d just moved out of town last year, and Edelgard does not enjoy the ensuing migraine at all. 

Sitri’s serene face falters for a moment before it picks back up as she turns to Edelgard.

“Miss von Hresvelg.”

It amazes Edelgard how Sitri could sound so heavenly, like windchimes against the wind, considering how awfully monotone her daughter speaks. Still, Edelgard's attention fully shifts onto her like a moth to a flame.

“I truly apologize for bringing you into our situation. It is… quite more complicated than your typical family squabbles.”

“I could see that,” Edelgard replies dryly.

Yet Sitri’s smile remains radiant. “You see, my mother tends to have trouble adapting to new things, and we truly think that she would benefit from a new companion this time around. If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you, would you be so kind as to assist her in her time of need?”

Edelgard wants to refuse. Dear goddess, she should refuse. What they’re asking for is too much to begin with. What they’re asking for within context? Forget being out of her depth, Edelgard would be out of her mind.

The beloved groundskeeper bats her eyes at Edelgard. Her ever present-smile seems to glow even more than usual. Edelgard’s conviction cracks. She wonders if she ever had a chance against this woman. 

“My daughter says you are the perfect person for the job. You are her best student, after all, and perhaps my mother might provide you with greater insight in your research interests. Crests, was it?”

Edelgard sits up straighter. Damned if this woman didn’t know how to get her attention; it’s hardly fair. Edelgard knows she shouldn’t fall for it, but Sitri’s smile only grows brighter.

“We wouldn’t consider asking this of you if you got nothing out of it. I do hope you’ll consider.”

Edelgard rubs her temples. Even with all those tempting points, she doesn’t know where to start. No one has explained anything to her and they’re already thrusting responsibility onto her. She tries to get everything straight in her head first because no one is going to do it for her. 

Edelgard takes stock of what she knows: an impossibly living woman found in a tomb buried deep in the Zanado canyon. Impossibly living woman was called “grandma” by the professor and “mother” by the professor’s own mother. Tomb in which impossibly living woman was found was dated to around the time of the War of Heroes or shortly thereafter, making impossibly living woman thousands of years old and consequently making her daughter just as old. Is Sitri Eisner immortal? Does that make the rest of their family immortal? Hey, don’t some of the Eisners and Assals bear a striking resemblance to the figures venerated by the historical Church of Sothis? Is Edelgard von Hresvelg in the same room as the Saints of yore? Did she have a choice over the matter of the impossibly living woman in the first place, being up against the goddamn Saints?

To rub salt in the wound of Edelgard’s lack of agency, Professor Eisner clears her throat and gives Edelgard a proposition she can’t refuse.

“I will count this as units towards your degree, Edelgard. If you so choose, I can even exempt you from having to write your thesis. I will adjust your academic outputs and workload accordingly. Consider it my apology for pressuring you into this situation.”

Edelgard stares at her professor.

“At least you’re honest about that.”

Professor Eisner’s lips turn down into a small frown. “I truly am sorry, Edelgard.”

Ack. Edelgard is starting to see the family resemblance her teacher has with Sitri. Seeing Professor Eisner look like that one sad cat picture on the internet makes it hard for her to ever say no.

Edelgard’s lips flatten into a thin line before she raises her hands up in defeat. 

“A-alright. Fine. I’ll do it. It’s not like the cards were stacked against me to begin with.”

Said cards look to her with relieved grins. Professor Eisner on the other hand—well, she, too, could technically be grinning, as much as her dead stare could express the feeling of relief.

This is the part where Dean Seteth comes into the room, shaking his head.

“She’s awake. I tried to calm her and tell her that we are currently living in a time of peace, but…”

Dean Seteth lets his sentence trail off without finishing it. He opts to pat Edelgard on the back instead, as if in condolence.

“May the goddess help you, Miss von Hresvelg,” he says, as if he knew that Edelgard had practically no choice in the matter of dealing with the woman she unearthed from the bowels of Zanado. 

“I’m afraid to ask why,” she replies lamely. 

Then a blinding flash of light bursts forth from the outside, followed by the sound of buildings being blasted into rubble, and then the panicked screaming and stampeding of students and faculty alike. A loud, booming voice, monstrous yet feminine in timbre, shakes the very foundations of the campus. 

“WHO DARES AWAKEN THE IMMACULATE ONE FROM HER SLUMBER? WHAT HERETICS AND INFIDELS MUST FALL UPON MY SACRED TALONS AND BLESSED FANGS?”

Dean Seteth’s eye twitches. Edelgard could see the veins bulging in his forehead from his consternation, no doubt already calculating the damages that need to be addressed.

“That is why.” 

Edelgard stands up and cracks the door open, just barely, to better understand what in blazes just happened. A motherfucking dragon flaps its mighty wings aloft the campus, yelling about basking in the blood of the infidel or whatever. Edelgard is too busy parsing the fact that a creature straight out of legend is terrorizing her university in search of heretics to smite in the name of the goddess. Edelgard promptly slams the door back shut. She snaps her head back towards the Eisners and the Assals. 

Dragons. They’re not just saints. They’re motherfucking dragons.

“I thought ‘trace with the wings of the dragons’ in the school hymn was a metaphor,” Edelgard sputters with a brief crack in her voice.

Professor Eisner just shrugs. 

“It still is. But dragons are real. Now you know. Rawr.”

Chapter Text

The deafening roars of a divine dragon remind Edelgard that she is not stuck inside a dream, she’s living a nightmare. A beautiful but apparently draconic nightmare she dug up from the ground. She thinks it’s best to just sit still here, safe in Professor Eisner’s office, while the flying lizard of doom that was once in the body of a woman wreaks havoc. They keep the door open, though, just to watch Dean Seteth run around in circles chasing after the dragon– Lady Rhea? Rhea? –screaming with arms swinging wildly.

“Rhea! Please stop!”

Edelgard wishes someone would help him, but alas, videoing the entire fiasco for internet clout is apparently the greater priority for most students who didn’t run for their lives. 

…Still, it is a bit funny to watch the stern and stoic man run himself ragged. It is very akin to chasing after a runaway dog. Edelgard keeps a mental note to look through the social media posts that will most certainly turn viral tonight. 

“Rhea! Oh, for the goddess’ sake, won’t you please just calm down?!”

“You blasted woman! Would you kindly cease your rampaging across my campus, or must I tackle you down myself?!”

Edelgard turns her eyes askance to the dean’s daughter. They whisper over the deafening sound of Flayn’s dad having a shouting match with a dragon because that’s the only way Edelgard won’t start screaming in delirium.

(“What does he mean by that? Can he–”)

(“Yes, he can. He’s just so big in that other form that it takes him hours to turn back. Hates it. If he’s threatening to transform you know he’s particularly upset.”)

…Edelgard decides to stop questioning it. She dug up a live woman and she turns into a dragon and apparently so does her family. Logic was out of the question the moment she uncovered that tomb.

Alas, the dean’s efforts are for naught, and the dragon hardly takes note of his presence. The dragon decides to stop terrorizing her immediate surroundings and lands squarely in the center of the gardens, flattening Mrs. Eisner’s hard work. Her husband and daughter cover her eyes lest another rampage add onto the current one.

The dragon roars its discontent for all to hear.

“COME FORWARD! YOU, WHO DARED DISTURB THE ETERNAL SLUMBER OF THE IMMACULATE ONE! FOR WHAT ENDS DO YOU SEEK MY POWER? SHOULD I REMAIN UNIMPRESSED WITH YOU I SHALL NOT HESITATE TO TEAR YOU APART, LIMB BY LIMB!”

“...I think we should put her back,” Edelgard whispers.

Professor Eisner comes forward, and a small hope grows within Edelgard. They’ll subdue her grandma somehow and they’ll just toss her back inside the crypt. With all her stuff. And then they’ll seal it up with epoxy so no one will ever open it unwittingly ever again. Will the good professor grant Edelgard this fleeting wish?

No. She starts pushing Edelgard out the door instead.

“P-professor?! What are you doing?!”

Edelgard drags her feet against the floor so that she could delay her impending demise. She doesn’t have a death wish or something. The professor just looks at her.

“What? You heard the woman. She wants you.”

“Me? I just found her! She woke up by herself!”

“Eh. We need a scapegoat. If it’ll make her stop, she’ll stop.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

Professor Eisner rolls her eyes, as if the answer is common sense. “You’re in a room full of dragons. We also have an immortal medieval knight with us. This is much less of a hassle than taking her down, though.” 

“Professor!”

“It’s okay. She won’t bite. But she might incinerate you with her laser beams.”

Ah, Professor Eisner. She always knows exactly what to say to a student to ease their nerves or help them with their problems.

This is it. Edelgard is gonna fucking die and she knows it. She should ask if she could say goodbye to her loved ones one last time. Give mom and dad a call, maybe Dee too if he isn’t too busy to pick up. Claude’s probably around to see all of this go down, but it never hurts to leave a lasting memento. She can’t forget the Beagles, too. Goddess. She wouldn’t have enough time to say her final farewells to them all.

(Would they even have the time for that?)

She could sacrifice herself to stop the dragon at the very least. They might as well erect a statue down there in her honor if she’s just going to become a martyr to the cause of chilling dragon grandma the fuck down. That’ll at least give her friends and family something to remember her by.

“MAKE HASTE! I GROW IMPATIENT WITH YOU AND YOUR ILK!”

Edelgard swallows the lump in her throat. She turns her head around to look at the rest of the people in the room.

“You’ll come with me, right? All of you? Aren’t you her family?”

Captain Jeralt looks to the side, his hands still over Sitri’s eyes. Sitri just accepts this with a smile, probably aware that keeping her blind to the damage done to her flowers is for the greater good.

“We’ll, uh, see you when we see you,” he says. 

“Take care, Edelgard, and good luck,” Sitri follows.

“My dad said I should stay within a ten-foot radius of Lady Rhea at all times, and a seventy-foot one if she’s transformed,” Flayn mumbles.

Edelgard looks to Professor Eisner with all the desperation in her soul.

“Professor. If you’re going to sacrifice me, please don’t let me die alone.” 

She pats Edelgard on the back reassuringly. Even if she’s pushing Edelgard to her doom. “I’ll go.”

Good ol’ Professor Eisner always knows exactly what to say… although this does not ease Edelgard’s nerves nor helps her with their current problem. But it’s something.

They pass by Dean Seteth on their way to meet the dragon. He’d been running circles around the campus and yet he hardly seems winded at all—just very, very annoyed. Not a hair out of place, however, and that’s impressive. He grimaces at Edelgard and the professor.

“I cannot say if bending to her whims would be the best course of action, but I also cannot think of any other way to get it through her thick skull that she should not be terrorizing the university like this. Your student’s safety is ultimately your responsibility, Byleth.”

Professor Eisner nods. “Don’t let grandma eat my most promising grad student. Got it, uncle.”

The dean shakes his head, exasperated. 

Edelgard and the professor stop short of the dragon, taking cover behind a pillar. The dragon scratches her claws into the ground and puffs out angry, boiling smoke from her nostrils. It’s intimidating.

“She’s trying too hard,” Professor Eisner says. “This perpetuates dragon stereotypes just so she could look cool.”

Edelgard looks at her teacher blankly. 

“Professor, that’s easy to say when you’re not just a squishy human who can easily be crushed by those jaws.”

The professor tilts her head in thought. “That’s fair. I’m only a squishy human nine times out of ten.”

There’s nothing Edelgard could say in reply that would make her feel any better, so she decides to keep her mouth shut.

“So… what next? What am I supposed to do?”

The professor looks at Edelgard with an intensity she only ever brings out if she wants you to make use of your full potential in class.

“You do what you always do: use your brain.”

And yet in a few seconds, she’s already six feet away from her prized student. Edelgard gapes.

“I’d thank you for the vote of confidence if you weren’t inching away with every word, Professor.”

The professor’s eyes shift around as she slinks away even further, disappearing behind a corner. “For privacy purposes, she can’t see me. Don’t worry; I’ll keep watch if anything happens.”

The vote of confidence is truly appreciated. Fine. Edelgard considers her options:

If she marched straight up to that dragon and declared herself to be the one who woke the dragon up, Edelgard would get barbecued.

If she approached the dragon carefully and attempted to placate her by saying that her family was there waiting for her to calm down, Edelgard would also get barbecued. Probably by one of the family members this time. They seem to be avoiding the elephant (dragon?) in the room like the plague.

If she pretended to be an innocent bystander (which she is , thank you very much, but in this case she’d pretend not to know what the hell was happening), Edelgard would still get barbecued because the dragon woke up on the wrong side of the tomb-bed.

Last option: piss her off.

…Piss off the already pissed off ancient dragon blessed with divine wrath? 

Oh yeah, she’d definitely get barbecued. But she could go out in style this way. Fuck it. Sound judgment. 

“HEY, STUPID DRAGON!”

Oh goddess. The dragon snaps its head towards Edelgard. Edelgard bids farewell to the world and her sense of self-preservation. She takes a deep breath and shouts again.

“QUIT YOUR BITCHING AND TAKE A LOOK AROUND! DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A GODDAMN BATTLEFIELD TO YOU?!”

The dragon narrows its eyes.

“INSOLENT GIRL! YOU ARE NOT MY QUARRY. WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO INSULT A CHILD OF THE GODDESS?”

Edelgard marches towards the dragon and stomps her foot. 

“My right to make sure some whiny lizard doesn’t trash my university!”

“WH—WHINY?! KNOW YOUR PLACE, FOOLISH CHILD!”

And the dragon becomes a woman. And the woman storms up to Edelgard. And Edelgard glares at the woman.

“I am not a child.”

The woman glares back.

“And I am not a ‘whiny lizard’. You know not whom you speak to, girl.”

Somehow, all the fear and trepidation that had been flowing through Edelgard dissipates. Something empowers her when she squares up against this accursed woman. She can’t fight a dragon, but she can certainly hold a decent catfight with a stuck-up bitch.

“As a matter of fact, I do. You’re some random corpse I dug up who ended up trashing my school as an overgrown lizard.”

A finger is jabbed towards Edelgard. The woman’s nails are long and sharp like talons. Her eyes twitch, and her pupils narrow into dangerous slits.

“You. It was you! You have disturbed my eternal repose! You have taken my sacred weapons from me!”

Edelgard pushes the accusatory finger away from her face. “Did you think I wanted to deal with your temperamental ass? I just wanted to get my Master’s degree but all I got was some reptile who still thinks it’s Imperial Year 91!”

The woman snarls at Edelgard. Even as a human, her teeth are incredibly sharp and treacherously close to Edelgard’s face. 

“I have fought through the wars of that year and many more since then. I have taken down entire battalions by my lonesome. Those who dare wake me from my sleep seek out the ultimate power to crush their foes. Care to repeat all of that to my face?”

Edelgard refuses to back down and smirks.

“Sure. You wanna fight? You’re just going to prove my point. Really, who settles a little spat with a fistfight or a battle to the death these days? That’s so two millennia ago!”

The woman cracks her neck and whips her head back to face Edelgard. She’s ready to lunge.

“So the impudent girl admits that she is little more than talk. I do not particularly mind that I am obsolete or outdated. Allow me to demonstrate how some things never go out of style!”

The one thing that saves Edelgard from an untimely death by crazy dragon lady is the sound of the dean’s footsteps approaching them. 

“That is enough, Rhea.”

Rhea’s bravado dies as she catches sight of Dean Seteth.

“C-Cichol? When did you–”

The dean’s eyes narrow, less in outright frustration and more in fatigue.

“I was there when you awoke. I was also there begging you to stop terrorizing your immediate surroundings.”

While the dean brings Rhea up to speed on the general state of the world (“Do not confuse this for laxness on my part. I will reprimand you later.”), Edelgard looks around to find her professor standing close by, but away from Rhea’s line of sight. The professor pats Edelgard on the head when she walks up to her.

“That was a dumb move, Edelgard. I told you to use your brain. But it worked so I guess you did.”

“Thank you, Professor. But what happened to my safety ultimately being your responsibility?”

“I was monitoring the situation from a respectful distance. You can have this for doing a good job.”

Edelgard stands limply as the professor tosses her a packet of cookies—a habit of hers whenever she is pleased with her students’ performance in class. Edelgard forgets to catch it and it hits her in the chest without fanfare.

Professor Eisner doesn’t seem to mind. Her attention moves to the damage done to the central gardens of the university. When she sees the torn flowers and razed leaves, all the passive levity she’d had with Edelgard vanishes in an instant. 

“Oh,” is all the professor says. “It’s really bad.”

Rhea, who had only just noticed the presence of a fourth person in her vicinity, turns to the professor with a quizzical look. 

“You… look quite familiar to me. Are y—”

Professor Eisner raises a hand to interrupt. Her focus lies solely with what remains of Sitri’s garden.

“Not relevant right now. We’ll talk in the dean’s office.”

The blank of the professor’s face is replaced with an expression more somber. She reaches out to one of the crushed bushes and cups a dying valerian in her palm.

“...Mom’s gonna be sad about her flowers.”

Rhea stares a moment too long at the professor. Just as she tries to reach out with a hand, the professor walks away. Edelgard follows suit without question. When she turns around to check on the other two, she sees Dean Seteth give Rhea a look before he beckons her to come with. 

The walk to his office is quiet.

Edelgard wonders what it is with this family and pinching the bridges of their noses in the middle of an office. This time it’s Dean Seteth at least, and he’s usually like this, so that puts Edelgard at some ease after the strange tension in the air on the way here. 

“I ask you again, Rhea. What possessed you to transform in the middle of an infirmary in an institute of higher education, where not a single soul has the know-how or raw strength to even conceptualize acts of war?”

Rhea fiddles with her thumbs under Dean Seteth’s scrutiny. 

“Cichol, when I awoke I found myself robbed of my armor and weaponry. How could I not interpret that as hostility?”

Dean Seteth simply turns to Professor Eisner with a raised eyebrow. The professor raises hers in return.

“What? They’re valuable artifacts. They belong in a museum so we can study them. It’s archaeology.”

“Not if they belong to a living person, Byleth. It’s not archaeology, it’s theft,” Dean Seteth sighs, rubbing at his temples in annoyance.

Professor Eisner remains impassive. “Archaeology is just scientifically justified grave robbery.”

Dean Seteth does not bother replying to that, because she’s technically correct. He opts to face the bigger annoyance of the entire morning instead. 

“Nevermind that. You,” he says, pointing at Rhea. “Must you behave so rashly every time you awaken? As if we are permanently stuck in the midst of medieval warfare? Your righteous thrashing has cost the university thousands of gold in school property damage.”

Edelgard finds it amusing to see the once transformed fierce and terrifying dragon suddenly turn into a kicked sad puppy at the scolding. Rhea looks uncertain, a frown on her face and her mouth downturned into a scowl. She struggles to answer for herself as if she isn’t the oldest person currently standing in Dean Assal’s office.

“I… was simply unaware of my surroundings, Cichol. My apologies. I was truly convinced that I was awoken in the name of holy crusade, as it typically goes.”

Dean Seteth heaves a sigh.

“Not in this modern age, Rhea. And I do ask that you refrain from calling me that. I am Seteth now, and I would appreciate it if you respected that.”

Rhea nods, but looks around to take in her surroundings properly. Confusion mars the pristine features of her face, and for a moment Edelgard genuinely feels bad for her.

“I—I see, Ci—Seteth. Forgive me. Seteth. The modern age, you say? How… how long has it been since I last fell into slumber?”

“Almost an entire millennium, Lady Rhea,” Flayn tells the wayward woman. “Nine hundred years have passed since the War of Unification.”

Rhea puts a hand to her forehead. “Nine… nine hundred, Cethleann?”

Flayn nods, though her eyebrows draw together. “Do… do call me Flayn, now, Lady Rhea. Cethleann is no more.”

“Alright. Ceth–Flayn. I… Oh, how much have I missed?”

Professor Eisner, who had been keeping to a corner of the office, comes forward.

“You missed me,” Professor Eisner says. Her tone of voice is carefully schooled to stay flat. While her face remains as vacant as always, Edelgard could see something stirring in the depths of her mentor’s eyes. “Hi, grandma.”

If Rhea previously looked lost, now she looks completely heartbroken.

“I… pardon? You… my granddaughter?” Rhea pales at the words, as if saying them out loud only solidified that fact. Rhea raises a trembling hand towards her, yet remains hesitant to move. “You’re my… granddaughter?”

“She is.” Another voice comes out, and so does the slow and steady pour of tears as Rhea whips around to face the speaker.

There have been many stories from Edelgard’s peers detailing just how caring and motherly the groundskeeper of the university is. From lost newcomers asking for a guiding hand to young children asking to play in the gardens—and heck! Even drunk students in the field get to be pampered when Sitri could help it. Obviously, her own daughter is no exception to this treatment. It is often Edelgard would find Byleth bringing in homemade packed lunch from home. 

Yes, it is no wonder why the woman is so beloved. She is a mother to all who come to the University of Garreg Mach. Yet for all the time Edelgard has spent passing by the gardens where the woman is usually found and moments where she would approach her and Byleth, Sitri has never looked like this.

For the first time, she smiles—that small, crooked smile that speaks of a youthfulness only meant to be coddled. It is the sort of smile one would have, coming back to their hometown after traveling for a long time, of having seen someone after years apart. Someone, whom, at best, you were never sure if they would ever come back. It is a smile that is deeply relieved. It is a little bit weary.

As incomprehensible as it may sound, Sitri looks impossibly younger.

“Hello, mother,” Rhea’s daughter greets oh so gently and waves out a hand. “Welcome back.”

“S-Sitri…?”

Quick as lightning, Rhea engulfs her daughter in an embrace. The speed at which it happens astounds Edelgard; the university groundskeeper doesn’t bat an eye. She watches as Sitri stands in Rhea’s arms, smiling wistfully as her mother breaks down against her, Rhea’s face hidden in the crook of Sitri’s shoulder.

The image is quite a sight. Sitri comforts her mother, a gentle hand running through green tresses as Rhea slouches over her shorter form. Her arms grip tightly around her daughter’s waist and everybody else around them stays silent, watching. For the woman whom she’d fought with, Edelgard aches.

“You’re here,” comes Rhea’s muffled voice, interspersed with hiccups. She looks up from Sitri’s shoulder, teary green eyes zealously studying her face. “I–Sitri, my dearest child, you’re truly here.”

“Yes, mother, I’m here,” says Sitri. Tenderness bleeds into her tone, even as she pulls away ever so slightly from her mother. “You may rest assured that I have been well.”

“You–as if nothing had changed, Sitri. You are as vibrant as always. I… I cannot…”

There’s something about the way Rhea says those words that tears at Edelgard. It feels raw, disbelieving. Like it is really hard for Rhea to believe that Sitri is standing there, in front of her. It speaks of so much sadness and regret and guilt . One that Edelgard cannot comprehend.

Edelgard glances away, not wanting to observe the private moment. It feels rude, for a stranger like her to be intrusive in the presence of something so intimate. She suddenly feels caged in, like the walls around her are closing in. Her breathing shallows, her vision shortens and her nerves feel like they are fried; Edelgard feels like bolting.

She shouldn’t be here. Edelgard needs to get out. This could be her chance to slip away and let them handle their own family business without dragging her into all of it.

“As… touching as all this is,” Jeralt voices out, catching everyone’s attention, entirely stopping Edelgard in her silent exodus when she is only inches away from reaching the door. Even the sniffling Rhea pauses to look at him. 

Edelgard does not miss how his one hand balls into a fist when he makes eye contact with Rhea. He loosens up when he turns to face Edelgard instead.

“Let’s not get distracted. By’s student is with us right now for a reason.”

Damn it. She was so close.

“Ah, yes, of course!” Sitri recollects herself, wiping away a stray tear. She pulls away from her mother’s embrace. “Come now, dear mother. We have someone we’d like you to meet.”

Edelgard quickly considers her options. Maybe if she stays quiet enough, she could excuse herself and pretend that they’re referring to some other student. She takes a quick scan of the room.

They’re all looking at her. Even the now confused woman of the hour is sporting an expectant look, unable to understand just why she is here, a stranger. One whom she had the misfortune of having a terrible first impression of. 

Edelgard lets out a sigh. Maybe if she runs now, they wouldn’t be able to stop her. She may not be a good runner but she does have the endurance for it.

“I know what you’re thinking, Edelgard,” Professor Eisner calls out. Edelgard stiffens. She knows that voice, knows it in the way a student would know when their professor is displeased with their work. Professor Eisner is in a bad mood and she doesn’t know why. “Please introduce yourself, anyway, Miss von Hresvelg.”

Edelgard looks to Professor Eisner with apprehension. What is she supposed to do? She knows they want her to help deal with Rhea, but what does that even entail? When she looks at Professor Eisner, her mentor’s eyes are steely in a way that makes her displeasure clear. The professor’s usual ineffectual expression is nowhere to be found, and whatever reason there may be for that, it makes Edelgard terrified. 

Flayn Assal puts a reassuring hand on Edelgard’s arm.

“It isn’t you,” Flayn says too kindly for one called the Demon Doctor-in-Training. Whoever came up with that name clearly didn’t know much about her. “So you don’t have to be afraid.”

Rhea looks at Edelgard expectantly. While she had been ignoring Edelgard for the entire time up to this point, for some reason her interest in Edelgard is now piqued. 

“von Hresvelg?” Rhea asks, almost in disbelief.

“That is my surname, yes,” Edelgard says, trying her best to sound flippant, if only to ease the nerves crawling up her spine. There have been many times when she’d wished she took her dad’s surname and not her birth father’s, but she did not anticipate that this would be one of those times. Rhea appears to be uncomfortably invested in Edelgard now at the mere mention of her last name.

Rhea says nothing in reply and Edelgard is okay with that. She’d rather take nothing than be asked about her ancestry. Her family has always been a notable name–historically revered for their part in the War of Heroes and the founding of the former Adrestian Empire, and now for a much more nefarious reason.

Edelgard walks up to Rhea and—holy mother in Sothis (can she ever swear the goddess’ name in front of the one who is most likely her actual daughter? Was calling herself a ‘Child of the Goddess’ literal?)—if seeing the woman lying down on her stone tomb made her look small and ethereal, then standing face to actual tits with her makes Rhea look like a fucking tower!

Although she was face to face with the woman earlier, Edelgard never took the time to study her features, on account of the spat she started with the dragon woman. Still, as she stands in front of her for the second time today, Edelgard just sees how flawless her skin is, pale as porcelain. Green hair rests gracefully on her shoulders and Edelgard catches a glimpse of those pointy tipped ears behind them. Serious fierce green eyes stare at her, and Edelgard remembers just how thin they can turn into slits when provoked. The Immaculate One, she called herself? Dare she say how elegant and well put Rhea remains looking even after all that chaos, that emotion. Edelgard coughs to herself. She should not mess with this woman. Again. She was pushing her luck when she hurled insults at a motherfucking dragon and she most certainly has run out of luck to push.

They shake hands. It’s very stiff and awkward and Edelgard wants to jump off of the cliffs of Garreg Mach. 

“Edelgard,” she says to the towering woman, curt and clipped with her tone because the nerves and the heat are already getting to her. She can at least try to keep things civil, but it’s taking every fiber in her body to do so.

Rhea, unfortunately, notices this and raises an eyebrow. “I am… pleased to make your acquaintance, Edelgard,” she starts, and she says this with grit teeth. “However, I would have expected more tact from a Hresvelg such as yourself. Your progenitors were well-known for their eloquence.” 

So much for being civil. 

Edelgard breathes in sharply. This is so much worse than randos asking about her father when they find out she’s a Hresvelg. The way Rhea says all of that, so high and mighty, it’s just like–ugh! She’s so irritating! Edelgard’s face twitches, ready to fall into a frown she tries to resist.

“Forgive me, it’s simply been far too long since a Hresvelg was worthy of admiration.”

“Is that so? Would your immature attitude have anything to do with your family’s faltering reputation, perchance?”

Edelgard clenches her fists. She’s here on a favor, she repeats to herself. It would be a death wish if she already fucked up her task without it even starting. But this woman! They literally just met and she’d already struck the worst nerve imaginable!

“Actually, they have themselves to thank for their perilous repute. Fortunately enough for the Hresvelg name, I’m the only redeeming factor keeping the dynasty’s legacy alive.”

She can see the reflected irritation spread on the taller woman’s face. Edelgard resists the urge to smirk at Rhea’s reaction. 

“What gall you have to say that after you’d called my righteous fury ‘bitching’.”

Unfortunately for her, Edelgard is too stubborn and prideful to take a barb to her face. Before they could escalate into another shouting match, Professor Eisner and Sitri pull Edelgard and Rhea apart from each other, respectively. 

“Settle down, both of you,” Dean Seteth butts in between them. He gives Rhea a particular look and Edelgard sees Rhea huff at him. “I did not expect much from you to begin with, Rhea, and you have already failed to impress. You are quite literally the oldest person in the world; act like it.”

She hears her professor snort in the background, and Edelgard asks herself for the nth time just how did she actually get herself in this mess?

(She dug this bitch up from the ground but that’s besides the point.)

Still, a favor is a favor and so Edelgard von Hresvelg must remain the bigger person between the two of them.

“It's fine, Sir. I’d also have to apologize for letting my temper get the better of me,” Edelgard says, and waves a dismissive hand towards the Dean. He shakes his head, but lets it slide considering what they’re putting her through. Edelgard can see the tight line forming on the other woman’s mouth. 

“I’m assuming Lady Rhea has simply been so overwhelmed as of late.” Edelgard rolls her eyes as she says this, ignoring the affronted expression on the aforementioned person’s face. Technically, the damned woman didn’t even introduce herself, so in a way Edelgard is being both respectful and sarcastic. “I would understand if she couldn’t behave herself.”

Seteth nods in assent, side eyeing the very woman. “I… would not put it that way, but I’m afraid I would have to agree with Miss von Hresvelg. It has been an exhausting day for all of us, so I am certain that everyone is in need of rest, most especially Rhea.”

By the tension in his posture and manner of speech, the subtext in his words are clear. Edelgard feels bad for the man. He shouldn’t even be in charge of the entire school, and yet most administrators decide to foist their responsibilities off to him anyway. She does, however, perk up at the mention of rest for all. Thank Sothis. Maybe this can finally give her some reprieve from the inevitably daunting task that is becoming a dragon saint’s glorified babysitter. Ugh. She just wants to go home and pass out.

Rhea, on the other hand, looks disappointed. “Cichol, I have only just awoken. Could I not spend some time with the family I’ve missed for so long?”

The dean remains stoic, not giving in to her sweet words. 

“I’ve told you that my name is Seteth now, Rhea. Please respect that. Regardless, you and I both know that the restorative sleep is a completely different phenomenon from true sleep. You will have to find lodging for yourself tonight.”

Edelgard wonders just how long he has had to put up with her to become this invulnerable. No wonder his entire family overreacted like Rhea was Sothis’ new coming. 

“Why, I don’t even know where to stay! Which of your homes will I choose? I wouldn’t have many other options in this current age,” the old woman complains, spreading her arms wide with vigor. She suddenly pauses in place, and Edelgard can feel the tension rise in the room.

“Ah, I wouldn’t know where to start. I do miss my daughter and Jeralt dearly, and I’d love to get to know my granddaughter better. And yet I’d love to hear from Cethleann again–”

“–Lady Rhea, if I may intrude.” Flayn cuts in, and Edelgard finds herself growing anxious.

Edelgard doesn’t like where this is going. Not one bit.

“It really is lovely to see you again, I assure you of that. It’s been so long and we do miss you after all this time. However…”

“Please say what you mean, dear Cethleann. I know when you are being duplicitous.”

Flayn’s usually sunny face falls. She sighs in the way a young adult being treated like a child would. She doesn’t even bother correcting Rhea on her name. 

The Eisners and Assals share a look. The older ones are clearly familiar with this behavior. Professor Eisner frowns, and her mother Sitri steps forward.

“Dearest mother, please do not be offended when I say this,” Sitri says. 

Rhea raises a brow, and Edelgard is reminded of how much power this woman can wield, even from a simple look. Sitri looks almost nervous. She takes a deep breath anyway and continues.

“We thought it best that perhaps you should be staying with Miss von Hresvelg.”

…

“For the meantime, of course! We believe it best that someone else from the current era can better help you adjust to the new age. That is why we’ve brought Edelgard here to meet you.”

A pause.

“– What?!”

“– Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Edelgard snaps to Professor Eisner, once again the one person she could rely on to see if her sanity is still in check, and Professor Eisner stares at her with her signature blank stare. At least something went back to normal today.

“I thought I was just going to–”

“–I’ll exempt you from this week’s assignment,” Professor Eisner says before Edelgard could utter another word.

“I’m pretty sure bribing your student to deal with your family affairs is borderline academic misconduct, if it isn’t that already,” Edelgard says back.

“It is,” Professor Eisner says.

Edelgard waits for a moment. The professor doesn’t say anything.

“What? No explanations or justifications for your actions this time, Professor?” 

Professor Eisner doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Nope. We’re just letting this happen.”

Edelgard side-eyes Dean Seteth, the one with the power to decide if Professor Eisner is committing crimes against the academe. Dean Seteth closes his eyes, heaves a deep sigh, and nods. 

“We are, in fact, letting this happen. My apologies, Miss von Hresvelg.”

Great. 

“Wait.” 

At this point, Rhea has gotten out of her initial shock. Denial paints her face, and she pointedly refers to Edelgard. 

“Surely, you jest. Must I stay with this pompous, insolent brat?”

Edelgard wants to respond to that but in her experience, she knows when one means to truly insult and when one is only acting out. She watches Rhea fumble in the middle of the room, devastation settling in as she looks widely across the office. This is of the latter.

Edelgard sighs. Now, she lets herself feel pity for her.

Rhea’s family stares pointedly at her, silent and unmoving. A myriad of emotions flash on each of their faces, ranging from wary indifference on Captain Jeralt, pity overflowing from Flayn and to even weariness from the Dean. Rhea’s face only falls further. She looks at Sitri who is avoiding her gaze, guilt plainly written by the downturn of her brows and lips.

“Sitri, my darling, beloved daughter, surely you do not mean this? Surely you… do you not…” Rhea pleads dejected, with green eyes searching for her daughter’s, but the younger woman does not budge.

Edelgard breathes in deeply and closes her eyes to the sight. She can almost hear the silent words the older woman could not ask, despair clear in her voice. ‘Do you not want me?’

Rhea tries to close in towards Sitri, hands outreached for smaller ones, but is thwarted by one Byleth Eisner. Edelgard observes as her mentor gently but firmly pushes away her grandmother’s hands.

“I think that’s enough for the day,” Professor Eisner says with such finality, pairing it with a rare reproachful look. Rhea backs away, scalded by her demeanor. Sitri shakes her head.

“No, mother… I am not ready. Not just yet, though I miss you so. My apologies.”

Rhea’s lip quivers. The towering, imposing woman from a while ago disappears as she shrinks in on herself. 

“I… I understand, Sitri. Everyone. I… I will never fault any of you for it.”

The professor frowns, but nods. She reaches out to Sitri. A hand connects. “Come on, mom. Let’s go.”

She nods to Edelgard in goodbye before turning away. Her parents follow behind her.

One by one, they all leave the room until it’s just the two of them left. The door closes behind Dean Seteth; the sound of it echoes with such loudness within the office, Edelgard can almost hear Rhea’s heart falling apart at the seams.

Edelgard watches as Rhea looks on with an empty look.

She guesses it’s up to her now to pick up the pieces.

Edelgard gently taps the morose woman on the shoulder, grabbing her attention. Rhea’s green wide eyes swell with unshed tears, her nose and skin around her eyes reddened only further from her prior breakdown. It’s a wonder how she isn’t full on sobbing when her family essentially abandoned her. Not for the first time, Edelgard wonders why, and if it’s in her place to pry. Maybe she should, if only because the pity is gnawing at her.

“Do you have something to say? Are you going to humiliate me any further?” Rhea scoffs at her, but the words aren’t biting. She is sullen, like the very reason for her life has been sucked out of her.

Edelgard sighs. Just what exactly did she get herself into? 

“You heard what they said. You’re coming with me.”

Rhea is about to open her mouth, but cuts herself off before she can say anything. Edelgard fills in the silence for her.

“Before you say anything, I’m only doing this because I have no choice in the matter and frankly,  neither do you. I still don’t know what in blazes is happening, or why your family wants everything and nothing to do with you all at once, but since we’re both just two women lost in the middle of fuck knows what, it won’t hurt to stick together, right?”

At that, Rhea gives her an affronted look at the insinuation. Whatever.

“If you don’t want to follow me, that’s completely up to you. But I’m not that callous to leave a crying woman on her own.”

Edelgard walks away, deciding to leave it up to Rhea whether or not she chooses to go after her, but hears footfalls from behind a moment after.

Rhea steps beside her and utters not a single word until they reach Edelgard’s apartment.

It’s surprisingly spacious for a student residence. Certainly much bigger than what the Officers’ Academy had, when that was all the education offered at Garreg Mach. This is something Edelgard knows from her studies, and what Rhea knows from her memories. Now that they’re stuck together, Edelgard hopes she can rely on their shared knowledge of history to have something in common. She steps inside and tosses a package she’d found by her doorstep onto the coffee table in her living room.

Sorry about the mess. Figuratively. Long story. She’s an OK person. Mostly. That’s what they tell me. I can’t say for myself. Met her just now like you. There’s some history we’d rather not get into just yet. Or repeat. We’ll pay you back because I’m running out of academic bribes that won’t jeopardize the validity of your degree. I’ll see you in class.

-B.E.

“Thanks a lot, Professor,” Edelgard mutters under her breath. When she opens the box, she finds clothes, a personal hygiene and first aid kit, a copy of Three Realms Under One Banner: An Abridged History of Fódlan Post-Unification (“Wh–Isn’t this my copy?” What the hell, Professor), and a brand-new smartphone. Everything an immeasurably ancient dragon needs to catch up to the present day. 

Rhea herself has been lingering by the short hallway where the entrance to the apartment is, staring despondently at the pictures framed on the wall. A pang hits Edelgard, because she knows exactly which pictures Rhea has been looking at, and the pity gets to her again.

…For whom the pity is for this time, she can’t tell.

She goes to Rhea and joins her, if only to indulge herself in her own ruminations. Here upon this wall, Edelgard keeps her most cherished memories. 

There’s her seventh birthday, the first one she’d shared with Dee and Dad. Little El is in the center with her brown hair standing out between her brother’s and father’s blond. Years later, she’d start dyeing it lighter to match them, and to distance herself from her biological father. But in that moment, with her grubby little hands digging into an all-too big slice of chocolate cake, little her was just happy to have a new, loving family. It was the first time she’d ever seen Mom smile. 

There’s–to her combined shame and nostalgia–a photo of her and Hubert in fifth grade in their full LARPing attire. She was Emperor Edelgard (because Empress didn’t sound as cool) and he was her ever-loyal retainer who did all her dirty deeds for her. In a way, he wasn’t playing a character so much as he was putting himself in a medieval setting; his loyalty as a friend knows no bounds. To this day, when no one is around to hear him, he still calls her Lady Edelgard.

The first time the Beagles had worked together–it was Sports Fest in their freshman year of high school, and they won first place in nearly everything. Edelgard foists up their gold-plated aluminum trophy, sitting on Petra’s and Dorothea’s shoulders like a queen on her throne, and all the other Black Eagles are her knights in shining armor. For every other group activity or project afterwards, when they had the luxury to choose, they’d always choose each other. She isn’t close to all of them, but she still considers the Beagles near and dear to her heart.

Her and the boys–Dee and Claude–in an overly dramatic creative shot for their high school yearbook. She remembers how Claude was upside-down for so long during that photoshoot that he’d gotten lightheaded and fell on Dee, who panicked and almost threw Claude across the room. Idiots. But they’re her idiots. One is her brother and the other is like a brother (despite their shared mistake; she doesn’t like thinking about it). The world could end and they’d still have each others’ backs, even if it takes a long time for them to get together again. 

It’s been far too long.

Edelgard is broken out of her reminiscing by a deep sigh to her right. Rhea keeps her focus on the framed photos, pulling together her composure by focusing on someone else’s life story and not her own.

“These illustrations are so lifelike… every moment in time, perfectly preserved,” she whispers in muted awe.

“They’re pictures taken with cameras,” Edelgard says, and takes her phone out to point at its camera. “They used to be for special occasions and memories; now everyone takes pictures of everything.”

“I see,” Rhea says. Her eyes are glassy. “I… I wonder how many my family has.”

Edelgard looks aside. “You can ask them, when they’re feeling a bit more charitable to see you.”

A long pause follows, with all the emotional weight it carries. Edelgard lets Rhea view her entire lifetime captured in a few precious moments for a while longer.

“…Where is yours?” Rhea asks after some time, and Edelgard doesn’t need her to clarify what she’s referring to.

“We’re–we’re all busy,” is all Edelgard can spit out. 

Her apartment is far too spacious for a single person to live in.

But now there’s two of them, whether she likes it or not. And she’s been getting dizzy over all the ennui mixing with the absurd over the past few days. And so she forcefully pulls herself and Rhea out of their shared melancholy by making her eat leftover takeout for dinner.

 Rhea is like an alien from a sci-fi B movie. The very concept of pizza befuddles her. Pizza, the giver of life. It’s a goddamn travesty. 

“So it is like a flatbread and a pie combined,” Rhea mumbles. She’s prodding at it with a fork, and because it was microwaved it’s soggy and changes shape with every poke. “It does not seem very practical to eat.”

Edelgard frowns at Rhea while she stuffs her face with her greasy slice of heaven, the garlic and shrimp slowly sliding off of the cheese. “Thish ishn’t war rashons, ish no’ shupos’t to be.” 

Rhea makes a face when she sees Edelgard disgrace herself in the name of pizza. Edelgard flips her off.

“Phuck oph, I din’t–” she swallows, because it is kinda gross of her to chipmunk her food while talking but fuck it she’s tired, “–I didn’t fucking eat all day. I was busy getting dragged into your bullshit.”

“And again I find myself wondering at which point in the Hresvelg bloodline did Wilhelm’s poise disappear,” Rhea says, as she finally cuts into her pizza with complete cutlery like the medieval heathen she is. After a single bite, her eyes widen with clarity.

“Oh. That’s quite delicious.”

Edelgard jabs a finger at Rhea.

“Then eat it like a normal person and stuff it into your mouth! Put the knife and fork down, this isn't some stuffy hors d'oeuvres at a gala, it’s street food.”

Rhea stares at Edelgard, unimpressed. 

“I’d imagine a normal person would not have cheese and shellfish spilling out of their mouth as they speak.”

“I’d imagine a normal person doesn’t transform into a fairy tale monster and run amok just because their beauty sleep was interrupted.”

Rhea stands up to lean towards Edelgard.

“And whose fault was it that my sleep was interrupted?”

Edelgard stands up to meet her challenging gaze. She has to stand at full height and tiptoe to do so. 

“I take no responsibility for everything that happened after.” 

She bites her tongue to stop a quip about Rhea destroying her daughter’s finest handiwork. Edelgard much prefers the sass of a Rhea who isn’t bogged down by mysterious emotional baggage. They can deal with feelings some other time, because a pissing contest over microwaved pizza is just so much more fun. Fun in the ironic sense. Dealing with her personal pain in the ass is just easier when she doesn’t have to empathize with her.

They glare at each other for like, a solid two minutes, the puffs of air from their noses hitting each others’ cheeks, before they pull away because it gets awkward.

Rhea slumps over. “Um.”

Edelgard turns away and coughs. “Okay. Yes. Uh, ask me about my fridge or something. Technology.”

Dinner is a resounding success. 

But Edelgard can’t say the same about bath time. She drags her hands down her face as she explains the shower to Rhea for the fourth time in a row. 

“How is it so hard to understand? You pull the lever and water comes out!”

Rhea ignores Edelgard in favor of inspecting the showerhead. “Yes, but where does the water come from? How vexing.”

“From the plumbing!”

“And how does this ‘plumbing’ work?”

“Does it matter?! You get wet and–” 

Edelgard wheezes because that was very bad phrasing. To her, at least, with her modern bisexual sensibilities. She’s not sure if the same can be said of Rhea, whose understanding of the vernacular is circa 1185.

Rhea snorts.

Okay, that’s even worse.

“–I mean you, uh… then you clean yourself! Whatever! It does its job, why would I care about how it works?!”

Rhea, obviously entertained by Edelgard’s fluster, smirks.

“Are you not a scholar? Should you not be interested in the workings of the world around you?”

Edelgard dusts herself off, trying to regain her dignity. “I’m a scholar of old, dead things. I have no interest in figuring out the plumbing I can’t even see.”

Rhea’s smirk only grows wider. It’s so annoying. 

“I may be old, but I’m not dead. And yet you had enough interest to study me.” 

Edelgard turns away to bury her head in her bath towel. 

“Shut. Shut–shut it!” she squeaks, snapping towards Rhea to glare at her. “I didn’t even know you were there! I just wanted some pottery fragments! Goddess!”

And Rhea takes this opportunity to reach for the bidet. Oh no. 

“And could you tell me about this?” Rhea asks, feigning ignorance. She’s smart enough to understand what the bidet washes. “It appears similar to the shower. What does this contraption do?”

“Fuck. You!”

Rhea takes a moment to slowly ease up to Edelgard. She may not be a dragon right now, but the look on her face is downright predatory.

“So soon, Edelgard? We just met.”

Someone. Someone please send help.

“Excuse me a moment,” Edelgard says, and rushes out of the bathroom, out into the balcony, and slides the doors closed so she can screech in peace.

Edelgard returns from her screeching session to find a freshly showered Rhea lying across her bed, all draw-me-like-one-of-your-Morfisian-girls like in naught but a towel that is much too small for her body, and looking too damn satisfied for Edelgard’s liking. 

Edelgard throws her copy of Three Realms Under One Banner (which she’d been looking for for two months, again, what the hell Professor) at Rhea, and the paperback slams squarely into the center of her face. Rhea is unfazed. The self-satisfied grin remains. Edelgard’s eye twitches.

“Go catch yourself up on the last nine hundred years,” says Edelgard, picking out her pajamas for the night. “I’m going to take a bath, and then I’m gonna sleep, and we are going to be completely normal and not weird with each other for however long it takes for you to get used to being alive again. Deal?”

That, for some reason, is what removes the self-satisfied grin from Rhea’s face. Rhea rolls over to lay down on the bed in a less provocative pose and replaces her smugness with genuine curiosity.

“Oh. But how will our sleeping arrangements work? There is only one bed.”

Shit. And the bed is too small.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Edelgard suggests as quickly as humanly possible. Rhea raises both of her eyebrows.

“For however long it takes for me to get used to being alive again? You’ll break your back.”

Edelgard narrows her eyes at Rhea and the bed they have no choice but to share. 

“W-whatever. Just don’t be weird about it. And put some clothes on!”

So Edelgard takes her bath, and Rhea has a grand time reading her pocket book, and they cram themselves into Edelgard’s dinky little twin sized bed, and they turn off the lights so Edelgard can finally get a bit of rest.

Edelgard’s eyes flutter, dragging her into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness… 

“Well, aren’t we cozy?” 

…Edelgard’s eyes fly wide open so she could shove a pillow in between her and Rhea’s warm, perfectly sculpted, immaculate body. Rhea’s snickering ripples through the blanket. Edelgard takes full advantage of her nature as a blanket hog and yanks three-fourths of the blanket away from Rhea.

“Good. Night.”

What a pest.

Edelgard wakes up in the middle of the night and it is dark, and it is cold, and—oh. Right.

Edelgard wakes up in the middle of the night and there is somebody else lying on the same bed beside her. She is sleeping on her side, her back to Rhea. With the space between them almost non-existent, save for the flimsy pillow she’d shoved in between, Edelgard has no choice but to stay quiet on her side of the bed.

The night is cold. Her body is entirely limp. Exhaustion has caught up to her after a rough day, but she doesn't know why she is still awake. So much stuff has happened recently, and Edelgard doesn’t know what to make of it.

Primarily, she’s perplexed by the presence of her guest, and who knows for how long she’ll be staying at Edelgard’s place? Dealing with Rhea will be akin to teaching a baby new things–which, admittedly, is quite unfair on Rhea’s part, considering that she is a thousand-something years old dragon woman—fuck, the thought is finally setting in. She’s actually dealing with someone older and larger than life. Moreover, judging by the comments and reactions from the rest of her family, Edelgard is most likely dealing with the actual child of the Goddess.

What. In. The. Actual. Hell.

No matter. The fact of the matter is that Edelgard is tasked to watch her and make sure that she becomes well adjusted in this brand new era of society. She may not have verbally promised her mentor, but Edelgard has already committed to it, and let it be said that she doesn’t break her own promises.

As to how she'll go about it? Edelgard is not quite sure. Not when there seems to be a lot hidden beneath the mask that is Rhea. Earlier, in what could be called one of history’s messiest family reunions of all time, there seems to be a lot going on that Edelgard is not privy to.

A lot going on that Edelgard is not sure if she should bother delving into.

Rhea—much to Flayn’s earlier accurate assessment—is a bit much. She is extremely volatile, unable to temper her own emotions and most importantly, her actions. Rhea is very stubborn. Why she couldn’t even let a simple argument go down in Edelgard's favor, always wanting to be the one with the upper hand, defies all understanding.

She is brash, impulsive and essentially an overall irritating hand to deal with.

Edelgard hears sniffling on the other side of the bed. The alarm clock on her bedside table continues ticking. Warmth continues to radiate from behind her. She closes her eyes. She thinks of the way Rhea looked when she browsed through Edelgard’s photos; her memories. She thinks of the unspoken mutual feeling between them–that of loneliness, of being left behind by the world, despite all the people you’ve been blessed with in this jumbled mess of a life.

Edelgard wonders if it wouldn’t hurt to try and be more understanding with her.

Chapter Text

Rhea wakes up and the world is too soft. Where she expects hard, crumbling limestone her hands only find plush fabric akin to cotton. Despite the luxurious bedding, sleep eludes her.

She’d almost forgotten for a moment; she lives in the present day now. 

And what a strange world the present day is, with its metal carriages that run without horses, or the buildings that tower so high above the heads of men that they seem to graze the surface of the sky. Little else remains of the world Rhea knew. Garreg Mach—itself a bastion that has endured the ages like herself—was almost unrecognizable. No longer was it a monastery or an Officers’ Academy for soldiers; it was purely an institution of higher learning. She’d missed out on plenty in her nine centuries of sleep. 

…She’d missed her family. She has a granddaughter, a fully grown granddaughter, who seems to have a great distaste for the grandmother she never knew. Cichol already tires of her presence, and Cethleann keeps her at arm’s length. Jeralt watches her every move like a hawk. And Sitri? Oh, Sitri…

Her family is the one thing that has changed the most in the present day. And so they left her to her own devices in this world where her reality had turned into little more than myth.

(Maybe she deserves it.)

Rhea eyes the girl they’d made her stay with, her sleeping features just barely visible through the streaming moonlight from the bedroom window. Edelgard von Hresvelg. If Rhea squints, she could see the gentle slope of Wilhelm’s nose in hers. That, but not much else, remains of Rhea’s old friend in his descendant. It saddens her to see the chestnut brown of Wilhelm’s hair make way for light blonde in Edelgard’s. The girl is too self-sure to be like the meek Wilhelm, too impatient to have his even temper, too cerebral and entitled to carry on his humble legacy. Even his memory does time erode in steady measure. 

…What else will the future take from her?

Still, Rhea admits there is something intriguing about the student who had unearthed her tomb. Past the roughness of their first meeting and the annoyance of being tethered to each other, Rhea could see that Wilhelm’s charisma had carried over into Edelgard. If only she weren’t so irksome! If only she didn’t get on Rhea’s nerves; perhaps they would have become fast friends like Wilhelm before her.

A brief flash of unnaturally white light jolts Rhea out of her rumination. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought they were being besieged by Agarthan technology. But the source of the light just happens to be Edelgard’s handheld tablet of glass, far more advanced than anything the Agarthans had invented in their time, and Rhea’s instincts ease when she remembers this.

Rhea cranes her neck forward to look at the glass tablet. A phone. The glass tablets are known as phones, and they seem to be invaluable communication devices in this time. Sure enough, there appears to be some form of text on its surface.

Curiosity gets the better of Rhea. She slides out of the overly plush bed and makes her way to Edelgard’s bedside. What Rhea reads from the phone confounds her to no end. 

BEAGLES 🐶❓🦅⁉️

Dorothea: EDIE??? https://ugm.edu.fd/news/20240510/…

🦅🦁🦌 The spectacular society of the worshippers of manuela's left sock 

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: El, are you alright? Claude told me what happened at UGM…

She can’t make heads or tails of what any of that even means. What do those animal glyphs represent? Who is Manuela, and why is her sock deemed worthy of reverence on the level of Mother Sothis? And there is certainly no such thing as a gift dragon! She should ask about it tomorrow. Regardless, Rhea’s fascination with the device only grows. She’s fairly certain that hand gestures control the contents of the phone, based on what she’d seen of her family and Edelgard. Rhea puts a finger to the phone’s screen and slides it upwards. Sure enough, a new set of text appears, this time with numbers.

Swipe up for Face ID or Enter Passcode

Rhea, not knowing what an ID or passcode is, opts to swipe up. The text on the device shakes like a lockbox rattled by a failed lockpicking attempt. Rhea frowns. Swiping up means to make use of this “Face ID”. She may not know what an ID is, but she certainly knows what a face is. Perhaps this phone makes use of one’s face to unlock its contents? 

Carefully, she turns the surface of the phone to point towards Edelgard, who is drooling into her pillow (it’s almost endearing) . The phone’s contents reveal themselves. Well, doesn’t Rhea feel accomplished? She’s figured out one of the great mysteries of the modern age, and she didn’t need some girl to pester her about it!

Rhea turns the phone back to herself, that she may peruse its secrets and wonders. The screen now has some title at the top she couldn’t read, and a series of images appear beneath that. Just like the ones framed on Edelgard’s wall, it is as though moments in time were captured perfectly, down to the minute details, for all eternity. Rhea swipes her finger down, and true enough to her assumptions, more illustrations appear for her to view. 

Her eyes widen with every image she sees: a beautiful brunette who is captured performing a song onstage, a lanky, sullen young man looking out towards a river, another man whose blond hair reminds Rhea of Edelgard’s standing proudly by a statue of a roaring lion. She’s seen these people in the framed portraits in Edelgard’s home. They all appear to be enjoying their lives in each illustration. 

And Edelgard is not in any of them.

Something like a pang hits Rhea. She decides to put the phone down back where Edelgard had left it.

Suddenly, the room feels suffocating to Rhea. It feels too narrow, too small, too much like she is invading someone else’s space. Rhea knows how much she gets on Edelgard’s nerves and vice-versa and they just met and she is unwelcome in this home. And they’d slept in the same bed. By the goddess’ name, she made Edelgard sleep in the same bed as her. Why must she be burdened with this girl?

(Why must this girl be burdened with her?)

Rhea shuffles out of the bedroom as quiet as she could. It is easier to see in the living room by virtue of the moonlight coming through the balcony more readily than through Edelgard’s bedroom window. Air. Rhea needs air. She slides the balcony doors open, hoping that the midnight wind could calm her. 

From Edelgard’s balcony, Rhea could see the full breadth of Garreg Mach for the first time in eons. Despite all the change it had gone through over the years, it is still a breathtaking sight to take in. Nestled as it is in the Oghma Mountains, a part of Rhea is soothed to see that it still lives up to its moniker, The Castle Imperious. 

But she is still not at ease.

Rhea needs to relax, to stretch her wings in the most literal fashion, and yet she knows she cannot stray too far from her unwilling keeper. If her family becomes ever more displeased at her… she wouldn’t know what to do.

She looks up. The roof of the building seems wide and spacious. And where the student residences are located, the sun would be at its warmest and most welcoming come morning. Rhea climbs up the railing and leaps.

Edelgard is pretty sure she hasn’t changed her alarm clock ringtone. She’s also pretty sure she set it to ring at 9 AM, and judging by the gleeful chirping of the birds outside her window it’s probably closer to 6 in the morning right now. Eyes still shut together in spite, she flails her arm around her nightstand to reach for her phone. 

She forces one eye open. Someone’s calling and their name is Petra Macneary. Also it’s not even 6 AM it’s 5:48 in the goddamn morning someone please send help. 

Edelgard really wants to fling her phone across the room, but it’s Petra Macneary and she loves Petra dearly and misses her. It’s hard to catch up with friends when you’re miles and an ocean apart from each other. Edelgard decides to suck it up and answer.

“Wuh?” is all that Edelgard is capable of saying as a greeting at 5:48 in the goddamn morning.

“Edelgard! You’re not being eaten alive, right?” 

The panic in Petra’s voice wakes Edelgard up a little bit, and that’s just because she doesn’t like it when Petra panics because Petra deserves all the good things in the world.

“Well I sure hope not,” Edelgard replies, stifling a yawn. “What’s going on?”

“You mean you don’t know what’s happening?”

“Evidently not, Petra. Cut to the chase, please. Girl, I love you, but I also love sleep.”

“Edelgard, there’s a giant lizard on top of your apartment! It’s all over the internet!”

Edelgard suddenly feels the urge to toss a giant lizard off the mountain right now.

“You know what, Petra? You’re an angel. Talk to you some other time. I need to do some pest control.”

“Pest control? But there’s a bigger problem on your roof…”

Edelgard rubs the bridge of her nose. Oh, Petra. Sweet, pure, Petra. 

“It was a figure of speech, girl.” 

“Oh. OH. I see. In that case, bye then. Don’t get eaten, sister.”

Edelgard hangs up, tosses her phone aside, and bounds out of bed. She marches to the balcony with the irritation of a sleep-deprived graduate student robbed of the precious commodity of rest.

When she slides the doors open to the cacophony of social media clout chasers crowding around her apartment, she really feels the urge to toss a giant lizard off the mountain. Preferably by the massive tail swishing idly beside her face. 

Edelgard slaps her hands to her face and groans. First, the ground pests.

“DO ANY OF YOU NOT KNOW WHAT PRIVACY IS? GET OUT!”

The ground pests scatter away. Good. Now for the flying pest.

“AND YOU!” Edelgard yells, pointing at the dragon who decided to sunbathe on the roof. “What in the fires of Ailell. GET OFF OF THE ROOF! NO DRAGONING ON CAMPUS! OR EVER! IT’S NOT THE MIDDLE AGES ANYMORE!”

Said dragon takes her sweet time to loll her head around so she could stare down at Edelgard. She’s a sixty-foot long divine beast and she squints at Edelgard like she’s just any other woman whose suntan got interrupted.

“I WAS HAVING A LOVELY TIME BASKING IN THE SUN BEFORE I WAS RUDELY INTERRUPTED. IT’S GOOD FOR THE SCALES. YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME. PERHAPS IT WILL CLEAR UP THE WRINKLES ON YOUR FACE FROM ALL THE FROWNING YOU DO.”

Said frown on Edelgard’s face only grows deeper.

“What in the ‘we’re living in the modern era’ do you not understand? People are crowding here because it’s been a millennium since dragons and magic were a thing. They don’t exist. Get down here and transform back or so help me, I’M KICKING YOU OUT MYSELF!”

The ancient beast of yore only snorts out a smoky breath.

Unbelievable, the nerve of this overgrown lizard.

“I WOULD HARDLY CALL MYSELF NONEXISTENT. BUT IF YOU INSIST, I WILL TURN BACK.”

“Oh thank–” regrettably, Edelgard speaks prematurely, because as she turns back to look at the ‘undragonized’ Rhea on her balcony, she immediately has to turn away. Her entire face is burning, reddened cheeks alight with embarrassment like a goddamn tomato.

She takes another peek. Just a peek. It’s not a bad view from the balcony, to be honest. Fuck.

“Where the hell are your clothes?!” she screams before scurrying off to look for a blanket or any damn sheet to restore the modesty of her guest…

…Her guest who doesn’t even in the slightest find herself bothered to be standing au naturel in the open air of her balcony!

“What?” the naked woman asks simply.

Edelgard throws the nearest bed sheet she could find around the taller woman’s shoulders, making sure to avoid looking at those bountiful br— ahem —and pushes Rhea inside until she’s closed the sliding door and the curtains to salvage the smidge of privacy they have left after that stunt.

It would have been a miracle if nobody saw that. She prays to whatever deity out there is listening that none of the social media pests stayed to take a look.

She looks at the clock on the wall.

6:09 in the goddess-damned morning. It’s too early for this bullshit.

Rhea is still watching her, with an amused smile on her lips. How she can be so smug in just a towel, looking down at her with those mesmerizing—Ugh!

No! She must not let the other woman get the better of her. But dear goddess, she really wants to throw her off the balcony just about now. Edelgard slinks towards the couch and buries her face into her hands. 

She takes a deep breath. “Rhea?”

“Yes, child?”

“How many times must I remind you that I am not a child?!”

“You have the attitude and stature of one.”

“Why you—oh, whatever! Why were you out there sunbathing on the roof, in your birthday suit?!”

“I beg your pardon? I do not know what this ‘birthday suit’ is you speak of.” 

Sothis have mercy, Edelgard must have done some irredeemable, unforgivable crime in her past life to be punished so cruelly. As if to prove her point that the goddess must truly love to play with her, Rhea closes in towards her like a serpent, leaning over her, drawing the space between them closer to null. Her one hand might still be clutching the sheet against her body but Edelgard can feel the heat radiating from Rhea’s skin.

(Or is that Edelgard’s own?)

Rhea continues drawling on, excruciatingly slow and methodical with the way her lips curl with her words.

“Do enlighten me,” she purrs, and raises a hand to brush a stray hair Edelgard didn’t realize was there behind her ears. Rhea moves deeper into her personal space, green eyes alight; Edelgard feels herself locked in place, unwilling to move or look away even when their faces are inches apart. Verdant green meets the lilac of her eyes in a sea of grays.

Edelgard is about to cut her off, trying to win back her ground, but Rhea is quicker, observant in her thousand years of living. She sweeps into the side of her face, her voice warm and tender beneath the playful facade of words. The sound and feel of her mouth brushing against Edelgard’s ear, and the flimsy sheet barely covering Rhea’s nudity pressed up nearly against her, sends shudders through her entire body.

“I’ve yet to be familiar with today’s colloquialisms.”

Edelgard knows that for all of Rhea’s stubbornness, she is not an idiot, and therefore can gather from context clues just what exactly she meant. Her eyes suddenly catch a hint of pointed teeth behind that godforsaken woman’s lips, and for a moment Edelgard's treacherous thoughts think of the myriad things Rhea could do to her with those fangs. Edelgard hisses.

“Cut the crap. Now you’re just teasing me. Get off of me.” 

She finally finds the will to look to the side, unable to take in the entirety of this woman. Mercifully, Rhea pulls away. The grin is still present on her face. Edelgard takes the time to breathe deeply, not realizing she had been holding it the entire time.

“You’ve no sense of fun, Edelgard. Did you know that some predatory animals toy with their prey before digging their teeth into them?”

“Whatever the hell does that have to do with anything?” Edelgard manages to bite out, suddenly too tired to think of a snappier retort. She imagines Rhea sinking her teeth into her skin—and just barely catches herself from continuing that line of thought. Her hand twitches with the itch to touch her side; The ghost of Rhea’s breath ripples on her skin, leaving her burning for more. “Are you calling yourself an animal? No wonder.”

Rhea lets out an airy chuckle.

“We are all animals, dear Edelgard. Getting a rise out of you may just be an instinct of mine.”

Goddess, what the fuck. It’s too early for any of this–in the day and in the time she’s gotten to know this stupid, sexy woman.

Edelgard shoves Rhea into the bathroom so she can put on some goddamn clothes, and Edelgard thinks of shoving herself back into the closet, literally and figuratively, that she may forget what Rhea’s stark naked figure looks like in her fantasies.

When everything between them settles down, and they have gathered in the living room, Edelgard clears her throat and reads aloud an email Professor Eisner had sent her the night before.

please show grandma around campus tomorrow before you see me for consultation bc she needs to get used to the place or smth idk have fun

Byleth Dominique Eisner, MA, PhD

Instructor

University of Garreg Mach

School of Archaeology

Edelgard ends the email with a smack of the lips.

“She didn’t even remove her professional signature. This could have been a text.”

“Your professor is a peculiar one,” Rhea muses. “So unlike her mother or father. A tour now, is it?”

Edelgard sighs and shoves her phone into her pocket. 

“Unfortunately, she’s tasked me with showing you around UGM—” Edelgard pauses to correct herself, rolling her eyes. “—sorry. I meant to say The Royal and Apostolic University of Garreg Mach, the Sothisian University of Fódlan,” she croons, lilting her voice with the drama of a certain opera singer friend of hers. “You have to spell out the entire thing, titles and all, you see. They insist on it. It wouldn’t be pretentious enough otherwise.”

Rhea, for some reason, snorts at this.

“Something tells me that Cichol had a hand in granting Garreg Mach such a superfluous name.”

Edelgard forces an awkward laugh and tries to forget for the second or third time the implication that Dean Seteth is the fucking patron saint of justice. 

“Alright, yeah, whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

With every place they pass by on campus, it gets infinitely harder for Edelgard to just get it over with. When Rhea isn’t being infuriating or infuriatingly attractive, she gives anecdotes about the different parts of UGM that are infuriatingly fascinating to a history nerd like Edelgard.

An example: the football field. It’s just a patchy field of bermuda grass where the football team punts balls around all day, and where anyone else would only step foot in during the baccalaureate rites, when graduating students come together in unity before their actual exit ceremony. That is about as much stock as Edelgard puts into the otherwise nondescript field. 

“That field is a mass grave.” 

Every. Single. Time. Rhea upturns everything Edelgard knows about UGM’s, and perhaps even Fódlan’s history, with passing remarks like they were small talk about the weather and not groundbreaking anecdotes from a life lost to the ages.

“During the war that unified the continent, many of the unidentified Kingdom and Church troops were interred here in the hopes that the holy ground here would sanctify their souls in the afterlife.”

Edelgard has to stop herself from grilling Rhea about her side comments before it gives the infuriating woman leverage to toy with her even more, every. Single. Time. Do you know how difficult it is for an academic to hold back her piqued interest? Because it seems that Rhea knows and abuses that fact very well.

The cathedral has a hidden system of catacombs beyond the Holy Tomb, used to house the remains of Nabateans murdered during the Zanado Massacre. 

(And only now has it occurred to Edelgard that the demonym ‘dragons’ sometimes used in referring to that minority ethnic group was literal the whole time. Good goddess.)

The Officers’ Academy, analogous to the present-day High School Department, used to have genuine silver and gold embroidered into their uniforms. That dilapidated tower that the school admin hasn't bothered restoring because they’re short on funds? Rhea thinks they’re lying and they just don’t want to repair the tower because students used to go up there and make out.

(Well, she said they’d go up there and wish together in couples, but what else would a bunch of horny teenagers do in a secluded tower lit by the moonlight?) 

Shouldn’t it be the immortal woman who came unstuck in time who should be freaking out over how everything has changed? Why is Edelgard the one having her mind blown over all this?

“You look like you have questions for me, oh scholar of history,” Rhea would say after every comment.

“I refuse to get the answers from you,” Edelgard would say back, turning away and marching off to their next stop.

Rhea would just laugh. Again, what an infuriating woman.

Their romp around the campus continues on like this until they reach the central gardens, and the mirth that was slowly building up in Rhea over the course of the day suddenly shatters. 

If one were to ignore the gaping hole on the side of the general infirmary of UGM, then one could consider the gardens to be the biggest casualty of Rhea’s post-hibernation rampage. Shrubs and bushes crushed by the previous day’s events have begun to wilt into a mass of rotting leaves and petals. 

Edelgard could not think of a good way to mince her words, so she doesn’t. 

“This is the place formerly known as the central gardens, right before they were flattened yesterday by a rampaging dragon. The Flower Lady–Mrs. Eisner–this place is–was? Her pride and joy. Yeah. Uh, this is usually where you can find people taking a break from life, but it’s not exactly relaxing to look at right now.”

Her words peter out into silence when Edelgard realizes that her companion hadn’t been listening at all. Rhea looks heavily distracted, her eyes glazed over while she hums in false assent to whatever Edelgard is saying. Rude. She opens her mouth, ready to chide Rhea for being disrespectful but two familiar voices disrupt her thought process, and she realizes that they’re not quite alone.

Edelgard follows Rhea’s line of sight and finds two of the Eisners in the middle of the gardens. Her eyes raise in surprise when she sees Sitri frowning so deeply, because she never does. Professor Eisner’s concerned, emoting face is less of a shock at this point; in the time since the whole Rhea fiasco started, Edelgard has learned that her supervisor does feel deeply after all, and usually just expresses her emotions in ways inscrutable to the average person.

The worry Professor Eisner has for her mother, however, is one all too clear to see.

“Mom. It’s okay. We can grow it all back.” 

Sitri looks away from her daughter with such frustration that she could hardly be recognized as UGM’s cheerful Flower Lady.

“Oh, but By-By,” Sitri says dolefully, cupping a trampled valerian in her hand. Its petals are about to be torn off if it weren’t for the gentle handling of the groundskeeper. “I just… I really cannot stand to see the gardens so lifeless! Students and faculty and guests come here to relax and recharge, and what kind of a groundskeeper would I be if I left this beautiful place to fall apart?”

“No one blames you for this, mom. Come on, you can let it go for now. We can go kickboxing later so you can cool off."

Sitri's frown loosens, just barely. She sighs and dusts herself until she’s on her feet.

"…I suppose there's no use in getting this worked up when the deed has been done. This could be fixed, in a manner of speaking…"

Professor Eisner’s eyes widen, and she tugs at her mother's arm when she sees the light of transformation surround Sitri.

"Mom, you know you shouldn't—"

"—I'll be quite alright, dear. I won't take too long."

“Mom!”

The shift completes itself, verdant light making way to reveal the form of a new divine beast, deer-like and regal. 

Edelgard tilts her head up to take in the sight of another dragon, as though the world thought witnessing one wasn’t already mind-boggling enough. Whispers and phones erupt around the vicinity, but she could scarcely hear a thing over the deafening sound of her own shock.

“What is she?”

Rhea looks on with profound sobriety. 

“That… that is the Flourishing One.”

Edelgard looks more closely at the new dragon and winces. The Flourishing One breathes heavily, struggling to keep her head up from the weight of her antlers like tree branches, her scales and tendrils that were perhaps at one point vibrant, now sickly and pallid. Her great wings drag across the ground from their weight. 

“Doesn’t look too flourishing to me.”

Pain sharp and stabbing flashes across Rhea’s face, and it makes Edelgard regret opening her big mouth. 

“Mom!” Professor Eisner rushes to the Flourishing One’s side, trying to help prop her upright. “I told you not to transform!”

The Flourishing One says nothing in return, opting to channel some sort of magic through her antlers. The same viridian light from her transformation flows through her, spreading across the ground, bringing forth new life across the grounds of the central gardens. As soon as the last flower has returned to full bloom in her sanctuary, Sitri’s transformation abruptly stops; where Edelgard saw Rhea shift smoothly back into her human form that morning, Sitri returns to hers so abruptly that it disorients all who witness it–so what more for Sitri herself?

Professor Eisner catches her mother and presses two fingers right below her jaw, checking her pulse. Sitri heaves out a breath but still manages to give her daughter a reassuring smile.

“I’m sorry, By-By. You know where you get your stubborn streak from.”

Professor Eisner sighs, but rolls her eyes fondly.

“No, I don’t. Not at all. Let’s go to the infirmary.”

Edelgard turns away from the scene with a pang of sympathy for the professor’s mother. She turns to look at her companion, hoping for some sort of thoughts on the matter, only to be met with air. She looks around quickly and finds that Rhea had already been standing beside the school fountain, a few meters away from the gardens, staring down at the water’s reflection.

When Edelgard catches up to Rhea, not a word passes between them until Rhea recollects herself enough to face her.

“Where to next, Edelgard?” she says, as if they hadn’t just witnessed Mrs. Eisner almost fainting from exhaustion. As if begging Edelgard to leave the matter to rest.

Edelgard relents.

“The graduate school,” she says, “where I feel most at home these days. I need to consult with the professor, anyway.”

“Lead the way then,” says Rhea with an offering of an unsteady smile. “Bring me home.”

Edelgard shoots Rhea a look of warning. Something stirs at the core of her gut. “Don’t make this sound any weirder than it has to be.”

“What? This ‘graduate school’ is like home to you, is it not? I am simply affirming that you will bring me there.”

The unease in Edelgard’s gut settles. It doesn’t matter what drivel comes out of Rhea’s mouth as long as it’s incendiary or irritating. She could handle that. It makes more sense than whatever she’s been feeling whenever she has some kind of… moment with Rhea. Stop being friendly, Rhea. Stop being comfortable. Edelgard is supposed to feel frustrated by her situation, damn it.

She doesn't know how she should feel otherwise.

The graduate school is at the heart of the University of Garreg Mach, housed in the main building of the campus. Here, Master’s and Doctoral students from every discipline practiced in UGM are gathered to fulfill the requirements of their degrees. Rhea has very little to say about the building itself, which seems to be the most unchanged portion of the university from its monastery days.

“Of course, it’s been expanded and renovated over the years inside to accommodate the scholastic needs of the university,” Edelgard explains. They wind through the stairwells of the main building, where the ancient, storied scent of the place is most apparent. “But the facade and the general build of the structure has been preserved.”

Rhea takes in the sights of the main building. “It truly has. It is like I’ve never left it.”

When they reach the third floor, Edelgard hums. “Wait ‘til you see our classrooms and labs. On this floor are the Department of History and the School of Archaeology. My domain, of course, is the latter.”

“Anything of interest from the Department of History?” Rhea asks.

“Absolutely nothing,” Edelgard replies, and quickens her pace when they pass by the aforementioned area.

Edelgard throws the doors of what used to be the Cardinal’s Room wide open, revealing the cluttered but currently unoccupied Nabatean Archaeology Lab of the School of Archaeology. Boxes filled to the brim with collected artifacts, shelves upon shelves bursting with miscellaneous papers and reference materials, and microscopes, computers–while currently untouched, the place is a lively one in Rhea’s eyes. The way Edelgard moves about inside, casual and familiar, speaks to the amount of time she’d spent in this room.

“Welcome to my happy place,” she declares. “The discoveries make me happy–the schoolwork doesn’t. Professor Emeritus Hanneman used to run the place, but Professor Eisner is poised to fully take charge soon.” 

Rhea follows Edelgard to a desk near the center of the lab, where piles of pages pulled out of notebooks decorate its surface. Scrawlings of symbols–most crossed out, some encircled, others with question marks surrounding them–grace each page. 

“I’m interested in the crests that are ubiquitous throughout most of the Church of Sothis’ iconography.” Not a hint of sarcasm or sardonic wit can be heard in Edelgard’s tone of voice–she is wholly passionate about her work. Rhea leans over, somewhat enamored with the enthusiasm with which Edelgard explains herself. “As far as we know, they’ve been used historically to represent political power or divine appointment to justify that power. The three known crests–the Aegir crest, the Varley crest, and the Hresvelg crest–and their connections to prominent political families in Fódlan’s history are undeniable evidence of that.”

Rhea’s face twists in confusion, and Edelgard raises an eyebrow expecting a question from her, but Rhea shakes her head and prompts Edelgard to continue.

“Anyway!” Edelgard claps her hands. “Recently, we’ve unearthed some artifacts from Zanado depicting those crests, and our methods date them to be older than the founding of the Adrestian Empire where these crests were leveraged for power. It seems to confirm the hypothesis that crests date back to the pre-genocide Nabatean civilization. And. And! I think I might be onto something, because I’ve found new symbols associated with the known crests, and I believe they might be new crests unknown to science!”

Edelgard shoves the relevant notebook papers towards Rhea, whose eyes widen with recognition, although Edelgard does not seem to notice this. A rune of jagged lines is encircled multiple times over.

“This. This is what I’m investigating. This could have so many ramifications for Fódlan’s historical record. I’m certain of it–among the runes we’ve uncovered, this one is bound to be a new crest! Perhaps there was more to the crests as symbols of power? How did they come to be associated with politics? What is the truth of their existence? If we figure this out, it could even affect the politics of today!”

Rhea begins to flip through Edelgard’s notes, holding down the page with the first rune with her free hand. Her face contorts into a grimace–that of disbelief, most likely–and she starts to tune out Edelgard’s incomprehensible rambling, no matter how endearing amusingly annoying her eagerness is.

 While Edelgard prattles on about her work, Rhea keeps looking back at the rune carefully copied in Edelgard's notes. She finally speaks up, after at least twenty minutes of Edelgard spewing out what is essentially her thesis proposal’s abstract.

"That is not a crest."

The truth comes plain, dry, and simple from Rhea’s mouth.

"And when I discover the truth of this crest, of all c—wait. What do you mean it's not a crest?"

Rhea shakes her head.

"This is Nabata script. The Divine Monogram, to be exact. It incorporates the symbols that spell out the name of the goddess Sothis. It should be obvious to a scholar of your ilk. Surely, your university must have other examples of it."

Edelgard freezes because there is no way in Ailell that this woman could casually upturn all that they know about ancient Fódlan with a passing remark.

"No. We don't. I've never even heard of such a writing system."

Rhea looks at her with utter disbelief.

"You jest. This is the language of my people."

"I'm sure your people would have said something if such a language existed."

Rhea stands up straight.

“That—that cannot be, could it? Cichol, at the very least, should have remembered it. Sitri—I tried to teach her. Did she not pass it down to her daughter?”

Edelgard shrugs.

“No other Nabateans have said anything. You know there’s more of your people around than just your family, right? At least one of them would have spoken up about this if it existed.”

Rhea opens her mouth, but little more than indistinguishable mumbling leaves with her breath. It is unintelligible to Edelgard even when she watches the way Rhea’s mouth moves. Could it be the language Rhea claims to be the Nabateans’ native tongue? 

And right when Edelgard is about to demand answers from her insufferable companion, the bell rings.

Edelgard’s eye twitches. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Edelgard sighs. “It’s lunch. We're not done talking about this, alright? This is my degree on the line. But if you’re as tired of my face as I am of yours, then you can go ahead and get something to eat at the dining hall or wherever. I need to speak to Professor Eisner about this.”

Rhea, who had since shaken herself out of her shock, huffs. 

“Your graciousness is ever appreciated, dear captor of mine. I will take the offer gladly.” 

Just as Rhea opens the door to leave the room, she finds herself face-to-face with Professor Eisner. The professor lets out–is that a growl?–she lets out a growl at the sight of Rhea.

“Oh,” Rhea says limply. “Hello, Byleth. It’s good to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, grandma,” the professor snaps back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She pushes her way past Rhea, who lingers briefly by the doorway to look at the professor before walking off to what Edelgard would assume to be the dining hall. As soon as Rhea makes herself scarce, Professor Eisner returns to her classic dispassionate affect and turns to Edelgard with nothing but her academics in mind. The two of them take their seats beside Edelgard’s desk.

“Update me on your proposal, Edelgard. Will you still push through with investigating the runes from the Zanado excavation?”

Edelgard scratches her head. 

“Yes and no, Professor. Your grandmother just overturned everything I assumed about our findings. Am I allowed more time to think this over?”

The professor hums.

“What’d she say?”

“She called it ‘Nabata script’, and claimed it was the language of your people. Were you aware of this, Professor? I’ve never seen it mentioned in the literature.”

Professor Eisner’s flat affect wavers, leaving a frown on her face that mirrors the one her mother wore when Edelgard and Rhea saw them at the gardens. 

“…I vaguely recall my mother mentioning an ancient Nabatean language, but it’s been lost to time. Neither her nor any of my uncles have spoken it in centuries. If they don’t remember it, I doubt any living Nabatean does. A few scant words remain at most, and only those that stayed culturally relevant over the years. And I’ve never heard of a script to go along with it.” 

Edelgard slumps over the desk.

“So you’re saying she’s making my life harder even in my academics.”

Professor Eisner closes her eyes and rests her chin on her folded hands.

“That seems to be her special talent, yes: being an inconvenience to everyone around her.”

Edelgard straightens up and looks at Professor Eisner with a scrutinizing eye. Rhea may be a pain in the ass, but is she deserving of this much animosity from a granddaughter who has never known her until this point? The mistrust Professor Eisner has for her is starting to feel a bit uncomfortable for the sheer intensity of it.

“You said you’ve never met her, Professor, and yet you’ve been shooting glares her way every chance you get. Why is that?”

Professor Eisner’s nose wrinkles, contemplating the question. After a while, she gives her answer. 

"Have you ever visited your relatives after not seeing them for a long time, and they have a dog, and the dog starts barking and snapping at you because they don't know you and you're probably a threat?"

"Uh, yeah?" And Edelgard is reminded of the handful of times she'd visited some of her half-siblings with Dee. 

Professor Eisner narrows her eyes and draws her lips taut.

"Me. It's me. I'm the dog. Woof woof.” 

Edelgard decides to nod along and ignore the low rumbling coming from Professor Eisner’s throat. Whatever that family history is that the professor alluded to in her note, Edelgard could only imagine what went down to elicit such visceral loathing from her. 

Professor Eisner waves off the conversation. 

“I’m gonna go eat lunch. If you’re gonna keep gaping there you can grab snacks from my stash. You can submit your revised proposal to me any time before the deadline–submitting your original one four weeks ahead of time will give you that luxury, I guess. If you can find additional, reputable sources that will justify this change in direction for your thesis, even better."

“Is–”

“No. Don’t trust her.”

And off goes the professor, leaving Edelgard alone to her own devices for the first time in what feels like ages. 

One moment Rhea was beside her, dropping one of the biggest history bombs that can be considered a golden nugget in the annals of archaeology and the next, she’s gone like the wind, leaving her to process that little tidbit on her own.

Edelgard shakes her head, noting that she should most likely be used to this by now. That woman, for all her supposed wisdom from her innately long life, comes and goes as she pleases, never to be held down by societal conventions such as politeness or tact.

She supposes she can learn not to care much, but Rhea can still stand to be a bit less dismissive of her. It feels a bit disrespectful to her, after all.

Edelgard shakes her head, and breathes out a long and weary sigh. Perhaps she should update her friends on her current status. It has been a while and she still has yet to reply to any of their messages. Confusing as it may be, considering the larger context behind it all, they still deserve to know her whereabouts.

BEAGLES 🐶❓🦅⁉️

Dorothea: EDIE??? https://ugm.edu.fd/news/20240510/dragon-attack-on-campus-was-accident-says-dean-assal/

Petra: What is even happening?? 

Caspar: HOLY SHIT IS THAT A REAL MOTHERFUCKING DRAGON???!! AND EDS THERE??!!!

Bernie: Those are special effects, right ?? Please tell bernie those are special effects !!

Hubert: @Bernadetta Unfortunately, the press release reported on by thirty-two different news outlets says otherwise.

Hubert: Regardless, I am confident that Edelgard is capable of defending herself from mythological creatures that exist beyond all logic and reason. I will need a drink for this. Seven, mayhaps.

Dorothea: let’s hope you’re right hubie because i cannot even begin to process wtf i just read.

Caspar: dyou guys think they had a fist fight???1!!! I bet it was epic!!!!!!

Caspar: Or maybe she was… 😳👀👀

Apparently, they’ve been at it since last night. Interestingly, nobody bothered to tag her directly. Hmm…

BEAGLES 🐶❓🦅⁉️

Edelgard: I’m fine, and no i wasn’t eaten. 

Caspar: HAHA SHE SAID THE THING

Edelgard: And no, caspar, i did not get into a fist fight with the giant fuck-off lizard. But she lives in my apartment now. She eats microwaved pizza with full silver cutlery. Help me.

Dorothea: she??? 

Edelgard: To my chagrin, she. Also my professor and her entire family are giant fuck-off lizards, too. Am i clinically insane? I feel like i’m clinically insane.

Petra: How does your professor fit inside the classroom?

Edelgard: Like a normal person?? i mean, they’re actually giant lizards but i don’t think they like that form of theirs… 

Edelgard: Then again, I’ve never seen most of them actually as dragons. And i hope i won’t because the one i have for a parasite is too much.

Linhardt: wtf happened here

Linhardt: oh

Linhardt: idk what the problem here is, flayn turns into a glowing lizard all the time when we study

Edelgard: Excuse me what

Linhardt: it saves electricity at night

Dorothea: how about we go back to the part where flayn assal turns into a glowing lizard?? And u talk like that’s the most perfectly normal thing in the world, like, ever????

Dorothea: lin

Dorothea: @Linhardt

Dorothea: LINHARDT

Petra: May he rest in peace until he wakes up again.

Edelgard: Now you make him sound like a zombie.

Caspar: wheres the lie doe

Dorothea: tru

Petra: Anyways, how is the lizard lady currently? Not causing you too many problems, I hope? Did you find a big place to keep her?

Edelgard: It’s complicated. Also she’s currently bothering me as a human so i don’t have to worry about finding some secret place to stuff her in. 

Edelgard: The professor and the dean;s family basically assigned me as her babysitter and now I’m stuck lugging around this woman for who knows how long. I think I’m dyign guys

Dorothea: Is she hot?

Edelgard: …

Edelgard: shtu the fckuc up

It’s comical, the way there is a pause in the group chat. Not a single sign of anyone typing out a reply, just pure silence. The true calm before the storm. Edelgard braces herself.

BEAGLES 🐶❓🦅⁉️

Dorothea: OH NO SHE’S HOOOOOOOOOOOOOT~ 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Petra: Oh no she’s hottttttt!!

Edelgard: NO YOU DONT GET IT GUYS, SHE’S PROFESSOR EISNER’S GRANDMOTHER WTFFF

Petra: A moment of silence for our fallen leader🙏😔

Dorothea: GILF GILF GILF GILF 💦💦🥵 

Caspar: ur never gonna beat the mommy kink allegations ed IJBOL 🤪 or is this a granny kink

Edelgard: I’m leaving you guys. Goodbye.

Caspar: Awww love ya too boss

Petra: Stay strong Edelgard ✊🙏

Dorothea: Don’t get too excited edie 😊

Edelgard: Sorry, who are you again? Bye. 

It’s a funny one-liner and everyone leaves a laugh reaction on the message, but somehow it still hurts to think they could ever be distant someday. Maybe it’s already started–when was the last time Ferdinand left a message? And Linhardt, Bernie–even Hubert–they come and go like transient, lost spirits.

She quickly exits the group chat, ignoring any and all new message notifications coming out of her phone. As short the conversation may be, talking to them uplifted her enough to check on her other messages.

Aside from the usual academic group chat updates, one certain message group remains unread—and this is the first time she has seen something new from it in a long time.

🦅🦁🦌 The spectacular society of the worshippers of manuela's left sock 

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: El, are you alright? Claude told me what happened at UGM. I have no idea if any of it is true, but I just want to make sure you’re safe.

Edelgard frowns. She appreciates the concern coming from Dee. It’s sweet, really, that he still tries to reach out even after their massive spat before they left for college. It would make her feel better if it weren’t for the glaring fact that Claude didn’t even bother to check up on her, considering the fact that she was up and center stage throughout the whole incident, while he was most certainly on-campus to see for himself. She wonders if he had left her a text without her noticing, so Edelgard checks.

Nope, nothing. Not even a reaction. And yet he bothered to update her brother about everything happening to her, probably through private message. Then Dee tries to bring it up in their group chat that’s been collecting dust since the Time We Do Not Talk About, hoping to help patch things up between everyone, perhaps. Boys. Stupid boys who just don’t get it sometimes. 

…Her boys, she misses them. When can things go back to normal? Can they?

Biting her lip, she starts typing.

🦅🦁🦌 The spectacular society of the worshippers of manuela's left sock 

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk: I’m alright, Dee. A lot has happened, but nothing too apocalyptic, unlike what the news and social media would have you believe.

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: Oh, thank the goddess. I was worried something might have happened to you.

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk: No, everything’s alright. I’m just currently busy handling someone else’s family drama without my consent.

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: Family drama. That sounds complicated.

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk: Oh, you have no idea. Are you free at the moment?

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: I’m sorry El. I’m only able to reply right now because it’s my lunch break, but we have another evaluation coming up right after this.

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk: It’s okay Dee. At least you’re doing alright. Don’t let law school eat you up.

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock: I’m really sorry El. I’ll try and make it up to you.

Edelgard leaves a thumbs up reaction on that and turns off her phone. Not even locking it–just turns it off, in this day and age when you are expected to be connected at all times. She looks up from her phone, staring off at nothing in particular. It’s more than she’d usually get from Dee these days, but it’s still nothing like how they used to be. He’s her brother; how did they let it get to this point?

And still nothing from Claude. If he didn't contact her before, why did she even expect to hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d actually have the heart to get in touch with her now? The little smidgeon of hope that always lingers in her shatters in the face of that nothing. Her chest twinges at the heavy feeling that is disappointment. Edelgard should be used to it by now.

Truthfully, she’d been avoiding him just as much as he’d been avoiding her. Why would this change anything about that? She’d still keep waiting and waiting for things to get better between them, and he wouldn’t do anything about it, and she’d realize what a hypocrite she’s been for expecting him to reach out when she refuses to do the same. But it’s easier to pin all the blame on him, isn’t it? Especially when, ostensibly, she could choose to be the better person and reach out herself right now, even if her reasons for doing so are so incredibly, hopelessly selfish.

Screw it. If he won’t come around, then the best thing she can do is confront him. Get him to listen to her for once. Maybe that’ll teach him how to be less of an asshole friend who couldn’t bother to ask if she was even alright after something as crazy as a dragon attack. Her eyes burn with unshed tears, but she refuses to let it grow nor fall. Not for this idiot. Not again.

Finding Claude was easy enough. It’s ironic and simply laughable for them to be in the same building on the regular, and yet Edelgard couldn’t ever catch a glimpse of that stupid fool’s handsome face. Not since undergrad–not since their mistake.

She makes a turn to the History department and lo and behold, there he is waiting right outside the faculty lounge, tapping his foot and glancing at his watch every five seconds or so. And the sight of him makes her pause in her steps. She realizes it’s been too long since they last physically saw each other. He stands taller now. His back and shoulders are broader and wider than the last time she held him. Claude’s back is turned towards her. He hasn’t seen her yet, but judging by the abrupt shift in his laid back posture into something more guarded, it tells her he recognized her from her footfalls. Something so simple and yet damning at how large the pit between them grew. Edelgard doesn't know if she wants to slap him or cry.

And he turns to her, and he salutes her with that ne’er-do-well stance he gives everyone because he’d always been afraid of looking too anxious or concerned with his place in school, and the smile on his face never quite reaches his eyes like the smiles he’d give everyone who never knew him as well as she has.

“Oh, hey, Edelgard. How’s the weather?”

Fuck. That hurts more than anything cruel he could have said. ‘Edelgard’? Not ‘Ellie’? He’s never called her by her full name, not even when he’d get mad at her, ever since they were little kids. Edelgard’s mouth runs dry; where’s the bravado that fuels her bickering with Rhea? Why can’t she say a word to this stranger wearing the face of one of her best friends? She balls her hands into fists and oh goddess she must look insane if she’s starting to break down over small talk about the weather.

“…Diiiiid you want me to say something about the hullabaloo from yesterday and today? I’m kinda busy. Proposals and all, you get it. Dragons aren’t really a new thing, y’know. I mean, we’ve known about Flayn since we were in high school. We kinda gathered that the rest of her family was probably the same. ‘Course, that was just us Deer, but well…”

He knew? He already knew about this sort of thing, and for how long?

Edelgard’s voice comes out too soft, too vulnerable. Too broken.

“…What more are you keeping from me, Al-Zahrani?”

“I dunno. What else did you want from me?”

Edelgard’s faith in him cracks, and it never has. Even in the intervening years since the Time We Do Not Talk About, she still felt from the bottom of her heart that their bond together with Dee was unshakable. That they’d always be her stupid, silly boys, and that nothing could ever get in between them. Not even her and Claude’s shared mistake.

Was she wrong?

“I just wanted a friend to listen to me. Can’t we even have that anymore? Aren’t we friends, Claude?”

The facade drops. He is real again, if only to let her down more than her wayward brother has. His posture straightens while he turns his back against her again.

“That’s a question I don’t have the answers to, yet. If it’s anything, I am sorry, Edelgard.”

She pulls at her sleeves.

“Stop it. Stop calling me that.”

Claude keeps quiet for a disturbingly long amount of time.

“You know I can’t. I don’t deserve to.”

Edelgard turns away and runs. He doesn’t even call out for her when she does.

This was a disaster.

Rhea staggers out of the main building, aimless, or perhaps going towards the dining hall because that was the last place mentioned by Edelgard and she has nowhere else to go. She isn’t in the mood to eat, to be frank. Food might only worsen the upset settling deep into her stomach. Is it strange to say that she finds comfort in being alone with Edelgard, whom she’d only met yesterday? Or would the fact that she has no ties to Rhea’s past explain that? Because she doesn’t remind Rhea of everything she’d done wrong in her cursed, immortal life? 

It’s better than being alone, perhaps. Words cannot describe the singleness with which Rhea feels her present existence–words in the common language, at least. To never be understood ever again in her mother tongue… to know that more and more of her identity is something that she cannot ever share with others speaks volumes to the feeling that she will never belong, and perhaps does not deserve to.

After ambling about for some unspecified amount of time, the tantalizing smell of hearty stews and grilled fish wafting from the dining hall finally gets to Rhea, and she hazards a look inside. 

The dining hall may no longer be the sole food vendor on campus, but it is still the oldest and largest, and perhaps still the most popular. At the end of the day, its classic fare of meat pies, onion gratin soup, and other traditional dishes that have withstood the test of time remain a source of comfort for many who call Garreg Mach their home away from home, past and present. 

Evidently, this could be said of Rhea’s standoffish granddaughter, who seems to have a veritable feast before her at her table. A spread enough for at least six people surrounds the lone woman. One would think that Byleth is just waiting for a group of friends or perhaps her family to come to the table, were it not for the fact that she has already started inhaling all of the food on her lonesome. Rhea stands back, partly to watch, and partly because she hesitates to approach the granddaughter who treats her like a blight upon all humanity.

Byleth is the splitting image of her mother, down to the way her hair parts and her face scrunches up in the same manner when she concentrates. But as a person? She is nothing like Sitri. Tact and decorum seem to be completely unknown to her. Rhea watches with morbid fascination the way Byleth wolfs down plate after plate of rich foodstuffs with the gusto of a starving animal, all while holding up her personal glass tablet–her phone–to capture the whole slobbish affair for posterity. Throughout all of this, Byleth’s face remains impartial, or at least appears so. Really, the few times Rhea could say she has seen Byleth emote would be when… when her mother is involved…

Rhea tries to push back those thoughts to the back of her head. 

Above all, Byleth Eisner is odd, plain and simple, and that is something that Rhea struggles to understand about her. Still, she would like to at least try. Rhea steels herself as she approaches.

“Hello again, Byleth,” Rhea starts. “Would you mind if I sat here with you? I would simply like to know you better, is all.”

Byleth refuses to look up from her meal to meet Rhea eye-to-eye.

“I mind very much, but not like that’s going to stop you any time soon. Just stay out of my way.”

Rhea nods lightly and sits down beside Byleth, who grunts as she tears off a chunk of grilled fish off of a skewer. Plate after plate of food disappears as Rhea looks on quietly. She'd love to ask for some, but she's already on thin ice with her granddaughter as it is. Intermittently between bites, Byleth captures moving images of her eating with her phone.

"What are you doing?" asks a confused Rhea.

"Spiting a traitor with his favorite food," Byleth answers flatly, as if that explained everything, with a chicken leg hanging out of her mouth. Indeed, when Rhea looks over at Byleth's phone, a header labeled 'Traitor' can be seen, as well as dozens of the moving images of her lunch beneath it. "That should be enough video evidence for today."

Rhea opens her mouth to ask another question, but fears she will only be all the more befuddled by whatever Byleth says in response. Suddenly, Byleth's phone vibrates harshly, and the screen of the phone changes to present a new set of text.

Rhea squints at the text displayed on the phone.

"…'Shithead Berling'?"

Byleth swipes a symbol on the phone, and an ear-piercing yell bursts forth from the small device. On speaker phone, even, because there is no such thing as social propriety to Byleth Eisner. Rhea recoils because it hurts her sensitive dragon ears.

"ASSNERD, YOU BITCHLESS TWAT!"

Somehow, despite being Nabatean, with the sensitive dragon ears herself, Byleth continues to shovel meat and potatoes into her mouth, unfazed.

"I'm not bitchless, I'm eating."

"DID YOU USE MY CREDIT CARD TO BUY SCENTED CANDLES AGAIN?!"

"I got you the salted caramel one."

"…Okay, thank you but YOU'LL FUCKING PAY FOR THIS, YOU DUMB MUTT! LITERALLY! AND IT BETTER BE IN CASH, OR I'LL TELL BE—"

Byleth swiftly hangs up the phone. Rhea looks at Byleth with utter confusion.

"Who was that?"

Byleth continues to eat her meal unperturbed.

"My bitch."

Yes, Rhea thinks to herself, Byleth Eisner is absolutely nothing like her mother. She continues to sit in awkward silence as Byleth starts to polish off her 26-course meal, somehow not appearing bloated at all, nor showing any sign of slowing down.

"Er… how about you tell me more about yourself, dear granddaughter?" Rhea offers. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine."

"Is that twenty-nine decades, or—"

"Twenty-nine." Byleth grabs a pitcher of water and gulps it all down in one fell swoop. Rhea shifts in her seat.

"Ah, I see. You are still very young for a Child of the Godde—"

Down goes a slice of fruit and herring tart. "—Nabatean. 'Children of the Goddess' is an outdated demonym that has its roots in Sothisian supremacy, where the Nabatean Nation has grown to become more diverse past its roots in the progenitor god. It also implies direct descent from Sothis, when only a single bloodline originating from a direct daughter of Sothis survives to the modern day."

Rhea bites her lip. "Yes, that may be all well and true; however, it is a part of your cultural herita—"

Byleth kicks back a can of beverage and slams it on the table. "My cultural heritage has been adequately passed down to me by my mother and uncles. Everything of value makes me who I am, and everything that is better left in the past has been left in the past." She looks at Rhea, challenging. Insulted, perhaps, that Rhea insinuated that she was not brought up properly in the ways of their culture. Rhea raises her hands, attempting to diffuse the situation.

"Let us not be too hasty, dear child. I, er… perhaps we can talk about something else? Your true self. Have you found it?"

Byleth raises an eyebrow.

"This is my true self."

Rhea grimaces.

"I—Forgive me. That was how we would call our other form in the old days. I meant to ask about y—"

"The Lesser Ashen Demon. My 'thing' is ashes. I look like a wolf-crocodile creature. I don't have wings."

Byleth bites down on a forkful of pickled vegetables. "And it's not the 'true me'. This is me. You don't know me."

Rhea slumps in her chair, eyes flitting around the dining hall. How could she explain herself to Byleth, when the girl keeps shooting her down at every turn? That the Children of the Goddess once believed that the dragon form is not their literal true form, but a manifestation of their soul? Was that, too, lost to the ages? Have her own people forgotten who they are? She sighs.

"I'm… sorry, if you feel that way, Byleth. I am truly trying my best, yet everything I know is either no longer true or not known at all to begin with."

Byleth does not grace her with a reply, and opts instead to put a bowl of soup to her lips and inhale it all in seconds. She stares firmly at Rhea.

"Then try harder. Maybe think about what you should be doing going forward instead of forcing everyone to bend backwards for you."

When Rhea tries to reach out to touch Byleth, she is met with another growl. Wolflike, just like her great-grandmother. Just like Sothis. Scars, ancient and deep, and yet never truly healed, reopen again within Rhea. Loneliness, losing everyone who mattered, the fear of it happening again and the reality that it might actually have.

“But could you ever blame me for seeking out the familiar when I am moored in the waters of the ages, a stranger to my own family? Would you not do the same, were you in my place?”

Byleth, finally, finishes off the last of her endless food. She pushes herself away from the dining table and shoots straight up from her chair.

“I would not be an archaeologist if I did not understand the past; but I would be a fool to stay there."

Byleth pauses to glare at Rhea, long and hard, and in her eyes Rhea finally, finally sees it: she understands what her granddaughter is thinking.

'You know what you did. Own up or get lost.'

But Rhea finds that every fiber in her body twitches for her to keep running. Maybe Byleth sees this, knows it by heart from the stories her family has told her of Rhea. Maybe that's why she turns her back on Rhea and storms out of the dining hall.

"I’ll see you around, grandma.”

Rhea puts her hands to her face, rubbing her temples, and sighs.

This, too, was a disaster.

Edelgard doesn’t know where she’s going. She only cares that she’s running away as far as her legs can carry her. Away from that place. Away from that stranger of a man.

She doesn’t even bother to hide her tears, whimpering as she wipes them with her sleeves. Edelgard must look like a mess to everyone around her. A sad little girl, crying her heart out for whatever reason. She doesn’t dare look if any of them gives her a look. Who cares anymore?

Her legs stop in place when she realizes she’s reached the courtyard. A bitter scoff rumbles out of her throat. To think that she ran to any place for some semblance of control and composure, and of all the places she could have ended up, she finds herself in the courtyard leading up to the main building, more popularly known as Lover’s Lane.

She wants to laugh, scream, shout— anything to let it all out.

Edelgard takes a look around and finds that there’s thankfully a vacant bench. She takes a seat, taking the time to regain herself. Edelgard slouches against the bench, closing her eyes as she presses her hands against them and takes a deep breath. Her nose is runny, her breathing short and she still feels like a total wreck. Heck, she hasn’t even eaten lunch yet!

“You look like you had a wonderful meal.”

Edelgard yelps in surprise. Rhea stands beside her, her face impassive. Exhaustion comes off of Rhea in waves.

“Yeah? And you look like shit.” Despite the pain and the tears and the redness of her face, something about Rhea always makes Edelgard want to let loose and run her mouth a bit. She might be unfairly venting her frustrations out on the poor woman. But it's a great distraction from the mess that is her personal life.

“Thank you. So do you,” Rhea says back, but this sounds less biting and more of an observation. At least she has the tact to not make fun of Edelgard's current state.  Edelgard catches Rhea’s eye, giving her a small smile, but it feels more like a grimace than her supposed small sign of comfort.

“…Wasn’t a good lunch, was it?”

The other woman shakes her head, returning the smile back to her, although Edelgard can tell it doesn’t reach the older woman’s eyes. Rhea gestures to the vacant spot beside Edelgard, silently asking for permission. Edelgard relents. 

“No. Not at all,” Rhea lets out a deep breath as she sits down. “It was disastrous.”

“Funny. I could say the same on my end.”

Silence permeates the air between them, and no one utters a word. It isn’t deafening nor is it uncomfortable. Edelgard watches quietly as high schoolers and undergrads continue walking by in groups, some hurriedly catching a period and most just simply enjoying the walk.

She remembers a time when she used to be in their shoes, lost in happy conversation and friendship.

She glances at the woman beside her. Rhea looks lost in deep thought. Earlier during her tour, it seemed like all the structural changes in the university didn’t faze Rhea. Then she remembered just how different her reactions were when it came to her family. When it came to Sitri, to the professor.

"Family problems?"

"Yes. And you? Did your conversation with Byleth go as poorly as mine?"

Edelgard stashes away that little bit of information for later. She shakes her head.

"No. Just… saw someone again for the first time in a long time. Someone I thought would always have my back, but…"

Rhea nods. She gets it.

"To be surrounded by so many people, only to realize how alone you are in this world—how laughable it is that we have both resigned ourselves to the same fate."

"Don't assume that you know what I'm going through. Don't wax poetic about bullshit that hurts."

Rhea lets out a humorless chuckle.

"If it hurts, then I do have the right to assume that I know what you are going through, would I not?"

Edelgard's only reply is to slouch lower into the bench. She opens her mouth, about to ask if Rhea wants to keep this up and wallow in the misery with her, but then her stupid stomach makes the first move. Her belly grumbles. Her insides are churning for the beautiful wonder that is food, and Edelgard is reminded she has yet to eat.

Rhea is broken out of her stupor by the sound and she moves her head to give her a look. Edelgard feels her cheeks burn at the mirth lingering in those green eyes.

“I see we were both too busy feeling sorry for ourselves to actually have any lunch.”

“I suppose so,” Edelgard huffs. The subtle smirk on her face is, strangely, a bit genuine.

Maybe that’s another thing they have in common between them: stubborn to a fault, they can’t even stop from throwing jabs at each other even when they’re both down. Talk about compartmentalizing. Or you could call it their favorite maladaptive coping mechanism.

“That’s it.” Edelgard starts getting up from the bench and turns to Rhea, who startles from the movement. “I know a good place where we can eat. I think I eat their peach sorbet by the liter when I'm down. It's the best.”

Rhea hums.

“I prefer saghert and cream myself, but if you insist on something as plain as peach sorbet, I could acquiesce.”

Edelgard gasps. She must teach this uncultured old woman the ways of the frozen treats. 

“You’re crazy. Nothing can top a rich ice cream, or a refreshing sorbet. How dare you. You need to be re-educated!”

And the mirth in Rhea's eyes burst into full vibrancy once more, sardonic quips ready at the tip of her tongue, and the heaviness in Edelgard's heart gives way to the competitive streak she has going with Rhea in the 'being an annoying, irritating bitch' club.

"Me? Re-educated? When you were the one at a loss for words because you were not aware that an ancient civilization had its own language? I have to wonder if Garreg Mach has lowered its standards to allow an ignoramus such as yourself among the ranks of its academics!"

It doesn't bite. Edelgard and Rhea share a devious grin between themselves. The hurt buries itself easier that way.

"You literally woke up yesterday, fuck do you know about standards?! Oh, that's right—you don't know shit, because you think some bashed up fruit tart is better than the greatest dessert known to mankind!"

"Prove me wrong, then!"

"Damn right I will!"

And Edelgard pulls Rhea up on her feet and drags her with to the greatest (the only) frozen dessert shop in all of UGM. The amazement in Rhea’s face, her eyes sparkling with delight as she digs into a freshly-made cup of peach sorbet, quells the burden in Edelgard's heart.

Chapter Text

A twin-sized bed is not meant to accommodate two grown women.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped taking away the blankets to yourself,” says the two-or-three thousand year old woman, clutching onto her end of the aforementioned blanket, as if she hadn’t been sleeping on top of a rock without a blanket for the last nine centuries. As the saying goes, ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’, and Rhea has never felt more regretful for sleeping for so long without a sheet to cover her. Now she’d like to make good on her personal promise to keep warm at night.

“You keep taking up all my personal space! You don’t even need the blanket!” says her disgruntled bedmate, who is yanking at the opposite end of the same sheet. Nevermind that Edelgard is almost close to falling off her side of the bed. She does not dare let go.

To reiterate: a twin-sized bed is not meant to fit two grown women. Especially women with attitudes as massive as these two. Three weeks into Rhea’s new life in the modern day, she and Edelgard have fallen into a comfortably uncomfortable routine with each other in an apartment meant to house a single person. 

“What shall we have for breakfast?”

“The same slop we always eat. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Edelgard pulls out their leftover takeout from the fridge and chucks it into the microwave. This time, it’s Brigidian food because Dorothea had been raving about all the delectable treats she’s eaten since she moved in with Petra in the motherland. What Edelgard is heating up is certainly not delectable nor is it a treat, but it’s edible and affordable. Ordering out daily leaves a significant dent in Edelgard’s budget, yes, but it spares her the hassle when most of her energy is spent on her academics and her annoying roommate.

“If your friend Petra were to hear you call her people’s food slop –”

“This isn’t even authentic. It’s a cheap, greasy imitation. Now be a good lizard person and eat your leftovers quietly.”

Rhea opens her mouth to retort, but Edelgard lifts up a finger without even looking at her and all possible arguments are thwarted for the morning.

Because who said they couldn’t get along after living together for three weeks?

As it goes every morning, they eat together in awkward silence until the drowsiness lifts from their eyes. Rhea watches Edelgard do the dishes, sneaking glances every now and then at their balcony. Her body shakes with restlessness, and Edelgard knows what this means by now.

“Will you sunbathe again today?” Edelgard asks, because the fiasco of having a giant lizard on her roof every morning has become routine, to the point that the social media pests have stopped coming by to take pictures and videos of the Immaculate One. Rhea has become as mundane to the University of Garreg Mach as the droves of cats that doze around campus. Edelgard dries her hands off and turns to look at Rhea pointedly. “Don’t forget to wear your towel because I refuse to be accused of filming pornography on campus.”

Rhea almost jumps from her seat at Edelgard’s indirect consent, her face glowing with eagerness to spread her wings outside. She grabs a towel from one of the closets inside their room, and it doesn’t take long for her to sneak up behind Edelgard.

“That implies your presence around me. Do I take this as a sign of your interest in joining me on the rooftop?”

Edelgard almost chokes, half-snorting and half-retching at the thought of doing something so… vulnerable? Intimate? With Rhea.

“Oh goddess, no. I have face-to-face classes today. And even if I didn’t, I’m not interested in–doing things like that with you.”

Rhea, whether genuinely oblivious to the connotation behind Edelgard’s words, or simply finding herself amused by it, shakes her head with a smirk.

“If that is what suits you, then. However, I believe you will miss out on the energizing, rejuvenating warmth of basking in the morning sun–”

“Sorry, but I’m not part reptile,” says Edelgard, as she finishes cleaning up the kitchen.

(She could use the extra vitamin D though. Maybe she should? Wait, no. She could just go on a morning jog or something. What is she thinking?)

“And what a shame that is for you.”

“Pardon? I like being strictly mammalian, thank you very much.”

And so the morning ends, as all of their mornings do, but just before Edelgard leaves to go to class, she leaves Rhea with an exhaustive, step-by-step guide to using her brand-new, exorbitantly expensive cellphone, along with the phone itself. Rhea turns the phone around in her palms with curiosity.

(Edelgard had hidden it from her for the past few weeks. She refused to entrust the horrors of the internet to Rhea before she became more accustomed to the current day and age.)

“I already added myself as a contact on your phone if you need anything,” Edelgard says. “But don’t call or text me yet. I need to focus in class.”

“When will you come back from class?” Rhea asks, her face deflating at the mere thought of waiting alone at the apartment.

“Whenever I feel like it. See you later.” Edelgard bids her farewell, and doesn’t look back.

The door closes on Rhea. The apartment feels empty without the noise of their bickering. 

Rejuvenated by the warmth of the sun seeping into her scales, the Immaculate One yawns. She stretches out her front legs and wings and arches her spine like a cat that had just finished napping by the windowsill, except the windowsill is Edelgard’s apartment and this cat is the size of three elephants. Satisfied, she shifts back, covering herself up as Edelgard demanded her to, and returns to the cavernous silence of the apartment.

Rhea puts on some clothes and lies down on the couch. And sits. And hangs her legs over the armrests. And waits.

She’d already read Three Realms Under One Banner maybe six times at this point. Edelgard has what she calls a ‘TV’, but Rhea is met only with a screen full of indecipherable logos when she turns it on. Any other books that Edelgard has lying around are either textbooks or these strange ones filled to the brim with drawings separated by boxes, which Rhea had also plowed through in secret whenever Edelgard was out for class. Rhea couldn’t quite comprehend the fantastical stories told within them, but she resonated with their exaltations of the power of family and friendship. That, at least, she could understand. But it had only made the silence in the apartment all the more deafening.

Oh, how she wishes she could talk to other people! Edelgard is a tolerable companion, really, but Rhea misses her family so much. It hurts to think that they’re so close and yet so far only because they don’t seem open to reconnecting with her just yet. Goddess, Rhea hasn’t even tried reaching out to Byleth after that first horrible attempt at getting to know each other. The scalding look her granddaughter sent her that day and the way her body flinches at the menacing aura has left her terribly discouraged.

If only Cichol were here...

Rhea shoots up. That’s right! Maybe she could pester Cich– Seteth for his time. Who knows, perhaps out of the members of their family, he might be the most amenable to her presence. He may be strict at times, but Seteth has never really turned her down for anything, no matter what. The man is as loyal to his friends and family as one could get. Thankfully, she remembers the way to his office from the time she first woke up, and bolts out the door to go there. 

And she did not even have to go all the way to the graduate school, because she would find Seteth taking a walk around campus, trying to clear his head of the neverending woes thrust upon him. 

“Ah, Rhea. It’s good to see you,” he says, and that must have been the first time someone has said they were happy to see her ever since she woke up. It’s more emotional for Rhea than it has any right being. 

“Hello, C–Seteth. I could say the same. Are you especially busy at the moment?”

Seteth grimaces. “I have never known a time in this life when I wasn’t, but I would be glad to keep you company for a change.” He whispers then, too softly for the human ear to catch but loud enough for a Nabatean to hear.  “If you could help ease me of the burden that is this year’s preparations for the Foundation Festival, that would be wonderful.”

Rhea’s eyebrows lift up in delighted surprise. “They still hold the Foundation Festival to this day?”

Seteth gives her a small smile. “A comforting thought, is it not? That some things manage to survive the weathering of the ages, as we have? I only wish the stress of conducting the festivities eased with time, not worsened.”

Rhea smiles back. 

“Tell me about it, then. How it has changed, and how it has stayed the same.”

For the first time in the current age, Rhea finds herself at ease as she and Seteth discuss everything under the sun, as if centuries apart and unspeakable trauma have not estranged them from one another since Zanado. His everyday life, Ceth–Flayn studying modern medicine, how he had ended up the dean of the graduate school. Eventually, of course, as much as Rhea wants to keep talking about other things, the topic ends up being about her and her time since she has woken.

Currently, they stand by one of the cliff faces of Garreg Mach, by planters blooming with white lilies, and look out towards the grandeur of the Ogma Mountains together. 

“I presume you and Miss von Hresvelg have been getting along well?” Seteth asks. “I know it may have been too harsh and perhaps rude of us to have you stay with a stranger (and to impose that upon her to begin with), but–”

Rhea shakes her head. “No, no! Not at all, Seteth. I… understand your reasons why. Our family’s reasons.

An uncomfortable pause fills the space between them for a moment.

“And–that is, Edelgard von Hresvelg is not as terrible of a host as I made her out to be. She may be conceited, and somewhat pretentious, and she may hog the blanket whenever we go to bed–”

Seteth’s eyes widen. Very quickly. “You share a bed with her?”

“For completely practical purposes! There is simply not enough space in her apartment for another bed!” Rhea waves off his question, realization dawning unto her at how that sounded like to him.

Seteth turns away from her and nods, slowly, to face the view from the cliff face instead. “I see. Do go on.”

Rhea chuckles awkwardly and clears her throat. “As I was saying–she and I may bicker often, but she is decent company to have around.”

Unknowingly, Rhea’s hands drift towards the white lilies in the planter beside her, fiddling with the stems until a few flowers are plucked out for her to collect. When Seteth turns around to see this, his eyebrows raise as he side-eyes Rhea.

“You do know your daughter might realize who might be picking from one of her flowers, right?” His tone is not chiding nor is it really stated as a question, but more so a reminder. Seteth glances away from her and coughs.

Rhea looks down at her hand to find the flowers in question in her palm, and startles at this. Her cheeks turn rosy.

“I, ah–I was not aware I was picking the flowers! My apologies. I am certain that Sitri would not notice a petal or two gone from her bushes.” She pockets the lilies anyway. 

Seteth draws his lips taut. “She would. You should know your daughter better than that, and be more mindful of your behavior, Rhea.”

Rhea’s smile falters, lightly, but perks right back up.

“I was simply thinking that the apartment could use a vase or two of flowers to beautify the living room.”

“Edelgard’s apartment.” Seteth pointedly stares at her.

“Yes.”

“With your favorite flowers .” He raises a curious brow.

“I am sure she would appreciate them.” Rhea scrunches her eyes in confusion. Is there something wrong with what she said?

He coughs into a fist, pretending to clear his throat, as his cheeks, too, redden. He looks at Rhea.

“You would not have happened to find any shiny trinkets in your time at UGM, have you?”

“Not that I am aware,” Rhea starts to say, but trails off when she finds a single gold earring in her pocket. “Oh. Perhaps I have?”

Seteth puts a hand to his forehead, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment at the sight. “Good goddess, Rhea. You’ve only known her for three weeks.”

Rhea shrinks where she stands. Confusion graces her features as she looks at Seteth, feeling a bit shameful but not quite knowing why. 

“Have I said or done something wrong, Seteth?” 

He shakes his head, but also whips out his phone as he does. “Not necessarily. I am simply… surprised at how quickly you’ve taken to miss von Hresvelg in your time together. Excuse me one moment.”

He quickly turns his back to Rhea and starts typing furiously on his phone.

Sitri Eisner

Seteth: What were your mother’s objects of interest again? I would simply like to clarify.

Sitri’s reply is almost instant.

Sitri Eisner

Sitri: White lilies and shiny trinkets, Brother. I believe I still have a few from when I was a child. Why do you ask?

Seteth almost chokes. He could vaguely hear Rhea’s call of concern towards him, but his mind is currently reeling in utter befuddlement.

Sitri Eisner

Seteth: Pay it no heed, Sitri. Thank you.

Rhea doesn’t know it, but inside, he is screaming. 

Fortunately for Seteth, the sight of him using his phone redirects Rhea’s attention to a different matter entirely, allowing him to avoid confronting the social faux pas that only people like them would understand. It takes him a moment to gather himself after his initial shock. Breathing deeply as he tries to rein in his composure, he turns around to accommodate Rhea.

“Is everything alright, Seteth? I am almost afraid to ask,” says Rhea, her fingers fidgeting with the petals of her plucked white lilies. 

He sighs. “I am quite alright. Worry not, Rhea. You did no wrong.”

Her hands fall down to her front, verdant green eyes boring holes into her palms. The white lilies stay whole, untainted. “I would like to make sure of that. I fear that one more misstep may rob me of my right to belong here.”

“That you wreaked havoc on campus and transformed without forethought when you first awoke does not make you a criminal to us, Rhea.” His voice falls into that nearly silent whisper again. “And neither is the fact that your impulsivity forced me to release a statement on behalf of the Nabatean people, despite the migraines that dealing with the press gave me.” 

He shakes his head as his voice returns to a normal volume. “You do not need to fret about overstepping so much with us, Rhea. I assure you of that.”

Rhea’s face falls into a frown. “But about what happened back then, Seteth, I–”

Pity draws itself upon Seteth when he looks at Rhea. “I believe we should allow ourselves to move on from our past troubles.”

Rhea heaves out a deep breath. “It would be easy to forgive myself, had I not just awoken. To you, Cicho–Seteth, it may already be the past, and yet to me it is as if it were yesterday.” 

“I know, Rhea. I know. But all the more you should be kind to yourself.”

The breeze blows lightly through the tufts of their hair. Rhea’s lips tighten, but Seteth offers a hand upon her shoulder.

“We… we may not always handle it as gracefully as we should, but we try. And we will keep trying. There is so much more to life beyond what we have already experienced.” He looks away, downcast. “I must apologize for the way we treated you that first day awake. I would be a hypocrite if I did not acknowledge that we were spurred by the reminder of old scars.”

“Seteth, none of you need to apologize for still being cross with me–incensed, even.”

He shakes his head. “And yet we must. It is the only way we can leave it all behind and move forward with our lives.”

Rhea allows the silence to speak for her, briefly. For all the years she’d been alive, a lifetime incomprehensibly storied to the average person, the one thing she could never stomach is the idea of leaving any of it behind–both the memories of her loved ones and the burden of her wrongdoings.

“It feels wrong to do so, Seteth. I cannot–if I let go, what will stop me from repeating the same mistakes over and over? What will keep our people, my mother, alive, if not the past that we have shared with them?”

Seteth pulls his hand away from Rhea, and he turns back to the vista, where the morning sun shines upon his face. He closes his eyes and takes it all in.

“You can keep returning to the past, Rhea, and I will not fault you for doing so. The past can be comforting, both in its happiness and the surety of its pain.”

He turns to Rhea and looks her straight in the eye.

“But no one will be there anymore.”

Rhea nods, but his words do not quite reach her. At the very least, she appreciates the sentiment.

“If I could believe that the way you do, Seteth, then all my problems would never have happened.”

“Then it is never too late to learn, is it? You have all the time in the world, after all.”

Rhea is about to reply when Seteth’s phone rings with an incoming text. The calming, steadying tone he had dissipates when he reads the message he received.

“And speaking of moving on,” he says, and that perpetually tired drawl of his returns. He shoves the phone back into his pocket. His age-old grimace returns. “I apologize, Rhea, but I must get going now. At times it feels like the entire university would fall apart for the incompetence of its board of directors.”

Rhea straightens. “Of course, go ahead. I must have taken too much of your time. My apologies.”

Through the tiredness, Seteth still manages a sympathetic look towards Rhea. “Not at all. It was good to have the company of someone who wasn’t begging for me to clean up after them for once.”

The sympathy turns into a weary smile.

“I meant it, Rhea. It is good to see you again. Take care.”

As he takes his leave, Rhea stops to contemplate his words. All this talk of being kind to oneself, of moving on…

“Is it, really, Cichol?” Rhea says to herself, as she wonders if she is even capable of all that the Hammer of Judgment said she should do. 

The moment her back falls upon the couch, Rhea feels like she did everything and nothing at once. She had prepared a vase for the white lilies in the meantime. The flowers now sit prettily atop the coffee table beside the couch, after looking hard for a suitable vessel in this nondescript apartment Edelgard calls her home.

Rhea studies the flowers and mindlessly takes out the single gold earring she had apparently found on the streets of UGM earlier. She places the accessory beside the vase and perks up at the sight. There, now there’s something to liven up the place. Edelgard would hopefully like it. Hopefully.

She wonders just what it was that made Seteth so flustered. What’s wrong with wanting to find decor for the apartment? Yes, they happen to be some of her favorite things, but it’s not like she’s offering them to anyone. They’re hers to have and to hoard. What was his problem?

Her face turns sour, remembering the latter part of their conversation. As much as she missed talking with him, the moment the topic turned heavy, she didn't know whether or not to run. Just the thought of leaving it all behind… Rhea has carried an immeasurable amount of grief her entire life. Who is Rhea without that burden?

She sighs. She needs to get her mind off of her darker thoughts again before they swallow her. Just as she wonders what to do with herself on yet another lonely afternoon alone in the apartment, something catches her eye. There, upon the coffee table, lies the exhaustive instructions and phone that Edelgard had left her to figure out this morning. 

Right. Edelgard left this guide for her to properly understand and use the complicated, handheld machine. It’s simple, right? She just has to… uh…

Why does it not show anything on its screen? It is completely pitch black. There are no words or numbers or bright lights like with the other phones. 

She looks back to the wad of instructions, and skims for any information on how to turn this on. Nothing. Surely, Edelgard did not think to give her a schematic diagram of the device. How will she know what these buttons are for?

Oh! So that’s the button to turn the screen on. Alright. At the very least she’s doing something and this part she knows already. The last time she held Edelgard’s device, it said to swipe. Rhea swiped at the screen and lo and behold. There are the very words, numbers and images that Edelgard’s guide said.

Now, how to contact her?

Edelgard’s phone keeps buzzing in her pocket. Who the hell–Rhea. Of course it’s Rhea. Who is she kidding? Of course she tells Rhea to do one thing and she ends up doing the exact opposite. Professor Eisner went out to get something from the museum storage, which gives Edelgard time to tell off the impudent woman until she gets off from today’s lectures.

Lizard bitch

Lizard bitch: Hello , Adlegard?

Lizard bitch: Edalgerd. Edelgard.

Lizard bitch: How do I erase my mistakes. And where is the qoutaition. Quotation mark.

Lizard bitch: Your guide was excedeingly unhelpful. Exceedingly. I have had to navigate this dcevice. Device myself. 

Lizard bitch: Are your classes done.

Lizard bitch: What are we having for dinienr. Dinner. 

Lizard bitch: Is this even getting to you.

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose. Does this woman have to be put on a leash?

Lizard bitch

Edelgard: LEAVE ME ALONE I AM IN CLASS 

She shoves the phone back into her pocket, turning on the Do Not Disturb function so she can pay attention in class instead of whatever the hell Rhea is trying to do with the wonders of technology. Just in time, Professor Eisner comes in holding a sheathed sword that looks disturbingly familiar to Edelgard. The class turns to her in anticipation–even though the weapon is sheathed, it is clear to all in attendance that the artifact is in immaculate condition .

Immaculate.

Edelgard’s eye twitches.

“Today, we will have a brief overview of metallographic techniques, and how these can be used to extrapolate the methods used in the forging of metal artifacts,” says Professor Eisner. “This, of course, is an important research technique in studying the technological advancements of ancient civilizations.”

She unsheathes the sword, and out comes a long blade, wavy like the ocean or perhaps the tongues of a fire, and it grows increasingly apparent to Edelgard that the disturbing familiarity she has with the artifact is not just because she helped grave rob it from her roommate, who is inundating her inbox with text after text. 

(She curses whoever among the Eisners or Assals thought it was a good idea to get Rhea postpaid unlimited calls and texts.)  

Edelgard has seen this blade before, but she can’t quite put it to words from where exactly.

“Anyway, here’s the real Sword of Seiros,” Professor Eisner declares, swinging the longsword around with reckless abandon. Edelgard is glad that she isn’t sitting in front where her head could be lopped off by accident. The rest of the class gasps at the revelation of the artifact’s identity, because the Sword of Seiros, famous for its many depictions in classical Church of Sothis iconography, has been lost to the ages. “It is a flamberge laminated with alternating sheets of iron and nickel iron…”

Hold the fuck up. 

The Sword of Seiros.

The Sword of Seiros.

MOTHERFUCKING SEIROS.

Lizard bitch

Lizard bitch: I have figured out the erasure of mistakes and where the other punctuation marks are! 

Edelgard: ARE YOU THE FUCKING SAINT SEIROS 

Lizard bitch: I went by that name once, yes, when I helped your ancestor found the Adrestian Empire. Has it only occurred to you just now?

Edelgard: NO BECAUSE HISTORY USUALLY SAYS YOUR ASS DIED AFTER THE WAR OF HEROES??????? I AM TRYING TO FUCKING LEARN BUT I CAN’T RN I JUST CAN’T

Lizard bitch: What is RN? And what can you not? You are using too many quotation marks, and you are not writing in the proper sentence case. 

Edelgard: STFU YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO LATER TTYL

Lizard bitch: I reiterate that I do not understand the parlance of today’s youth. You will also have to explain what STFU and TTYL are. 

Lizard bitch: Anyway, I am enjoying this feature known as “FETube”. There are hundreds of films of people from around the world! I am particularly enamored with this one film of a dancing cat. I did not know that cats could dance.

“Is there a problem, Edelgard?” Professor Eisner suddenly calls out, snapping Edelgard out of her bewilderment. ”Or is there something you would like to share with the class?”

Oh, for the sake of Sothis, this is a graduate school lecture and the professor is treating it like it’s elementary. Professor Eisner is pointing the fucking Sword of Fucking Rhea at Edelgard while she’s at it, too. What the hell did she get herself into? 

Edelgard scrambles to shove her phone back into her pocket. 

“Nothing, Professor. Just your usual run-of-the-mill existential crisis, is all. Forgive me for interrupting your lecture.”

Unfazed, Professor Eisner continues with the discussion, and Edelgard would love to run herself into that sword if it would save her from the humiliation.

Edelgard stumbles out of the main building, still dazed from the chaos that erupted during the lecture. Just when she thought insane things concerning dragon people were dying down… it’s dizzying. She needs to sit down after this. 

On the way to the student housing, Edelgard has to pass by the UGM hospital and medical school. Were this any other day, this would not be an important detail to point out. But today whatever remains of the goddess decided to screw with Edelgard even more than she already has, and so it happens that Edelgard notices a dim glow coming from the woods behind the medical school. Because dusk has begun to seep into the sky, the glow is all the more obvious to her. As curiosity wins against her exhaustion and better judgment, she goes to inspect the faint glow.

This is when one would typically say that she did not expect to see Linhardt von Hevring leaning against a glowing dragon while he studies his lecture transcripts, but Edelgard has already been dragged into so much wild shit at this point that she is now nonplussed at the sight. 

“Oh! Hello, Edelgard!” the glowing dragon says with a glinting grin. It is, of course, Flayn Assal, who is a classmate of Linhardt’s in medicine, who is also the notorious “Demon Doctor-in-Training'' because of her excessively cheerful and blasé attitude as a student towards medical gore, and who is disconcertingly casual about her being a glowing lizard with wings and horns. 

Edelgard and Linhardt stare at each other, illuminated only by the soft light emanating off of the dragon he is leaning against.

"How did no one ever notice the horse-sized, glowing lizard in the woods near the medical school?"

Linhardt just shrugs and returns his attention to his lecture transcripts. His bioluminescent companion, on the other hand, is more than happy to entertain Edelgard's questions.

"I would consider it a function of 'not giving enough of a fuck about a dim light in the woods'. It could just be a street lamp for all they know. I take offense at the horse-sized comment, however. I'll have you know that I am now slightly larger than a horse!"

Edelgard smacks her lips.

"Aaaaaaalright then. And Linhardt and the Golden Deer have been privy to you being a slightly-larger-than-a-horse glowing lizard why…?"

Glowing Lizard Flayn lifts her head up indignantly. “Because why not? They can keep a secret. My dad doesn’t have to know. And the Deer gave me my dragon name, too! So I wear it with pride.”

She waits for a moment, expecting Edelgard to inquire what her dragon name is, but Edelgard does not say a word. She’s too flabbergasted. Glowing Lizard Flayn snaps her jaws with excitement anyway.

“I’m Glowstick Flayn!”

Edelgard looks at the dragon girl flatly.

“Ah yes, fear the might of the Immaculate One and the splendor of the Flourishing One… and over here in a tiny corner of the woods reviewing for her class is Glowstick Flayn.”

“Keep it down, I’m trying to study here,” Linhardt says, reminding everyone of his presence. “Just because you can memorize the entire lecture on the first try doesn’t mean I can, Flayn.”

“Sorry, Lin!” She turns back to Edelgard. “Technically, I’m ‘the Benevolent One’, but I like Glowstick Flayn more because my friends gave it to me and not my stuffy dad. Any more questions?”

Edelgard nods and already has her foot backing up behind her because she’d love to just pass out on the couch by now. On the other hand, she hasn’t quite had the opportunity to ask about dragon people stuff from said dragon people, because the first one she has access to is her roommate with untold amounts of baggage and the other one is her professor and supervisor who is incomprehensible on a good day.

Fuck it, she’s here already. She sighs. And she hasn’t heard hide or hair from Linhardt that much so it’s good to see him too, she supposes. He’s always been… half not-there, but that’s part of his charm.

“One: I thought Nabateans only lived for two hundred years max, not forever. Two: can every Nabatean who’s currently alive turn into lizards or is that some special thing you guys have going on? Three: are there any more dragon people I should be aware of?”

Flayn preens; she seems all too happy to talk about being a dragon with someone. Edelgard is amazed that their secret has been kept for so long, considering the number of blabbermouths they have in the Golden Deer. Like one Claude–

“One: Two hundred years is the norm for most Nabateans these days because the bloodlines have diluted since the genocide, and that explains Two: I guess By and her brother Bel can transform because they’re directly descended from the goddess or something. I dunno.”

Edelgard does not want to think about the idea of her professor also being a fuck off dragon of some sort. Let her have one normal thing left in her life, please. Aside from her crippling inability to maintain her friendships.

“Three: there’s my Uncles Mac and Indy, but they’re sleeping. Good for you!”

Edelgard furrows her brows. "Mac… Dean Macuil Assal? Didn't he move away a few years ago or something?"

Glowstick Flayn lets out a long, toothy yawn. "If, by 'move away' you mean 'fly off into the middle of goddess-knows-where in the Sreng desert until memes have died as a concept', then yes, he has moved away."

Linhardt turns towards Edelgard. “Are you done talking to my night light here? I’d like to study Surgery in peace so that I won’t have to think of the–ugh, blood–any longer than I have to.”

Edelgard shrugs. 

“More or less. Thanks, though. And good luck on your exams.”

Glowstick Flayn waves Edelgard off with a wing. “Bye, Edelgard! Tell Lady Rhea I said hi but stay away from me!”

Linhardt just gives Edelgard a thumbs up. She takes the opportunity to shuffle out of the woods and finally, finally , back to the apartment.

The doorbell rings. Rhea is surprised, but also a bit annoyed, because it interrupted her time watching this incredible filmed opera called A-Dramas, short for Almyran Dramas, and they’re so gripping . Reluctantly, she gets off the couch and opens the door, only to find Jeralt of all people standing at the doorway. 

“Hi.” Her son–in-law grunts out, cocking his head in greeting to her.

He was never much of a man for words. He’s carrying a bag that smells positively delightful to Rhea. 

“Jeralt. I am delighted to see you come visit. What brings you here?”

He grunts. Clearly, his daughter got her impeccable communication skills from him. 

“My wife. She made me give you some of our leftovers so you’d feel more at home, or something to that effect.”

He hands over the bag. Looking inside, Rhea begins to tear up–it’s all Nabatean food she used to cook with Sitri. 

“I… how thoughtful of her. Please give her my utmost gratitude, Jeralt. How has she been? Does Byleth live with you?”

Jeralt shrugs. “Sitri's alright. That’s all you’re getting from me.”

Rhea’s face falls. Jeralt continues.

“And yes, By lives with us. Doesn’t quite want to leave home just yet, unlike her brother. She wants to help look after her mother.”

Rhea nods absently, mildly taking note of the fact that there is apparently another grandchild who probably despises her too. 

“Of course. That is understandable. The bond between a mother and her child is truly remarkable. I remember a time when Sitri would always cry every time I left the house. My dearest would not admit it at the time, but I know how frightened she was whenever I was away from home.”

“That’s because you were an absentee mother, Rhea,” says Jeralt simply.

“...That is fair,” Rhea mumbles.

Jeralt waves her off. “Anyway, I’ll be off now. See you.”

He leaves without much fanfare.

Rhea stands there, staring blankly at the closed door in front of her. She heaves a deep sigh and closes her eyes. How foolish of her to think things were beginning to look up for her, after her walk with Seteth.

She buries the sting of yet another failed interaction with an Eisner by watching more A-Dramas. They should really turn her life into one someday. With all the drama she’s gone through in her sorry nigh-immortal existence, there’s bound to be plenty of room for handsome young men (or women) falling in love with her, carrying her on the way home after a night of excessive drinking brought about by inane family issues and jealous ex-lovers. Quickly, someone go and make a masterpiece out of her misery! She’d love a happy ending. 

She’s busy ruminating on her potential A-Drama adaptation when the door handle shakes and there she freezes in anticipation. She runs to get the door and opens it. The dashing, handsome/beautiful man/woman in her A-Drama delusions is swiftly replaced with the visage of one disheveled Edelgard von Hresvelg. Edelgard sways like a drunkard and winces.

“Shit. I forgot to buy dinner.”

Rhea herds her inside. “Worry not; my daughter has not forgotten about me after all. We have their leftovers this time.”

Edelgard staggers towards the dining table, where Rhea has set out the food that the Eisners brought them. They go ahead and sit down to eat.

“Those look too good to be leftovers.”

“Perhaps they simply do not eat like pigs the way you do.”

“You take that back,” Edelgard says with all the energy of a swatted housefly, as she almost tips over and hits her head on the table.

Immediately, a chair is pushed away as Rhea gets on her feet, worry increasing as she holds Edelgard against her seat. She presses the back of her hand to her forehead.

“You look unwell, yet not quite ill. Are you alright, Edelgard?” She asks softly. Edelgard only grimaces in response. Gently, Rhea foists her up in her arms and carries her to their couch. There she laid her against one side and sat perpendicular to her.

Tired lilac eyes squint at the change of position and she grunts as Edelgard sits up straighter. “Wuh? Why’d you bring me here?”

A click of a tongue is all Edelgard hears before a warm hand rubs against the side of her face, most probably to fix her stray locks of hair.

She tries not to think about how good it feels. She will not think about how long it has been since she has been held with such tenderness. Like she is precious, and loved. Edelgard doesn’t want to think about how delirious this is suddenly making her feel.

Half of her mind whines when that source of warmth pulls away but she chokes it down.

“I would rather not risk you passing out over the wonderful meal my daughter made for us.”

“I can eat just fine.” she slurs out, her head suddenly falling dizzy. Rhea watches her with doubt. “Don’t look at me like that. ‘M just fuckin’ dead .”

Rhea swiftly takes hold of Edelgard. Her eyes widen with distressed horror and looks everywhere for any sign of trauma on her body. “And you only tell me now that you are dying ?!”

Edelgard squints at her. “Do you not know what a hyperbole is?”

Rhea relaxes, and feels somewhat silly. Edelgard is more than okay. 

“It’s just one of those days. I’m not sick or dying,” Edelgard mumbles, and rests the back of her hand against her forehead for a moment. Right. This isn’t really the first time Rhea has seen her like this. So close to passing out just like the overworked and stressed out grad student that she is.

She pushes herself to sit up straight and graces the other woman with a smile.

“But… thanks. Even if you overreacted a bit. Can we eat now? I’m starving, and that shit looks positively divine.”

For some reason, Rhea beams at this. 

“Let us eat here by the coffee table so you may rest,” she says as she goes to get the food from the dining table. Edelgard doesn’t protest and instead turns her attention to the vase and the lone gold earring.

“Where’d you get these? And why only one earring?” She picks it up and inspects the earring. It is small and hoop-shaped–Edelgard never really knew much about jewelry–and it shines lustrous under the artificial light that is her ceiling bulbs. It is indeed gold, and Almyran gold to be exact. How did Rhea even get this?

“You can have them,” Rhea says without hesitation.

“What? Don’t give me your random junk.” Edelgard whips around towards her, partly insulted and partly flabbergasted at the gesture.

“It is not ‘random junk’,” Rhea huffs, swiftly hiding her disappointment at the rejection, but Edelgard can hear it in her voice. She mutters in afterthought. “I think they make the living room look brighter.”

“The flowers, sure, but someone’s lost jewelry? Are you high?”

“Than you by more than a few spans, yes,” Rhea quips back, trying to get ahold of herself, and hands Edelgard her plate of food: lamb cooked in a rich, velvety tomato sauce, served with couscous and unleavened bread. Edelgard almost inhales it all, and Rhea is wont to do the same. Sitri is many things, but an excellent cook especially. Rhea lets herself get washed away in the memories of happier times while Edelgard does as her professor does and cleans her plate in nothing short of five minutes. 

“What if we order food from them every night instead?” Edelgard asks genuinely, clearly satiated with their meal. Rhea feels complimented on Sitri's behalf. 

“Should they permit it, I will ask if they do catering,” she suggests. Rhea can only hope because even if they’re not at speaking terms, the fact that Sitri thought to prepare her food is enough to give her hope that someday things would be alright.

They sit together in quiet satisfaction, Edelgard’s energy seemingly returned to her, until she turns to Rhea and points an accusatory finger at her. Rhea gazes at her baffled.

“You’re fucking Saint Seiros.” Edelgard doesn’t preface.

Oh. She’s still on that?

“Yes.” Rhea answers simply.

“Why.” 

Rhea sits confused. “…Why would I not be myself?”

“No, why the hell do you have two names?” Edelgard clarifies, annoyance seeping into her voice. Rhea frowns.

“It is a story that will take more than one night to retell.” Internally, Rhea doesn’t even know if she wants to tell her. Maybe it’s the fear of making another mistake but this time with Edelgard, and the thought is simply too much on her frayed conscience.

“Give me the gist, then,” Edelgard settles then. Rhea eases. Now this, she can give.

“I needed an alias.”

Edelgard quickly shoots her an irritated look. “That’s too much of a gist.”

“You asked and you have received.” Rhea shrugs. 

Still, the exasperated look on Edelgard’s face is somewhat endearing, and she definitely looks like a kicked puppy for having her curiosity suddenly cut short. The younger woman scoffs at her amused smile. 

“Fucker.”

“I certainly was, in my youth.”

“What the fuck. I don’t need to hear about your ancient sexcapades.” 

Rhea snorts to herself as she starts rattling off words she’d been meaning to clarify. “RN, STFU, TTYL, sexcapades… you must explain to me what all of these mean. The jargon of the modern day is so vexing.”

“‘Right Now’, ‘Shut The Fuck Up’, ‘Talk To You Later’, and your sex life. Happy?”

“Not quite. I would like to know how else your day went, aside from panicking over my previous identity. I, meanwhile, have discovered the joys of A-Drama in your absence.”

“Of course you would be into that. I saw Flayn and a friend of mine studying in the woods at the back of the medical school. I don’t know why, but it’s like she thinks being a dragon while studying helps our friend study better.”

“Perhaps she simply enjoys being herself.”

“Or that she’s just Linhardt’s night light? I don’t know why they study in the woods anyway. She did tell me a little about her uncles.”

“Oh? Uncles?”

Edelgard leans back.

“I knew one, Dean Macuil. He was the dean of the Faculty of Arts and Letters a few years back before he moved out… but then I’m told ‘moved out’ means he fucked off to the desert over memes?”

Rhea’s interest is suddenly piqued. She leans in closer.

“She mentioned another uncle, but I don’t really remember his name… I think it started with an I–” Edelgard tries to recall the name, her brows squinting at the attempt. 

“Indech. Does the university have any activities pertaining to water? Perhaps a lake?” Rhea cuts her off, eyes gleaming with familiarity. So, Indech still does roam the world. Well, in this case, the waters. Rhea wonders what else he had been up to these past several decades. How interesting.

…And then, right there, a brilliantly reckless idea suddenly comes to Rhea, and she has half a mind to know that it might end up all terribly, awfully wrong. Yet the urge to make a connection with her old life burns so brightly in her, that she might as well ignore all the warning signs blaring in her head.

Edelgard looks at Rhea with suspicion.  “There’s the marine institute I guess… what are you thinking?”

“Edelgard,” Rhea says softly but pauses. “I have been desperate to have more people in my life who understand me.”

“What, are me and my social ineptitude not enough for you?”

“Quite frankly, yes. Do you still not feel alone? Do you not miss having the company of many friends?”

Edelgard bites her lip and darts her eyes away. Her group chats with her friends have not been active since they checked on her post-dragon tantrum. Not even Petra and Thea have had the time to call or chat. 

“I need your help, Edelgard.” Rhea pleads, hands reaching out for Edelgard’s. This time, she’s not even being sarcastic or playful. The gravity of the other woman’s voice helps Edelgard know that Rhea’s asking for help. Her help. Green eyes pierce through the lilac of Edelgard’s, as if she was seeing right through her. Edelgard wonders, not for the first time, at how much they mirror each other. “Help me find Indech and… hopefully Macuil.”

A momentary pause.

“This sounds like a terrible idea.” Edelgard shifts her body, turning away from Rhea as she folds her arms in front of her in consternation. No more dragon people! There’s too many of them! Considering how those currently in attendance reacted to Rhea’s return to the waking world, something tells Edelgard that there will be a similar kind of reception. 

Oh, and she knows how ornery Dean Macuil could be, very well. Undergrad wasn’t all that long ago in the grand scheme of things. He was already irate enough with innocent students–what more with Rhea and her neverending barrage of hangups? This will definitely bite her in the ass.

Edelgard glowers. Rhea is watching her with expecting wide eyes, not unlike a hungry kitten waiting to be fed. “And I’m in grad school. I don’t have the time to go on wacky road trips to catch more giant lizards.” 

“You don’t have classes on Sundays,” Rhea points out.

Edelgard snaps back at the thoughtlessness of this woman. This woman. “Don’t take my Sundays from me. That’s my only rest day!”

Rhea takes her by the shoulders and bears down on her. “Please, Edelgard. I beg of you. I will stop monopolizing your side of the bed. I will cook all the food you enjoyed tonight. I will even do your half of the chores for the rest of the year if you so desire!” 

Edelgard's harshness dulls, if only somewhat, as she takes one of Rhea's hands and gently pulls it away from her shoulder.

“...If you can figure out how to traverse across the continent in the span of an afternoon, because I cannot afford you taking up even more of my time, then fine. It’s kind of disturbing seeing you so desperate.”

Rhea’s eyes glisten with overwhelming gratitude. “Thank you, Edelgard! Truly. It means the world to me that you would assist me in this endeavor.”

Rhea closes in, attempting to initiate a hug, but Edelgard pushes her away.

“Whoa, whoa whoa. You don’t have to be that desperate,” says Edelgard, despite the fact that she is terribly touch-starved and self-aware enough to realize that she almost reciprocated the touch. 

True to Rhea’s word, Edelgard sleeps that night with the appropriate amount of space allotted for herself on their twin-sized bed that was never meant to accommodate two grown women. 

She couldn’t help but feel colder, even as she takes all the blankets to herself.

Chapter Text

In a student’s life, there will always come a time where you’d realize that even if you say that you'll take the time to study, prepare or even just do simple ol’ schoolwork, the shadow of procrastination will always fall and bite you in the ass. Just like how Edelgard is currently debating to herself in the middle of the courtyard. With a laptop on her lap as her fingers fly across the keyboard, Edelgard furrows her brows in concentration as she does anything but drafting her thesis.

Her eyes strain as she looks at her screen, hoping to find any solid information on the current whereabouts of the former Director of the Marine Institute, Indech Assal. That’s all Professor Eisner will let her know about the man. Indech, who is apparently Rhea’s relative, whom Edelgard knows nothing about, because she has nothing to do with fish and whatever it is they do at the Marine Institute. She doesn’t know how close or distant the relation between Rhea and Indech is, but at this point, Edelgard doesn’t really care anymore.

Her right eye twitches at the thought of Rhea. Oh right. The older woman may have asked for her help in this endeavor but since the last two days, that blasted Nabatean has done nothing but continue watching her A-dramas and the occasional junk diving (Edelgard assumes the stuff Rhea’s giving her is from the trash but who knows where an ancient old Dragon woman finds ‘treasure’ as she says.)

Rhea may have started this whole thing but dear goddess, she has contributed nothing in the grand scheme of research gathering!

(At least she stays true to her word of doing Edelgard’s chores for her.)

“How is the search coming along?” Edelgard could hear Rhea’s sleepy voice lilting from behind her.

Edelgard rubs at her temples. “It would be a lot quicker if you bothered helping me with the very thing you asked me to do for you. I can’t find shit about this guy.”

“Never mind that right now, I’ll help you in some other form. Now, dear, if you could please close your eyes.” Rhea says, verdant eyes gleaming with mirth and a wide beam on her lips. 

Dear?

Edelgard finds Rhea’s sudden request suspicious, and opens her mouth to point it out, but not before the other woman cuts her off.

“Oh, don't be like that! I’m sure you’ll like it,” Rhea says so surely.

After living with Rhea for weeks, Edelgard knows when to back down, and with the older woman being unusually and genuinely cheerful, she doesn’t have the heart to say no.

“Fine,” Edelgard groans out, tilting the lid of her laptop as she rolls her eyes at Rhea and proceeds to close them, carefully holding onto her device. Experience dictates that she rather be careful with any surprises. “But make it quick. I’m wasting my time when I should be working on my thesis.”

“Yes, yes, you’ll have your time,” Rhea mumbles. Edelgard shivers when she feels the warmth of Rhea’s fingers brush against her ear lobe, tucking something into the locks of her hair. She opens her eyes and feels the delicate flesh of a flower in between the pads of her fingers. Slowly, she turns up to look at Rhea, who beams when Edelgard meets her gaze.

“Look, Edelgard, doesn’t that look pretty on you?” Rhea brings her phone up so that Edelgard can look at herself in her reflection. A white lily rests against the light blonde of Edelgard’s dyed hair. 

“As if we didn’t have enough of these things lying around, making the apartment smell like a funeral parlor…” says Edelgard, and looks away. There’s a hitch in her breath. She tries to focus on her research–both for Rhea and her thesis. Rhea only laughs at this.

“How awfully ignorant of you. White lilies are a symbol of purity and beauty. They belong on a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

Suddenly, Edelgard’s grip on her computer mouse tightens. Focus on the laptop screen. Focus on the laptop screen, dammit. Not on–not on the–

“Excuse me, wh– beautiful? ”

She doesn’t want to look at the expression on the other woman’s face but she can feel her burning stare, almost like Rhea was pouring heat under her skin with her words and actions. Edelgard doesn’t want to know how red her face must be right now. How dare this woman be so massively oblivious to how much she affects Edelgard!

“Has no one ever given you a flower before?” And the sincerity in her voice astounds her as Edelgard finds herself turning towards Rhea. The woman looks downright perplexed at the thought, and Edelgard finds herself even more surprised at how she quietly shook her head.

Some unreadable emotion glimmers behind Rhea’s intelligent eyes and another silent moment passes by between the both of them like that. Like they’re the only two people in the world. Edelgard couldn’t possibly find it in herself to look away.

“Well, they should have.”

Another hitch of Edelgard’s breath.

Suddenly a few meters away, some student yells something about a proposal and Foundation day. Several others react the same way high schoolers do. They hoot and holler in anticipation.

Edelgard coughs and turns back to her laptop. They’re in public. The last time they made a scene in this garden, a fifth of the campus was in shambles and she was yelling at a sixty-foot long lizard. She does not want to be on the front page of The Salutatorian again. But she might prefer catfighting a dragon over processing whatever the fuck is going on right now. She makes a show out of researching her target instead. She even uses the latest large language artificial intelligence models to generate random gobbledygook that ends up recycling facts about the Saint Indech! Who is the same man anyway!

“Yeah. Sure. Alright. Uh, nope, still can’t find shit about an Indech Assal. In his non-holy form.”

“...Right.” 

Edelgard’s stomach drops at Rhea’s stony and definitely not disappointed voice. Confused lilac eyes refuse to look up.

Eventually, Edelgard gives up. She pushes her hair back with her palm, still mindful of the flower tucked behind her ear. 

“Not a thing on the internet. He’s wiped from history. Except the part where he’s the patron saint of fishermen. Why can’t we just ask–”

“–The less I show my face to them, the better it seems,” Rhea says, and looks away, rubbing her arms. 

Edelgard closes her laptop and sighs.

“…I’ll check the library. You… go find something useful to do.”

The library at UGM is vast, almost cavernous, and chilly, with the mountain winds caught in its echoing chambers. While such a grand temple of knowledge should be revered for the wealth of wisdom found upon its shelves, it is better known among the student body as the best place to take a nap. Edelgard has no time for a nap, though; she heads straight for the information desk to find a familiar redhead manning the counter.

Monica von Ochs was a classmate of hers when she was an undergrad taking the BA History program alongside Claude . She works at the library now after completing her Master’s in Library and Information Sciences. Edelgard vaguely recalls the girl being a bit too eager to join her in groupworks, and so she never truly felt that comfortable forming a friendship with Monica outside of class. But she isn’t a bad person. Maybe just a tad too enamored with Edelgard…?

“Edelgard von Hresvelg?! Omigosh, Edel, it’s been so long! You haven’t come to the library in a whole month! Twenty-eight days, at least!” Monica practically leaps out from behind the information desk.

Forget ‘enamored’. ‘Obsessed’ might be more appropriate. Edelgard purses her lips and stuffs her laptop into her backpack.

“You, uh, keep track of that…?” 

“Only sometimes!”

For all that Rhea has been acting strange lately with the flowers and her random junk lying around the house, Edelgard can at least say that it is so much easier to be Rhea’s roommate than to have Monica… be Monica about Edelgard.

“…Alright then. Look, I just want to look at some school records. Where can I check those out?”

Monica perks up, pulls her computer monitor and keyboard closer to her, and starts typing away furiously. “Oh! Let me do that for you so you won’t be bothered! What’re you after? Embarrassing graduation photos? The latest fashion trends in the University—that’s a pretty flower you have there by the way! A professor’s incriminating academic records? Deep, dark campus lore that no one else will ever discover unless they’ve gone mad within the crumbling archives of the University’s most forbidden recesses?”

Edelgard takes a step back. Two steps.

“Sweet mother of Seiros, is that what you do in your downtime? I just need to know about an ‘Indech Assal’ who may have been part of the Marine Institute.”

Monica types away cheerfully and swivels her chair towards Edelgard. Obviously, she found no problem in what she’s asked her to do. Goddess, with the oddly specific types of request she had asked, Edelgard wonders how nobody has caught on to the librarian’s invasion of data privacy. “No problem! Here, take a look: that’s the name of the founder of the institute, all the way back in 1982. After a twenty-five year tenure, he decided to retire, and no one has heard from him since.”

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “Not even Dean Seteth Assal? Or his brother, the former Dean Macuil? Two men who look suspiciously like this man who was their age almost twenty years back, and who share this man’s surname?”

“Not a clue, Edel! I’m just here to do library things.” Sure, if library things were snooping into a lot of things that shouldn’t be shared. Monica shifts slightly in her seat. A blush appears on her cheeks and— oh , Edelgard knows the exact words that are to come out of her mouth. ”Are you free any time soon? Do you wanna go on a date?” 

Seiros preserve her. Wait, no. Seiros is her roommate. Seiros owes Edelgard big time for this trouble.

“For the nth time, Monica, I don’t want to go on a date with you. But thanks anyway. Uh, before I go, might you know how I can get to the Marine Institute in a timely and definitely-won’t-use-up-all-my-free-time fashion?”

Monica slumps over. “Aw, that is exactly the two hundred and sixty-eighth time you’ve turned me down. But that’s okay! There’s always next time. Or now! I’ll tell you the best way to get to Lake Teutates if you agree to go on a date with me!”

Aaaaaand nope. Edelgard starts walking out of there. “For the two hundred and sixty- ninth time, Monica, no. Nevermind. I’ll figure something out. Goodbye.”

Why can’t she have normal people in her life for once?

Edelgard is back at the apartment with nothing much else to do, because by some stroke of luck this week’s classes are either canceled or online. How convenient for Rhea’s quest to disturb her relatives. Surprisingly, Rhea did make herself useful, and presents Edelgard with an overhead view of Lake Teutates that she found on Gargoyle Maps.

“There is a small, round island in the middle of the lake, Edelgard. I may have been asleep for nine hundred years, but even I know that such a land mass forming in the middle of Teutates is an impossibility in such a short amount of time.”

Edelgard sits down with Rhea at the dining table, preparing herself a cup of tea to ease her nerves after having to speak to Monica von Ochs for an extended period of time. “Okay, but what does that have to do with the dragon man we’re looking for?”

“His true form is almost that of a turtle. That island may very well be his shell.”

“The fact that I am no longer surprised that that could be the case should concern me.” Edelgard takes a long sip out of her bergamot tea and crosses her arms. “So we found him. Ish. What now? How are we supposed to get to Teutates within a reasonable timeframe?”

“We could fly there.”

Edelgard spits out her drink. Rhea artfully dodges the splashback, which only makes Edelgard all the more flustered.

“Are you telling me to ride you?!”

“It is purely for the sake of convenience!” Rhea retorts, gobsmacked at the insinuation. “There is nothing suggestive about riding on dragonback. Whatever your lecherous mind comes up with—”

“That isn’t even why I’m protesting! Have you never heard of altitude sickness? Or the fact that I would have nothing to hold me down in the air? What if there’s turbulence? I’m going to be splattered all over Arianrhod!”

For a split second, she sees Rhea wince. “Have you no trust in me, Edelgard?” 

Edelgard looks at Rhea flatly.

“How many humans have you ferried on dragonback in your lifetime?”

“...One.”

Edelgard keeps staring at Rhea, long and hard. Rhea’s face reddens as she deflates.

“My point exactly,” says Edelgard, “unless you want to be charged with manslaughter.”

An awkward silence hovers between them until Rhea offers a more reasonable suggestion.

“You could look up what your options are on the internet?”

“See, was that so hard? Being normal is simple.” Edelgard whips out her phone and starts looking up the fastest travel route from UGM to Lake Teutates on the Ride.fd app. “A two-hour bullet train ride from Remire. Huh. I was expecting it to take a few days.”

“Back in my time, a trip from the Oghma Mountains to Lake Teutates would take at minimum two weeks,” Rhea says absently between bites of a convenience store biscuit. “The sum of all human knowledge is readily available in our pockets at all times these days. Why are you in shock? Technology has come far in making life easier. And more entertaining.”

“You’ve been watching too many A-Dramas,” Edelgard mumbles.

“I simply must catch up on the centuries of entertainment I’ve missed,” Rhea says back. When she looks back at Edelgard, her eyebrows raise. “You still have the lily on? I thought you would have thrown it out after a while, as you often do with my gifts.”

Edelgard blushes furiously as she does exactly that–pulls the flower out of her hair and throws it onto the table. “I simply forgot about it, is all. You’re lucky I have time for your bullshit. We can leave for the Marine Institute tomorrow.” 

For the second time that day, Rhea laughs at Edelgard’s expense. But instead of indignance, Edelgard could only feel a strange warmth growing within her.

One excruciatingly long two hours in a train car with Rhea the following day (who, despite her suggestion of taking flight, decided to ride the train with Edelgard in the end for the ‘sake of normalcy’), Edelgard finds herself looking at the awe-inspiring research center that is the UGM Institute of Marine Biology and Fisheries. She’d been a student of UGM since elementary, and yet this is only her second time visiting the Marine Institute in almost two decades.

The first time was during a field trip in fourth grade, when she pushed Dee and Sylvain Gautier into the lake after having to put up with baby’s first ‘say bad china very fast’ joke. Even then, the weird island in the middle was already there, so she has absolutely no idea what Rhea had been yapping about the day prior.

Edelgard hesitantly follows after Rhea, who has been taking hundreds of vacation photos of the area for her to reminisce on–photos in general have been her favorite ‘wonder’ of technology. 

“The campsite for tourists is on the other side of the lake, ma’am,” says a young man whom Edelgard could only assume is an intern at the institute.

“No, I’m in the right place,” Edelgard replies. She points a finger towards the center of the lake. “Has that island over there always been here? My… companion is trying to convince me otherwise.” 

The intern shrugs, but apparently his supervisor had overheard Edelgard in the process. The supervisor seems to be somewhat long in the tooth. “Are you one of those cryptid hunters? The island is a recent development. We were sworn to secrecy about its origins by the original Director of the institute.”

“I knew it!” Rhea says. And then promptly leaps twenty feet into the air and bounds towards the island. Once again she makes a scene and Edelgard is caught up in it. Edelgard looks at the intern and his supervisor with a pained look.

“Ah! I recognize you with that scowl now! I read the article in The Salutatorian– you’re that graduate student who squared off with the first sighting of a dragon in millennia!” the supervisor exclaims. “And your companion must be the very same dragon! It all makes sense.”

“Glad to see you’re all caught up with the times,” Edelgard grumbles. “Hold up. How would that make sense to you?”

“INDECH? INDECH, YOU OVERGROWN TORTOISE! WAKE UP!”

Rhea’s shouting echoes through the mountainous clearing around the lake. The earth shakes. The waters churn tempests. Out of the lake emerges the head of the founder and former Director of the institute, one Indech Assal, in all his turtle-y glory. He, The Immovable, groans and lets out a massive, bellowing yawn.

“...RHEA? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. WHAT YEAR IS IT?” 

Edelgard facepalms. 

“There’s your answer,” the supervisor says matter-of-factly. “He has been sorely missed.”

Rhea bends down to whisper into the giant turtle’s ear… hole? Do turtles have ears? She bends down to whisper something to the giant turtle and the befuddlement on the giant turtle’s face only deepens.

“IT HAS BEEN EONS SINCE I HAVE HEARD THE MOTHER TONGUE SPOKEN. I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU, RHEA.”

Even from afar, Edelgard could see the hurt striking Rhea’s face. 

“You… have you truly forgotten our language, Indech?”

The turtle looks at her, despondent.

“GIVEN THE CENTURIES OUR LIVES CAN SPAN, ONE CAN FORGET ANYTHING–EVEN THEIR OWN MOTHER TONGUE. 

An indecipherable look passes Rhea’s face before she nods. The Immovable shakes his head in return.

“DO LET ME RETURN TO SHORE BEFORE WE CONVERSE ANY FURTHER. YOUR YELLING HAS GIVEN ME A HEADACHE.”

By the time the giant turtle has swam back to shore, a welcoming party of old fogey biologists and their very confused assistants have gathered by the lake, surrounding an ever-weary Edelgard. ‘WELCOME BACK DIRECTOR INDECH!’ is printed on a series of letter size bond papers, one giant letter at a time, held up by the tallest scientists for their turtle overlord to see. Rhea hops off of the turtle’s back and makes her way back to Edelgard, but not before snapping a photo of The Immovable in all his immovable glory. The Immovable himself disappears into a blinding wave of light that gives way to the stocky, somewhat disheveled Indech Assal, still wearing the lab coat he went to sleep in seventeen years ago.

“Did you have a nice nap?” one of the scientists asks.

“Yes, but I was bound to awaken sooner than later,” says Indech, dusting himself off. “No matter. I am delighted to see you all doing well–and I am glad to see that I have left the institute in good hands.”

He turns to face Rhea. Edelgard once more feels like she’s intruding on a private moment between family members, except this time she’s also surrounded by the entire workforce of the Marine Institute. There’s even less opportunity for escape when a wall of scientists surrounds her at every corner.

“I’m certain you have awoken me for a purpose, Rhea. It is good to see you among the living, regardless. I was uncertain if you would ever reemerge from your slumber. I take it that means all is well now between you and–”

“–that I cannot say so is precisely why I have come to you, Indech.”

He tilts his head. That is all he could say on the matter.

“Would you allow me the chance to refamiliarize myself with the institute, first? We shall discuss this on the way back to the university. That is where you are stationed, yes?” 

Rhea nods before gesturing to Edelgard.

“Yes. I have been staying with a student of my granddaughter’s,” says Rhea. Indech’s eyebrows raise at the mention of Byleth. “Edelgard has been nothing but accommodating throughout my stay, and for that I am deeply thankful.”

Edelgard looks aside. “Should I leave you two for the time being? If it will take you time here, I’d like to go back to UGM before the trains stop running today.”

The man who was a tortoise not even ten minutes ago reaches for Edelgard’s hand to shake it. To his credit, he seems much more approachable than most of the rest of the Nabateans Edelgard has met. Laid back, reserved, perhaps a bit shy, and quite frankly a nice change of pace for someone who has had to deal with dragon-related antics for the past two months. 

“You have a familiar aura to you, miss Edelgard,” Indech muses. He shakes off his thoughts with a hearty chuckle. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, regardless!”

Edelgard returns the handshake amicably. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Nice to meet you too.”

Indech pulls away to cross his arms. “Now, to answer your question, I do want to take my time reacquainting myself with my surroundings, and I have a lot I’d like to discuss with Rhea. I do believe it would be best if you headed back to the university soon.”

Edelgard raises an eyebrow at Rhea. Rhea looks at her, apologetic. 

“Worry not, the chores will be done as soon as I return. Take care on your way back.”

Edelgard lets out a breath. “That wasn’t what I was gonna ask, but thanks, I guess.”

She leaves Rhea and Indech to chat by the lakeside, and makes her way to the train station on her lonesome. With hardly anyone else riding the train, the hypnotic rhythm of the carriage being the only noise around, Edelgard is left with only her thoughts for company. Reflexively, she takes out her phone to check her messages. No one’s online. Nothing new except for yet another weird meme Caspar found on Extragram. She shoves her phone into her bag and sighs.

So her thoughts inevitably wander to the day’s events, replaying everything line-by-line for want of something to do, when something occurs to her.

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD .

…Aren’t these particular Nabateans nigh-immortal? Why would Indech think Rhea was dead?

It is good to see you among the living … 

I was uncertain if you would ever reemerge from your slumber.

Was she planning on taking her sweet time unconscious? Is that why the family was so shocked to find Rhea out of her deep sleep?

I take it that means all is well now between you and–

Rhea and who? The professor? No, they just met–Sitri? 

No, mother… I am not ready. Not just yet…

It brings to mind what Rhea herself had said, that first day awake:

COME FORWARD! YOU, WHO DARED DISTURB THE ETERNAL SLUMBER OF THE IMMACULATE ONE!

…What in the goddess’ name happened between Rhea and her daughter, that she wanted to essentially stay dead? 

The train shudders as it speeds across the railway. 

Things have been suspiciously quiet on the side of grandma and Edelgard as of late. It could mean a good thing; it could mean Edelgard has successfully distracted grandma enough that she’d leave mom and the rest of them alone. But it’s never that simple with grandma. No, she’s gonna do something, and it’s gonna be stupid, because everything has to fit within the little mold that grandma calls her reality. Trusting that she wouldn’t do that–look what it did to mom. Mom never said what happened, but Byleth knows enough. She can never forget what she saw.

Despite the pile of ungraded papers towering beside her, despite the forty-eight unread important emails in her inbox, and despite the half-written abstract she’s supposed to submit to the next conference before the due date, Byleth Dominique Eisner, MA, PhD, eschews working on her paperwork and instead rants endlessly about her conundrum to her best frenemy, Shithead. Shez. Shez 2. Whatever. 

bitchless assnerd: not a single attempt at contact for almost two weeks , its so sus

Shithead Berling: omfg. let it go assnerd it’s not like ur granny is gonna start a war 

bitchless assnerd: she fuckin did before and she can do it again

Shithead Berling: …arent u a fucking history bitch, the lizard ppl werent the agrresors during the war of heros

bitchless assnerd: whatever shes unstable. Shes gonna fuck shit up eventually idw to risk it

Shithead Berling: dood,, nothings happend,,, u havent even lyk, gotten to kno her… chill tf out……

Byleth grunts and pockets her phone. Shithead is a shithead as always. She just doesn’t get it. 

Not a lot of people get Byleth, anyway. She knows she’s built different. You’d have to be to get your MA and PhD in less than 4 years. But it’s always been hard to make people understand. Once upon a time, she had a person who helped her do that, but he’s nothing but a coward and a traitor so now she’s all alone on that front. 

What’s so hard to understand about this , though? Mom got hurt. And she shouldn’t have. Byleth just has to make sure she doesn’t get hurt again. And that means keeping grandma away from her. 

The sound of great wings flapping breaks Byleth from her grumbling. Speak of the devil. She leaves her desk to look outside the window and wouldn’t you know it? The Immaculate One comes flying in from great-grandma-goddess knows where. And she’s got a guy on her. Byleth squints, trying to get a better look at the man, the stocky frame and green hair looking all too familiar to her. 

“Holy shit. She has Uncle Indy.”

She was right, dammit. Stupid things happen when you leave grandma unattended. She speeds out of the Main Building and out into the courtyard, and begins typing frantically on her phone to warn the rest of the family of what has transpired. 

Lizard 🐉 Salad 🥗 (+1 crouton)

bby by by by: SHE HAS UNCLE INDY GET TO THE COURTYARFD

No one comes to Byleth’s rescue fast enough before the Immaculate One lands (carefully, this time, so as not to trample the garden) and Uncle Indy jumps off to greet Byleth with open arms. 

“Byleth? Is that you? Oh, how you’ve grown! You and your brother were but little beans when I last saw you, and now I hear you’ve already become a professor!”

They hug it out because family is family. Even if they shouldn’t be awake at this time. 

“Instructor, Uncle. I just started. You shouldn’t be up yet. Global warming is still a thing.”

Uncle Indy looks at her sadly. “I doubt that will change any time soon, By. I’d rather weather the storm with you all.” 

“But that’s not why you’re here.”

Byleth sends a pointed glare at her sixty-foot long grandma. Even as the Immaculate One she shrinks at Byleth’s ire. Good. Let it be a warning if she tries anything fishy.

“…HELLO, BYLETH. AND PARDON THE INCONVENIENCE.”

Grandma shifts out of dragon form and tries to go up to Byleth, but Byleth takes a step back to maintain the distance between them. 

“Why’d you wake Uncle Indy up?” says a rather irritated Byleth. “He said he’d sleep until someone fixes the climate crisis.”

Grandma looks confused. It sure must have been nice to live in a world that wasn’t teetering on the brink of self-destruction. 

“I…” grandma trails off for a bit. “I was wondering where he and Macuil were, is all. It’s been so long since I have seen our whole family.” 

Byleth suppresses a growl. She’s tempted to bite back with something like, “gee, I wonder why”, but mom already got on her case about being too confrontative with grandma. She really doesn’t get why mom insists on letting things go. Dad’s not much help either, but at least he gets it on Byleth’s side. Instead Byleth opts to pull out a snack from her snack hoard to make herself feel better. She doesn’t forget to toss some cookies Uncle Indy’s way. It’s just proper manners.

 “It’s rude to wake someone up too soon,” Byleth grumbles, crumbs spilling out of her mouth. Grandma looks like she wants to say something about that. Like the fact that Byleth and her minion dug her up and did exactly what she says is rude. Byleth preemptively stops her. “Dad said it was about time you woke up, you don’t count.”

“Jeralt said that? Really?” Grandma says, like she can’t believe someone could actually want her alive and well. That’s just another part of the fucked-up reality she has going on in her head. It’s kind of sad. She needs to get her act together–just do it away from everyone. From mom. 

Uncle Indy’s looking worried. This probably isn’t how he imagined he’d be seeing Byleth again after his nap. He’s a smart man, a scientist, even, so he can piece two and two together about what’s gotten all up in Byleth’s business. He tries to steer the conversation somewhere less uncomfortable because he’s Uncle Indy and hiding away from shit is his thing. 

“Why don’t you tell me more about how life has been since I slept, By?” he asks. He tries to keep up his good vibes, but grandma’s kind of ruining it. “Do you remember when I told you and your brother about your Uncle Seteth’s first shift? I’d like to know if you have any funny stories about that yourself!”

“We burned the house down,” Byleth replies, popping another cookie into her mouth. She’s about to open her mouth to continue talking about how that was because she and Bel burned way too many pizzas than their oven could handle that day, and then they turned into giant lizard dogs that turned everything they touched to ash, but–

“Oh! I remember it as if it were yesterday!” Grandma pipes up. “Macuil was absolutely tormenting the poor boy, and Tethra was beginning to feel frustrated…”

Grandma starts yapping about The Good Ol’ Days as if Byleth wasn’t about to share something with Uncle Indy. Even if it wasn’t grandma telling the story, it’s one that Byleth has heard dozens of times, from three different perspectives. For once, though, she lets it slide, because she’s built different, people don’t get built different, and that means Byleth is used to being ignored. 

Grandma is going on about–oh, there it is, the fabled mommy issues. She’s going on about how amused the goddess was at the sight of the uncles as little gremlins messing with a newly-transformed little gremlin Uncle Seteth, how the goddess felt that she would do anything to preserve the simple joys of the children, blah blah blah. Byleth can see Uncle Indy shuffling away from grandma, slowly. It’s a bit much, even for him. Sparing him and Byleth the awkwardness both, fortunately, are four voices coming their way.

“Indech? I thought you were sleeping until the climate crisis was resolved!”

“Brother Indech? Oh, how good to see you again, and so soon!”

“Uncle Indech? Oh my goddess, it’s you!”

“Oh. Hey, Indech.”

Thank fuck everybody came. It stops grandma from spiraling into a never ending loop about how amazing Sothis was and how everyone should want to miss her on the level of obsession that grandma has–another point in grandma’s fucked-up sense of reality. 

(Mom said she wasn’t really like that anymore later on, but Uncle Mac begged to differ.)

Uncle Indy lights up and it’s almost blinding. The very first person he runs towards is Flayn, crushing her in his tight embrace. 

“Cethleann! My word, you’re radiant! How long have you been back with us?”

Flayn pulls back a bit so she can breathe, but her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “Eleven years, I think? Oh, Uncle, I was so worried I wouldn’t be able to see you for decades!” 

“She goes by Flayn now, legally,” Uncle Seteth comes up beside Uncle Indy, patting him on the back. Uncle Indy lets go of Flayn and returns a sad smile to his brother.

“I see. In memory of the mother who gave her that nickname. Isolde must be glad to know she will never be forgotten.”

“As opposed to how you’ve forgotten to remove your lab coat before going into slumber, yes,” Uncle Seteth quips. It’s like they only saw each other last week. “Welcome back to the living, you hulking lout.”

“And what a welcome!” Uncle Indy laughs. “Your eyebags have grown at least two shades darker since we last met!”

Flayn goes next to Byleth and whispers. “They weren’t this fun nine hundred years ago. I’m getting whiplash seeing my dad banter with anyone.”

“Maybe it’s the times,” Byleth says. “They can just be people now, not war heroes.”

Byleth and Flayn watch Uncle Indy chat with Uncle Seteth for a bit. Dad does his usual “hey” and mostly follows along with whatever’s happening. To the side, Byleth could see mom making light conversation with Uncle Indy, smiling as he goes on about this and that, but mom’s eyes keep flitting away to the left. Left is where grandma is. Among the chatter of the uncles and parents, grandma stands in silence, looking on wistfully. And every time mom flickers her eyes towards grandma, the sadness comes out just a little more. It comes to the point that the men notice, and attention turns to grandma inevitably, for the rising tension in the space between her and mom. 

“How delightful it is to see almost everyone together again,” grandma tries to start, “just as we used to be.”

Goddess, it’s so awkward. Mom’s face is going through all five stages of grief at once and it’s painful to see. The dads and uncle are all looking at each other, which means they feel the same way.

Then grandma starts spouting out random gibberish? Was this that language Edelgard was talking about? Grandma stops talking for a moment, expecting someone to reply, but no one does. Dad’s just confused. Mom’s still having an internal crisis. The uncles look guilty.

“Rhea,” Uncle Seteth says, trying to soften the blow, “you must forgive us for this. It has been, frankly, ages since we have spoken Nabata. I can only recall a scant few phrases at best.”

“Speak for yourself. I can’t recall a thing,” Uncle Indy says in return. “I understand that you would feel more at home if we kept the mother tongue. But time is a cruel mistress, Rhea. My apologies.”

Grandma looks to mom, desperate. Mom grips the hem of her blouse. 

“I… don’t recall much of what was taught to me,” mom whispers. She’s avoiding grandma’s gaze. 

Byleth side-eyes Flayn beside her, who shrugs her shoulders. “Dad only taught me a few words. I think his new name means ‘rock waves’ or something. Mountain?”

Internally, Byleth takes note that she should dig through the museum collection for any traces of this dead language. This could, in fact, overturn everything they know academically of the Nabatean culture. Externally, she’s starting to feel quite bad for grandma and that’s freaking her out.

“…Forgive me, then,” whispers grandma. “I’m sorry, I–I thought it could still hold us together, our shared heritage.”

This is too much for Byleth. She quietly takes her leave, and maybe soon enough she hears some whispering, followed by other footsteps leaving the courtyard. She doesn’t look back because it will only make her feel worse about the whole thing. 

It’s–it’s sad. There’s no other way to describe it. Byleth is built different. People don’t get her. Most of the time, she doesn’t even get people . But she gets this. For years, in the stories told to her, in the way mom looked at her and Bel when they were transformed, in the scars, Byleth had built up this image of grandma in her head–someone unstable, with the capacity to be cruel to those who loved her, those who made the mistake of loving her. It was supposed to be that simple.

But now it’s just sad.

…

The wind doesn’t blow. The garden lies still. Rhea and Indech stand in total disquietude. 

“I see what you meant now,” Indech says, “when you told me that you found no place in this world, even among our loved ones.”

Birdsong breaks the silence. Rhea looks out, past the flowers and the trees, and into nothing. 

“How do I fix this, Indech? How can things return to the way they were? Why has it all come to this? Why do I live like this?”

Indech breathes sharply, deeply, his arms folded behind his back, as he considers the woman before him.

“Could it be that, in burying yourself in thoughts of simpler times, you have forgotten how to live?” 

Rhea keeps quiet as the lump of anxiety lodged in her throat slowly sinks its way deep into her gut. Indech continues, spurred by her inability to answer.

“Seeking salvation in what has long left this world, after all, was what brought you to this point to begin with.”

“I am keenly aware, Indech. You may stop now,” Rhea chokes out. 

Indech turns away from her. 

“It has been long enough. She has found it in her heart to forgive you. Whether or not her forgiveness is warranted is irrelevant; when will you find it in your heart to forgive yourself?”

Rhea is statuesque, mute in her disbelief, before she finds it in herself to give Indech a reply.

“How could I do that when I know that what you say cannot possibly be true?” She breathes in. “Have you seen the way she looks at me? As though I am a horror to her. And perhaps that is the truth.”

Indech shakes his head, slowly. 

“Time heals all wounds, Rhea, and to her it has been many lifetimes away since–”

“Time has never healed mine, Indech. I do not believe it ever will.”

The birdsong stops. A blanket of quiet muffles the air around them. Defeated, Indech wishes her well before leaving to join the rest of the family for dinner.

When Rhea returns to the apartment, with her head held low and a veil of upset shadowing over her, the quiet and despondent atmosphere that greets her makes the heavy weight in her chest even more burdensome. To hope that there might be someone who would be happily waiting for her to come home. And to hope that it would be her family that would be waiting. As if .

A fool to the end, she is.

The sound of a door opening and closing breaks her thoughts as she finds Edelgard walking out of the bedroom. Her roommate hums to herself an unfamiliar tune and quickly jumps back when she finds Rhea staring at her, looking very much worse for wear.

“Oh, hey. Welcome back.”

Edelgard moves to sit down at the dining table while Rhea stares dumbfounded. 

“Are you okay? You look…” Edelgard stops herself. There must have been a quip waiting at the end of her sentence before she changed her mind. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Rhea looks at Edelgard. Edelgard raises an eyebrow back. 

“What’s for dinner?” Rhea says, as simple as that, and joins Edelgard at the dining table.

Another week has passed since that evening. Although Edelgard is quite very thankful for the respite from any and all dragon activities, living in the same place with a very much dejected Nabatean means for a gloomy atmosphere. The moment Edelgard steps her foot inside her quaint apartment and sees the sulking form of her roommate in front of the television, disheveled green hair popping out from under her blanket burrito and depressingly eating from a tub of ice cream—wait, ice cream?

“My ice cream! How dare you!” Edelgard rushes to the sofa, indignant at the thought of Rhea eating her most anticipated treat after a week of academic drudgery. Oh, the betrayal!

“I was saving that! My prize for surviving the week!”

Rhea says nothing, only stopping herself from scooping another spoonful of good ole rocky road ice cream to stare at Edelgard blankly. She affixes Rhea with a glare. She has been achingly, patiently accommodating to this moody woman ever since she arrived from that partial family reunion; There’s only so much one mortal can do when it comes to taking care of a Child of the Goddess. Yeah, that’s right: she is an absolute child!

The screen behind her plays on, rushed Almyran blasting from the speakers. Edelgard watches cold green eyes shift to the tv from her, as if Edelgard isn’t standing directly in front of her. An artery throbs in her head and Edelgard feels the nerve to carry this woman away from her depression nest.

“Fuck it,” she says, and does just that. She turns the TV off, snatches what little she could salvage of her beloved ice cream from Rhea (two tablespoons. Sweet mother of Seiros) and pulls Rhea off of the couch. Rhea lets herself fall limply to the floor and Edelgard rolls her eyes. What a drama queen. 

“You need to get a life.”

“I am breathing and eating,” Rhea says weakly. “I know how to live.”

“That’s existing, not living,” Edelgard says, knowing she’d been doing much the same herself. “You’re coming with me.”

“And pray tell, why and where are we again my esteemed host?” 

Sarcasm leaks from Rhea’s tone. Apparently, nobody likes it when they’re forced to leave their hiding place, no less an agitated woman who can transform into a dragon at will. Still, Edelgard believes that Rhea has enough common sense not to do that.

“This, my valuable guest, is the gym.” Edelgard says back, leading Rhea to the front desk where a burly man resides. “Since you’ve been so down in the dumps lately, I’m sure you’ve been wound up the entire time. With so much restrained energy, why not let it all out and work yourself out to the bone?”

Rhea grimaces, preparing to complain, but Edelgard doesn’t spare her a glance. To the burly man to the side, she greets while putting down her workout bag. “Long time no see, Hector.”

Hector salutes at her, a confident grin framing his chiseled face. “It has indeed been a while, Edelgard. I was wondering when you’d ever come back.”

“That would be now,” Edelgard waves away his concern, chuckling at the notion. “I was just, er, taking some time off to myself.”

Edelgard turns to regard Rhea standing beside her. Understandingly, she seems confused at their interaction, and more so at the exact reason they are here. No matter, this will be good for her.

“I have a–,” Edelgard struggles for a second at this part, mind blanking on just how to exactly refer to Rhea here. Edelgard looks to the bemused green haired woman for a quick moment. She stares back, an eyebrow raised. “–a friend with me who is in dire need of some exercise.”

Hector inspects her companion. Oddly enough, Rhea seems to be at a standoff with the other guy. Her brows and lips dip with a hint of ire, as if coaxing the man to provoke her. Maybe Hector understood just how much Edelgard’s roommate is not in the mood for any games. Maybe not. Either way, he shifts back to the shorter woman and says before leaving, “Jeez, reminds me of Lyn when she’s pissed. I’ll go call Cath for you.”

Edelgard, meanwhile, elbows Rhea and scolds her. “Hey! Stop being a brat. He’s only doing his job.”

Rhea scoffs and gives her a tired smirk despite it all. “Dear Edelgard, do you truly think so little of me, that you would deem me akin to a spoiled child?”

“Have you seen yourself the past few days? That’s pretty much all you’ve been.”

And then here they go again, with their back-and-forths going nowhere. And out in public, no less? Edelgard can’t tell if she should be relieved to see Rhea anything more than despondent again or annoyed that she has to deal with a petulant grown woman. Goddess, the absolute headache she’s having with this shit…

“Nevermind that. Here, take this,” she passes the bag towards Rhea and shoves her, pointing to the right. “You see that door over there? You can change your clothes there. Now shoo.”

The absolute confusion on Rhea’s face, her green eyes hesitantly shifting from Edelgard to the pointed room as if questioning whether she’s coming with or not, is cute truly something. Edelgard has to resist the urge to sigh. Edelgard wonders if Rhea was babied too much growing up.

“You’re a grown woman, Rhea. Heaven forbid you need someone to look after you.”

The grown woman winces, and shoots her a glare. “I can look after myself, thank you very much.”

Amidst their bickering, Edelgard doesn’t realize the encroaching presence of another person. The familiar voice of an old acquaintance stops the both of them in their tracks.

“Edelgard! Now that’s a face I haven’t seen in a long while,” comes the loud and husky voice of one Catherine Rubens Charon. Catherine comes over, sweaty from a long workout, with a towel draped over her shoulders. “And who might this be?”

“A friend,” Rhea answers, and leaves Edelgard and Catherine to go change in the locker rooms. Edelgard watches her walk away, irritated at their recent interaction and heaves a deep breath. Catherine stands beside her, interest piqued at the stranger who left.

“Okay, but seriously. Who’s the lady?” Catherine asks. “She’s looking fine.”

“Cath, you have a girlfriend,” Edelgard points out, already ready to drop the topic.

Catherine quickly waves her hands in defense. “Nothing like that! I’m just surprised you brought someone like her here. You don’t look the type, honestly.”

Edelgard raises a curious, suspicious brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t mean anything bad, really! Just that you’re not here as often as you used to be, nor is Petra or even Caspar with you. I was actually wondering if you’d ever come back.”

Suddenly, there’s a burning pool of shame and guilt in the back of Edelgard’s throat. This is the second time today somebody has said that exact same thing. Edelgard wonders, perhaps for the first time, if there was anyone in her life she didn’t realize was actually thinking about her. Even if she thought they couldn't care less about her.

Edelgard glanced away from the earnest and caring look on Catherine’s face. They may not have been as close before (or so she thinks), but self-consciousness pries at her conscience, and Edelgard feels like a jerk all of a sudden.

“Yeah, life’s just been a bit hectic lately. You know how it is. Everyone’s going their own way,” she says in lieu of an excuse. How do you even apologize for something you didn’t know you needed to apologize for?

Catherine interjects with a lighthearted chuckle. “Ah, I’m sure they’ll all come around again eventually. And hey, at least you’ve got some pretty good company keeping you afloat,” Catherine teases her with a wink.

“She’s my professor’s grandmother! Goddess!” Edelgard grimaces. Her and Rhea– wait, no, stop right there!

“Ooh, I didn’t know you had it in you, Hresvelg, you cougar hunter,” the trainer throws her a cheeky grin and nudges at her. “Well, maybe I did know–a little birdy told me about that thing you had for Manuela when you were in hig–”

“–Shut up! Who told you about that? Wait, no, it was just a prank. Yes, a prank! Forget whatever you heard, it was totally just a prank!”

It’s not often that Edelgard feels like a fumbling buffoon, and rarer still for it to be from embarrassing reminders about high school. Just… just high school. Goddess. Her face quickly flushes bright red, blood rushing to her ears as she squeaks.

She’s spluttering with excuses, vomiting words she doesn’t know makes sense but it’s totally better than being silent and dying from sheer embarrassment of that incident . Goddess, nobody but her and the boys know.

Catherine’s laughter cuts off her bumbling and it takes a moment for Edelgard to remember that they’re in the gym and she’s still waiting for Rhea to come out from changing.

“What was a prank?”

Nevermind, she came back at the most inopportune time. Catherine smirks, ready to destroy any semblance of dignity that Edelgard still has.

To Catherine, Edelgard scream whispers, “No, don’t you dare.”

Catherine laughs instead and raises a hand in greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going? I’m Catherine. I’ll be your trainer here at the gym. And you are…?”

Rhea doesn’t spare a second thought and regards Catherine with a blank look. “Someone.”

“Rhea,” Edelgard answers for her petulant, grown woman of a roommate. “I don’t know if she has a surname. You ever see posts about a crazy, laser-beam shooting dragon running amok in UGM? That’s her. There’s a lot of uh, pent up dragon rage in her, I think. That’s why we’re here.”

“You’ve yet to explain to me what sort of facility this is, and you’ve already took the time to introduce me to its staff by insulting me,” Rhea bites back at Edelgard. 

“That’s alright. Our love language here is insults,” says Catherine. “You look like a kickboxing kind of lady, come with me.” 

…It should come to no one’s surprise that half the gym’s supply of punching bags have been completely and utterly decimated by Rhea. Edelgard shouldn’t be surprised anymore, considering she’d seen how toned and well-muscled and firm Rhea’s body is. Oh, and that she’s seen the woman leap at least twenty feet into the air at this point. But seeing the raw power upfront is something else–it does something else to Edelgard and that’s the part that worries her. 

“Your uh, friend Rhea here packs quite the punch,” Catherine mumbles to Edelgard, as Rhea screams bloody murder at the last punching bag they allowed her to ruin, with her perfect left hooks and uppercuts and wow she did not need a trainer at all. “You should be charged for the property damage, but I feel like it would be better if I just offered the woman a job here.”

Edelgard’s jaw drops.

“What.”

Catherine flings a disbelieving finger towards Rhea. “Look at her! She has perfect form! And monstrous strength! And a tight ass! She’d make a great trainer! I love her already!”

Edelgard, for some reason, feels her eye twitch at that. “…Well, at least she could help with the bills now… and she’s not gonna be a NEET anymore…”

Rhea finishes off the final dregs of the punching bag with a war cry that makes the walls tremble around them, and walks towards Catherine and Edelgard with a satisfied smile on her face.

“You were right, Edelgard. That was quite cathartic! I feel so much better now,” she says. She’s not even sweating. This was nothing to her. “We should come here more often.”

“How would you like some stable employment, lady? And the chance to pay off your debt from all the property damage?” Catherine offers. Rhea shakes her hand.

“A splendid offer. I believe you and I have a lot in common, miss Catherine.”

“You’re buying me a new pint of ice cream with your first paycheck,” Edelgard mumbles. “I can’t live on two tablespoons of your leftovers.”

She pointedly ignores all the texts from Catherine later that day, full of ‘step on me’ memes and ‘she could snap my back in half’ copypastas. She doesn’t know if she can trust Rhea to not turn a full-time job into a whirlwind of insanity, but at least this means Edelgard will start working out regularly again. 

Professor Eisner looks different today. It’s been a while since Edelgard got to consult with her about her thesis. A lot of the blank… Professor Eisner-ness is gone, replaced with something a lot more focused. Her eyebrows are in a permanent furrow, eyes skimming through hundreds of pages’ worth of reference material, photographs and scans of artifacts from the museum, and at least three notebooks’ worth of her own notes, all at once. It’s awe-inspiring and horrifying in equal measure. Sometimes, Edelgard wonders how someone as young and… eccentric as Professor Eisner was able to cut her way into academia so quickly, but it is becoming increasingly apparent to her why. The professor slams the last of her books closed and looks at her advisee with pure concentration.

“You were right, Edelgard. Or grandma wasn’t lying. Either way, there was a language completely unknown to science that died off around the time of the Nabatean genocide. And no one but her speaks it now. I don’t know why my parents or uncles or even Flayn never bothered telling me about it, but that’s a problem for personal me and not professional me.” 

Professor Eisner takes a moment to munch on a small packet of chips in annoyance before continuing. 

“Professional me’s problem is this: we’ve had artifacts and references to mysterious runes sitting around this entire time when no one has bothered looking into them because they were indecipherable. It’s like the Voynich manuscript, except we now have a living, breathing speaker walking among us. You’re in a very special position, more so than you thought you were when you found those runes.”

Oh, Edelgard knows. The pressure is getting to her to the point that her entire head is a migraine. 

“I want you to continue looking into your findings, and I’m also gonna dump all of these onto you for you to look into,” Professor Eisner says, pointing at her mountain of references. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but grandma is gonna be your best friend for this.”

She’s practically that already in Edelgard’s daily life, because she’s the only friend around at the moment.

Edelgard can only nod in response as the professor takes her leave of the lab, and not without throwing the usual pack of cookies at her face. It takes a while for Edelgard to snap out of her dazed state. After eating her share of the professor’s seemingly infinite hoard of snacks, she finally remembers to take out her phone and text Rhea about all this.

lizard bitch

Edelgard : Come to the lab, i need you.

Instead of replying, Rhea surprisingly arrives not later than five minutes, indicating that maybe she had been lurking around the university campus. Edelgard shouldn’t be surprised anymore at the sight of yet another handful of white lilies but she still is. The traitorous part in her chest twinges at the thought of Rhea bringing her all these gifts—because that’s what they are and Edelgard is tired of calling them rude names when Rhea always seemed so happy giving them to her.

“What did you call me for, if I may ask?” Rhea says as she sits down where the professor was just fifteen minutes ago. Her nose wrinkles as she feels the crumbs of Professor Eisner’s chips stick to her forearm. “I don’t suppose it was just to have me clean up for you here.”

“That was your granddaughter, not me,” Edelgard says, “and said granddaughter has given me the go-signal to do my entire project over from the start. That’s where you come in.”

Rhea points to herself, befuddled. Edelgard puts a hand to her forehead and slumps over her desk.

“Remember that rune I showed you that I thought was a crest, and then you said it was something completely different, and that it was from a language no one of your ethnicity knows how to speak anymore? Yeah. I’m gonna have to work on that now.”

Edelgard slides over a facsimile of similar symbols to Rhea, whose posture has straightened at the knowledge that her mother tongue will be studied. “Like, let’s have a trial run. What does this say?”

Rhea takes a moment to parse the runes, partially eroded when they were found and therefore somewhat shaky and inaccurate when copied, but soon figures it out, writing down the direct translation underneath:

BEASTS/ANIMALS - WE - LIKE - HUNT (PAST)

SOULS/DRAGONS - WE - LIKE - BECOME - STORIES/FABLES/MEMORIES 

Rhea’s hand is shaky when she puts down the pencil.

“Like animals we were hunted, like dragons we became fables…” she gulps. “Was… was there more underneath this?”

Edelgard nods tentatively, and slides the next page of facsimiles to her. Rhea takes up her pencil again and reads the runes.

SOTHIS - ALL - MOTHER

YOUR - BLOOD - GIVE - LIFE - WAS

USE (PAST) - CURSE - FLESH-CHILDREN - AND - SOUL-CHILDREN - YOURS

SAVE - US - OUR - SUFFERING 

BRING - US - HOME

THE - BLUE - SEA - STAR

Edelgard could see Rhea trembling at this point, tears dripping onto the paper. Alarmed, she puts a hand on Rhea’s shoulder.

“Hey. You don’t have to keep going if it hurts.”

Rhea shakes her head.

“No, no… this is the story of my people. Their voices need to be heard.”

She takes in a deep, heavy breath before she translates fully.

“All-mother Sothis, whose life-giving blood was used to curse the children of her flesh and the children of her spirit, save us from our suffering and bring us home to the Blue Sea Star… this was a prayer. A poor soul’s final plea to a dead goddess, when we were being murdered with the bones of our brothers and the flesh of our sisters…”

She wipes away a tear. As Rhea points at the first rune of the prayer, Edelgard realizes it is the same rune that she showed Rhea all those weeks ago.

“Sopdeth. That is how the goddess’ name was written in Nabata. The monogram combines the runes that make up her name. She was called the All-Mother, for giving new life to the people of Fódlan. We would later translate this to be Sothis, the Progenitor God.”

Edelgard sits speechless beside Rhea. More than a project, a research, something to grant her prestige and intellectual satisfaction, she feels as though she has unearthed something much more profound and important. The history of the Nabateans goes further and deeper than she could have ever imagined: did the perpetrators of the genocide somehow manage to weaponize them? There are so many more questions she could ask, and yet Edelgard feels as though bringing them out now would not be appropriate. The runes Edelgard has been studying were written by people. Living, breathing people who loved and hated and destroyed and created just as much as any person in the modern day would.

They let it grow quiet in the lab for a moment, the utter humanity of that person’s final prayer seeping into the air. 

“There were a lot more than three crests,” Rhea says eventually, “much, much more than three. There was one for every Nabatean alive. Every child, and their children, and their children’s children–a crest is the manifestation of their soul. It is tied inherently to the other form we take: the word ‘dragon’ that we use now comes from our word for ‘soul’. To show another person one’s crest, nay, to gift it to them– is one of the most intimate acts of trust a Nabatean could do.”

Rhea raises her hand out and a brilliant light bursts above it. There, Edelgard sees before her the purest form of the Hresvelg crest she had ever seen in her life. At the revelation, Edelgard gasps.

“The Hresvelg crest, you…”

“Many lifetimes ago, I gifted my crest to a man I held in such high regard that he was almost family to me. His name was Wilhelm, and his descendants to this day carry my trust within them. When you told me that the Hresvelg name had grown to be tainted with corruption, I…”

Edelgard finishes the thought for Rhea. “It was the ultimate betrayal of your trust.”

Rhea nods without a word. She puts her hand down, and the Hresvelg–no, Rhea’s crest–disappears with it. 

Unprompted, Edelgard raises her hand in the same way, checking to see if anything would come out, but nothing does. Something like disappointment hits her.

“Oh,” Edelgard whispers. “It’s even died out literally.”

“I suppose it’s been too many generations since,” says Rhea with a tinge of wistfulness in her remark. 

They both look at Edelgard’s outstretched hand silently, even knowing that nothing has happened nor will happen, the bitter hope lies open. It takes another moment before Edelgard opens her mouth, a pure look of concentration on her face. “You say that it was an intimate act of trust to give one’s crest. An offering of one’s soul, you could say.”

“Yes, but I don’t understand what–”

Edelgard looks at Rhea then, hoping to Sothis that she might catch her meaning. “I may not be Wilhelm, and it’s only been weeks, but I feel like we’ve gone through so much together. It’s like I’ve known you my entire life, at this point.”

“Edelgard…” Rhea utters, verdant green eyes shining with understanding. “I trust you.”

Rhea takes Edelgard’s left hand in hers as Edelgard raises the right. Rhea is warm. Her warmth spreads into Edelgard’s palms, and it is as though Edelgard is holding pure light.

“Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Do not think of anything else. I want you to search inside of you for a light, a power, anything like it: that is your will. Your will is magic.”

Edelgard frowns, not knowing what ‘search inside of you for a light’ is supposed to mean in practice, but follows Rhea’s instruction to the best of her ability anyway. Surprisingly, if Edelgard focuses hard enough… she does feel something. An energy. There couldn’t be any scientific explanation to it, except maybe a placebo. But a placebo can’t possibly make her feel powerful .

“That hidden power inside you, focus on it. Bring it to the forefront of your mind. Let it flow through your veins and into your heart. It will manifest for us to see if it is strong enough.”

Something suddenly clicks in Edelgard’s mind, and she opens her eyes. A flickering light flashes above Edelgard’s palm–there lies undeniable proof that Rhea’s gift still flows in Edelgard’s veins, generations after the fact. Smaller and fainter than Rhea’s it may be, it is still a perfect match for the very essence of Rhea’s being.

“It’s still here,” Edelgard mutters, eyes wide with disbelief even with the absolute proof standing right before their sights. “I still have it in me.”

Rhea’s crest glows dimly, flickering in the air like a worn old connection, but there atop Edelgard’s palm it stays. Edelgard glances at Rhea, stunned to see the look on her face. If Edelgard was in disbelief, Rhea was absolutely astounded with relief.

“Even after all this time,” Rhea whispers, her eyes glazing with unshed tears. “I thought I would be the only remnant of the past.”

“But you’re not, Rhea. I have a part of you within me.” Edelgard just smiles at her. “I trust you.”

Their hands touch, and their gazes meet, and in Edelgard’s vibrant stare does Rhea see the lilac eyes of the emperor who freed her–not Wilhelm, but the emperor who foolishly threw her life away for conquest and unification…

Edelgard looks at their hands entwined, then back at Rhea.

“It… it feels like I’ve met you before. Or that I was fated–doomed to meet you from the start.”

“Perhaps you were, miss von Hresvelg,” Rhea replies, the lump in her throat being the one thing stopping her from breaking down at the thought of her emperor. “Fate has a funny way of putting things into perspective. I can never be rid of you, it seems.”

Edelgard frowns, in confusion and what could only be hurt. “Do you want to? Be rid of me, I mean.”

“Never. You–you are a cherished companion. A friend, if I may be so bold.”

A quiet moment passes between them. Their breathing is all that could be heard in the empty lab. Edelgard pulls her hand away. The crest fades off from the disconnect.

“Tell me more about your native tongue. Give me a sentence.”

The words spill out of Rhea’s mouth without a second thought:

Wo rom lamthei ereiya

And before Edelgard could ask what any of that means, Rhea has already bolted out of the room, leaving her to wonder on her lonesome.

It’s almost three hours later. Edelgard slams the door to her apartment open. 

“What the hell was that for?!”

Rhea is splayed on the couch watching her trashy A-Dramas again as if nothing happened between them at the lab. As if she hadn’t bore her heart out to Edelgard, lamented the tragedies of her people, overturned everything Edelgard knows about the very phenomenon she was enticed to enter archaeology for in the first place. 

“What was what for? Have you been updated on Marry My Wife? I can’t believe Farah would do that to her own best friend!”

Edelgard scowls as she stomps her way inside and drops their takeout dinner onto the dining table. She grabs the TV remote from beside Rhea and turns it off, cutting Rhea out of the climax of today’s episode. 

“You are incorrigible!” 

“And you are so incredibly rude! It was getting to the good part!”

“Me? Rude? Weren’t you the one who booked it after spewing out random shit at me in a dead language I have no context for?”

Rhea loses her momentum. She falters, and it’s making Edelgard feel weird. Rhea looks away with a reddened face. Her voice is uncharacteristically small.

“It would be infinitely more rude of you to call what I said ‘random shit’ than it would be for me to… leave you to contemplate the meaning.”

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose. “Maybe if you explained yourself, I wouldn’t have to call it random shit–”

Her train of thought is stopped by the feeling of something metallic and polished being shoved into her hand. Multiple somethings. She opens her palm, and there are rings and studs and bracelets and coins spilling out. When she looks up, Rhea has ran off again, this time to bury her face into one of the pillows on their bed so she could whine into it.

“By Mother’s grace, what is the matter with me?” Edelgard could faintly make out Rhea shouting into the pillow.

“I want to know that, too,” Edelgard mumbles to herself. To her surprise, she finds herself pocketing Rhea’s random crap this time instead of tossing them or shoving them into a drawer where they couldn’t annoy her. “You know what? Let’s just drop it for tonight, I’m hungry.”

“It would make my day if you would forget everything that has transpired,” says Rhea as she pulls her face out of the pillow.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” Edelgard says back. 

Dinner that night gets awkward. Edelgard briefly questions if they’ve crossed some unspoken point of no return. 

When she wakes up the following morning with a crown of white lilies weaved into her hair, she knows for a fact that they did. And she could no longer bury the strange feelings blooming in her chest.

Chapter Text

Rhea wakes up the next morning with the overwhelming, inexplicable urge to disappear. 

Yesterday felt like she was caught up in a tornado of emotions. No, not just yesterday–the past week has been an entire hurricane of events, and she is firmly caught up in the storm. Yet another failed attempt at connecting with her family, sudden gainful employment after a much-needed workout, and then, and then…

Edelgard had unintentionally helped her unravel her feelings about her people, her past. How long has it been since she was able to express her Nabatean heritage to this extent?

Rhea doesn’t remember.

Rhea looks to Edelgard beside her, still asleep. She seems so at peace, with her entire body loose and free from all mundane stress, and her face not scrunched up with overthinking. Rhea frowns at this. For someone so young, acting like the weight of the world has been thrust on her shoulders, Edelgard always seemed so lonely.

How fascinating that even underneath all that ambition and obstinate passion for her own goals, Edelgard is still just a human. One with complex emotions, wants and desires, and yet Rhea can see how the younger woman has a hard time suppressing those needs. Edelgard always presents herself as an independent and assertive woman in front of Rhea, but she can still see through the cracks.

How could Rhea not see the yearning on Edelgard’s face when she looks at her phone, each and every time it rings with a notification, only to be met with disappointment? Or how sometimes, during their rare moments of silence when Edelgard is busy with schoolwork and Rhea is busy watching her television, that Edelgard would unknowingly pause and stare into nothing? How could Rhea not see how much the look on Edelgard’s face mirrored her own when she thinks about her own family?

She glances at their hands, unconsciously reaching towards the other side in their sleep, towards each other. Even upon waking, she finds it ridiculous how she finds that their bodies are poised as if always looking for the other. In a bed so small just enough to fit the both of them? Her lips curl in a small smile.

Did Edelgard know how much yesterday meant to her?

It has been ages since she has opened herself up to another person. Rhea can’t even remember when the last time was that she had let herself be so vulnerable; nor with whom, for that matter. It felt so unnerving, like every fiber of her being was pried open and under inspection. And to say nothing of the utter admiration and reverence Edelgard regarded her with as their crests harmonized…

Edelgard said she trusts her. She could never be rid of Edelgard, nor does Edelgard want to be. This all-encompassing intimate admission between them sent Rhea into a spiral, to the point of recursion, and she could not stop herself from thinking about it over and over and over until her heart bursts out of her chest.

And this is how it feels. Her heart throbs like it had never known elation before this, and her hands tremble with an unshakeable need to hold.

Hold what?

Rhea doesn’t know— no , she doesn’t not know, but Rhea also doesn’t want to answer that.

Carefully getting up from the bed, verdant green eyes scan the room. A collection of fresh white lilies sits beautifully on Edelgard’s bedside table, right next to several recently acquired shiny trinkets of rings and coins.

Without looking, Rhea knows that there are more scattered flowers lying about the apartment, and more of her gifts interspersed with her dear friend’s own belongings. An armored bear perches comfortably on the coffee table in their living room next to the first vase of flowers Rhea had filled. And then there is the framed… sock on the wall facing the bathroom. Yet another bouquet of flowers sits beside the multiple assortment of trophies and medals from Edelgard’s younger years.

Edelgard may not have shared too much about her personal history before Rhea came crashing into her life, but the reminders of a time before remain evident. More objects catch Rhea’s eye: impractical tourist souvenirs, most likely from Almyra (if judging by the intricate design and colors), a framed sketched artwork signed by one ‘Bernadetta’, stacks of smaller plushies next to Edelgard’s bookshelf, and other knick knacks Rhea couldn’t comprehend.

It is an art exhibit of a life well lived. A life well lived before Rhea showed up and suddenly sent Edelgard’s life tumbling upside down.

Rhea’s smile falters before ultimately disappearing.

How could she forget?

Rhea is not an idiot. She understands why she’s been behaving like this, leaving Edelgard with gifts and trinkets. It’s not a simple act of gratitude, and nor does she do it out of mere friendship. People like her don’t just give up their hoards for anyone. It’s a sign of the bond she’d formed with Edelgard all throughout their time together. They have something together. Yet all Rhea sees are the haunting reminders of what she doesn’t have: loved ones she could always, no matter what, come back to.

She stands silent in the middle of the room. Her eyes roam over each and every thing until they settle on the sleeping face of her host. Her sight glazes over the flowers Edelgard placed on the table beside them, and Rhea slowly, gently, lifts a piece.

“Edelgard,” Rhea whispers, “do you know why the sun always sets in the west?”

Delicately, she begins weaving, crowning her favorite flower into locks of light blonde hair. She promises herself: this will be the last time she allows herself to indulge her selfish desires.

As someone who doesn’t deserve another chance at happiness, this will be her last act of comfort. The last piece of joy she will allow herself. For the world will always revolve around the sun, never around ourselves, and time will never yield to anyone. Every time Rhea has shied away from that truth, it only came back to ruin her. Rhea will only ruin every little good thing life throws at her.

Edelgard does not deserve this. She does not deserve this. She does not deserve Edelgard, and Edelgard does not deserve to be cursed with a woman like her. Rhea needs to be reminded of it. These past months have been like a dream to her. Despite their constant bickering and disagreement, Rhea has never felt so seen, so understood. So not alone. But like any other dream, she needs to wake up. And she will wake up alone.

Rhea will only encroach in Edelgard’s life. The Hresvelg girl has many more years to discover and live out, more potential for love. Being by her side will only pull her down. What more can Rhea add to Edelgard’s life that isn’t emotional baggage and problems? Nothing, maybe.

She thought she could hide away by pretending everything is alright, like nothing happened, but that can never be any further from the truth. The Assal brothers only reminded her of that very fact. The truth of the present. 

Only one more person can remind her of what she truly deserved, the one person who never pulled his punches when it comes to her. Maybe he’ll be able to tell her, make her remember just what exactly she deserves after all that she has done. He had always stuck to his principles, for better or for worse, and Rhea respects that. He does not forgive, and does not forget. He will help her remember.

A lone tear drops on a white petal. Mother’s words echo in Rhea’s mind like the ghosts that follow her:

The sun sets in the west so that we’re always reminded to never look back.

And Rhea puts the last flower into Edelgard’s hair. She doesn’t look back.

Edelgard looks at herself in the mirror, lilies weaved and braided into the strands of her hair like fabric. She inspects the crown of flowers: half of them still in their pristine condition, half crumpled up and flattened in her sleep. It surprised her awake to catch the strong whiff of a sweet, floral fragrance, only to find the source of the scent decorating her head. Looking at them now–despite their creased and deformed carpels–brings an elegant visage to Edelgard’s otherwise rather haggard look.

Probing fingers brush against the smooth texture of a petal, mindfully pinching it between her index and thumb as Edelgard twists her head to the side and watches herself in the mirror. Edelgard admires the way its pale color matches perfectly with her dyed hair, accenting her lilac eyes even more. Dare she say it, Rhea was right. They look pretty on her.

Her pulse quickens, and she tries in vain to fend off the growing flush against her skin. What could Rhea have been thinking when she decided to do all that? Not to mention that whole moment they had yesterday in the lab: she remembers how deeply intimate it was, only realizing in the present moment just how close they were to each other. Edelgard remembers how it felt to hold Rhea’s hand in hers. Warm. Comfortable. Familiar.

It felt right.

Rhea… 

She shakes her head at the thought, as careful fingers start to gently remove the white lilies one by one.

Edelgard doesn’t know what to make of the woman as of late. To say that yesterday was nothing to her would be an abject lie. Not only that, but the way Rhea brushed off the whole incident completely blindsided her. It unsettled her.

It hurt her.

Just one last white lily to remove now. Her hands begin to reach up to pluck it off from its perch, tucked in neatly right behind her ear.

She pauses, staring at it in the mirror. Its vibrant white is a beacon of light through the dim, uncertain thoughts running through her head.

Edelgard isn’t dumb. She isn’t blind to the way her chest flutters with unspeakable feelings whenever Rhea does anything for her. She knows by heart now just how strange Rhea can be, even without anyone telling her. All the flowers and the shiny things lying around all over her apartment is the most evident proof of that. Rhea is eccentric and stubborn to a fault, always arguing with her over mundane things, but she is like a sentinel: she’s always there even without Edelgard needing to ask for it.

The logical part in her mind tells Edelgard not to think too deeply about it. Edelgard knows that it will only cause her more problems than it should, but she can’t ignore it any longer.

So much has happened over the course of just these few months, almost but not quite half a year, and Edelgard still finds herself surprised at how time flies by so fast. It only felt like yesterday she just dug up the long lived Nabatean from her tomb.

Now she finds out that she has Rhea’s soul flowing through her veins, forever connected to her through lifetimes.

How could she ignore these budding feelings when everything is pointing in that direction?

You still have the lily on? Edelgard remembers how light and cheery Rhea’s laughter was when she flustered herself over the lily. She remembers warmth flushing through her at the sound. Rhea looked so happy.

Edelgard leaves one on.

After finishing her shower and dressing up, Edelgard steps out into her living room only to realize just how silent the entire apartment is. There is a distinct lack of Rhea being odd or stupidly sexy or watching her televised drama shows. She checks their kitchen. No one’s there. She checks the rooftop for any hopeful sign of a sunbathing ancient dragon. Nope. She checks the bathroom and finds it with the lights turned off, and obviously with no sign of Rhea.

Edelgard deflates at the thought of not having breakfast with her. Having the first and last meal of the day together has been their everyday routine–ritual, even. It felt nice to have a routine with a friend again.

Suddenly, she feels her phone beep in her pocket. As soon as it happens, Edelgard picks it up and checks the name in the notification, a mix of anxiety and anticipation fueling her. 

lizard bitch

That… no longer sits well with her. The way her heart raced for a moment as she realized who the text was from sits in stark contrast to the name she’d given that person, back when she was more a nuisance to Edelgard than a… than a very good friend . It would be disingenuous if she kept Rhea’s contact like that on her phone, considering the personal revelations she’d been having this fine morning. Before reading Rhea’s message, she opens the contacts app and makes sure to change the name to something more appropriate:

rhea <3 

Wait, no, goddess, nope. Too forward. She’ll never be that honest with herself about her feelings.

✨ rhea ✨

Better. Probably. Now she lets herself read Rhea’s text:

I’ll be off to work. Don’t wait for me.

Oh. Of course. She almost forgot that Rhea has a paying job now. Edelgard looks squarely on the text, thumbs posed to make a response. She might be overthinking it, but rereading Rhea’s message leaves a bad taste in her mouth. For all her irritating habits, Rhea always makes it a point to wait for her in the morning before proceeding to do whatever she does outside their apartment.

She couldn’t help but think to herself: was yesterday really too much for Rhea to handle?

As sudden as her prior burst of energy, Edelgard feels a sudden churn in her stomach and her throat choke at the thought, her breathing going short. Her eyes slightly twitch and blur as she tries to conjure a reply but finds nothing. Should she, even? They went through so much already and Edelgard feels like they’re already running towards a precipice she doesn’t want to fall off from.

Damn it.

Okay. Take care.

With a heavy sigh, Edelgard puts away her phone and looks around at her empty apartment. It is eerily similar to the way the feeling her chest is right now, achingly vacant. Who knew that having someone around for so long would make their absence even more striking?

She bitterly scoffs at herself. Oh, Edelgard. How could you forget?

You haven’t felt this lonely ever since Rhea appeared, haven’t you?

Edelgard shakes her head at the intrusive thought. No! How could she think like that right now? She still has more important things to worry about…

Like her thesis!

With her mind made up, Edelgard gathers her research articles, transcripts, and books. Along with her laptop, she drops them all on the dining table. Surely, with the latest revelations yesterday, Edelgard could come up with something in no time.

As she sat down and opened her docs file for her woefully empty manuscript, Edelgard could barely formulate a coherent sentence as a voice she’d been sorely missing echoes in her mind.

Wo rom lamthei ereiya…

The foreign words play in her head like a broken record play. Even in her absence, Rhea manages to invade her thoughts. She closes her eyes and breathes out another sigh. How will she be able to do her thesis now without Rhea’s knowledge? She fixes her posture as she stares long and hard at the transcripts, hoping to decode their messages, but alas. Her mind floats elsewhere.

Unconsciously, her hand reaches for the white lily tucked behind her ear and strokes at the smooth petals.

Another minute or so passes by without any sign of productivity on her part, and Edelgard knows when she’s defeated. Reluctantly she puts away her laptop, saving her docs before shutting it down, as she picks up several of the photocopied transcripts and facsimiles her professor allowed her to have. Edelgard checks the time and finds out that it’s not even past 11.

She gasps at the time. Edelgard could not believe how much the time had passed compared to her lack of productivity! How ironic it is that when an important research breakthrough finally happens in her work that her motivation decides to drop. Grumbling, Edelgard stretches against her backrest.

Damn you, Rhea, for being so impulsive! Damn you for showing me something so world-changing only for you to run away! Damn you!

“Okay! You win,” Edelgard says out loud to no one in particular. She gathers her valuables and heads straight towards one other person who might hopefully be of help with her thesis.

To be fair to Dean Seteth, once you get past his stern, eternally exhausted exterior, he’s actually quite approachable. Edelgard has never known him to turn away a student from his office, even when they consult him without prior notice. Entering his office without the dread of witnessing someone else’s family drama is a zen experience: the warm smell of his tea mixing with the scent of his personal library is inviting. 

“Ah, miss von Hresvelg,” the dean smiles, despite the weariness visibly weighing his body. “What brings you to my office this fine morning?”

“Good morning, Sir. My apologies for coming in unannounced,” Edelgard says with a slight bow. “I wanted to consult with you about my thesis.”

Dean Seteth’s eyebrows raise. “Your thesis? I’m not quite sure what advice you could possibly get from a professor of literature.”

Edelgard pulls out some of the rune facsimiles she’d been studying and hands them over to the dean to inspect. “Actually, Sir, I’d like to consult with you as a Nabatean, not as a member of the faculty. On the off chance that these runes look familiar to you…”

She pauses to allow Dean Seteth to read the runes. He puts on his reading glasses and brings one of the facsimiles closer to his eyes. Edelgard watches his face go from confusion to vague recall to frustration and then, finally, insight.

“They do. I must warn you, however, that my recall of the language this script represents is shaky at best nowadays.”

“That’s alright, Sir. I was hoping that you could teach me how the script works, at the very least.”

Dean Seteth takes a sip out of his cup of four-spice blend and gestures to the chair in front of his desk. “Make yourself comfortable, Edelgard. That, I could certainly help you with.”

The writing system of the ancient Nabateans turns out to be what’s called an abugida –each rune is a consonant with diacritics to denote vowels. While the language itself is incomprehensible to Edelgard without Rhea’s help (Dean Seteth can only point out some words he can recall), learning the script is relatively easy. 

“Hm. Let me try something,” Edelgard says, and begins to write down the syllables that have been floating around her mind since yesterday. “ Wo … rom … lam –these go together if they’re part of the same word, right?”

She finishes writing and hands the paper over to the dean, whose eyes widen at the sentence Edelgard had written down.

“How do you know this line? Did Rhea tell you this?” He raises an eyebrow at her and Edelgard suddenly feels self-conscious. She glances away from his curious gaze, and settles on the script she had written down. Her intrigue only worsened with each new non-answer that presented itself.

She answered in a soft voice, unsure at the implication. “Yes, she did yesterday.”

Edelgard sees the Dean open his mouth for possibly another question but she cuts him off before he could even voice it. Somehow, she feels the need to clarify further. “She ran away before she could explain herself and I couldn’t ask her today.”

For some reason, this stumps Dean Seteth. “Where is she right now, if I may ask?”

“She’s off at her part-time job.” The eyebrows on Dean Seteth’s face raise even higher, surprise painting his visage. “I brought her to the gym I workout at, and the trainer really liked her.”

“I see,” he hums out, and Dean Seteth must have seen something in her face, read something that Edelgard could not see nor know, because he reaches for the pen and paper.

Wordlessly, the dean writes down the meaning of each word under Edelgard’s writing:

Is/are (be-verb, present) - you (second-person pronoun, singular) - home-spirit (blend word: lakom + thei) - mine (first-person dependent possessive pronoun, singular)

Edelgard stops breathing. Dean Seteth’s notes are, predictably, more meticulous than Rhea’s, but her eyes gloss over the technicalities to focus on the semantics. 

HOME-SPIRIT

Just as Edelgard is about to overthink the possibilities of Rhea’s meaning, Dean Seteth takes a deep breath before explaining.

“It means ‘you are my spirit’s home’, or perhaps more eloquently, ‘my soul is at home in you’. You cannot begin to imagine what an intimate phrase this is that Rhea has told you, Edelgard. It is one of the few things I can remember most clearly about the Nabata language.”

The dean’s eyes drift to the lone lily in Edelgard’s hair. 

“Tell me, Edelgard, how is the state of your apartment?”

Edelgard tilts her head.

“Uh, in what sense? What does that have to do with this?”

Dean Seteth continues to stare at the lily.

“It has everything to do with the sentence you’ve just written down. Have you more of these flowers lying around? Perhaps she’s given you miscellaneous lost jewelry and other lustrous objects?”

Edelgard’s eyes widen and her mouth opens slowly as she realizes what he’s referring to. "...I think the only other times I've been surrounded by so many flowers have been at funerals. I uh, also have a box full of shiny junk that she keeps leaving lying around. Some of it I could possibly pawn off, some of it making me wonder if Rhea ever goes dumpster diving."

"And your thoughts on this? On Rhea?"

Now, Edelgard is back here again. She came here to work on her thesis, but it has never been that since the start of the day, hasn’t it? From the very moment Rhea uttered those words to her yesterday, their whole dynamic has somehow shifted, and Edelgard doesn’t know what to make of it. Perhaps learning the actual meaning of the words would have helped, but what does it exactly mean when put into context?

At this point, Edelgard has no words. Or she doesn’t know how to exactly answer a simple question, because what exactly does she think of Rhea?

“I care for her,” she answers lamely, and because the Dean gives her an unimpressed look, Edelgard stumbles forward. “Rhea is… a myriad of problems, a thorn in my side, and I have never been so aggravated my whole life. I’ve never met anyone as completely pigheaded and childish as her. She makes me want to pull at my hair and pummel her so badly. She leaves her crap lying about at our apartment and always picks fights with me. Rhea annoys me so much.” 

She pauses.

“But goddess, I do not regret digging up that tomb and meeting her.”

The dean takes a moment to absorb everything Edelgard had said, closing his eyes and humming in thought. 

“I suppose we should be grateful that meeting you has allowed Rhea to experience a normal life again.”

He opens his eyes and looks at Edelgard. 

“There is something important you must know about full-blooded or nearly full-blooded Nabateans. Perhaps you may have heard of dragons amassing a hoard of treasure in fables and fairy tales?”

“Yes…? Where are you going with this sir, if I may ask?” Edelgard may have an inkling of where this is going, but still…

“Has it occurred to you that that is precisely what Rhea has been doing to your apartment? Amassing a hoard of things she values and leaving them to pile up where she keeps herself at home?”

“H–home?”

“I will be frank with you, Edelgard. Nabateans collect things they find interesting or valuable to them. Doctor Eisner, as you may already know, tends to hoard foodstuffs to fling at people as opposed to sharing them like a typical person would. I, myself, enjoy collecting books. You are standing in my hoard as we speak.” He gestures to his office.

Edelgard takes a moment to let the vastness of Dean Seteth’s personal library really sink in. She wouldn’t be surprised if this office alone took up a fifth of the actual UGM library’s collection.

“Rhea hoards… shiny things and lilies, then?” 

“And she freely shares these things with you, yes. You should know that a dragon’s hoard is the second most precious thing in the world to them, and is zealously guarded except to share with what is the most precious thing to a dragon: their loved ones.”

Edelgard shuts down. No. Not happening. 

“That’s a joke, right? Or maybe she’s just desperate and lonely?” Yes, that must be it. There could be no other explanation for it. Yet, Edelgard feels the tight coil in her gut as she speaks.

Dean Seteth shrugs. “What constitutes a ‘loved one’ varies from person to person, as it would for anyone else. Doctor Eisner has a fondness for her students, and so I apologize that you have had to fall victim to her projectile biscuits and chocolates from time to time.”

It doesn’t matter. Edelgard is too busy. Shut. Shutting down. To really mind all the snacks lobbed at her by her mentor.

“I. I see. I see, sir. Yes. Thank you. For explaining this to me.” She thanks him, but her ears are ringing with this new discovery. Edelgard suddenly sees herself out of her body, mind slowly numbing from the inside as she nods.

"Well, is that all, Edelgard?" Dean Seteth’s voice further shakes her out of her thoughts. Just as stunned as she is mentally, she shrugs off the flashbomb of a revelation. Time and place, Edelgard. 

She allows herself a moment to think. Looking away to a corner, Edelgard raises a feeble finger and asks:

"Sir, if I may ask, why is your family so ambivalent towards Rhea?"

Dean Seteth takes a deep breath and holds it in, closing his eyes before he lets it out slowly.

"The last time we saw Rhea, she... did something unimaginable. I understand that she was not of sound mind when it occurred, and yet..."

When his eyes open again, Edelgard could see them clouded over in a storm of emotions.

"Had she not done what she did, Sitri would not be so frail, and I would not have lost my daughter for nearly nine hundred years."

Edelgard’s only reply is silence. The way the dean’s body hunches over as he says it–clearly, it still takes its toll on him, even as Flayn is alive and well at present. She recalls the day Flayn Assal first enrolled into their year level in junior high school; at the time, it was said that she was in coma for a few decades. That was already unimaginable to Edelgard… what more nine centuries?

“I hold no grudge against Rhea,” the dean continues, “and I do my best to treat her normally when I could, although I will not excuse my behavior when she first returned. However, I…”

He shakes his head.

“I simply cannot help but remain apprehensive, to a certain degree. There remains a primal fear in me that something may happen again, especially to Flayn. I do not think I will be able to put the matter to rest until she has truly allowed change and healing to mend her relationships with us and with herself.”

That leaves Edelgard with an endless barrage of burning questions she’ll have to bury at the back of her mind. The more she pieces together what happened with Rhea, the more confused and concerned she ends up being. She leaves the dean’s office deep in thought, and when the threat of drowning in her musings gets to her, she decides to shake off everything else on her mind and focus on getting her manuscript written down.

There’s a room in the UGM Main Building that more or less acts like a coffee shop without the coffee, in that a coffee shop provides you with a space to jam your earphones in and slave away at your laptop while it’s plugged into the wall. As a result, the student body calls it Moonnnote, after the actual coffee shop chain. Most of the time, Moonnote is full of undergrads who are hogging the wall sockets so they can scroll endlessly on Extragram or that accursed clock app. But right now, it’s just Edelgard and like, two or three other graduate students lost deep in their paper writing. She may have heard the door open, so make that three or four. She’s pretty sure it’s another older student; were it an undergrad, she’d be hearing incessant snickering by now.

She rereads her revised research title for what seems like the seven millionth time: 

“Like animals we were hunted, like dragons we became fables”: deciphering the language of the Nabatean Zanado culture

It’s snappy. Evocative. Inspiring. Or it should be. Edelgard has hit a roadblock in her writing. For the past twenty-five minutes, she’d been staring at the Gargoyle Docs copy of her manuscript. Even with the decoded script beside her, Professor Eisner’s comments peppering the document, and a meticulously laid out outline taunting her, she simply can’t find the right words to propel her work forward. 

And then her phone buzzes. Someone’s calling. When was the last time someone called her?

(It was Petra, all those months ago, when Rhea decided to park her reptilian ass on the rooftop.)

The caller ID says it’s mom. Should she go out of the room to avoid disturbing the other people? Maybe not? It might just be a quick check-up as usual. She swipes the answer call button.

“Hey, mom. What’s up?”

“El! I missed hearing your beautiful voice. I’m just checking on you–I haven’t seen any new posts from you lately.”

And oh, how Edelgard has missed hearing her mother in return. She tries to keep her voice down out of respect for the rest of the people in the not-coffee shop room. 

“I’m okay, mom. Don’t worry about me. There’s just nothing new or exciting happening to me at the moment.” 

Edelgard could hear, distantly in the audio, her stepdad from across what is probably the living room. “Nothing new or exciting? Dragons are old hat, El?” 

Ah. Mom’s on speaker phone, as all parents are wont to be. It’s–when was the last time she talked to them both? Summer semester? Goddess, she missed them. Misses home.

“Hi, dad. They definitely are. I don’t even know where to begin with that.”

“Well, let us know when you figure it out, kiddo,” he says. Edelgard can hear him come closer to the receiver on mom’s phone. “All we’ve been going by is that article in the school paper. We know you’re busy, El, but we just want to know how you’re doing. Do the days… dragon?”

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose while dad laughs at his own joke. She could practically see mom shaking her head, as exasperated as her daughter is at the awful pun. She hears an oof! over the line, most probably dad getting elbowed for the audacity.

“That was terrible, Lambert. You’re on dinner duty just for that,” mom says. Edelgard could hear dad’s disappointed grumbling receding into the background. “But your dad is right, El. We haven’t heard from you at all for months! We were worried you were angry at us–”

“–Not at all, mom!” Edelgard interjects with a harsh, hushed tone. Her eyes dart across the room behind her to make sure she isn’t being too loud. “Goddess, I’m so sorry, I’d never be mad at you. I’ve been losing track of the days, I didn’t realize.” 

There’s a pause between her and her mother, accented by the soft hiss of cellular interference. 

“You should let us know, El, if things are getting too hectic, or if there’s something bothering you. We’re here if you need us, dear. You have friends and family who care.”

A lump forms in Edelgard’s throat. She swallows it.

“…I know, mom. Thanks.”

“Really, El. I know how much pressure you’re putting on yourself. Your dad and I talked, we might be able to cover–”

“I already have the… the scholarship, mom. You know that.”

Her mother falls into a tense silence. Edelgard tightens her grip on her phone. She looks at her empty manuscript again.

A full-ride scholarship from the Adrestian Scholars’ Fund , sponsored by who else? The Hresvelg family. To qualify for a grant from the ASF, one must: maintain summa cum laude standing in your choice of degree program, have an extensive history of student-leadership, and be a lifelong resident of the province of Adrestia.

Edelgard has not lived in Adrestia for decades. That she has a grant from the ASF is, without question, the product of nepotism from her dearly estranged biological father. Ever since Edelgard’s mom divorced the man and kept Edelgard well away from him, he had never made any attempt to be a presence in her life until an e-mail from his office made its way into Edelgard’s inbox, shortly after she’d started her graduate studies. Edelgard wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and yet… you really do have to wonder what was going on in Governor von Hresvelg’s mind, suddenly giving a shit about one of his many, many children after all these years.

Edelgard’s mother sighs over the phone call.

“…I know, El. I’m sorry. I know it’s your choice. I just don’t know if it’s the paranoia creeping up on me again, but I’d hate for that man to pull the rug out from under you like he always did to me…”

 “I won’t let that happen, mom. I promise. If that man does anything to me, he’ll have to speak to my lawyer.”

The ghost of a smile falls upon Edelgard for a brief moment. The joke is that she doesn’t have a lawyer, but she has elder sibling privileges and can boss her law student stepbrother around to stand in for one. It’s an old family inside joke, but one that rings less humorously to Edelgard now than it does bittersweetly. 

“Are you two finally on good terms again?” Edelgard’s mom asks. “I hate to see you two so torn apart.”

Edelgard takes in a sharp breath.

“He messaged me on the day of the dragon fiasco. Not much, because he’s too busy with law, but it’s a start.” In a moment, too sheepish to speak any more on the matter, Edelgard decides to end the conversation. “I gotta go now, mom. Sorry. I really need to work on my manuscript. Love you, bye.”

She hangs up without letting her mother put in another word. What an ass you’ve become, von Hresvelg. Real classy doing that to your own mom. She pulls out her earphones because the room is starting to feel stuffy and claustrophobic over one little talk to remind her of how isolated she’d become. She can’t even focus on her manuscript–she needs to breathe for a bit. Turning away from her laptop and phone, Edelgard rests her head on the backrest of her chair and stares into thin air.

…Or what would have been thin air, were it not for the man blocking her line of sight, standing deathly still in place.

She doesn’t need to look up to see who it is. Her eyes widened enough at the sight of his familiar, beat-up sneakers, which he’d been wearing almost religiously since their junior high days. He’s frozen in place in front of her, as if he bore witness to Edelgard’s miniature crisis unfolding over phone call–and he probably has. And that makes Edelgard freeze in place much in the same way he does, as she realizes that he knows her like the back of his hand and could piece together the pressures bearing down on her, self-inflicted and otherwise and–

When Edelgard makes the mistake of looking up at him, just to see his stupid little face again, she’s ready to bolt. She shoves all her belongings into her backpack and darts out of Moonnote, fast enough to forget that Claude was ever there. Fast enough to erase the look on his face. The sympathy. The guilt. The way his mouth was slightly ajar, as if hanging on the precipice of saying something. Edelgard runs from her past, runs from her family, runs from everything that hurts too much to confront, and finds herself back at her apartment, chest heaving from exhaustion of every variety.

There’s a growing part of Edelgard that wishes to see Rhea back home, to have to put up with the way that living fossil of a woman makes her go insane in all the good ways and the bad ways, if only to ground herself back into the present. It’s something Edelgard only realizes now–with Rhea, she’s always forced to live in the now. With Rhea, there’s never any time for Edelgard to ruminate and wallow in her pitifulness, and too much going on for her to try and just bury herself wholly into productivity to feel numb. The shitty dinners together, the sappy A-Dramas, the trinkets Rhea had amassed dotting the entire apartment–the things they share together. Edelgard shares something with someone again. Even the bickering. Goddess, she’d bicker with that woman every day of her life if it meant always remembering what it felt like to belong. She wants to share the moment with Rhea, needs to share the moment with her, because Rhea is not a walking reminder of what Edelgard once had or who she used to be. Rhea is what Edelgard has and who knows Edelgard as she is .

But no one is home. The dining area is spotless, the TV is turned off, and no new trinkets are laying around the house for Edelgard to admonish Rhea over for ‘leaving her trash around’.

Defeated, Edelgard shuffles over to the bed and collapses, phone in hand while her arm dangles off the edge of the bed. 

What is the functional definition of doomscrolling? Is it just inundating yourself with shitty news and shitty posts from shitty people? Or does it also include the mindless scrolling through social media that one does when they are too emotionally spent to do anything more productive with their time? Edelgard, in her mind, counts the latter as doomscrolling because she comes out of it feeling just as awful as she does whenever she does the former. Edelgard lies in bed doomscrolling until she’s fit enough to put on her mask of aloofness again.

Her ‘favorite’ app for this purpose is, without a doubt, Chatter, because there is no better place to soak in negativity than the world’s most volatile social media platform. Armed conflict in Dagda, this and that celebrity getting canceled, filthy politicians spewing garbage that people eat up (she pointedly ignores anything coming from Adrestia), Hubert moving to Morfis… 

…Hubert moving to Morfis?

What.

H.V. @hubertvvestra 

Not sure if Morfis is the right choice for me. But if I pass on the opportunity, it will be an even bigger regret.

She. Almost forgot about Hubert. How could she? He was her partner in crime. Was. Goddess, he was . They still care about each other deeply, but it cannot be ignored that they’ve drifted over the years for a reason. Nothing dramatic or hurtful; they’ve just grown up into two very different people and… simply no longer slot into each others’ lives all that well. And now he’s moving to another country. It’s the final nail in the coffin and Edelgard isn’t ready to mourn this friendship just yet.

For the first time in what seems to be ages, Edelgard makes the first move and DMs him:

H.V.

You’re moving to Morfis??

How when why I am so lost.

In your defense, it has been something I have been

keeping to myself for some time. Forgive me.

I received a job offer that could change the direction

of my life if it all goes well.

Damn. Idk what to say except congrats.

So suddenly though?

Precisely why I was hesitant to tell anyone.

Yea, I get it.

It’s just

I need to process this rn. 

Do you plan on visiting home often?

You do remember what ‘home’ I have to return to

in Fodlan, correct? While I lament the fact that I 

will likely not see you all much, I feel that further

preventing my blood kin from interacting with me

could only bring me more peace of mind.

Shit. right. Sorry. You cut them off so well

I almost forgot they were even in your life.

Do you still have time to hang out before you go?

It pains me to say this, but I do not.

I know we haven’t really been in each others lives much

but youre still one of my best friends and I can’t

really imagine you not being around.

That sucks. That sucks so fucking much,

I can say the same of you. Though our 

paths have diverged, we cannot erase the fact

that they began intertwined.

Our time together I will always cherish,

Lady Edelgard.

Fck

You didnt’ have to hit me w that

Larping was the coolest and then it was cringe

and now Im gonna cry thinking about it. 

No one was on my wavelength the way you were

I’m gonna miss you forever, Hubert.

As will I, my lady. As will I.

Just like that, it ends. Sure, there’s video calling or whatever, and they could interact with each other on social media any time. But that’s not the same. Even now, Edelgard knows the quiet, prolonged death that this friendship will go through considering everything. It was a long time coming at this point, and yet it still feels like a death too swift for someone whose friendship defined Edelgard’s entire young life.

Edelgard puts her phone away and stares at the wall in front of her. She can hear her ears ring a soft tinnitus drone in the silence of the apartment. There’s feeling lonely and being alone, and by the goddess it hurts when you’re going through both at the same time.

She can hear the doorknob twist, and footsteps coming in as the door closes. But it’s still too quiet. 

“…Rhea?” she calls out. No reply. The footsteps continue to shuffle until Edelgard hears the dull thud of her roommate collapsing onto the couch. She stops to listen for the static of the TV turning on: nothing. All of this is wrong. Edelgard wipes her face onto her pillow and tries to school her expression into something more assertive. Something more normal to show to Rhea. She walks out into the living room to do just that, but looking at Rhea is like looking at a mirror; Rhea stares at the wall in front of her. 

“How was work?” Edelgard tries to ask. The reply she gets in return is a half-hearted shrug and a long, deep sigh. This really isn’t right. Even in her down moods, Rhea has always been incapable of shutting her mouth with Edelgard. Edelgard aims for banter next:

“You’re a grown woman, right? Why can’t you use your big girl words with me, huh?”

She gets nothing out of that. She waves a hand in front of Rhea’s face. “Hey! Is anyone home in there? Talk to me!”

Rhea only turns to the side, resting her arm on the sofa’s armrest and her head on the palm of her hand.

“Why do you try, Edelgard?”

Edelgard pulls back. All her bravado comes to a screeching halt and the facade falls.

“What are you saying?”

“If only you knew–if you knew, you would not be so kind to me.”

“Insulting you to your face is kindness?”

“Even that is too much kindness for someone like me.”

The apartment returns to its unnatural silence for a while.

“I’d ask if there’s something you want to talk about, but I know you’re just gonna say no,” Edelgard says after some time, “so what I’m gonna do instead is get dinner going because it looks like we’re both in shambles tonight.”

The frown on Rhea’s face only deepens. Edelgard purses her lips. She is reminded of a faraway memory, when she wore a paper crown, wielded a cardboard axe, and terrorized innocents with her loyal retainer…

“…’We suffer together’. A childhood friend of mine always said that when we would pretend to go on perilous adventures.”

“Is that your answer to my question, Edelgard?” Rhea mumbles.

“Yes. I’m trying because we can suffer together instead of suffering on our own.”

Again, Edelgard gets no reply from Rhea. She notices, however, the way Rhea makes the effort to do all of the chores for her. It’s enough for now. 

Even then, it takes a long time for Rhea to join Edelgard in sleep that night.

Rhea in fact, did not sleep. She could not sleep much, or even at all. Despite the lively day she had at work and with all her warm interactions with people she might actually call friends someday, Rhea could not ignore the growing hole in her chest. Her facade of sociability fell apart the moment she returned to the apartment.

It feels like something is eating at her, like a burrowing pest waiting to dig their claws into her skin. Rhea cannot even feel a glimmer of peace in the presence of Edelgard. What was once thought to be a safe haven now rings hollow as Rhea remembers the personal vow she made not to burden her host with her presence.

Carefully turning on her side of the bed, she longingly watches Edelgard in her sleep. A hint of early sunlight slips between the curtains of their apartment, bathing the younger woman’s pale blonde hair in its glow. Thankfully, her face remains untouched, and Rhea’s lips gradually curl down in dismay. She remembers the quips the younger woman tried to start with her, the hopeful look on her eyes dimming as she found out that Rhea was not reciprocating nor responding to her concerns.

“Oh Edelgard,” she whispers, “you sweet, darling girl. You are too kind to me.”

Rhea’s eyes trace the restless look on Edelgard’s sleeping face as she is reminded of the hurt she caused. Even without saying a word, she knew that she hurt Edelgard. It hurt badly to pull away, to follow through with her promise and to see the direct consequences it caused. Edelgard didn’t deserve this, but what can Rhea do?

How could she undo the damage she knows will only worsen with time?

Rhea needs to find Macuil, as soon as possible, but where could he be?

She recalls that Edelgard had said something about the former Dean Macuil moving over to the desert. Edelgard did not specifically say where, exactly, but Rhea knows it could only mean one desert. Knowing Macuil, he would never step foot in the country of Almyra, so it could possibly only mean Sreng.

Rhea shuffles out of the bedroom as quietly as she could. Her footsteps are light and quick as she closes the door and heads towards the balcony. The bedroom door closing rings in a soft echo. Behind her, Edelgard slightly shifts in her sleep, unconsciously moving towards Rhea’s empty spot.

Sliding the balcony doors open, Rhea breathes in the dewy morning air and stretches. From their balcony window, Rhea sees the full breadth of Garreg Mach, not for the first time, and it is still quite a breathtaking sight to take in. She looks up at the roof of the building. Its wide and spacious area looks so tempting to lounge on, if it weren’t for Rhea’s current goal in mind.

Rhea climbs up the railing once more and leaps.

It does not take long for Rhea to arrive at the broad expanse of the Sreng desert. With how swiftly she flew and how hard she flapped her wings, it’s likely that the Immaculate One was able to break the sound barrier. The sun is now overhead, and the Immaculate One hovers over the empty stretch of dust and sand; astute eyes survey for any sign of a bird-like dragon.

It takes her some time to find something other than the monotonous view of never-ending sand before Rhea stumbles upon a cluster of ruins. More interesting to her is the slumbering, earthy form of the Wind Caller in the middle of the clearing.

The Immaculate One slowly lowers herself on the ground in front of the sleeping dragon. Her wings flap once, and the ground vibrates under her. The ruins shake with vigor, sand dislodging off the aged and decaying structures as her voice thunders out.

“MACUIL.”

The Wind Caller shifts once in his sleep but does not awaken. Rhea deigns to give him another wake up call.

Scaly wings expand to their full breadth and the Immaculate One heaves them in a firm and strong beat. A gust of wind and sand smacks the other dragon in the face, instantly waking him up. A booming roar is the greeting Rhea gets before a familiar irate voice reaches her.

“FOOL! WHO DARES DISTURB MY PEACE? I WILL HAVE YOUR BLOOD!” 

It takes a while for him to gather his bearings, shaking off the sand that has accumulated on his feathery form. Rhea nearly snorts at the sight. He looks like a wreck, recently awakened from hibernation, his tangled feathers ruffled by the elements.

“IS THAT HOW YOU GREET YOUR ELDERS, DEAR MACUIL?”

The disdain is apparent on his face the very second he realizes it is Rhea.

“HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME. YOU ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.”

It’s about as much as she would have expected out of Macuil. Dealing with him has always left her numb. They had never been on even footing, Macuil being quick to lambast her for batting an eye, and her never quite knowing how to approach him because of it. For all the vitriol he treated Rhea with, she was always surprised at how much Macuil spoiled Sitri in her childhood, especially in Rhea’s absence.

Rhea scoffs at the thought and is reminded of the reason for her being here. The Immaculate One shifts back into human shape, and she stands ten times smaller in front of the aggravated Nabatean.

“And yet here I stand before you.”

Macuil grunts in indignation as he transforms in the same way, although not as easily as Rhea did. He is tall, lanky, dressed as if he just left the campus of UGM, and as ornery as he always was. She observes with a cool calm as Macuil saunters towards her, a glare already plastered on his face.

“Why did you come here?” Macuil hisses.

She smirks at him, “Is that all you have to say to someone you haven’t seen in centuries?”

“What did you expect me to say? Forgive and forget? Family above all? That you’ve changed, weren’t of sound mind when it happened?” 

Straight for the jugular, huh? Rhea has always admired Macuil’s bluntness and intolerance for small talk. Rhea can hear from the tone of his voice how weary he is of this entire conversation, even as it just started. Goddess, she is too, but Rhea needs this. She desperately needs this.

Rhea gives him a bitter, humorless smile, absent of any mirth or joy to be in his presence.

“None of those things, Macuil. A lot has changed since we last saw each other, hasn’t it? I look at you all in this age of peace and feel so woefully out of place. Remind me why I do not deserve the happiness you share with one another.”

Macuil stares at her directly in the eye, and Rhea does not know what he sees in them, but he heaves a deep breath and says with so much conviction:

“Because you have made your bed, and you lie on it. So sue me if my brothers or your daughter and her spouse think otherwise: no one can deny this truth.”

“Remind me again how, Macuil.” Her eyes do not stray far from Macuil’s deep green ones. Where she can feel hers slowly but surely redden from tears Rhea knows she cannot shed, Macuil’s are hardened and years—centuries of picking up the pieces has left him desensitized by her pitiful state.

“Must you bother me with all of your inane questions?” he growls. 

“In fact you must,” Rhea says, standing taller, “if you wish for my comeuppance to come to me as it should.”

Macuil narrows his eyes at her. “I am tired of being angry at you. In fact, I am simply tired of you. The more you press me the more I will snap , woman.”

“And that is exactly what I came to you for. I seem to have forgotten why you have been angry at me all these years.” For added effect, Rhea forces a smirk out of herself. Anything to antagonize Macuil more. To make him snap. “What was it I was doing before this time? I do not seem to recall.”

“You know exactly what you did!” He spits out, scowling with unrestrained anger. “You don’t need me to tell you what you did before you decided to make yourself dead to the world, you just want me to validate your excuses!”

She cracks a humorless chuckle. “And what would those excuses be for, pray tell?”

Macuil grabs her by the collar and hisses directly in her face.

“You get blinded by the things you want and spare no thought for the people around you. Because of that, you hurt people, and you don’t like to hurt people because it hurts you. So you wallow in your self-aggrandizing pity: ‘boo hoo, look at me, I’m so remorseful for all the bad things I do! I’m still a good person, right?!’ and then you do nothing to help the people you hurt because you’re too busy feeling bad for yourself. You just want to martyr yourself because you don’t have to confront the deplorable state you’ve put yourself in that way.”

Rhea scoffs. “You were always the most forthcoming out of your brothers. I expected more bite out of you.” She pushes away from Macuil, noting the way he backs off from her. “Has time mellowed you out, perhaps?”

Noting the bait, Macuil clenches his fists instead and shuts his mouth. He breathes in and out in measured beats, eyes closed. 

“You should’ve killed me,” says Rhea.

“Sitri wouldn’t have allowed it,” Macuil says back.

“You should have left me for dead.”

“Your captors did that for us.”

“They didn’t— she didn’t.” And there’s the kicker. The one piece of the puzzle they didn’t get because Rhea was the only one imprisoned in the clutches of their ancient enemies. Now Rhea grows impatient with Macuil. “You don’t understand what they took from me. I should have died with her. We were foes on paper but so much more when no one was looking and they took her from me !”

Macuil furrows his eyebrows, cautiously approaching Rhea. “What are you saying?”

“You do not understand, Macuil. The Emperor was a shining light in the darkness of that time to me. When I was captured by our ancient enemies, she saved me and took me in, hid me from the rest of their forces that they would stop tearing my body apart for their means. We shared so much in our short time together. My rescue tore me from her side, and then they took her from me– ”

“Are you insinuating that our efforts to find you meant nothing, Seiros?” Macuil hisses out, and he says her old name like a curse. “Do you mean to say that your daughter ran herself ragged for naught? You weren’t there when her husband had to hold her in his arms, all of us doing our best to comfort her, as each search and rescue proved unfruitful. I had to make sure she ate and put her to rest. Sitri almost killed herself just to get you back. And that’s nothing to say of the sacrifices made in that war. My brother’s wife, Speck’s mother for the goddess’ sake, died because of that accursed war, and we still did everything in our power to find you!”

“Macuil–”

“And this here is exactly the problem with you. All you do is take, Seiros! You take for yourself and hide behind pretenses of generosity but all you ever do is take because you have realized how unlovable you are. No one, and I mean, no one will ever love you freely because of the pathetic person you’ve become.”

Rhea grows quiet. 

“You can rile me up all you want, but know this, Seiros: remorse will never exonerate you of your sins.”

“I know as much. That is why you must remind me that I cannot accept her kindness. Anyone’s kindness, but most especially hers.”

He glares at her one more time before he turns his back on her.

“…I will never understand why Sitri decided to forgive the woman who almost killed her in the name of a dead goddess. There. You win. Live out the rest of your pitiful days reliving the fact that you did that to your own daughter.”

Rhea watches as Macuil transforms back into the Wind Caller and quickly leaves her in the dust. She watches as his form fades off into the distance but there she stays, silent and guilty. Rhea has never felt the sun glaring down at her so hard before this very moment.

Professor Seteth Assal, PhD, leaves his last class for the day with the sinking feeling that their standards for graduates are lowering each year. Not even four years ago was there a time when he could expect his undergraduate students to submit collegiate-level writing to him. Now he’s lucky if he reads a coherent paragraph. 

As much as it pains him to admit, Macuil may have had a point—perhaps these internet memes are a blight upon all humanity. 

The loud ping! of a phone notification breaks him out of his thoughts. 

Lizard 🐉 Salad 🥗 (+1 crouton)

Byleth Dominique Eisner added Macuil Assal to the group chat.

Seteth’s eyes grow wide. The coincidence is almost comical. Good heavens, you would think that Rhea would know better than to wake the man who has wanted her dead for the longest time!

Lizard 🐉 Salad 🥗 (+1 crouton)

Macuil: what in the name of hell are these names. 

it’s bel, y’all: flayn’s fault. why are you awake memes are still a thing

Macuil: you can blame a certain woman who had the nerve to show her face to me after what she did. 

it’s bel, y’all: wait what woman

bby by by by : the one we keep talking abt in this gc, traitor

it’s bel, y’all: there are three women in here that could be any of you

bby by by by : grandma you dumbass

it’s bel, y’all: oh yeah

it’s bel, y’all: fresh from the middle ages

Seteth purses his lips. If Byleth knew to add Macuil back into the group chat, then he must be on campus. Voices traveling down the hallways as he makes his way to the faculty rooms confirms his suspicions. Just outside the Department of History faculty room stands Macuil in heated conversation with Byleth, whose eyes bore holes into Macuil the way they do when she is displeased with someone. 

“You should be more careful when you land, Uncle Mac. Mom just fixed the gardens after grandma trashed the place.” 

“Frog, that is precisely the last thing on my mind right now, with all due respect to your mother. I am still so–so appalled that that woman would dare provoke me like that!”

“Like what, exactly?” Seteth takes the opportunity to join the conversation. 

“Like I have to be the antagonist in the twisted tale she’s spinning for herself!” Macuil turns around and frowns at the sight of his younger brother. “What in Ailell happened to you? Your eyebags have grown at least two shades darker since I last saw you.”

“A mystery I have yet to solve,” Seteth replies dryly. “Indech said much the same, with the exact same words.” 

“The woman bothered that oaf too? Did she also have him lash out at her like some kind of masochist?”

“I don’t remember Uncle Indy saying anything like that,” Byleth says, tilting her head. 

“No, he said nothing of the sort,” Seteth adds. “What’s this about Rhea lashing out and provoking you?”

“Sothis’ arsehole, you don’t know the half of it!” Macuil flings his arms up in frustration. “She wakes me up: ‘Oh, Macuil, I don’t give a shit if you only just went to sleep because the modern world is such an intellectual nightmare! I feel so bad that I have good things in my life! Help me throw a pity party because I don’t want to put in the effort to better myself!’ And of course I say no. But then she starts pestering me, provoking me, doing everything in her power to piss me off!”

Macuil stops to breathe in deeply. In and out, just as he’d learned in his anger management classes. He’d made so much progress; Seteth feels somewhat dismayed to see his brother so agitated like he used to be. 

“Right, right. Anyway. This accursed woman goes on to–get this–say that she’d rather not have been rescued from the Imperial Army and that she should have died with her beloved emperor! It’s madness! As if she were blaming us for giving a shit about her!”

“Why would the Imperial Army of the time hold her hostage?” Byleth asks. “They would’ve gotten nothing out of it strategically or politically.” 

“Byleth, imagine seizing the equivalent of a country’s nuclear weaponry,” Seteth says. “Nuclear weaponry with wings.”

His poor niece scrunches her face up in confusion. “She was openly going out as a dragon? And our secret was kept for so long how? ”

“That’s besides the point, Frog,” Macuil butts in. “The point is that this woman… this insolent woman!”

“This insolent woman had a friendlier relationship with her captors than we expected?” Seteth approaches his older brother with an eyebrow raised. “That adds nuance to what transpired, and yet I don’t think it is worthy of getting this incensed over. What’s done is done–and that was done centuries ago.”

Macuil brings his hands to his forehead and gestures wildly at Seteth. “Seteth Cichol Assal, do you understand the implications of what that woman said?”

“I do, very well. But I also consider it a waste of energy to linger on that as opposed to hoping she would improve going forward.”

“Then you don’t understand at all! She won’t grow, she won’t change, she’ll make everything worse! All she does is harm the people around her! It doesn’t matter who–her daughter, her daughter’s husband and children, us, your daughter–hell, anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with her! Everyone in her life suffers because she can’t see past the end of her own nose!”

“Um,” Byleth raises a finger awkwardly. “I. Am going to head to the museum now, if you need me.”

“A sound choice, Byleth, while your uncle calms down,” Seteth says. Byleth nods and darts for the stairs. Seteth looks her way as she does and–

–was that Rhea at the stairwell?

Sweet goddess. 

The droning of the air conditioning reverberates throughout the lab. It’s the only thing Edelgard can hear past the pounding of her heart. Rhea hasn’t come over to help with the thesis even when she said she would. Of course she wouldn’t. She probably heard all of that—she just got verbally destroyed every which way by someone who was once close to her. Should Edelgard go after her? Even if she did, what would she even say? “Hey, I overheard people talking shit about you to your face?” That would be tone deaf. It would probably make Rhea feel worse. No, she has to know what’s going on to be of any help. She’s in too deep at this point to back away–Rhea’s circus is emphatically Edelgard’s now, too. Edelgard takes a deep breath. What in high hell is going on with Rhea’s family? Who can she even ask? 

Professor Eisner? No, she only just met Rhea and doesn’t exactly have the highest opinion of her. Dean Seteth already told Edelgard all that he’d be willing to tell. Director Indech: Edelgard has no direct line of contact with him, and he’s probably back at Teutates to refamiliarize himself with his institute. Mr. and Mrs. Eisner? Goddess, that’s just asking for more trouble… 

Flayn?

Edelgard gathers herself and leaves the lab, careful to skirt the history faculty and anywhere else she might bump into the rest of Rhea’s family. It’s funny–Edelgard hardly ever spoke to Flayn Assal back in high school or undergrad, and yet she knows without a doubt where the demon doctor-in-training could be. She makes her way to the woods behind the medical school, where a clearing that glows despite the shade of the trees is tucked away. Edelgard hears an airy voice float through the leaves in song, echoing in her head the way only a dragon’s would. What Edelgard could hear of the song is some cheery little ballad about ‘endometrial hyperplasia’ and… that tracks with all that she knows about Flayn’s reputation in the med school.

When she enters into Flayn and Linhardt’s forest alcove, the warmth of pure light envelops Edelgard and reminds her of the oddly comfortable, quiet moments she’d share with Rhea…

“Hello again, Edelgard! What brings you here?”

Edelgard snaps back to the present as she is greeted once more by Glowstick Flayn in all her shimmering glory. Linhardt is lying dead asleep on his lecture notes and cannot greet or be greeted. Edelgard raises a hand up in an awkward wave in return.

“Hey. Uh, this might be too forward of me, and you’re probably incredibly busy studying for school, but–”

“Whatever it is, go ahead! Midterms were awful and clinics were a bitch. I’d love to stop and chat first. It’d be nice to talk to you more.”

The invitation to friendship stuns Edelgard, if just a bit. She goes to sit down and lean against a tree across Flayn and Linhardt.

“…Thanks.”

The toothy dragon smile Flayn gives Edelgard is literally and figuratively glowing. 

“So what is it you wanted to see me for? It’s definitely something to do about Lady Rhea.”

Edelgard nods. “Yeah. Um, sorry it’s always about that. I’ll drop by next time with gossip or something.” At that, Flayn giggles and assures Edelgard that it’s alright before Edelgard continues. “Anyway, I…” 

Tries to continue, at least. Edelgard adjusts her posture, clears her throat and tries again.

“I heard shouting a while ago at the main building. I think Rhea brought in the former Dean Macuil and… it was a lot. I’m–I’m worried for her. I just want to–I need to know what happened, alright?”

Flayn nods. “I get where you’re coming from. Uncle Mac never forgives and never forgets. I can imagine…” 

Edelgard sighs. “Yeah. I think you know what went down.” She opens her mouth for a moment but closes it just as soon as she does. Flayn tilts her head. 

“Was there more to this? You look like you have something else to say.” 

“Is it okay to ask? I was consulting your dad for my thesis, and I tried asking him about what happened with Rhea. He–”

“–Told you that I fell into a coma for nine hundred years because of it?”

Speechless, Edelgard looks at Flayn, whose cheery disposition falls away into something more despondent. She watches as Flayn gently nudges Linhardt away from her body and gets up, only for the blinding light of transformation to whisk Flayn’s draconic form away. Flayn Assal stands before Edelgard in her medical scrubs, her viridian hair tied up in a high ponytail, clearly exhausted from her clinical work and studies. She walks over to Edelgard and sits next to her.

“…You know, Edelgard? Modern medicine is truly a wonderful thing. I’ll never get tired of learning new things, even when I’m ready to collapse at any moment. All the lives we’re able to save now, that we couldn’t have back in the days of faith magic…”

Edelgard looks at Flayn intently. “Well, I’m grateful for it. But where are you going with this?”

Flayn raises her hand up, much in the same way that Rhea did to summon her crest, but nothing comes out. She closes her eyes and flexes her fingers, and a dying flicker of light struggles to stay alive before it extinguishes. Flayn puts her hand down and smiles weakly.

“Yep, it’s still gone… my faith magic. It’s what people used as medicine before medicine. I used to be a healer, Edelgard. I was so young when the unification war happened–I was a child –but I still pushed myself to save as many people as I could. Especially family. I swore I’d put my life down for my family, just like my mother did for me.”

Flayn stops because she’d begun to tear up. Edelgard sifts through her bag and offers some tissue to Flayn, which she accepts with a quiet “thanks,” escaping her lips.

“Sorry,” she continues, “I know it’s been literal centuries , but to me it was just a decade or so ago. Aunt Sitri, she–I tried my best. I really did. I don’t know exactly what happened, no one would tell me. All I knew was that she was looking after Lady Rhea after we’d rescued her from her captors–I heard screaming. And then there was so much blood. I couldn’t lose yet another person I loved. I managed to save her, but… my body couldn’t handle it.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen. Sitri was mortally wounded–maybe that’s why Rhea carries so much guilt in her? But then the way the rest of the family treats her, how can this explain that? Either way, what a terrible thing to occur… she pushes through her hesitation and puts a hand on Flayn’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad you’re able to help people without risking yourself now. And I’m glad you get to live your life again. It must have been so hard to wake up to the modern world after all of that. Nine hundred years taken from you, just to save someone you love? I’m sorry.”

Flayn wipes off the last of her tears and manages to put on her smile again, or even just a shadow of it. “To be pedantic, it’s been exactly eight hundred and thirty-nine years, so not quite nine centuries. Still… thanks. It really was hard to adjust to everything when I came back. I felt so left behind by the world. Everyone I cared about was either gone or changed, and I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore…”

Edelgard’s breath hitches because the story is beginning to sound all too familiar to her.

“How’d you do it?” she finds herself asking Flayn. “How did you manage to get back up after all of that?”

Flayn’s tentative smile grows a little stronger as she pulls out her phone and scrolls all the way up through her photos, until she reaches their sophomore year of high school and taps on a picture of the Golden Deer posing beside a horse whose patience seems to be wearing thin. Most of them are trying to mimic the horse’s long face. Edelgard could see Lysithea von Ordelia and Lorenz Gloucester facepalming behind the rest of their classmates. Marianne von Edmund is trying to soothe the horse before it could break anyone’s bones with a kick. And the person holding up the phone to take the selfie–

The name slips through Edelgard’s lips before she could stop herself. Before her traitorous memories make her say Khali–

“Claude.”

Flayn nods. “The Deer are like a second family to me. We’ve always pulled each other up when we get down, and they helped me find my place in today’s world. But the guy behind all of it, who got us all together and made sure that we were all important and accounted for? Without Claude, I don’t know if I would’ve ever moved on as well as I have.” 

Flayn takes a moment to put away her phone. The look on her face is one that Edelgard cannot say she’d felt for herself in a long time: one of deep, meaningful gratitude for the people in her life. She’d almost forgotten what that felt like, as it had been since replaced by the cloying yearning for times when said people were readily in her life as she needed them. Edelgard shakes off the thought and listens to Flayn reminisce.

“Dragging me into the Deers’ misadventures, showing me how to live in the modern day, the slang lessons –” Flayn laughs to herself before her face returns to its quiet fondness. “I’ll always be thankful to have a friend like him.”

Edelgard pauses. She doesn’t let their shared mistake erase what is true about that man to Flayn.

“Yeah. He’s a good friend.”

Flayn looks at Edelgard in a way that is both pitying and apologetic. She’s close to Claude, of course she’d know what went down between him and Edelgard. “You guys haven’t talked in a while, right? He’s probably just not ready yet. He isn’t the type to give up on the people he trusts.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Flayn,” says Edelgard, and leaves it at that.  

In a previous life, she would have agreed. The Claude she once knew was exactly like that: reluctant to give his trust, but once you earned it, he would bend at the knee for you. But after everything, after their mistake, after the way he’d been acting around her these past few months in grad school? Where did it all go wrong? And why just with her? Why couldn’t he be sweet, annoying Claude to her again like he is with everyone else? 

Flayn looks at Edelgard–no, she looks through Edelgard, like she knows exactly what is reeling through her mind.

“You can send me a chat any time if you want. Med’s really busy, but I always try to squeeze in some room for friends. It’s the only way to live, and not just survive.”

Edelgard’s eyebrows raise. “We’re friends already? Just like that? All I’ve done is ask you questions that toe the line of appropriate topics to discuss with an acquaintance.”

Flayn smirks. “Call it a work in progress. It’s not too late to connect with high school classmates. Or anyone, really. It’s a lonely world out there.” She pulls off her hair tie so she could fix her ponytail. “I guess you have Lady Rhea with you now, though, which helps with that. I’ve seen you around–you can’t deny that there's trust between you two now, and that’s important.”

Edelgard stares off into the distance. 

“Yeah. It could be.”

Her phone buzzes. Speak of the devil. She whips it out, and admittedly not without a tinge of excitement and relief at hearing from Rhea again after what she’d overheard at the main building. And then she reads the message:

✨ rhea ✨

I’m sorry.

Not in the apartment, not at the gardens, not in Lover’s Lane, not in the Dining Hall, nowhere. Texted Cath at the gym, no, not there either. Edelgard spends hours running laps around the entire campus of UGM looking for that specific shade of sea green hair and those pointed ears and everything she knows that makes Rhea Rhea. No reply to her texts. Every single call ignored.

Wdym ur sorry??

**what do you mean

Sorry for what???

Hey

HEY

Answer me

Wru

That’s Where Are You if youre wondering.

Nd I’m wondering where you are.

At least give me a sign you’re not dead..

Edelgard chokes on the anxiety. This could be the tipping point. Rhea is–she could be gone. Or doing something stupid. She might disappear and never be seen again, and if you told Edelgard that the day she was thrust with the responsibility of housing Rhea, then she would have said something along the lines of you know what, good for her or that’s a load off my chest, but oh, not now. Now she cannot stomach the thought. Whatever feelings are boiling up inside her, it’s just good to have a friend and she cannot fuck this one up the way she’d fucked up and let everyone she cared about slip away from her.

Only the museum remains among the places she had yet to check where Rhea could possibly be on campus. Exhausted, Edelgard staggers across the long bridge leading up to the doors of the museum. It was once a cathedral of the Church of Sothis, and oh, how ironic it is of someone as unbelieving as Edelgard to come to the house of Rhea’s mother to beg to see her again…

Of course, once she is inside the museum proper, she does not expect to find Rhea perusing any of the exhibits. But usually holed up in the museum’s archives at this time of day is someone Edelgard hopes could offer any sort of help. She taps her student ID on the ID scanner and enters the archives, looking for a certain peculiar professor of hers…

“You’re going to collapse and topple a bunch of priceless shit down if you’re not careful, Edelgard.”

Professor Eisner stands behind Edelgard, blinking owlishly at her disheveled protege. She closes a drawer, presumably because she had returned an artifact or two she was studying. 

“Professor, please,” Edelgard heaves out, “I need your help. Rhea’s gone missing.”

After a moment of pause, Professor Eisner walks out of the archive and beckons Edelgard to follow. 

“What happened?” The professor asks.

“She just said ‘I’m sorry’ over text and then stopped responding to me. I don’t know why. But I swear I heard Dean Macuil outside the lab a few hours ago and he was ripping her to shreds.”

Professor Eisner frowns. “He was.” 

“Do you think she heard it? Is that why she’s fallen off the face of the earth?”

“Even if she did, I don’t think she needed to hear him to end up going off on her own.”

“What makes you say that, Professor?”

Professor Eisner stops walking abruptly. 

“She doesn’t need him to tell her how much she hates herself.”

The professor had brought Edelgard to the terrace by the side of the museum, where few people ever really go these days. It’s near the remnants of that old bell tower, the one with the legend about couples going there to share a wish. Professor Eisner rubs her temples and takes a deep breath.

“I really don’t like shifting, but I don’t see a choice,” Professor Eisner says. 

“I can’t think of anything else either, Professor. Please. I’ll take it.”

Professor Eisner’s frown deepens, mulling over the conflict going on in her head, until she breathes out a sigh and steps back a couple of paces from Edelgard.

“Stand back. I might accidentally vaporize you if I sneeze or breathe wrong.”

Edelgard obliges without hesitation, long accustomed to the idea of people turning into divine beings straight out of mythology. She shields her eyes from the blinding light wrapping around her professor–honestly, that’s the only part that fazes Edelgard now, that it’s the professor this time–and finds herself face-to-face with a massive, lupine creature, half furred and half scaled, whose pelt is blackened and silvery like ashes after a fire, and whose horns twist skyward like they were poised to impale the goddess herself. Four ears twitch and a whiplike tail lashes about in discomfort. Clearly, there is something about this form that makes the professor restless, and Edelgard would have to agree: it smells like a burning village around her, distinctly of danger. Professor Eisner’s eyes narrow with irritation. Maybe even hurt.

“You… don’t look so good, Professor,” says Edelgard. “Are you okay with this?”

“There’s no better way to find her,” the professor says in return. Her voice comes out in a coarse growl that sinks its teeth into Edelgard’s mind. It is nothing like Rhea’s commandeering, raw voice as the Immaculate One, or the soft lilt of Glowstick Flayn, nor the booming, rippling bass of the Immovable at Teutates. “Sit still."

Professor Eisner lowers her snout and begins sniffing at Edelgard. The one thing stopping Edelgard from recoiling away is the threat of accidentally, in the professor’s own words, getting vaporized. Edelgard couldn’t imagine this beast being the same professor who leaves her crumbs all over the lab–

“Her scent is all over you. You’re not even together. That’s kind of gross.”

–nevermind. It’s still the professor, through and through. She raises her great muzzle high in the air and sniffs again, trying to catch the same scent in the wind. Professor Eisner promptly points her snout to the south.

“Past the main gates, down the mountain. Kind of near that pond everyone goes to.”

Edelgard startles. “Down the mountain?! But why?”

“Go ask her yourself. She’s running, by the way. You might want to hurry up.”

Edelgard doesn’t hesitate. She bolts from the terrace and heads for the main gates of the university, little else on her mind except to find and catch up to Rhea. But the professor’s voice, almost a howl, stops her in her tracks for a brief moment.

“A favor, Edelgard, before you go.”

Edelgard turns back. Professor Eisner is hunched over, her tail tucked close to her body.

“What is it, professor?”

“…Don’t let grandma know about my dragon form. Please. I don’t know what she’d do if she ever found out.”

The professor bows her head, and it is only then that Edelgard notices a small emblem with a strange etching on it, resting upon the professor’s brow. Even from a distance, the symbol looks broken, incomplete.

“Is that… your crest?”

Professor Eisner closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“It’s the crest of the goddess. My brother has the other half.”

A crest is the manifestation of their soul.

Dread sinks into Edelgard’s gut. Whatever the ramifications of this are, she wouldn’t know. All she understands is that this is unnatural, to have half of what is someone else’s soul in place of your own…

Despite this, Edelgard nods, and turns back to chase after the daughter of Sothis herself.

Lizard 🐉 Salad 🥗 (+1 crouton)

the hammer of hypertension: Byleth—I smelled burning flesh in the air. For everyone’s sake, I do hope that was simply your other form.

bby by by by: ye it was me

bby by by by: grandma ran off and edelgard was panicking i had to sniff out where she went

Macuil: edelgard? Should I take this to mean the hresvelg whelp who was studying history when I was dean of arts and letters?

the hammer of hypertension: The very same. We asked her to house Rhea for the time being for reasons you are far too eager to remind us all of.

Macuil: the girl should’ve walked away when she had the chance. I can’t believe you lot brought in a hapless passerby to deal with this balderdash. Even now, that miserable wretch continues to burden the people around her.

the hammer of hypertension: Rhea’s time with Edelgard has been to her benefit, I should say. Edelgard herself does not seem to mind the company. 

Macuil: i expected the hresvelg whelp to have more brains than to willingly breathe the same air as that witch.

bby by by by: uncle mac

bby by by by: with all the love and respect i have for you 

bby by by by: kindly shut the fuck up

Macuil: mind your language, frog. But I will concede if you’re as tired of this inanity as I am.

Byleth throws her phone into the pocket of her bag and scratches at her arms, the ghost of scales and fur itching all over her skin. The air around her still smells like a crematory and she hates it. She hates that other body with all her being. She hates the way it makes everything too much for her to handle, more so than everything is already almost too much for her on any given day because of her stupid dragon senses and her stupid built different-ness. She hates how that body is clearly a vessel for godly, unholy amounts of power that never should have been hers to begin with. 

That body belongs to someone else and that’s not even considering the fact that it’s only half of what that person’s body should be, and if a Nabatean’s dragon form is supposed to be the truest to who they are, then what does that say about Byleth and her traitor of a brother? Are they just not their own people? Are they just a living reminder of their mother’s trauma?

Byleth hisses as the squealing of schoolgirls pierces her eardrums all the way from the high school, which is on the opposite side of the mountain. The wind blows over her and she can feel it rustling through every strand of hair on her arms, delivering scents from all over the campus into her nose. Raw meats in the kitchens. Sterilizers in the hospital. The thick, cloying smell of the body odor of forty-thousand people combined. It takes awhile for her body to reacquaint itself with its more human capabilities, and it’s all too much that it makes Byleth want to slam her head on the wall. She has to get out of here. To safety, to sanctuary, or anywhere that isn’t bombarding her with the world. 

She starts walking down a familiar path, one that she always goes down when she feels like this. And she reflects while she rubs at her arms, to stave off the buzz of everything invading her head: what made her snap at Uncle Mac like that? Was it just because he was talking smack about her student who is, in his own words, a hapless passerby in the trainwreck that is their family situation? Or is she actually starting to feel bad for… for…

Byleth forces herself to come back to reality. She is standing outside the greenhouse. The greenhouse doors open for Byleth before she could reach for them herself. It’s mom.

“By-By! I was about to look for you. What do you need?”

Byleth doesn’t say anything and just looks down to the ground, flicking her arm with her fingers repeatedly. Mom immediately knows what’s up and ushers Byleth into the calm of the greenhouse. Warm. Quiet. Humid. Freshly turned soil and lush, flowering plants–these are the smells of comfort to Byleth. They are safe. They remind her of mom. The noise of the outside world is far from them in this place, and mom makes sure to lock the doors just for this moment. 

“Sit down, sweetie,” mom says, as she flutters around her many flowers like a bee, scissors in hand. Byleth does as told and watches as mom gathers her favorite flowers to braid into her children’s hair: freesias, peonies, gardenias. Mom almost reaches for the lilies but stops herself. Shaking her head, she goes to stand behind Byleth and combs her fingers through Byleth’s hair. Mom’s hands deftly weave flowers through Byleth’s locks, and mom begins to hum to herself as she works. There is a shared meditation between mother and daughter that eases them of the weight of their thoughts. Soon, Byleth can say that she is okay again, and the moment becomes more of a pleasant memory to share than a therapeutic need for soothing. 

“Sorry, mom,” she says, her eyes still closed. “I know I should be too old to–”

“Hush, my heart. You will never be too old for your mother’s love. No one is.”

Mom’s hands grow shaky when she says that, and she stops humming. Her breathing gets tense. Byleth resists the urge to ball her hand into a fist. Not now; not in the sanctuary of the greenhouse. Mom is as wound up as Byleth is, as much as she wants to pretend that she isn’t. She’d seen the family group chat, after all, and it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s been eating at her since that fateful dig those months ago.

“…Edelgard’s going after grandma. If she really wanted to disappear, she would’ve got up and flown away like Uncle Mac did last time.”

Mom pauses and lowers her hands. “Am I that transparent, By-By?”

“I just hate it when you cry, mom.”

Sunshine scatters through the greenhouse roof. Byleth feels the rain on her hair. It is warm and sorrowful.

Edelgard runs, and runs, and runs. From the very back end of the campus where the museum is, across the bridge and through the gardens, through the gates and down the mountain, Edelgard runs. Gravity and exhaustion threaten to make her tumble down the slopes, but she stays steadfast and firm in her conviction to find and talk some sense into Rhea. Sense not to bolt at the first sign of conflict. Sense not to make any rash decisions. Sense not to leave Edelgard alone don’t leave me alone come back.

And then she sees her.

Rhea’s back is turned towards her, but Edelgard does not fail to recognize that specific shade of mint green that none of the other Nabateans have. The dying sun paints Rhea’s figure in its glow, her shadow leaving a dark impression on the solid ground, and Edelgard finds herself stopping in her tracks, suddenly blinded by the sight.

She doesn’t seem to be running away anymore which is good, only that she’s standing motionless amidst the clearing. Water softly stirs in the background as Edelgard stares at Rhea, staying silent and still.

Edelgard finds herself with her heart in her throat. The distance between them has never felt so vast before, and she is suddenly thrust into the recent past, back when all she could do was watch as everyone around her pulled away, helplessly.

She sees Rhea’s tense shoulders drop slightly, and Edelgard can hear her heave a deep breath, but still she does not move. Edelgard doesn’t know what to do to change her mind. Perhaps she couldn’t. But that doesn’t mean she won’t go without a fight. So although she does not know exactly what to do, Edelgard knows what she wants to say.

What she has to say.

“Let’s go home, Rhea.” 

Rhea’s body starts shaking before she finally breaks.

“Home? My home is the crumbling ruins of the Red canyon. My home is innocent men and women whose lives were brutally cut short in the pursuit of power.” Rhea’s voice trembles as she speaks. The truth pouring out after years–centuries of suppressed emotions. If Rhea finds herself tearing up, Edelgard does not point it out. “My home is my mother, long gone, because I am not worthy of the family who still lives.”

Rhea looks out towards the sunset sky, the warm orange hue beyond her reach. Well, isn’t that such a mortal thing to do? To reach for the unattainable, like the heavens above where her mother supposedly resides.

“What home is there for me to return to?” Rhea breathes out.

Edelgard takes a step forward.

“Me. Didn’t you say that yourself?”

Rhea freezes. For the first time, she turns around and looks Edelgard straight in the eyes. Resolute lilac eyes meet wide verdant green.

“ My soul is at home in you , right?” Edelgard repeats the words from before, finally realizing the gravity of their meaning. How important it was for Rhea to say. 

She reaches out a hand to Rhea.

“Am I not your home?”

Rhea looks up at Edelgard wordlessly. 

They go home.

Chapter Text

The University of Garreg Mach is aglow with festive lights. Food vendors and merchandise hawkers are beginning to set up their stalls in the plazas and sidewalks around campus. A grand stage is set up in front of the Main Building, ready to host live performances and merriment. The student body buzzes with excitement over what the theme for this year’s Foundation Day Festival could be. The jolliest time of year has arrived…

…and Professor Seteth Assal finds himself lecturing to a class of bored freshmen instead, in the dank recesses of the historical Abyss. It’s not his style to have students cooped up in the classroom all day; if he could bring them to a location relevant to or similar in atmosphere to the stories he teaches, he’d rather do that. But the work in question for today’s lecture was written in the most dreadful place on campus to be in, and the subject matter is always one that Professor Assal hates to discuss. Seeing most of the students glued to their phones does little to lift his sour mood.

“Here we stand at the site where, purportedly, the monk Aelfric’s ‘Memoirs of an Underground Faithful’ was written. It was a highly controversial work for the time period, and is still notorious today for its positive depiction of what could only be described as stalking and voyeurism…”

His lecture can go on without conscious effort at this point, for all the times he’s repeated this lesson over the years. And how many of these students will actually pay attention and pass his class without begging him for remedial work over email? Seteth loves what he does, but even he must admit that some days it feels like he’s wasting his breath when he teaches.

“Whether or not the woman the author refers to in the book was the goddess reborn remains ambiguous, though it does not deter him from his obsessive devotion to her image. Conjecture abounds—”

He’s cut mid-sentence by the incessant ringing of his phone, the ringtone he’d assigned to the students of the Foundation Festival committee. Annoyed, he rejects the call and puts his phone away.

“As I was saying, conjecture abounds as to the nature of Aelfric’s blasphemous beliefs. Howev—”

His phone rings again. He rejects the call once more and sets his phone to Do Not Disturb so he can continue lecturing about the creep who stalked Sitri goddess knows how long ago. 

“—HOWEVER,” Seteth grits out, “what matters to us is the literary devices used in hi—”

…Honestly, he’d take the ringing of his phone over this: the sounds of explosions and screaming and the crumbling of ancient architecture that barely passes building code and oh, so that’s why the Festival Committee have been trying to call him. And they do call again for the last time before he finally answers.

“I don’t suppose the sounds of a historical heritage site collapsing in the distance has anything to do with you bumbling lot?”  

“Um, unfortunately you’d be right, Dean Seteth,” one of the bumbling lot over the line tells him, “we uh, tried testing out the flame machines we rented—”

“—I did not approve of the use of flame machines for the opening of the festival.”

“Er, yeah, we were going to ask you afterwards, but anyway we were doing that in the lower grounds and now we’re being attacked by some giant robot things and they’ve got lasers and pleasehelpuswe’regonnadie—”

Seteth hangs up, rubs at his temples, does a short breathing exercise, and calmly turns towards his class, who are suddenly looking up from their phones for once. Really, why don’t they have explosions around campus every day? Why not? Why don’t they have the entire school falling apart if it will make these kids pay attention in class? 

“Pardon me, class. I have some business to attend to with the Festival Committee,” he says, before putting his belongings down, removing his vest, and unbuttoning his shirt as he jumps out of the nearest exit and turns into a lion-tiger-dinosaur thing nearly twice the size of the last dragon that wreaked havoc on campus. He’s got scales that look more like jagged rock running down his back and through his tail that ends in a spiked club, which he can easily squash any errant, inattentive students with in one fell swing. 

His class follows after him, partly because this is infinitely more interesting than whatever he was supposed to lecture on today, and partly because they’re afraid of indeed being squashed by the spiked club on the end of his tail if they don’t pay attention to him. The gargantuan lion-tiger-dinosaur thing that was their literature professor only a few minutes ago flaps its great wings upwards to gain height, only for it to come diving into one of the ravines leading to the university lower grounds like a predator pouncing at its prey. 

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO DISTURB THE LOWER GROUNDS OF THE UNIVERSITY?!”

The boom of dragon Dean Seteth’s voice quakes through the Oghma mountains, threatening to cause a geological disaster from the sheer force of the sound. His class runs to peer over the precipice he dove into; automata green with the patina of age swarm around him as the students who comprise the Festival Committee cower in a nearby hedge. Dean Seteth gets shot with dozens of deadly lasers but none of them can penetrate the thick armor of his scales. He bats an automaton away with a paw, raising pillars of rock and earth to crush the ancient death robot.

“HAVE I—” He sinks his fangs deep into another one and flings it aside.  

“NOT MADE IT—” He crushes one under the great weight of his crystalline claws.

“ABUNDANTLY CLEAR THAT—” He impales one with his horns. 

“THERE ARE DANGEROUS ARTIFACTS—” He swats two more with the boulder-like, spiked club at the end of his tail.

“THAT CAN KILL YOU ALL—” He rams into three more, the sheer weight of his entire body enough to put them out of commission.

“IF TAMPERED WITH?!” Tremors abound around him, making some of the automatons collapse in a heap.

Soon, crowds of students and faculty and staff and visitors all gather to watch as the newest monstrous creature to appear in UGM berates a cluster of students while casually fending off medieval death robots.

“YOU ARE WASTING MY TIME AND PATIENCE!”

“MY CLASS WAS INTERRUPTED BY YOUR INCOMPETENCE!”

“THIS SHOULD NO LONGER BE MY RESPONSIBILITY!” 

“WHY MUST I CONTINUE TO CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR MESS?!”

“THERE SHALL BE DISCIPLINARY ACTION FOR ENDANGERING THE ENTIRE SCHOOL!”

(No one has the heart, for obvious reasons, to point out that his mere existence in this form is a danger to the entire school. And possibly the rest of the area within a one hundred kilometer radius.) 

“I OUGHT TO PENALIZE SOME OF YOU IN CLASS!”

And with a final, bellowing roar, the Hammer of Judgment subdues the last of the laser-firing creepy metal doll things:

“I WILL SEE YOU ALL IN MY OFFICE THIS AFTERNOON!”

The dragon bends down to glare at the Festival Committee, more shaken up than they were when they were being shot at with deadly lasers, and sees to it that they all nod in agreement. The lashing of his clubbed tail does little to comfort those in attendance. With narrowed eyes he commands them wordlessly to leave the area, as he does the rest of the gawking onlookers with their phones up to record the entire thing. Only the class he abandoned is left behind, speechless as they look at him from above. When the dragon notices this, he shakes his head as if he were still just boring ol’ Professor Seteth Assal and not a lion-tiger-dinosaur thing with ram horns large enough to impale multiple elephants.  

“MY APOLOGIES. YOU ARE DISMISSED. PLEASE MAKE SURE TO ACCOMPLISH YOUR READINGS. I WILL POST A DISCUSSION BOARD ON BLACKBOARD IN LIEU OF OUR LECTURE TODAY.”

The class backs away, slowly, giving him their thumbs up, and then scuttles off with the shared understanding that they will never misbehave in his subject ever again. 

And the exhaustion finally hits Seteth. There is a good reason why he hasn’t transformed in ages—not since the War of Heroes, he thinks—and it even came to the point that he thought the ability was lost on him. Apparently it was not, and in the intervening time since he vowed to never transform again he had forgotten why he did so in the first place: he’s huge. The largest of the surviving pureblooded Nabateans, even. He’s a walking earthquake. And because of that, it takes hours for him to transform back. 

He lets out a loud groan of frustration and settles down in the ravine, planning to sleep off the rest of his transformation. He needs to clean up the mess the committee left, literal and figurative, and then talk restoration and reinforcement of the more ancient areas of the school with the board of trustees, and then he needs to discuss the Church of Sothis automata with the museum and the School of Archaeology, and then yell at the committee in his office, and then, and then…

…and then it starts raining. It’s doubly terrible for him, because he is a cat-adjacent creature and you would expect most cat-adjacent creatures to be averse to water, and also because he is an earth dragon and rain is entirely antithetical to his element. He is, in the most literal sense possible, a wet cat stuck out in the rain, and this morning has been mortifying enough even without that fact. He closes his eyes and prays that no one else will be seeing him this way.

“Well, doesn’t this bring you back, Brother Seteth?”

Confound it all. He opens his eyes to a woman offering him an umbrella that barely covers his nose.

“…INDEED IT DOES SITRI,” he says, and he recalls a girl offering him a parasol in the exact same way, on a rainy battlefield in Gronder. Sitri laughs at his misery and sits down on one of his paws. She keeps the umbrella up to in fact, barely cover his nose, but he appreciates the sentiment regardless.

“I thought you’d like to know that the family group chat erupted the moment we heard you yelling, which is why I came to keep you company,” Sitri says as she pulls out her phone to show him. 

 Lizard 🐉 Salad 🥗 (+1 crouton)

Macuil: His Dirtliness has returned! Huzzah!

Indech: So I heard from Teutates! Behold, the Dirtlord! He, who is as obdurate and useless as a big lump of rocks!

Macuil: Huzzah!

Indech: Huzzah!

Macuil changed Seteth Assal’s nickname to Dirtlord.

A low growl escapes Seteth’s throat. “THOUSANDS OF YEARS LATER, AND THOSE DOLTS STILL CANNOT LET GO OF THAT CHILDISH NICKNAME THEY HAVE FOR ME.”

“I think it’s cute,” says Sitri.

“I DO NOT,” Seteth says. “PLEASE MESSAGE IN MY STEAD THAT IT NO LONGER SURPRISES ME THAT THOSE IMPUDENT BROTHERS OF MINE HAVE NOT MATURED IN THE MANY MILLENNIA SINCE OUR YOUTH.”

Sitri laughs again and types out his message into the group chat. Flayn replies almost immediately.

wishin i was fishin: Ohhh ! That really was him then ! Our practical exam got interrupted by the tremors ! Huzzah !

flower power òᴗó✿ ⁠: He would like to add, “(He) will never forgive either of you for influencing Flayn with your ‘boorishness’.”

it’s bel, y’all: What is going on. 

wishin i was fishin: My dad transformed to yell at students ! I saw the pics he’s sooo cute ! 😊😊😊 The fluffiest father!!!

it’s bel, y’all: Where are the pics. Huzzah.

bby by by by sent a photo.

bby by by by: dean fluffy. huzzah

Sitri opens the photo Byleth sent, revealing an image of the Hammer of Judgment snarling in the rain, a sopping wet cat with his fur completely drenched, with the words WHEN YOU DONT SEE HIM IN HIS OFFICE emblazoned on the top and bottom in bold Impact font. 

wishin i was fishin: OMG I also saw that on Chatter he’s trending!!! 😂😂😂

Macuil: Perhaps I changed my mind about memes. That is a good meme.

Indech: @Jeralt Eisner come join us! Huzzah!

the back breaker: in solidarity with my fellow dad, i will not huzzah.

flower power òᴗó✿ ⁠: He says he is grateful for your support, Jeralt. And that he is disappointed in the rest of us.

Resigned, the Hammer of Judgment groans again and rests his head on his other paw. Sitri pats him on the face in sympathy. 

“THEY WERE COWERING AT ME JUST MOMENTS AGO, AND NOW THEY MAKE ME TO BE A JOKE. I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND TODAY’S YOUTH,” he mumbles, about as softly as a lion-tiger-dinosaur thing could mumble.

“How much longer do you think it will take before you turn back?” Sitri asks.

“NOT FOR ANOTHER TWO OR THREE HOURS,” Seteth replies, yawning and lolling his head aside. “YOU DO NOT HAVE TO STAY WITH ME IF YOU HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO, SITRI.”

She waves his concerns off. “No, no, not at all! I’ll stay as long as I need to.”

“THANK YOU,” he says, and lets silence and rain fall upon them for a while. He shifts in place and grooms himself until he feels ready to ask Sitri a question he’d been harboring for some time. 

“I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO ASK, SITRI, ALTHOUGH THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO SO HAS BEEN ELUDING ME…”

"What is it, Seteth?" She asks, idly stroking the soft patch of fur beneath her one hand. The rain continues trickling down.

“HOW HAVE YOU BEEN FEELING?”

Sitri pauses for a moment, looking away from him as she grips some of the fur on his paw. 

“…Fine, as usual, I’d say.” 

Seteth raises his head up to look at her properly. 

“NO, I MEAN TO SAY—”

“I know what you mean.” Sitri interjects, not meeting his gaze despite their huge difference in size. “I… have had a lot of thinking to do with regards to that.”

"AND THAT IS WHY I ASKED. I IMAGINE IT MUST BE DIFFICULT TO FACE HER DESPITE THE YEARS THAT HAVE PASSED SINCE THE INCIDENT." 

After all this time, he wondered why he never bothered to ask Sitri about this. Perhaps it was a bit of oversight on his part. Perhaps they were all just avoiding the elephant in the room. Perhaps better late than never to ask, regardless of all the unfortunate events. 

Seteth knows how awfully vocal certain members of their family, particularly Byleth and Macuil, have been with their… disappointment in Rhea. And then there’s the issue of the twins’ concerns, though Belial has yet to express his side due to his absence. There are many reminders of their concerns with Rhea; but it’s not like he never noticed how Sitri tends to close herself off when the topic shifts towards her mother.

“Of course it is. When I see her, my heart cannot decide what it wants to feel. Fear? Resentment? Plain anger? I cannot deny that part of me feels that way. And yet…” Sitri tenses up, and her hand whitens as she tightens her grip.

“AND YET...?”

There is a silent tension between them as the rain continues beating down on them, serving as  white noise to fill the air. To Seteth, this feels like a ticking time bomb, unsure of the hidden, deep emotions lying beneath Sitri’s facade.

Sitri’s mask breaks.

"...I want her back, Brother Cichol,” She sighs, so worn out and aching that she had slipped into using his old name. “I just want my mother back."

Edelgard just wants her old dynamic with Rhea back.

One day, some time after that afternoon down the mountain, Edelgard stopped finding trinkets and flowers by her bedside. If this had happened a few months ago, she would have been more delighted. Unfortunately, much has happened since then, and the absence of those trinkets only paints a more striking image.

In the span of a few weeks, their halcyon days living together in the apartment have almost certainly eroded into oblivion. The old flowers she received died off, one by one, wilted petals falling off the stem with no new ones to replace them. The box of shiny things does not fill up. The house is clean; too clean. Sterile. It’s sterile because Rhea has been cleaning the house almost religiously as if she wants to erase her existence.

Speaking of which, the lack of any signs of life in the apartment indicates that Edelgard’s wayward roommate hasn’t been around for a while now. One of the few signs of Rhea’s continued existence that Edelgard has these days is Rhea’s consistent text updates of her whereabouts, and nothing else. She should at least be happy that Rhea has enough common sense not to worry her, but now Edelgard is just hoping, yearning for any random messages asking about her day, or a silly thought, or an unreasonable request— anything , really.

Which sounds ridiculous to Edelgard in hindsight, because all she can think about these days is Rhea and nothing else. Rhea with that stupid smirk on her face. Rhea and how she can never seem to shut her mouth, always yapping about anything and everything. Rhea and how she always seems to soften every time she talks to her, bright eyes shimmering with an unnamed feeling. Edelgard can’t focus on her academics or think about how fucked it is that she’s been isolating herself unwittingly or otherwise and—and holy shit she just wants Rhea back.

The phone rings and Edelgard’s pulse picks up… then promptly drops. It’s an incoming call from Dorothea.

She tries not to show the disappointment on her face. Rhea hasn’t bothered to call her at all, so why would she expect to get a call from her now? It’s not Rhea but it’s still Dorothea, one of her closest friends, whom she hasn’t seen nor talked to in such a long time. She should be glad to hear from her friends.

Goddess. Edelgard feels like a terrible person and she sucks . She answers the call.

“Hello,” Edelgard says, and it’s a very lame hello.

“Girl, we haven’t spoken to each other in months and that’s all you’ve got to say to me? Hello?”

Normally, Edelgard would know that this is Dorothea trying to keep the mood light as always, but guilt creeps up on her at how dismissive Dorothea’s quip makes her out to be. 

“I, uh, I guess so. Nothing’s happened to me, really. I don’t have a lot to talk about.”

“That’s impossible, you’ve got a dragon GILF in your apartment.”

Edelgard ignores the GILF part. “It doesn’t really feel that way lately.” 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Edie, that sounds like you do have a lot to talk about.”

“Look, I’m sorry, Thea—”

“We need to video call right now. I need to see how you’re doing, girlie.”

You don’t need to video call to see that I’m not doing well, Thea, Edelgard wants to say, but keeps her mouth shut and turns on her video. She offers Dorothea a tentative smile that is completely unconvincing and both parties in the call know it.

“Seiros, Edie,” Dorothea says as she takes in the sight of Edelgard’s haggard, sullen appearance. 

“Yeah, Seiros, alright,” says Edelgard in return, flopping onto her bed. “She’s exactly the problem.”

“Huh? What do you mean? Do you have something against a saint?”

“That dragon… lady you know is in my apartment.”

“Yeah?” Dorothea raises an eyebrow, clearly not seeing where this was leading.

“That’s her. Saint Seiros. And she hasn’t spoken to me properly in weeks,” Edelgard says in one quick breath, and wow the novelty that Rhea is Saint Seiros is still not lost on her.

“Wait, can we go back to the start on this? I think I’m missing way too many details to get what’s happening.” Dorothea acts even more bewildered, which is absolutely understandable considering Edelgard has discovered way too many batshit things about her university and its staff.

So Edelgard catches Dorothea up to speed. The flowers and the shiny things. The fact that Rhea is Seiros and how she found out about that in class. What little she knows about the family issues. How Rhea dragged her to the Marine Institute to wake up a giant turtle, and how they had that moment with the crests and the language and let’s go home, Rhea. Goddess, Rhea, please come home. 

“Oh wow.” Dorothea says, simply shocked.

“That’s it? ‘Oh wow?’ I pour my heart out to you and all you can say is ‘oh wow’?” Edelgard pulls back with a vague sense of regret.

“Well, what do you want me to say? Edie, you never pour your heart out to us. At all. I need to process this.” Dorothea’s expression turns confused and slightly hurt. This is probably the first time she’s ever seen Dorothea make that face because of her. Edelgard suddenly feels slick bile rising up in her throat.

Dorothea’s right: she doesn’t remember a time when she ever did pour her heart out to them.

“…Sorry. This is… this is all too new to me.”

“Yeah, because you’ve never told us anything in all the years we’ve known you! You’ve never asked for help. You didn’t tell us shit when you were going through it with Claude! We’re your friends. We’re here for you. Stop being such a hardass. We’ll always support you.”

Edelgard bites her lip. Her eyes are starting to sting. 

“Thea, I don’t know—I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? I don’t know how to—how to keep anyone around. It’s happening again with Rhea and I don’t know what to do. And I don’t want to be a burden to any of you, we’re all living our own lives now and—”

“Bullshit, Edie,” she cuts Edelgard off. Dorothea shakes her head. “We’re living different lives, but you’re still in it because we choose to have you in it. You choose to have us in it. Quit your shit because you’re not going to be a burden to any of us if you’d just let yourself be human for once.”

Edelgard falls silent. 

“Is that Edelgard?” She could hear Petra through Dorothea’s audio, and sees her walking up to Dorothea and taking the phone to herself for a moment. 

“Edelgard, be human,” is all Petra says before she nods, returns the phone to Dorothea, and goes off to wherever she has to be. Petra gave Dorothea a quick peck on the cheek before she left, and it makes the hole opening in Edelgard’s heart tear just a bit wider.

“Exactly, what she said,” Dorothea reiterates, nodding her head towards her offscreen partner. “So tell me what’s making you so pressed about this woman.”

Edelgard tries to push down the bile in her throat. It’s not really working, but she chokes something out anyway.

“…I think I lo— care about her, Thea.”

“No shit. Finish that sentence properly, Edie.”

“I… care about her, Thea?”

“No, before you cut yourself off and tried to play it off as something less significant.”

“I… I…”

She doesn’t notice the sound of the door opening. She hangs her head and swallows her pride, which never really was there to begin with.

“Okay, fine. I think I love her, Thea. And it hurts to see her drift away like everyone else. She’s hurting, but I don’t know how to help her, and it hurts me to see her hurt for some goddamn reason. I want to reach out but I don’t want things to fall apart the way they did last time, and…”

Edelgard takes in a deep breath, hiccuping slightly.

“Take your time, Edie,” Dorothea says. Her hand tries to reach out to touch Edelgard, but the distances crossed by cyberspace could only connect people so much. Seeing this breaks Edelgard a bit more, and she moves to scratch her eyes to stop them from tearing up.

“…It’s been hard to be strong without everyone. I’m alone, Thea.”

Dorothea sighs. “You’re not alone. How many times do we have to keep telling you that before you finally get that through your thick skull?”

Edelgard opens her mouth, out of courtesy of replying and not because she has a good answer to that question, but the sound of the door closing stops her.

“—What?”

She hears the voice she’d been yearning to hear all day behind her. Edelgard turns her head, and her whole body freezes. She sees green eyes wide with what could only be described as… horror.

Rhea’s home.

It feels like everything around her is a blur. Edelgard can only vaguely recall Dorothea gently ending the call in response to seeing Rhea enter the room. It feels like hot and heavy lead is seeping through her veins, weighing down every thud of her heart.

Edelgard doesn’t even understand how she was able to compose herself before getting both her and Rhea sitting together on the living room couch—if you could even call it that, with how far away Rhea is sitting from her. Rhea doesn’t move a single muscle and doesn’t spare Edelgard a glance, as if one wrong move or look will incinerate her to ashes.

Maybe Rhea has the right idea. Edelgard doesn’t feel good about this one bit either.

“How much of that did you hear?” Edelgard musters the courage to ask, because this is certainly something they cannot avoid talking about any longer.

Rhea doesn’t answer immediately. Edelgard expected that, but she really can’t handle this type of silence, not when every inch of her skin feels so numb and tingling, and nothing’s really grounding her lately.

Rhea’s still not answering.

“Rhea—”

“Y-you… that can’t be. You can’t love me. You shouldn’t,” comes Rhea’s broken voice, and all at once, Edelgard can feel her heart drop dead at the words.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t?” Edelgard can barely utter the words, can even barely form another thought, but she struggles through. 

In any other circumstance, this would have been a happy occasion between two people who obviously mean so much to each other. In any other circumstance, things would have probably turned out okay. Her eyes sting with incoming tears but she holds them back in fear of Rhea’s reaction.

Rhea only trembles harder and shakes her head. She looks away, arms holding herself close and away from Edelgard. Edelgard’s body shudders with the need to hold her.

“It will only hurt,” Rhea says in a small voice, and Edelgard aches even further upon hearing the conviction in the older woman’s tone. She truly believes that, and that’s what makes it worse. “That’s all I ever do to people who love me.”

“But what if it already hurts, Rhea? To see you pulling away after all the things we’ve been through?” Edelgard reasons out, frustration and desperation evident. So much has already happened, to her, to Rhea—to them and their backwards relationship. She thought they were moving forward. After all the progress they’ve had during their entire time together. So why does it feel like they keep going three steps back?

Rhea has no answer to that. 

Instead, they settle down into a vague approximation of what their evening routine used to be: dinner, chores, a bath, lounging about or falling into schoolwork, but not a word is spoken. Rhea doesn’t run away anymore, though, so that’s something. But tonight she doesn’t sleep on her side of the bed; she takes the couch for herself. Edelgard shakes with a deep set anxiety for herself, for Rhea, and whatever is becoming of their relationship.

The night is cold without that annoying—

The night is cold without that warmth beside her.

It distracts Edelgard. She doesn’t notice her phone buzzing with a new text message, from friends who only want to be there for her when she wouldn’t let them. To her absolute shame, when she sees the text the next morning, Edelgard leaves it on read and curses herself for being too much of a coward to accept her own weaknesses. 

It’s been awkward in the apartment since that day. When Edelgard comes home, Rhea sleeps; when Edelgard sleeps and wakes up, Rhea is already gone. That has been the norm for some time now; what’s different is the odd form of communication they’ve settled upon. Post-it notes, scraps of paper, whatever’s available—they leave messages for each other this way, because they couldn’t even bear to face each other over text.

I’ll be at work until 5. Eat ahead if I’m not back by then. -R

Don’t forget to take out the trash when you get here. -E

Your toothbrush was dry this morning. Do not forget your dental hygiene. -R

Can’t you let me know where you are over text again? I’m still responsible for you. -E 

I will not leave, I assure you. -R

I find that very hard to believe. -E

Rhea’s there, but she’s not. Just like most everyone else around Edelgard. She’s come to resign herself to that fate. 

It’s almost like Edelgard is back to where she started before that fateful dig: going through the motions of her own ambitions like a revenant kept alive by its self-esteem issues. But it’s made worse by the fact that she is not alone in the physical sense this time, and that this continued isolation is unequivocally the product of her own inaction. It is so dreadfully easy to lose yourself when no one is there to keep you in check, in touch with the world, in line with the future you dreamt of as a bright-eyed child when life never got in the way of spending time with your loved ones. She finds herself buried deep in her academic work, as she always does when her feelings overwhelm her, but it’s not working this time. The undergraduates she sometimes TAs for see right through her, she couldn’t immerse herself in her readings, and not even working in the lab sparks any joy in her when all of this hangs over her head. 

This… wall between her and Rhea. She also worries about the walls between her and everyone else, too, as always, but that she allowed one to form with Rhea makes her feel worse because she’s still here . But what can she do to fix things when she doesn’t even know why Rhea herself rejects the right to be loved? 

She looks down upon the scanned plates and notes she’d been ignoring and tears out a page from one of her notebooks.

“Sitri not being ready to see her… being dead to the world…” Edelgard starts writing down a chart of connected ideas from all she knows of the situation surrounding Rhea. “all she does is ‘hurt those who love her’… the goddess being dead…”

Edelgard’s mumbling slows down as she writes ‘Professor Eisner’ down on the paper.

It’s the crest of the goddess. My brother has the other half.

“The crest… is the manifestation of the soul…” Edelgard puts her pen down. “How can the professor have the goddess’ soul…?”

Edelgard looks back at her chart. She doesn’t know enough to piece everything together, but there’s definitely something dire there that makes Rhea feel guilty enough to denounce any happiness she can get. There’s something that makes the professor resent Rhea and the form she inherited from Rhea’s mother—didn’t Professor Eisner say something about never letting Rhea know about her dragon form? 

…Whatever Rhea did, she’s regretful enough of it to seek penance. She’s never been an intentionally malicious person in the time Edelgard has known her, just full of herself at most. Edelgard kept butting heads with Rhea the first time around because of that ego, she remembers—and she’d butt heads with her again to let her know that she doesn’t think that rejecting all forms of happiness is the way to repent. But then what? How—how can she get it into Rhea’s thick skull that she isn’t alone?

( “You’re not alone. How many times do we have to keep telling you that before you finally get that through your thick skull?” )

Edelgard leans back on her chair and looks up at the ceiling, recognizing the sheer absurdity that she is exactly alike with Rhea in the way they self-sabotage themselves. 

But who can she turn to now? Even if Dorothea told her that she’s free to rely on her and Petra any time, it’s not like they’re awake right now, and it’s not like this is something she can just drop on them all of a sudden. Not when the call ended so abruptly, and she failed to reply to Dorothea’s follow up text.

Don’t—don’t get her started on everyone else. She’s not sure if she’s ready for this kind of conversation, nor if she’s ever ready to be human the way Thea said she should be. She scrolls up and down idly on her contacts list, mildly conscious at how short the list actually is despite how much time she’s had to socialize. She stops when her eyes catch Flayn Assal for the fifth or sixth time.

Wait. That’s right. Flayn said she could talk to her any time, right? It wouldn’t hurt to reach out… and if she ever needs an excuse to hide her reasons for doing so, she can just ask if Flayn could help with her thesis. That’s what you call social and academic productivity. 

Flayn Assal

Edelgard: Hey. 

Flayn: Hi Ed ! Can I call you that ? What’s up ? 😊

Edelgard: Yeah you can call me that. You free around lunch time? I kinda just wanna hang out but you might also know some stuff i need for my thesis.

Edelgard: Cuz uh. Stuff happened w rhea idw to bother her.

Flayn: Sure sureee. IDK if I’ll be that much help with the language stuff but I can try!!!

Edelgard: Thx. No pressure though. We can also just chat over lunch, that'd be great too. 

Flayn leaves a heart reaction on that last message before sending a selfie—she looks like she’s in one of the med school labs, her thumb pressed against her index finger in the shape of a heart, with Linhardt… retching in the background and pulling away from their table, which includes a specimen of— 

Edelgard: WHAT IN THE FUCKING SHIT IS THAT.

Flayn: A teratoma ! 😃😃 Isn't it so cute ?

Edelgard: WTF NO

Flayn: whyyy ? It's got little teefies !

Edelgard: It has TEETH???

Flayn: Yuppp, that's what happens when your ovaries hate you 😊😊😊

Edelgard: Sweet mother of SEIROS this is why people call you a demon.

Flayn: 😎😎😎

Edelgard locks her phone and pretends she never saw that thing in the photo. Or that Flayn called it cute.

So they have lunch together in one of the gazebos outside of the medical school. When Edelgard gets there, she could see Linhardt about to take his leave from Flayn’s side, still looking nauseous from their lab activity. Edelgard just bought some set meal at the dining hall; Flayn has a packed lunch and Edelgard is impressed that she even has the time to pack herself lunch knowing how terrible med school can be. Flayn also takes out a jar of what seems to be unsauced spaghetti in a suspicious broth while she rearranges the things inside her bag, and when Edelgard is about to ask why she keeps unsauced spaghetti inside a jar, Linhardt shakes his head violently and whispers don’t ask . It is probably better not to ask. Flayn gives Edelgard her beaming smile as if that was a completely normal thing to have in your bag, so again Edelgard pretends she never saw that.  

“Let’s see what’s in those runes,” Flayn says as Edelgard takes out some of the plates from her thesis. “I can’t read them, though. If you know how they’re spoken I could do my best to pick out some words I know.”

“I had the foresight to transcribe them ahead of time, fortunately. Here they are.”

Flayn pores over the transcription Edelgard made based on what Dean Seteth taught her, scribbling down notes in bright pink ink to differentiate her writing from Edelgard’s. Edelgard could see her write down SOTHIS and THE DOG ? STAR and THEY THE SOTHIS-LIKE??? over parts of the transcription. Flayn scratches her head before shrugging and returning the papers to Edelgard.

“That’s all I’m able to get, unfortunately.” 

“No, actually, this is really helpful. Look, that’s the Sothis monogram you identified, and it also shows up in that other word you labeled ‘Sothis-like’. So that adjective might mean something like… holy? Pious?”

“…Immaculate?” Flayn suggests. Both their eyes widen. Flayn scratches out THEY THE SOTHIS-LIKE and rewrites the entire phrase: 

SHE, THE IMMACULATE

“Oh goddess. The Immaculate One. Rhea?” Edelgard gapes. “Is this plate talking about her?” Edelgard squints at the runes that spell out ‘ Reya ’ and it’s beginning to make more sense.

“Actually, look at the runes that spell that out—” Flayn traces a line running over the runes spelling out Rhea’s dragon name. “—they’re overlined, and so is this part I’m reading as THE DOG STAR . What if the line means it’s a dragon name?” 

Edelgard knits her eyebrows. “You’re probably right. Who’s that, then?” 

Flayn frowns, making an exaggerated hmmm sound and stroking an invisible beard, before promptly giving up and taking out her phone so she could call her dad. For some reason, Flayn likes to call on speaker phone and keep it at a distance from herself, and the reason why becomes apparent the moment Dean Seteth picks up. 

“FLAYN! What’s the matter? Do you need anything? I’ll be there as soon as I can!”  

Flayn rolls her eyes. “Stay where you are, Dad. I just have a quick question because I’m helping Ed out with her thesis.”

“Ah. I see. Very well then, ask away. And send Miss von Hresvelg my regards.” Edelgard could audibly hear the dean deflate, and she feels a bit bad for him because he’s just trying to be a good father, if a little overbearing. The fond chuckle Flayn gives off at least assures Edelgard that she isn’t unappreciative of her father’s efforts. Edelgard gives a thumbs up in response to the dean’s greeting. 

“She’s giving me a thumbs up to that,” Flayn says, leaning over her phone. “Anyway, there are these runes here that say deth-ram and that looks like ‘dog star’ to me, but does that have any other meanings?”

“Is there an overline above those runes? That word can also mean ‘beginning’, especially in the context of being the goddess’ dragon epithet.”

Edelgard hastily scribbles THE BEGINNING over THE DOG STAR as she hears this. The plate involves Rhea and the goddess, then, and she tucks that little piece of information away for later.

“Ooh. That’s interesting. So we were right about the overlines, then. Okay thanks dad, bye!” Edelgard hears Flayn say. Flayn has her finger hovering over the button to end the call when Edelgard hears Dean Seteth interject. 

“Flayn, wait!”

Flayn pouts lightly. “What?” 

“Enjoy the rest of your day,” Dean Seteth says. His voice is gentle and soft, nothing like the way he usually speaks. “I’ll see you later for dinner.”

His daughter’s pout turns into a fond smile. 

“Love you too, dad. See you,” she says, and ends the call. 

Something stirs in Edelgard when she sees that: memories of happier times with her own family, Mom and Dad and Dee all ribbing each other and her in good fun, back when she wasn’t such a cryptid they needed to hunt down. 

(She thinks of what could’ve been with a biological father who cared.)

It doesn’t occur to her that she’d been spacing out until Flayn waves a hand in front of her face, snapping Edelgard out of it.

“Are you okay?” Flayn asks.

Edelgard puts a hand to the back of her neck. “If I tell you ‘yes’, how will you react?” 

“I’d react by saying you’re a terrible liar,” Flayn says in return. 

Edelgard looks at her for a moment before answering. 

“Sorry, I’m out of practice,” and for some reason that makes both of them laugh.

“No, but really,” says Flayn while she opens her lunch box, “are you alright? You haven’t exactly made yourself known to the rest of the world lately.”

“What world are we talking about here?” Edelgard says as she absently stirs her own lunch, since grown cold. 

“You know, our old high school class,” Flayn says between bites of her steamed fish. “The Deer are coming for this year’s Foundation Festival since it’s been a while, and I heard the Lions are planning the same. Word goes around about everyone, right? And no one’s heard about you except what was on the news when Lady Rhea came crashing down.”

Edelgard raises her eyebrows at the new information. The other two friend groups reuniting at UGM at the same time makes the absence of the Black Eagles all the more conspicuous. And, well, she’s their leader. Her going AWOL as their representative is just depressingly fitting.

“I really have no good excuse to give you there, Flayn,” Edelgard decides to reply. “I don’t really know how to reach out.”

Flayn looks up at Edelgard incredulously. “You have a lot of close friends from before. How did you manage that if you don’t know how to reach out?”

“That was then, and this is now; it’s a lot different…” Edelgard shrugs, not really knowing how to explain it, but she knows there’s still a lot that could be said about her current status with her friends.

“I mean, I agree, but no one’s stopping you from trying to figure out how to get along with people as an adult,” Flayn points out, and Edelgard understands what she’s trying to get at, but…

"No one, maybe, but time. There's just no time—"

“—No, you have to make time,” Flayn stresses, pointing a finger towards Edelgard like a teacher wagging her finger at a disobedient student. Edelgard does feel like a scolded child at the moment for waffling over such a simple problem. “Like you make time for exercise and work and chores, you have to invest in people.”

Flayn ends that sentence with a knowing look, and Edelgard only grows quiet as they meet eye to eye. Under the other woman’s gaze, Edelgard finds herself wilting, knowing when she’s beat even without speaking.

“You poor thing,” Flayn mutters out, pity heavy in her tone and Edelgard has never felt shame so intense it burns right through her skin. Edelgard glances away from her.

Flayn then finishes off the last of her fish and puts her lunch box away.

“It takes conscious effort to be friends with your friends once you don’t share your lives anymore. If you just wait for everyone to come to you, someday you’ll realize that their journeys are taking them in opposite directions from you. I’d ask if you’re okay with letting that happen, but, well…” Flayn gestures plainly at Edelgard’s general direction.

“It’s obvious, yeah. I’m a mess,” Edelgard sighs out.

“You said stuff happened with Lady Rhea and it’s kind of showing, Ed.” Flayn levels her gaze at Edelgard.

Edelgard goes quiet again. Is she so transparent? That’s horrifying. That’s probably why she feels the need to hide herself, and that also makes her feel kind of pathetic. 

“I’m not going to pry,” Flayn says, and leans towards Edelgard, “but maybe it’ll be easier for you to answer my question if I frame it this way: are you okay with letting this happen with Lady Rhea?” 

“…No. I’m not. That’s what I’ve been at a loss over, because I don’t know how to stop it.” Once again, Edelgard feels like a broken record, always coming back to that one unsolvable problem.

“You just have to talk to her. And stop beating around the bush when you do. Like, sit down and actually listen to each other.” 

Edelgard is reminded of Dorothea again. She… she should answer that text from her. “Be human with each other, in a way?” 

“Sure. And maybe Lady Rhea could learn how to be a human being from you, too. That’s exactly been the problem with her and our family this entire time and it’s been helping no one.”

“It’s such an obvious and easy answer to just talk , and I knew that was the answer from the start, but it’s hard.”

“It is. So do it one step at a time. You’ll get there.”

Once more, Edelgard is reminded of how much there is to know beneath the usual show of Flayn Assal. This conversation only exemplifies the wisdom belying Flayn’s eccentricity on account of having lived her unique little life. Edelgard’s respect for the young Nabatean grows bigger.

“…Thanks, Flayn.”

Flayn smiles at Edelgard, and Edelgard feels compelled to smile back in return.

“No problem,” Flayn says. “Now, how do you suppose one could write ‘Glowstick Flayn’ in Nabata script? I think it’d look so cool. I’ll make Iggy draw me a banner with it and my socials are gonna be on fleek. ”

…Now that is the Flayn that Edelgard is more familiar with. She almost chokes on her spit.

“Okay—I haven’t heard on fleek since like, 2015 at the most—”

The bright girl’s eyes widen with surprise.“Oh what, really? I need a refresher course from the Deer ASAP!”

“—And second of all, I don’t even think the syllabary of the Nabata script is capable of spelling that out,” Edelgard continues.

“How about a close approximation?” Flayn gives her a small pout, green eyes shimmering like that of a begging puppy. And that isn’t entirely untrue—were she in dragon form, Edelgard could already imagine Flayn pouncing on her like she’s waiting for Edelgard to toss her a stick to fetch.

Edelgard begins to focus back on her unfinished meal, subtly leaning away. “Uh. I think I’m just going to try and finish my lunch with the five minutes of break we have left.”

“Teach me next time!”

“You can just go ask your dad!” She retorts, flabbergasted about having to think about writing that into a script she’s still not an expert on translation.

“That’s no fun. And besides, you owe me for my thousand-ish year old wisdom and life advice.”

“You spent most of that time unconscious. I don’t think that counts.”

Flayn sticks her tongue out at her.

“Shush. It counts when I want it to count.”

Contact sports are a great way to let off some steam, provided you don’t send your sparring partner to the hospital. Most people who sign up for Rhea’s self-defense class have to agree, especially when they see their coach ripping yet another practice shield in half with a single roundhouse kick. 

“Don’t play nice with your partners!” Rhea barks out. “Make it count or they won’t learn the proper technique! Put your hips into it when you kick!” 

The poor office workers and students who attend her class for practical purposes shudder in fear. 

“But like, don’t kill each other!” Catherine shouts from the side of the gym. “We don’t wanna get sued over here!” 

She raises an eyebrow at Rhea. Recently, Rhea has been getting harsher with her students, and Catherine could only wonder why. Every time she’d ask Rhea about it, Rhea would just say she’s ‘doing perfectly fine’ before punching a hole through one of the kickbags. Catherine would love to hear her out, but it’s also Rhea’s choice to be mum about her personal concerns, so… 

She realizes that she hasn’t seen Edelgard at the gym again in a while. Hm. It could just be that she’s busy, and yet something nags at Catherine’s mind otherwise. But again, it isn’t her place to probe where people don’t want to talk, so she continues to oversee Rhea’s class as they flail around each other haphazardly like drunks.  

“Is this that new self-defense class you were talking about, Cath? Because it looks to me like they’re defending themselves from their coach instead of any potential attackers.”

Catherine turns around, and speak of the devil, it’s the drunk, Jeralt Eisner. He does his weightlifting here sometimes and she’s never seen him age a day, just like his wife, who does kickboxing with their daughter on the weekends. That entire family is basically vampires with their agelessness, and their genes must be glorious. She waves at Jeralt while Rhea yells at two boys who were trying to look cool instead of following the instructions. Catherine heaves out a sigh.

“I’m gonna have to agree with you there, chief, but our lovely instructor continues denying anything’s wrong when I bug her about it.”

Jeralt slaps her in the back with a sigh. “Just leave it to me. It’s family business.”

“Wait—family?” Catherine stops herself when she remembers Edelgard retorting she’s my professor’s grandmother! , which confuses the shit out of her because Rhea doesn’t look a day past thirty-five at most. “The hell. I don’t buy that she’s By’s grandma at all. She looks like they can be sisters.”

“You said the same about my wife,” Jeralt says flatly.

Catherine raises a finger to retort, then puts it down because he has a point.

“Vampires, the lot of you,” she mumbles. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jeralt grumbles in reply. He waits until Rhea dismisses her poor beat up students before he approaches her. 

Rhea looks pained yet unsurprised to see him. 

“I’m surprised we haven’t come across each other here sooner, knowing you,” she tells him. 

“My job keeps me busy, especially after multiple dragons come in to cause the chaos I’m supposed to control,” he says back. “You look awful, by the way.”

Rhea frowns and chugs down a bottle of water mixed with creatine powder, something she’d learned from Catherine during her tenure at the gym. 

“Of course I do. I am forced to live again after hurting my daughter in the most unimaginable way possible and I am offered the chance for happiness despite it. How else should I feel about this if not awful?” 

“You could be drunk, for one. I know your kind can’t really get drunk, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“I despise the taste of alcohol, Jeralt.”

“I know. But I’m inviting you to the bar with me, anyway, just so you can finally talk to one of us about this. All of this.”

Rhea looks at Jeralt like a cornered animal. She looks like she’s ready to bolt, but couldn’t. 

“You of all people should not be humoring me,” she whispers.

“Believe me, I’ve got plenty to say about that,” Jeralt tells her, “but I’m trying to make sense of how I should feel just as much as you.” 

Rhea stares him down a while until she finally acquiesces. “I do hope you pay off your tabs now the way you never did back in the day.”

“Sits would have my head if I didn’t,” Jeralt says. “Now let’s go.”

The bar is… surprisingly calm, which is not something Rhea expected out of Jeralt. There aren’t many people milling about, either, and when she looks at Jeralt to question him about this, he just says “It’s where I go when I can’t be bothered.” 

The atmosphere perfectly matches that descriptor. 

“The usual for me, Donnel!” Jeralt shouts at the bartender by the doorway. The bartender gives him a quick salute and starts working on an old fashioned for the old man. 

“An’ what about yer missus, Jay?” Donnel shoots back. “That’s her, ain’t it? She’s as purdy as you said she was!” 

“I… I am his… sister-in-law ,” Rhea grits out, because it would take way too much effort to explain herself if she spoke the truth. “But I appreciate the compliment. I would simply like a glass of water, if you’d please.” 

“Make it a glass of vodka,” Jeralt answers for her instead. Rhea glares at him briefly. “To the brim.”

“Wha—straight up, and a whole glass?!” Donnel sputters. 

“Trust me, it’ll be like water to her,” Jeralt says. Donnel slowly nods his head and decides not to question it. 

Rhea narrows her eyes at Jeralt as he herds her over to a corner. “Was that necessary?”

“You don’t go to a bar to drink water.”

“No, though I was told we would come here to discuss our matters.”

“It’s the spirit that matters.”

“If that was a joke, it did not land at all.”

“Nine hundred years dead must have really screwed with your brain for you to think I’m the joking type, Rhea. So let’s talk about why you were nine hundred years dead to begin with.”

“Yes… let’s.”

Donnel comes back with Jeralt’s old fashioned and Rhea’s vodka, and in no time flat Jeralt is already asking for another round. Rhea sips at her drink and winces at the acrid taste; it could very well be pettiness on the part of Jeralt to torture her with such a large glass of the stuff, and if it is, she wouldn’t blame him. He’s right, anyway, that her metabolism is too robust to be affected much by alcohol, so she takes it for what it is and tolerates the drink. He’s paying at least, and that is what she tells herself when she sees him glowering at her. 

“I’ll cut to the chase: I’d rather not have you around. I’ll always owe you for saving my life, but you know what you did to my wife.”

“Understandable. Which is why I am all the more perplexed that you would sit down with me and discuss the situation.”

“Well, here’s the thing: what I want isn’t what Sitri wants, and I have to meet her halfway, so here we are. I don’t get it, no matter how many times she tries to explain it to me, but it’s not like I can make her life choices for her.”

Rhea puts down her glass and stares at Jeralt.

“…What do you mean by ‘it’s not what Sitri wants’? You must be joking. That would be absurd.”

“Your brain really must have been screwed up while you were dead,” Jeralt says, taking a swig out of his second glass. “You should know me; I told you I don’t joke around.”

“But that… that makes no sense. Why wouldn’t she want me gone? Does that mean—”

“—It means what you think it means. Don’t shoot the messenger; I also don’t get why and neither does the kid. I’m just here trying my best to be a good husband. But do with that information what you will.”

Rhea sits slack, speechless. 

“But say something were to happen because of that… that openness of hers to… yes… what about you? What of Byleth?”

“Like I said, I’m just trying my best to be a good husband. Whatever happens, I’ll just roll with it. If I find it in myself to forgive you someday, then so be it, but if I can’t, then we’ll just have to learn to play nice for the sake of Sitri.” 

He shoots back the last of his second glass and orders a third from Donnel. His face is starting to redden. Rhea continues to nurse very, very slowly at her long glass of vodka.

“As for By? I’m sure she’s already shown you how she feels,” Jeralt tells Rhea. “She tends to be stuck in her ways, that kid. Don’t expect much to change there unless you manage a miracle and win her over. She’s got hangups and she won’t admit it.” 

When Jeralt’s third glass arrives, he goes for it like a man parched out in the desert. It will always fascinate Rhea the way he could ingest so much alcohol and not drop dead wasted. 

“But that’s just By,” he says, swirling his glass. “I wouldn’t know what Bel would say or do since he hasn’t even met you yet. But I imagine he’d be ever so slightly more open to welcoming you back into the fold.”

“Bel?” Rhea asks, as she vaguely recalls Jeralt mentioning another child to her all those months ago. 

“Belial, By’s twin brother,” Jeralt says. “He moved out a year or two ago because he works at another university now as a math teacher. I don’t think By’s forgiven him for the audacity yet.” 

He takes out his phone to show a picture to Rhea, of a younger Byleth frowning at the camera while a slightly taller boy holds two fingers behind her head like bunny ears. If she weren’t informed that he was male, Rhea would have mistaken them for identical twins. Behind the two small children are their proud parents, Jeralt giving a cool thumbs up, and Sitri smiling so brightly that it almost blinds Rhea from the radiance she exudes.

This. This is what she’d lost. Rhea swallows the lump in her throat.

“N-no… no matter the outcome going forward, Jeralt,” Rhea says, her hand shaking while she raises it up to wipe away a tear, “know that I… I…” 

The sorrow overtakes her. Memories of Sitri: her birth, visiting her when she could during the War of Heroes, that painful stretch of time waiting for Sitri to heal from her wounds, Rhea finally doing her best to be a mother for her child… saving that soldier boy during the war that split Leicester from Faerghus. Watching her daughter fall in love and marry that boy, who would grow to become the man before her. 

Everything. And then nothing. And then, looking at that photo, realizing all that she had missed and how irrelevant she has made herself become in Sitri’s life. But she is secondary to Sitri’s wellbeing, and, well…

She starts to sob. 

“It makes me so happy… just to see her with you… with your beautiful children… to have a life so meaningful and full of joy, even after everything…”

The firmness Jeralt had been holding her against all evening softens, if only slightly, at her vulnerability. He says nothing, because he has never been a man of words, but he puts his hand on her shoulder to let her know that he feels for her.

When Jeralt drops her off back at the apartment, Rhea instinctively prepares herself for Edelgard’s overwhelming presence. It’s painfully ironic: how Rhea couldn’t handle being in the younger woman’s presence, but every time she doesn’t see her, Rhea only wants to be with her at every moment. And that would be a foolish thing to do, as a selfish fool who can only hurt those she loves. Edelgard must be growing tired of her, right? Or she should be. She must. 

Rhea heaves a deep breath, and turns the knob to their apartment.

She doesn’t feel Edelgard’s presence inside, and Rhea feels disappointed by that fact. She moves across the room, checking for any note or any signs Edelgard must have left for her. The kitchen table is suspiciously clean of any unused utensils, nor is there any organized clutter left on the coffee table. Nothing. Rhea checks her phone. No new messages.

Anxiety settles deep in Rhea’s gut. It’s already this late and Edelgard hasn’t come home yet. Rhea scans the dark empty room, the growing pit of shame inside her bubbling up her throat. She doesn’t even turn the lights on, not when Edelgard isn’t home.

She turns her gaze towards the last room she’d been avoiding since that day Rhea overheard Edelgard. She could never forget that day even if she wanted to. To love and be loved? What else could be something so unattainable, and yet something she has been longing for her entire life? Regardless, Rhea is an abomination, a monster, someone who has nowhere to go, somebody with nobody to turn to.

She is a nonsense, and yet she wants the one person in her current life who helps her make sense.

Slowly, she makes her way until Rhea’s standing directly in front of the bedroom. Even if she never dared to set foot in this room since that day, maybe in Edelgard’s absence she can muster the strength to enter. Just for a little while. Just to feel her close, even if she isn’t really.

She opens the door, and Rhea is entirely enveloped by Edelgard’s essence.

Rhea neatly sits down on the bed and soaks in the comfortable familiarity of being back in the bedroom. She closes her eyes and feels the moonlight bathing her in its fuzzy glow. If she thinks about it hard enough, she might hear Mother’s faint voice in a soft lullaby.

The first thing she sees when she opens her eyes is one of Edelgard’s transcriptions with an all-too familiar monogram. Curiosity piqued, she picks up the messily written over documents. Verdant green eyes trace slowly over the runes, and it feels as though she was suddenly sent back into the past.

She remembers this day. These words. It was the day Mother granted her her true name. 

“‘She, the Immaculate. May her name be spoken for eons’,” Rhea whispers, translating the last line of the runes out loud. “Better off if it had never.”

The document slightly crumples under her grip and Rhea forces herself to relax, smoothing over the creases and returning the papers to their place as she turns her head towards the open balcony. She can feel a long forgotten pull in her soul moving her closer to the moonlight. Rhea drowns herself in memories of being gently lulled to sleep underneath the same ancient stars, in echoes of a somber melody.

Rhea steps out into the open air and sings.

Edelgard didn’t know what to expect when she came back to the apartment. Her first thought was if Rhea was already back and if she was already asleep. These days that’s all she stumbles on every time she comes back home. No more of their usual shenanigans that Edelgard has come to enjoy. The thought is depressing and she still doesn’t have a concrete plan on how to get their relationship back to the way it used to be.

But does she really want it to go back to that? Back to the way they used to be, before knowing each other better, bickering with each other over their superficial egos that in reality amount to nothing?

Nonetheless, Edelgard knows by heart how they both could be so stubborn, which is why they’re stuck where they are right now. She lets out a deep breath and pushes through the door to their apartment.

It’s dark, but where the first thing she would look for is the sleeping form of her roommate, Edelgard finds no one inhabiting the living room couch. Instead, she finds the door to the bedroom slightly open, indicating that someone—Rhea—had willingly entered. Something she has not seen her do these past few days.

She feels her chest beat harder, blood pounding in her ears as Edelgard quietly makes her way inside, leaving her things by the nearby table. Rhea probably hasn’t noticed Edelgard’s presence yet if she has yet to run away, and Edelgard will take that. She’ll take anything just to see Rhea in the flesh, conscious, again. 

As Edelgard soundlessly steps one foot inside her room, all she hears is the rich, deep overtones of Rhea’s singing. The words are like gibberish to her, antiquated and somewhat sharp, and immediately Edelgard recognizes the song to be in Nabata.

Nayeth hreim

Omya vrei 

Hal-malannei wo pan ram

Vei setleann

Belhat yaw 

Walorn kon salhalya gan

Edelgard has heard Rhea cry out in anger, and in a voice too soft to be heard with such hidden regret. Edelgard has heard Rhea laugh in many ways, be it genuinely at her stupid jokes and remarks, or even when she’s just being a huge tease. She has heard her in a broken voice, on the brink of tears, lost in a world she doesn’t belong in. All this, Edelgard has heard from Rhea in their time together. Be it in the forgotten language of Rhea’s people or the common language spoken today, Edelgard has heard most of it all.

This, though. It’s different.

She has never heard Rhea sing in Nabata, especially. The words are foreign to Edelgard’s ears but at the heart of the song, Rhea’s emotions are unmistakable. Her voice is hauntingly soft and light, but the melody is jarringly melancholic with undertones of a deep anguish. Even if Edelgard could not see Rhea’s face, standing idly at the door hidden in the dark, the way the light shines upon her like a wolf howling at the moon sets an atmosphere of mourning.

It’s both a frightening and entrancing vision. Edelgard could not even look away, even if she wanted to.

She must have stared at her longer than Edelgard should have because the object of her attention has ended her siren’s wail. Though, she hasn’t bothered to move nor acknowledge her presence.

Just as always, they’ve come to a stalemate.

Rhea turns around slowly and stares back at Edelgard for the first time in so long. Edelgard regards her and studies the dark bags under her eyes, and has an inkling that neither of them have been getting the rest they need. They live under the same roof, but their current relationship has become so distant that it doesn’t feel like they’re truly living together. Perhaps sleep, or the pretense of it, was just one way of avoiding it. Still, Edelgard can see just how heavy the look on Rhea’s face is, and how dull and resigned she’d become with everything.

Does Rhea even know how much Edelgard has thought of her the past few days? Does she know how much she wants to tell her? How much Edelgard wants to accost her for everything she’s made Edelgard go through?

While they just stare at each other in silence, in Edelgard’s mind she’s screaming at Rhea for all the things she couldn’t say.

Edelgard’s hands grip in a tight fist, and her jaws tighten without her realizing. Rhea notices this.

“It would be so much easier if we hated each other.” She whispers out wearily. Edelgard wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for the pin-drop silence.

Edelgard’s head shoots up to glare at Rhea. “Well, life’s not easy now, is it?”

Rhea gives her a sad smile. “When will it ever be?”

“It won’t,” she insists, and because she’s desperate, reaches out her hand. “But it doesn’t always have to be.”

Another moment of silence passes by and Edelgard reluctantly drops her hand when Rhea does nothing to reach back. She is suddenly brought back to that one sunset-afternoon down the mountain by the pond where Edelgard reciprocated the words that slipped out of Rhea’s mouth. Edelgard reached out her hand to Rhea that day. She didn’t understand it then but now when everything seems to take a turn for the worse, Edelgard feels like she’s always a step too late.

Now, Edelgard feels the rush of free falling without the assurance of being caught. Not for the nth time this week, Edelgard feels the tears begging to come out but she forces them away.

Rhea’s now staring down at the floor in shame or something close to regret. Edelgard doesn’t know anymore but she finally takes notice of the flushed cheeks and the faint odor of alcohol wafting in the air, and realizes something.

She was drinking.

Edelgard has half a mind to call her out on it; wants to know why and what got her turning to alcohol, but knows it will only make the situation worse. Nothing she says or does is helping anyone anymore, especially at this hour.

So with a low voice, Edelgard tells her, “…Get some sleep. You must be tired.”

It’s only when she’s slumped over the side of her bed, her back turned to the door, does she hear Rhea’s faint voice before leaving her in the dark.

“I could say the same to you. Sleep well.”

Edelgard waited for like forty-nine minutes at the lab before receiving yet another of Professor Eisner’s ‘this-could-have-been-a-text’ emails, informing her that the good old professor was at the greenhouse instead of where she should have been for thesis consultation. At this point, Edelgard can’t even bring herself to be annoyed, so she heads for the greenhouse without complaint. By the time Edelgard gets there, she sees the professor sitting on the ground, resting her head and her laptop on the bench where she really should be sitting. 

The more Edelgard interacts with the dragon kin, the more unfazed she becomes at their peculiarities. 

“Why,” is all she asks her mentor with the flattest tone she could muster. 

“Ground soft,” is all Professor Eisner says in return. “I hate peer review duty.” 

“We were supposed to discuss my thesis, Professor,” says Edelgard. Professor Eisner just lets off a low growl.

“And they were supposed to get back to me on this two weeks ago, but they leave me no choice but to go Reviewer 2 on them,” the professor says. “Just give me the updates and I’ll listen.”

Were this the Edelgard of only a few months ago, she’d retort with something like ‘you can’t advise me while doing peer review, Professor,’ but she has long submitted to Byleth Eisner’s Byleth-ness. Edelgard endures almost an hour of thesis updates while Professor Eisner grumbles about ‘idiots who can’t do research wasting (her) time’ before the greenhouse doors open for another visitor.  

“By-By, how many times have I told you not to sit on the ground? It’s dirty,” comes the lilting tone of UGM’s flower lady, Mrs. Eisner. Professor Eisner takes the time to frown at her mother before conceding and moving to sit on the bench properly like a civilized person. 

Edelgard raises a hand awkwardly to wave. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Eisner.” 

“Oh, hello there, Edelgard!” Mrs. Eisner greets back with a smile. “How have you been?”

She reminds Edelgard of Professor Eisner, if Professor Eisner smiled more and didn’t antagonize people with ballistic biscuits and chocolates. She reminds Edelgard of Rhea, if Rhea wasn’t as upfront with her issues as she’s been.  

“I’ve… been fine,” Edelgard decides to answer. 

Sitri offers Edelgard a sympathetic, sad look. “Have things been difficult with m—my mother? If it’s all been a bother, I do apolo—”

“Don’t,” Edelgard stops her. “It’s only been lately. We’ve been getting along well otherwise.”

“Ah. That’s—that’s very good, then.” 

“Yes, um. She’s just been… I guess you could say distressed for some time now,” Edelgard shares, voice drawling into nothing until she remembers something crucial. Her voice picks up in a tone that catches Sitri’s attention. “Which reminds me. Maybe you might know more about something I caught her doing.”

“And that is?” Sitri asks patiently.

Edelgard feels self-conscious. “I caught her singing last night. I know she was singing in Nabata, but I don’t understand what she was saying.”

There was a brief flash of speculation that crossed Sitri’s face, but Edelgard couldn’t be sure when Sitri corrected and kept her expression neutral. 

“Do you remember how the song goes?” Sitri asks.

“It went something like, uh… sorry in advance for my caterwauling…”

Edelgard looks away because her musical background consists of concerts in the shower. Clearing her throat, she hums out the melody from memory—she’ll never forget that haunting tone—

“In time’s flow… see the glow of flames ever burning bright…”

The air is sucked out of Edelgard’s lungs when Sitri’s voice, clear like glass, cuts through in a language Edelgard understands. 

“On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight…”

It is in that moment, when melody and verse mix in the melancholy of Sitri’s tone, that Edelgard feels the weight of Rhea’s sorrow bear down on her—the fleeting nature of memory, washed away in the unrelenting currents of time, only to be left with a faint ember in the distance as you get swept away in the deluge…

Why?

Why does it tug at Edelgard’s heart?

Sitri breathes in and looks up as the song ends, only to jolt as she finds herself eye-to-eye with Professor Eisner.

Professor Eisner who, unbeknownst to them, has dropped her peer review the instant Edelgard asked about Rhea’s singing. Professor Eisner who, for some reasons unknown to Edelgard, had been studying her mother’s reaction and expressions the whole time, jaw tightening as she heard the song from Sitri.

“That song,” says the Professor, clipped and curt, brows furrowed at her own mother.

“This song, yes,” Sitri says in return.

Professor Eisner stands up and walks towards Sitri, not once breaking eye contact with her. “What does it mean?”

“It can mean many things, By-By, but—”

When Sitri tries to turn away, Professor Eisner takes her by the wrist and stops her.

“Mom. What does it mean to you?”

There’s an intensity in the way the Professor looks at her mother that Edelgard has scarcely ever seen; perhaps the closest approximation would be whenever she found the Professor deep in her work at the lab. But this is markedly different, in that a piercing desperation makes itself known past all of the Professors’ eccentricities, raw and honest and vulnerable. This is not the Professor. This is a child, utterly lost and confused, looking to her mother for guidance.

Sitri stays quiet. Her lip quivers, but she looks back at Professor Eisner with conviction, knowing what should be owed to her daughter but still too afraid to give it.

Edelgard fears that she is intruding on this precarious private moment. She subtly backs away from the two.

“When will you stop running away, mom?”

Sitri is now visibly distraught, almost begging her daughter to drop the topic.

“…Soon, love. But not now. Please. I still need time.”

Still, the professor is relentless. She doesn’t back down.

“You’ve had all the time in the world. This isn’t just about you and her anymore.”

“By-By, I don’t want to drag you into everything—”

“—It’s too late for that, mom! I’m here. Bel’s here. We were dragged into this the day you decided to have us!”

Professor Eisner’s voice raises. It never raises. She tightens her hold on her mother, almost in a vice grip. Sitri’s melancholy gives way to a firmness, a frown that looks far too out of place on the flower lady of UGM even in her poorer moods. She takes the Professor’s hand and pulls it off with ease.

“I am your mother, Byleth. Do not speak to me like that.”

The words act like a punch, leaving Byleth stunned momentarily as if the occurrence was strange to her. Stormily, she snaps back. “I wouldn’t have had to if you just talked to me for once.”

Sitri doesn’t answer. She turns to Edelgard instead, bowing slightly with an apologetic look before leaving the greenhouse without another word.

A low, subtle growl reverberates from the Professor’s throat before she takes in a deep breath.

“Sorry you had to see that. But you’re probably used to it by now,” she says, returning to her flat affect as if nothing happened.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” says Edelgard, combing her hair back with her hand. “Can you at least explain yourself, Professor? You alright?”

Professor Eisner returns to where she’d been sitting, closing her laptop and returning her papers to her binder for her to deal with some other time.

“The one time I heard that song was the week she couldn’t bear facing me or my traitor brother when we were kids. When we first transformed and took on the Goddess’ true form like we were wearing her corpse.”

She turns back to look at Edelgard. 

“The details are adding up. I don’t like the story they’re telling me.”

Edelgard understands the conundrum Rhea faces a little better now, even if not by much. What she’s certain of when it comes to Rhea is that she feels so deeply that she is often drowning in her own emotions; and that has caused problems big and small for them in the past. It has had Rhea act impulsively in accordance with her whims, and it is probably the reason why Rhea finds it so difficult to be with the people she cares about. 

These are the things Edelgard knows for sure about the events surrounding Rhea:

1. She’s lived an abnormally long life with an abnormal amount of tragedy and isolation, which probably means she’s never exactly been the paragon of mental well-being. She still mourns her mother, the goddess Sothis. 
2. She did something terrible enough to Sitri that it still gives everyone in their family grief hundreds of years after the fact, and she hates herself for this. 
3. Whatever happened to Sitri must somehow be connected to Professor Eisner and her brother having the true form of the goddess, and the professor resents this.
4. Rhea is not a bad person, but damned if she doesn’t need professional help. 
5. She shouldn’t have to confront herself alone.

Something has shifted since that night Edelgard saw Rhea singing. Rather than being paralyzed with inaction, Edelgard is finally taking things slow in acclimatizing Rhea back with her presence. She has been steadily reaching out to the older woman. Edelgard can count on one hand the amount of people she’s started doing things for her whole life; Rhea being one of the only few.

It’s a startling realization to Edelgard, that she has been so self-absorbed for the majority of her life. It’s both a blessing and curse that Rhea’s awakening has become the catalyst to her own personal change: a blessing because it made Edelgard realize many things about herself and the way she is with others, and a curse for how long it took just for her to get to that point.

Goddess knows Edelgard still has a long way to go in that department, but Rhea is a reason to keep trying until she finally has the guts to fix the rest of her sorry life. 

Edelgard is not willing to let their built up relationship crumble to dust, and she’ll stop it however she can to be there for Rhea. Goddess, that woman has Edelgard running on the ground, forcing herself to wake up during the early hours just to prepare breakfast for the both of them to the best of her abilities. Or how Edelgard finds herself properly managing time between socialization (that she started regularly talking to Flayn has Edelgard viewing herself with wild astonishment) and academics for once. Change doesn’t happen in an instant; she knows this. Rhea continued to resist Edelgard’s attempts to reach out, but with careful consistency and effort, she has been gradually coming around.

And with the pieces slowly coming together about the mystery behind Rhea’s family, this only pushes Edelgard to become someone who Rhea can fall back to when she feels like the world is her enemy. It’s a painfully tedious process, with tensions still high and almost on the verge of complete collapse, but Edelgard is willing to do anything just to get them right back on track.

Like right now, when they have finally succeeded in being in the same room together again without the urge to flee. With Edelgard busy doing more paperwork on the coffee table and Rhea watching the television, it looks as though everything is back to normal.

Maybe Flayn was right. One step at a time.

“Edelgard?” Rhea asks out of nowhere, and it has the aforementioned woman stunned. It’s been too long since Rhea was the one initiating a conversation between the two of them.

“Yeah?” Edelgard responds, trying not to sound too excited.

Rhea doesn’t answer anything for a short while, and the momentary pause almost has Edelgard worried until Rhea speaks up again.

“Am I selfish? Am I inconsiderate?”

Edelgard decides to drop whatever paper she’s doing at the moment and gives Rhea her full attention.

“What brought this on all of a sudden?” she asks, confusion plastered on her face.

Rhea looks at her, hesitation evident as she glances to and from Edelgard before settling back on her. She takes a deep breath before revealing. “Am I unlovable?”

Edelgard takes a brief second to ponder before answering truthfully. “I don’t know. A lot has changed since we dug you out of the ground. If they hadn’t, maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Rhea doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer but she eventually concedes, leaning back against the couch. The television screen continues playing on but nobody is watching. Edelgard’s eyes stay glued on Rhea while the other woman remains silent, no doubt still reflecting on a lot of things.

After a while, she speaks up.

“I’m well aware that you see that I have been ‘going through it’ as the youth say nowadays,” Rhea starts then turns to look at Edelgard. She looks sheepish, not exactly looking her eye to eye but Edelgard will take anything just to have this back. “But I am not ready yet, to tell you why. Why your generosity and kindness should not belong to me.”

“I get it,” Edelgard says, “that’s exactly how I am with my own friends and they’re probably getting sick of my bullshit.”

“I doubt that, you charmer,” Rhea snipes back, and this brings out a small chuckle from Edelgard because of how much it reminds her of simpler times. Rhea gives her a slight smile before continuing, a more solemn look. “I am simply… terrified that perhaps you would think of me differently when you find out the whole truth.”

“I won’t.”

“You can’t possibly promise that. You would not know the gravity of my sins.”

“I won’t judge you,” Edelgard reiterates and grabs her hands on her own, letting Rhea know she’s being serious about this. “I have my… suspicions. But whatever the truth of the matter is, whatever happened was caused by a Rhea from the past, and not the Rhea I know now.”

“You don’t know that I’m not the same person. It has yet to be even a year since you woke me from my slumber.” 

“If you were truly as deplorable as you make yourself out to be, you wouldn’t be here trying to flagellate yourself over your mistakes. You wouldn’t care at all. But you do care. So take your time. I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.”

Rhea sighs deeply and leans back on the couch.

“…What did I do to deserve you, Edelgard?”

“You threatened to burn my school down. Enough of this now. Let’s go watch some TV.”

They do watch their TV. And it feels… okay again. Just a little. But it’s progress. One step at a time. 

While Rhea falls asleep to the documentary they’d been watching, Edelgard pulls out her phone and finally reads Dorothea’s last message to her properly:

Thea Arnault Casagranda

Thea: Edie, I know you’re going through it, and it’s hard to admit that, but we’ll be waiting for you. Just take your time and we’ll listen when you’re ready.

A lightness fills Edelgard for the first time in weeks. 

Edie: Slr. I was stuck up my own ass as always, sorry. But thank you, thea. Really. Wait for me. Love you.

Life isn’t easy. But it doesn’t always have to be hard. She just needs to take it one step at a time. 

There is a massive scar that runs the length of Sitri Eisner’s chest. 

She has other scars, dozens of them, and she had always told the twins that they were from a war long forgotten, when she was but a young girl who just wanted her mother’s love and approval. But the scar on her chest is the ugliest, the deepest, the newest. Right where her heart is. Right where she would cradle her children and sing to them in their youth. 

Byleth doesn’t know if her traitor brother has ever seen it or realized its importance for himself, but maybe he hasn’t. If he did, then maybe he would’ve stayed to protect mom the way she does. Maybe he wouldn’t have left her to figure out the world on her own. Maybe he’d feel the way she does about who— what they are, and what it means to exist because of the scar on their mother’s breast. How the scar connects to mom and grandma and what happened and what Byleth and her traitor brother would be born with—the puzzle is coming together but she’s missing a few pieces, and she isn’t sure if she wants to know what the full picture is.

Byleth and Belial were nine years old when they first transformed. When their parents found them, half the house was reduced to ash, and what little wasn’t was crushed by the weight of two giant wolf pups thrashing about in confusion. While their father scrambled to file an insurance claim, their mother had something else on her mind.

Even as dragons, her twins mirrored each other: wolves of ashen fur and silvery scales, one pair of horns twisting towards the sky, the other sharp and sleek. 

They looked like two halves of the same whole, and their mother was horrified.

Mom kept looking back and forth between Byleth and Belial and her own arms. Every time, her eyes grew more panicked, and wide, and her breathing was starting to get choked back by the lump in her throat—

"Are you mad, mom?" said Belial, the older of the twins. He tilted his head to the side like a dog waiting for its owner to pay it attention.

"No, not at all, dear,” mom told him. She reached out to him with shaky hands, petting him on the snout. “I... I'm so proud of both of you for having your first shift. I just... need some time alone to breathe, sweetheart. It's quite overwhelming."

Byleth was not convinced. She turned away and curled up in a corner, whimpering and whipping her tail back and forth. 

“I hate this. I wanna be normal again,” she said. “Mom hates us now.” 

Mom tried to go to Byleth to comfort her, but flinched away when she saw Byleth’s ears flick. Byleth hated how she could hear all of the distress Mom was trying to hide: the racing of her heart, the shallowness of her breathing, the quiver of her lips. She curled tighter into herself, trying to block out all the sounds and smells of the world, but it just didn’t work, and it hurt.

Today was exhausting for Byleth. She doesn’t know why she’s making it worse for herself by remembering all of these things, and she’d rather go home without having to hole up in her room and doing the little rituals she does to calm down. But it’s difficult to not think about things after what had happened in the greenhouse—she really doesn’t like it when she argues with mom…

Growing up, it was difficult for her parents to explain just how old they really were, and why that meant By and Bel would never meet their grandparents. Dad was always the more upfront one about the topic, talking about how he couldn’t even remember his parents’ names or faces anymore, but mom was the one who always tried to dodge the question when asked. Half of the question was easy for her to answer: she never knew the identity of her birth father and likely never will. The other half of the question only became known to Byleth when she saw Mom looking wistfully at some white lilies. 

“They remind me of your grandma,” mom had said. “She loved these flowers because they reminded her of her own mother, the goddess. I remember how she let me weave these flowers into a crown for her when I was a child.”

“How’d grandma die?” a young Byleth had asked. Mom froze when she said that, but did her best to answer.

“…She’s not dead yet, just sleeping. Something bad happened, By-By. We’re just waiting until all the bad goes away.” 

Byleth would later ask Uncle Mac about grandma, and he said the bad thing was her fault, and that the bad thing was that she hurt mom.

“Frog, if that woman wakes up, never let her touch your mom ever again,” he told her. And Byleth took that to heart.

"Byleth? Belial? Sit down with us for a moment. You're not in trouble."

Uncle Seteth's soft voice seemed to soothe Bel’s nerves, but not Byleth's. Uncle Mac ruffled Byleth's hair to get her to ease up. It didn't really work. The twins sat down on the armchairs around the coffee table with their uncles.

"Why's mom mad at us?" Bel asked. “She hasn’t come out of her and dad’s room in days.”

"She's not mad at you and Frog, Toad," said Uncle Mac. "She's mad because of something else."

"You're confusing the children. She isn't angry," Uncle Seteth said. Uncle Mac gave him a dirty look. Uncle Seteth didn't notice or care. "Your mother is just worried."

"About what?" Bel asked again. Byleth already hated the conversation and wanted to run away, but Uncle Mac gave her a look that told her to stay put.

In response to Bel’s question, Uncle Seteth shook his head.

"About many things that are too difficult for us to explain at the moment," he said. "But we can explain one thing. Do you know how to manifest your crests?"

And it started to make a whole lot of sense when Byleth learned how obsessed grandma was with the goddess; Uncle Seteth was the one who told her that grandma never healed from the massacre at Zanado, and Mom basically played second fiddle to grandma’s memories of the goddess growing up. Frankly, if it weren’t for mom talking about fonder memories of grandma she had later on in life, Byleth would have been convinced that grandma never really truly cared for mom. It made sense for the longest time that someone like that would hurt their own child.

It makes her hypothesis about what exactly happened to mom make a lot more awful sense. All she’s missing is the how. 

Now that she’s met grandma and seen how she is for herself, however… there’s something pitiful about the way she is, and Byleth means that with some shred of sympathy for the woman. It reminds her of—she doesn’t want to think about it. But it does feel bad to watch. It feels bad because it makes this person she’d vilified in her head more human, and that complicates things and Byleth hates it when things get complicated.

Byleth and her brother looked on as their two crests seemed to form one bigger crest when put side-by-side. Bel was fascinated; Byleth was horrified, because she mirrored the way her uncles reacted to the sight.

Uncle Seteth took in a sharp breath. "What you see here is the Crest of Flames—the very essence of the goddess Sothis herself."

"How’d we get her crest?" said Bel. “We’re supposed to have our own.”

"Why?" was what Byleth managed to choke out. She didn’t like this at all.

"We don't know how," said Uncle Seteth, which was the truth.

"And we don't know why," said Dad, who was coming down the stairs from his and mom's bedroom, lying through his teeth.

What is she supposed to do now? Grandma isn’t this grand, evil thing she can get rid of however way she pleases. She isn’t out to get anyone right now, really. And she seems to be getting along so well with Edelgard that they’re starting to smell like each other and it’s gross to think about. There’s that part of Byleth that worries it’s just temporary, that grandma will snap and do awful things again the way Uncle Mac always warned her. And yet… 

The last of her uncles, Uncle Indy, always spoke of her with more patience than the other two ever did, and she was too young to understand that by the time he went to sleep. Now she wonders what it is about grandma that gives Uncle Indy and even Uncle Seteth that patience. She wonders if that’s what makes mom the way she is about grandma, loving grandma from afar even though mom hasn’t fully healed from her pain, and if Byleth could learn to have that patience too someday—

It was weeks since they first transformed, but Mom still hadn’t shown up. Byleth was about to enter the master’s bedroom without permission when Bel grabbed her by the arm to stop her.

“Leave mom alone, she needs a break.”

Byleth glared at her twin brother for being stupid. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was always the stronger one between the two of them.

“But something's wrong, Bel.”

Bel frowned at her and tugged her away.

“We burned down the house, of course something’s wrong.”

“You're being stupid again. Stop being stupid. There's another wrong thing and it's big.”

Knowing his sister would continue being stubborn no matter what he said, Bel rolled his eyes and let go of Byleth. “Fine. Just… don’t make mom any more upset.”

—No. She can't go down this line of thinking. It doesn't matter how much she's changed or how long ago it was, mom was HURT and almost irreparably so, it doesn't matter how lonely or miserable grandma is, it'd be better for everyone if she just—

Byleth knocked on the door to her parents’ room.

“Mom?”

No response. She knocked again.

“Mom?”

Byleth, impetuous as always, went ahead and opened the door without invitation. And she wished she didn’t.

Mom was staring at herself in the mirror half-naked, and Byleth was scared because Mom’s eyes were so empty like there was no one home. Mom had a lot of old scars on her body, lots of gashes from swords and axes and closed-up holes from arrows and crossbow bolts. But her chest had the scariest one of all: it was big and ugly and raised, and it looked like someone was clawing at her. That was the part Mom was staring at the most, and after a while she buried her face into her hands and started crying. She didn’t even notice Byleth was in the room with her.

“...Mommy?”

Mom gasped. She pulled her face away from her hands and shook in horror at the sight of her child.

"By-By? Sweetie, what are you doing here?"

Byleth spoke plainly as she always did.

"I missed you."

And that only made mom cry even harder. And Byleth cried with her. And Byleth felt that everything was her fault, until mom put her shirt back on and carried Byleth to bed with her, and shushed her and kissed her and sang a song Byleth never heard before and would never hear again for the next twenty years:

“In time’s flow… see the glow of flames ever burning bright…”

Byleth breaks out of her ruminating when she realizes she’s already standing at the door to their house.

She sniffles, stopping while her key is hovering beside the doorknob. Breathe in and out. It’s been an overwhelming day, both with her feelings and the world being a lot to handle. She’s already home. She can take a break and—

“—You sure you’re ready for this?” 

“When will I ever be ready, Jeralt? I’ve been holding this off for too long. I have to talk to her.”

 Byleth pulls her hand away from the door and listens. Her eyebrow twitches because the world is getting to her again; the wind rustles through the flower bushes on the other side of the campus, the cloying scent of some student’s scented candles invades her nostrils, and mom and dad are whispering in hushed, harsh tones as if that’d ever stop her from hearing their conversation. Not now. Breathe in and out. She scratches at her arm out of habit.

“ Have to , Sits?” dad asks. 

“You know how Byleth’s been about her,” mom says. “And Macuil—really, all the brothers, even if Seteth and Indech say they don’t mind so much. And you…” 

“Because I worry about you.” 

“And I love you for it. My point is that my fear has caused a wedge to form in our family over this. Who else is going to be able to do something about it?”

“So what’s that something, Sits? What are you going to do?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause. Byleth can hear the heaviness in mom’s exhale when she does speak.

“…I’ve considered the chance that I might have to let her go—if that’s the best way to end all this, and put everyone’s minds at ease…”

“You’re thinking about ‘best’ when it comes to the rest of us, and maybe that might be the easiest solution for everyone to adjust to. But this is between you and her, Sits, and no one else.” 

“If you told that to me twenty-nine years ago, that would still be true. But the twins—”

“—Will figure out their own side of the story on their own. They’re grown up, Sitri, and they can help themselves. Just like you can help yourself . I’ll say it again—you’ve been thinking of what you think is best for everyone. But what do you want? What’s best for you?”

Byleth holds in her breath. She clenches her jaw, waiting for mom’s answer and…

“…Would it be too much to ask if I could have her in my life again?”

No.

NO.

Not now. It was already bad enough at the greenhouse. Byleth growls and scratches at her arm as she’s bombarded by the shrill, boisterous laughter of freshmen, the echoing clang of metal as workers set up the stage and the stands for the festival, the drone of the wildlife in the forests around Garreg Mach, it’s all too much and it’s getting to her and mom is about to get herself killed —

Breathe in, breathe out. But It’s not working. 

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, the world is closing in on Byleth and it’s bearing down on her the same way Rhea’s sins bear down upon her own daughter—

Byleth jams her key through the lock and swings the door open, storming through the living room and into the dining room where Mom and Dad have been talking. Dad startles at her entrance; Mom, less so, like she knew this was going to happen.

“Yes. Yes it will be too much. Don’t even think about it, mom. You’re asking if you can risk your life again, having her around.”

She slams her hands on the table as she addresses her mother, growling deeply, the throbbing of her headache from all the everything making her slouch over. Mom’s face is sullen but resigned. 

“You’re going to die, mom. She almost killed you and you want her back, you’re going to die .” 

“Calm down, kid,” dad tries to appease her. “Where in the world did you get that idea?”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Byleth hisses at her father. He grimaces when she says this, but lets it go because, if Byleth is right in her assumption, then he knows damn well where she got that idea.

To her mother, she pleads out. “There’s no other reason why you and the uncles would be this pressed about her. Uncle Mac especially. Why else would he tell me to never let her near you?”

Mom frowns. “Is that what he said to you? By-By, you know how your uncle is most days.”

“It’s different when it’s her. He’ll never forgive her and he only does that if he has a reason for it.”

Mom’s eyes dart around as she tries to find another excuse. “He—their relationship was always strained since the War of Heroes.”

Byleth narrows her eyes. “And why is that, mom?”

Mom avoids the question and takes a deep breath. 

“…I know you’ve been worried about this, By-By, and I know you just want to keep me safe. But the situation is a lot more complicated than you think it is.”

“Is it really? Because to me, it looks like everyone has the same idea about wanting to stay as far as possible away from her. Everyone except you.”

“She’s truly a good person By-By. It’s just—she hurt me in the past. That’s all.” Mom shakes her head, imploring Byleth to understand but she does not budge.

“That’s a very nice way of saying she nearly got you killed. She wouldn’t have reacted the way she did when she first came back if she didn’t think you were dead.” 

Mom grows quiet.

“…You’re right, By-By. I can’t fool you.”

Byleth snaps back at mom. “So I don’t get it! If it really got that bad, why are you even still considering forgiving her?! That’s a death wish!”

“Byleth!” Mom yells, and it eerily sounds close to a sob. “If I ever did anything wrong to you, would you never give me another chance?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you squandered your second chance the first time!”

Mom’s voice goes soft, almost in resignation.“Then what is forgiveness for, if you’ll never let others use it?”

“Forgiveness is for people who won’t try to kill you to bring back a dead goddess!”

Mom’s mouth opens, ready to counter, but she is left dumbfounded, her lips frozen midway with her mind blanking. Byleth takes this as a sign of affirmation. The heavy grudge that had been building up pushes her through the hurtful haze.

“You think I couldn’t put it together, mom? You think I didn’t realize something was wrong when my ‘true form’ was apparently someone else’s body? You think I never noticed how you’d keep staring at your chest in the mirror after that? That huge scar over your heart that you said was from the war? As far as I know, there weren’t any sort of weapons during that time that could make a scar that looks like someone tore your heart out with their bare hands!”

Mom’s mask of control breaks with every word. Her body starts trembling, the remnants of her tragic past, on her chest, ache with shuddering intensity that it’s getting harder to breathe. Byleth seems fully clueless of the impact of her wrath.

“Byleth, she was—” mom tries to interject, but it’s ultimately useless in the force of her daughter’s ire.

“Why do you love her when she never loved you enough to be happy with you instead of Sothis?!”

That is the tipping point. Mom doesn’t break; she falls apart. 

It’s an ugly sound, Byleth thinks with a sickening realization. The way mom’s breathing catches so shortly before turning sharp and wheezing. The heaviness with which her shoulders sag. Suddenly, Byleth regrets ever opening her mouth, because she hates it when mom cries and especially when it’s because of her. 

Dad slams his hands on the table. “Enough, the both of you! This is getting out of—”

And then the jangling sound of keys makes the entire room pause. The door unlocks with a metallic twang that vibrates the still air. Coming in through the doorway is a young man in his late 20s, cropped blue-green hair trimmed neatly, wearing a loose polo shirt and a lanyard that marks him as a faculty member of Derdriu Normal University. With him are several duffel bags and luggage behind him, and a large box of pizza in his hands.

Most notably, of course, to anyone with eyes, he is the splitting image of his mother and twin sister.

“I’m home,” says one Belial Eisner. “I brought pizza.”

Quiet. A beat passes. No one dares speak through the silence until Jeralt clears his throat to break the tension in the air.

“Bel. Son. You’re uh, home early this year.”

“I’m not early. I’m quite late, actually. The Foundation Festival is already about to start. I said I’d be home before the Festival proper.”

It does nothing to thin out the thick atmosphere in the house. Belial himself knows this. The impassive affect he often gives off is of a different quality than his sister’s. Byleth has no social awareness; Belial is constantly aware and uses his neutral tone to gauge the environment he’d spent almost his entire life navigating for him and his sister both. 

His scrutiny makes everyone shift in place.

“Right, sorry about that, kid…” his father trails off. “‘Scuse the mess. Things have been, uh, happening.”

Belial nods at his father before turning to raise an eyebrow at his sister and mother, whose red eyes and shaky breath betray the argument they’d been having the entire evening.

“Great,” Byleth grits out with a shudder, “now the traitor’s back, too.”

Belial ignores his twin’s remark. He puts the pizza down on the dining table and sighs, rubbing at his temple with one hand. To his parents, he asks in a serious tone:

“What happened here?”

Sitri takes a deep breath. In the short span of Belial’s homecoming, she has carefully composed herself after Byleth’s confrontation. She knows she can’t hold this back anymore.

“Bel, By-By… I’m sorry it took me this long. I can’t—nothing can be fixed if I keep shielding you from the truth.”

Dad nods in approval. Bel sits down at the table with them. Byleth rubs at her arms to calm herself down, and mom looks at them with renewed conviction.

“It’s time I told you everything that has happened between my mother and I.”

Chapter Text

It’s half past midnight by the time the Eisners finish their long, painful discussion of the truth. Belial yawns and cracks his neck hauling his baggage up the stairs. Face-to-face with the door to his childhood bedroom, he hesitates for a moment. His sister won’t be happy to see him come in. She’s been in a terrible mood all night even after everything was said and done. He does knock eventually, duffel bags and luggage flanking him on both sides, only for the door to be thrown open with such force that it’s almost ripped off the hinges. He’s met with a glare from his own mirror image. Byleth stands defiant at the door, keen to keep Belial out of what she claims as her territory.

“This is my room. Go away, Traitor. Sleep on the couch.”

Belial blinks in response to Byleth's demand.

“It being your room and it being mine are not mutually exclusive concepts,” he tells her.

Byleth's glare evolves into a scowl. “Now they are, because I said so.”

Belial allows himself to shrug and slide past Byleth anyway, leaving his bags by the doorway. “And I say your point is moot, because I'm the older twin.”

“I have no twin, you criminal!”

“What difference does it make? I'm already a traitor.”

While his sister grumbles behind him, half-heartedly pulling at his arm to drag him out of the room, Belial looks up to inspect the top bunk, which was always his; it doesn't surprise him that his sister had started piling her archaeology books on it in mounds that threaten to topple over. He could even see the bed frame bending from the sheer weight of it all.

In fact, the room he once shared with his twin sister his entire life had been taken over by all the things she'd been studying—things he used to study with her, which he held no fond feelings for. And the things that used to bring them together—old toys and school projects and posters of their favorite bands from adolescence—these had been carelessly pushed aside to make way for a desktop PC and stacks of unfinished paperwork. That poor, raggedy cheetah-blob-thing plushie from their childhood favorite internet Flash cartoon sits in the corner, judging with dead eyes the blatant disregard with which Byleth kept their bedroom.

(Belial notes to himself: pushed aside, yes, but kept out in the open anyway. It could be explained away by her being disorganized as always, but when all that remains are her work and her past…)

He looks at her with an eyebrow raised.

“The unwelcome is palpable,” he says.

“I said it was my room for a reason,” she says back.

“Not like it was gonna stop me either way,” says Belial, as he opens their closet (of course, with all the clothes he didn't bring with him to Derdriu stuffed into a trash bag) and pulls out a well-worn sleeping bag from their camping days. He whips it unfurled and lays it flat on the floor beside the bunk bed, on top of the round carpet. Byleth's response to that is a simple narrowing of the eyes. As Belial begins to unpack his belongings, placing them where he could around the books on the top bunk, only then does Byleth speak up again.

“If you wanted to keep your half of the room, then you shouldn't have left in the first place.”

Belial continues unpacking his clothes. “I've already laid out my reasons to everyone, and I don't see the need to repeat myself to you because you're smart enough to know better.”

“I comprehend well enough to know that you're a traitor, Traitor.”

“Me having an identity beyond being 'the male Byleth' is only a betrayal to you because you make it out to be.”

“I never said that!”

“Not with words, no, but in insisting we did everything together, yes.”

“That—that’s just—”

Belial stops unpacking. He turns around to look at his sister.

“Do you think antagonizing me will bring me back home, By?”

Byleth falls silent and grits her teeth. She fidgets with her hands while under the scrutiny of Belial’s narrowed eyes.

“Don’t start. I’ve already had too much today,” Byleth mumbles under her breath. 

“Then you shouldn’t have acted like I betrayed you in cold blood for trying to live a life of my own.”

He watches his sister shift uncomfortably in silence. He knows she hates it when people stare at her, which is unfortunately quite often. He turns away and resumes unpacking out of courtesy. She stands still and stares at him in return—‘do unto others’ never quite translated well to her. 

There may be no one else on this planet who knows her as well as he does, and so he knows that she keeps quiet because she’s still figuring out the best way to express how she feels. She usually manages on her own; it’s why she lashes out at him when she’s upset and throws foodstuffs at him when she appreciates him. To Byleth, these are her emotions at their rawest, most sincere form, and everyone close to her has learned to speak her language. 

But she’d never quite learned how to be hurt, especially when her frustration has no leg to stand on in the face of logic and fact. 

“…Sorry,” Belial says, looking down at his half-unpacked clothes, “that was harsh of me.”

Byleth doesn’t respond. She was right; it’s far too late for another argument. Belial is tired from traveling and from mediating, and Byleth is more than spent with what she could tolerate out of people. 

“I wouldn’t have left if I believed you wouldn’t be able to handle yourself without me. You don’t need me to keep speaking on your behalf.”

“No one else gets me the same way,” Byleth says. “I don’t need you to speak for me, but I’ve always needed you to hear me.” 

“We were getting better about this; you started opening up to the Shezes. You mostly stopped calling me a traitor at some point.”

“But that was before.”

She doesn’t need to finish her thought for him to understand what she meant. Belial can hear her sitting down on her half of the bunk, squeezing at the wood of the bed frame. 

“Why don’t you care, Bel?” Byleth asks. “Why aren’t you also angry at everything mom went through? At what we are because of it?”

Belial runs a hand through his hair and rests it on his knee. 

“For one, I think it’s better to handle these kinds of situations with a calm, composed mind. Getting caught up in the heat of our feelings makes things harder for everyone—just look at what happened tonight.” 

He turns around to look in Byleth’s general direction. He continues.

“And whatever we are never quite mattered to me as much as who ever we are.”

Byleth balls a hand into a fist. “How could it not matter? You’re okay with being the goddess’ half-chewed up corpse?”

“Whether or not that’s true, I’ve learned to be comfortable with it, and grew into my own skin.”

She frowns at him for that. He wonders if she envies him for being able to do so without going crazy from the sensory overload. He sighs.

“It’s not that I don’t care, but I don’t think anger will help here. What’s done is done, and this was done literal ages ago. I also think it would be hypocritical to judge our grandmother for being the way she is.”

“What, so you’re fine with her almost murdering mom?”

“I’m not excusing her actions, nor am I downplaying what mom went through because of her. But to judge her for trying to run from her pain and holding onto the past?”

He knows, in turn, that he doesn’t need to finish his thought for her to understand what he meant.

“I’m not running,” is all Byleth says.

“Then tell me why your room has nothing in it but your work and your memories in it.”

Byleth acts as if she didn’t hear him. Quietly, she stands up, pulls her books and her papers off of the top bunk, and kicks the sleeping bag Belial laid out aside. She stares at him again. Belial removes the last of his clothes from his luggage, revealing packs of Almyran sweets, and offers one to his sister. She looks at the candy in her hand, then at Belial, then back at the candy again.

She promptly throws it at his face before lying down, pulling her blanket over her entire body, and pretending to fall asleep instantly. Belial puts the candy and the rest of its kind on her desk and climbs up to the top bunk. It’s as much of a truce as he’ll ever get out of her.

A few days have passed since the afternoon Rhea and Edelgard finally broke their stalemate. It’s not a perfect resolution yet and that’s fine. There are still things Rhea hasn’t opened up to Edelgard about and vice versa, but it seems that things are slowly looking up. They’re nowhere close to how they used to be, spontaneous with their banter and carefree in their actions, but compared to before, there is now a gradual unveiling of their facades—a touch of sincerity and understanding that wasn’t there yet at the start.

Rhea knows that it’s impossible to be completely free of the burden of her past, but every time Edelgard regards her with the softest of gazes and the patience of a saint— ha ! The irony— the tight coil in her gut slowly unravels. Despite that, Rhea once again feels the weight of loneliness hanging over her the moment she looks out the balcony window. 

“Pray tell why there seems to be a sudden increase in foot traffic around the campus grounds? I haven’t seen Garreg Mach this lively in ages,” she comments, her eyes trained on the droves of students laughing and goofing around with one another without a care in the world.

Under her breath, Rhea continues, “Except, perhaps, during the last war I was in, but that was lively for all the wrong reasons.”

A snort snaps her out of her daze and Rhea turns to the source of the sound. Edelgard gives her a bemused glance.

“What? I was genuinely curious.” Rhea raises a brow.

Edelgard shakes her head, sighing. “Of course you had to add that last part as if it was just a normal thing to point out. Since you’re wondering, though, it’s the Foundation Festival starting tomorrow.”

“The Foundation Festival? Already?” Rhea looks stumped. “The anniversary of Garreg Mach’s founding won’t be until next week.”

Edelgard looks back up from her work. 

“It’s going to be winter break by then. Do you think anyone wants to be up on this mountain by that point? They hold the festival earlier while we’re all still stuck here.”

Rhea’s face crumples in reflection, and it must have been so obvious to Edelgard what she was thinking because she explains.

“I don’t know how important the foundation day was while you were out smiting your enemies, but the Foundation Festival in its current form is one of the most anticipated events in the entire university. It’s a massive deal for everyone, and as you can see,” she gestures plainly towards the open balcony window, “all the students love it because it means they get to be liberated from their academic responsibilities, and they can just sit back and enjoy with their friends.”

“You don’t seem all too excited about it yourself,” Rhea points out, and if that isn’t the truth, especially right now…

The outside of their apartment building is surrounded by cheerful crowds of people, enthusiastic to be out and about the grounds, looking at the fun activities for everyone to enjoy. Visual clutter of the liveliest kind. And yet Rhea finds Edelgard wound up yet again her research, her reference articles and materials strewn across their dining table. It’s a different kind of visual clutter that speaks to Edelgard’s priorities.

“Don’t you want to be out there in the crowd, rather than be here secluded inside?”

Edelgard pauses, looking at Rhea with an expression belying a weariness behind the sharpness of her gaze. 

“There’s a certain pain in celebration,” Edelgard says, “in that they only make you feel more alone when there’s no one to celebrate with.”

Rhea returns Edelgard’s look with pity. “I see,” she says with perfect understanding.

There’s a lull in the room, neither of them making a sound. If there is one thing that Rhea shares with Edelgard, it’s self-isolation. It’s a tough battle to try and bring yourself out of the box, after all, and even if Edelgard has scarcely admitted to it out loud, Rhea knows that it weighs both of them down in the exact same way.

After a tense moment, Edelgard breaks the silence. With a deep breath, she reveals. “I heard from Flayn that some of our old classmates—the Deer and the Lions—are planning to reunite this year for the Foundation Festival. It’s been a long time. But the Eagles, my f—”

Edelgard pauses, mouth hanging open as if her voice has been caught with nowhere to go. Rhea watches on, understanding and sympathy rooting beneath the unspoken longing.

“—Anyway, since the Lions are joining in on the event, that means that my step-brother is coming. It’s… been a while since…”

Edelgard stalls in her thought for a while, enough for Rhea to try and finish it for her. “Since you last met?”

Edelgard bites her lip. “…No. Since we last met eye-to-eye.”

The look on Edelgard’s face is another striking mirror to Rhea’s own. Rhea doesn’t need to ask to know more about how rough it has been going in that department.

“Don’t you want to see him then, to amend that?” Rhea encourages Edelgard simply. “Even if your own friends aren’t coming—you shouldn’t have to force yourself to be alone during this time.”

What a turn of events this is, how their roles have swapped from Edelgard trying to help Rhea reach out, to being the one asked to reach out.

“I don’t—it’s not that,” Edelgard stutters before she bites her tongue and starts over. “That’s rich coming from you, Rhea. What about you? When will you be ready to make amends?”

“I don’t know.” Rhea answers truthfully. “I do not know when I will be ready.”

They look at each other, and decide to leave it at that. Edelgard dives back into her work and Rhea continues to watch the crowds from the window for a time, until Edelgard stands up with all her things packed with her.

“I think… I’ll be taking my work to the library,” she tells Rhea, eyes shifting away to the door. “I need to focus.”

Rhea watches Edelgard head for the doorway, putting her shoes on. It’s only when Edelgard’s hand reaches for the doorknob that the sound of Rhea’s voice stops her.

“Edelgard.”

She turns around slightly, just enough to look at Rhea. “What is it?”

Rhea clears her throat. “You’ve been through so much with me because you chose to be with me through my issues, and I’ll be forever in your debt because of that. But Edelgard?” her voice catches at the name. Edelgard’s shoulders tighten up. “I hope you know that I will be here to listen whenever you’re ready yourself.”

A pause. Edelgard’s shoulders slump back down.

Then quietly, under her breath. Rhea’s ears just barely catch it.

“Thank you.”

Rhea listens to the door close and allows herself to sit alone with her thoughts, but the apartment feels all the more stuffy and muggy for it. She pulls the balcony doors open and gives in to the urge to bask on the rooftop again, leaping effortlessly from the railings. She’s in no mood to shift though, and sits down with her legs dangling from the side of the building instead. She closes her eyes and breathes in the chilly mountain air of the Ethereal Moon—she savors the wind against her face, the fresh scent of pine forest breaking through the frost, birds chirping and fluttering their wings, the acrid smell of smoke—

The smell of smoke?

She opens her eyes. Suddenly she finds an unfamiliar-familiar young man standing beside her. His deep turquoise hair and piercing eyes are unmistakable, as is the faint afterglow of shift bouncing off his skin. 

Rhea looks him up and down, recalling the photo she saw from Jeralt. “You… you must be Byleth’s twin brother. Belial, was it? How did you find me?” 

Belial Eisner dusts himself off, wiping away what looks suspiciously a lot like ash from his vest. “Your scent was easy to pick up; you smell a lot like our mother, but that’s to be expected. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, grandmother.”

“It… it is good to meet you as well, I suppose,” Rhea says. She’s too busy grappling with the notion of having a completely amicable conversation with her kin to say anything more substantial. “You must excuse me. I’m at a loss for words that you would willingly look for me.”

Belial folds his hands behind his back and stands tall before Rhea, oddly formal but still with an air of casualness. “I’d like to know you better, and the festival is a good way to get that started. I’d like you to join me tomorrow in the festivities. It wouldn’t do to experience everything alone.”

Rhea blinks. That can’t be right, can it? Someone from her family who wants to be around her for no other reason than to be in her presence?

“I’m flattered by the offer, and I’d be happy to accept your invitation, but certainly there’s a reason for you to seek me out beyond pity or curiosity,” says Rhea.  

Belial tilts his head with a brief shrug. “There is. I don’t think it’s productive for everyone in the family to be hemming and hawing at your presence, so I’d like to help address that. But also—”

 He lifts his hand in a way that tells Rhea that he’s about to conjure his crest to show her. Rhea assumes at first that he intends to ask her about his heritage, or to hear more about his nature as a Nabatean. But then his crest shows up.

“—I’d be remiss not to admit my own stake in the matter.”

Rhea takes in a sharp breath. She blinks again to make sure she isn’t hallucinating. Hovering over Belial Eisner’s hand is, unmistakably, the Crest of Flames but split from the center. His is the right half, and if Rhea were to mirror Belial’s crest and attach the two halves together, she’d have—

Rhea stops the thought. Something isn’t lining up. 

“I see. I see why we need to talk,” she utters. “Tell me how this came to be, and I will tell you all I can.” 

Belial nods. “Thank you. Although I do mean it when I say that I want to spend the festival with you. I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy yourself.”

Rhea considers Belial for a moment. He’s much more articulate than his sister, but comes off somewhat stiff despite his geniality. There’s a different brand of stoicism to him compared to his twin—Byleth is incomprehensible at the best of times, where Belial is almost too exacting in his pragmatism. The resemblance is definitely there, though, in that look they both have in their eyes. 

She could call it determination, and see pieces of her younger self reflected in them. 

And so Rhea shakes Belial’s hand to accept his offer, and when he smiles at her for it, she remembers what it feels like to be connected to her kin once more.

The thing about the festival is that the atmosphere on campus pressures everyone to try and go out and have fun, including a lone Edelgard who would’ve preferred to rot in her apartment. She ends up prowling the fairgrounds aimlessly as she waits for the day to be over with. She puts on a little act for the festival goers around her, scouring the area for friends who will never come, and it makes her feel ridiculous because literally no one else cares about this except for herself. 

When she passes by the football field, she sees the picnic blankets of friends eagerly awaiting the fireworks show later that night; she sees Caspar slipping on the Eagles’ blanket, spilling everyone’s food and drink, and Hubert’s iced coffee going straight into Ferdinand’s eyes. When she looks at the fairy lights and lanterns hung upon the trees, she sees a rowdy bunch of kids jumping up and down trying to reach for them; she sees Bernie, Leonie Pinelli, and Ashe Duran throwing rocks at the branches trying to achieve the same. When she looks back at the fountain, she sees students daring each other to get as close to the center as possible before its next programmed display could douse them all; she sees that stupid bet play out again, the one where the three groups in their class pit their leaders against one another with the exact same dare, and Claude was too full of himself and ended up sliding into the bushes. 

Edelgard shakes her head. Not again with this wishy-washy shit. Is she doomed to repeat herself whenever she’s left alone? 

Is there nothing left to me except memories?

Goddess, she hopes not. She’d like to think she made some progress on that front recently. She has a chance to build up her friendship with Thea and Petra again. And she has a new close friend in Flayn… one is better than none. And there’s Rhea, even if they’re not quite sure where they stand with each other at this point. But Rhea’s with Professor Eisner’s brother for the day, and while Edelgard is genuinely happy for her, it still stings not to have anyone to sulk with right now. Flayn, on the other hand, is with, well—

“CHUG IT, RAPH! CHUG, CHUG, CHUG!”

—some very familiar voices, one of which she’d rather not be in earshot of. Edelgard flattens herself against the wall of the high school to hide from the Golden Deer. They’re so loud and clear even through the din of the festival that she can piece together whatever sort of harebrained scheme they’ve gotten themselves into this time—something about a mango milkshake mixed with chunks of mashed takoyaki. Typical, and that hurts because they’re still typical to this day. She makes a sharp turn away and towards the main plaza where she can better disappear into the crowd.

She’s so busy hurrying and weaving through the waves of people that Edelgard doesn’t even realize that she ended up in one of the worst places to be in during an event like this. Multiple benches lined up and occupied with either close circles of friends or, worse, couples. The Lover’s Lane remains a landmark site to witness the phenomenon of public displays of affection in, and although Edelgard is usually apathetic to such displays, today it just stings to look at. The sight of these happy-go-lucky people with nary a care in the world only remind her of what’s absent.

Edelgard is so stuck in her own thoughts that she doesn’t even realize where her feet have led her until the striking sound of two voices bickering catches her attention. One voice is so familiar to Edelgard at this point that it often haunts her dreams: “If you don’t finish your manuscript before the colloquium I’m going to colonize your desk in the lab.”

The other… not so much. Edelgard turns to the source of the sound and finds her thesis advisor sitting along Lover’s Lane with a woman with shockingly violet hair. It makes Edelgard feel like a voyeur because she’s seeing this purple woman leaning on the professor’s chest and curling their fingers together while they spit obscenities and… whatever the hell they’re talking about at each other.

“C’mon, Assnerd. Just do it so that Grampy can finally quit their yap about winning against the godde—sorry, ‘the Beast Which Set the Earth’.” 

The violet haired woman says, all the while playing with the professor’s hand, splaying their fingers together. Edelgard’s advisor only gives the woman a deadpan look before sitting upright, forcing her companion to do the same.

“I’m not going to take orders from your ghost-grandparent who literally lives rent-free in your head. Why do I need to keep reminding you, Shithead.” 

The nickname—could you even call it that? Edelgard doesn’t know anymore—and the callous way that the professor refers to her—friend? Acquaintance?— something … is contrasted to how their hands have refused to let go of the other. That, and their nonchalant skin contact, judging by how they’re so close to cuddling at this point.

Edelgard knows this means that they’re very close because her advisor has a thing with touch. Like, she won’t let anyone touch her on a good day. This is so out of left field.

She pretends not to listen in further on their conversation, turning her body away to give them an air of privacy.

“‘Cuz Grampy won’t shut up about it every time we hang out! ‘My grandchild in fate, this is your opportunity to wipe that accursed beast from the face of Fódlan!’ I just want them to quit it already! You can’t hear them but that’s exactly what they’re doing right now and it’s getting old!”

Edelgard hears the professor scoff. “I have even more reason not to assist you in your endeavor then.”

“The hell?! Why?!”

“I resent being confused for a dead goddess, and I also find it satisfying to watch you go crazy.”

“B, they want me to kill you! ” The woman sounds appalled, downright horrified at the conjecture.

“I thought you wanted that. You said you were gonna choke me that one time.”

A beat passes. Edelgard imagines the purple woman giving her professor a look of absolute shock. Also, she hopes that expression was said in frustration and not in the… other way. 

“Don’t you know what flirting is?!”

“Evidently not.”

…Right. It’s probably time to go now. Edelgard is about to book it except Professor Eisner decides to drag her into this.

“Oh, hi Edelgard.”

At the sound of her name, Edelgard almost jumps, startled. She didn’t expect to be called out so abruptly, but then again it’s kind of her fault she’d been obvious about her eavesdropping. Professor Eisner stares at Edelgard in the usual way, except this time there’s a woman dangling off of her and Edelgard can’t tell if they like or hate each other. 

“Oh. Uh. Hey, Professor. I was just passing by. Don’t mind me, I’m just going to take my leave if I was interrupting anything—”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just Shithead. I wanted to talk to you about your discussion section, actually,” she says, pushing the purple woman away. This only aggravates the purple woman even more.

“What the fuck—it’s the fucking festival Assnerd. I hauled my ass all the way back up this goddamn mountain for your ungrateful ass and you want to talk about work while I’m trying to get your attention?!” 

“Rude. Introduce yourself. This is my good student, Edelgard. I made her take in grandma as a hostage.”

At this certain point in time, Edelgard is feeling less like a graduate student and more of a child, watching her two parents argue with one another. Honestly, Edelgard doesn’t even know who this other woman is and for all that she knows this could possibly be a ‘lover’s quarrel’ between the two. “Professor, I think it’s more that you held my degree hostage—”

“—Edelgard, this is Shithead. She’s a shithead.”

“I have a name, Assnerd!”

Edelgard feels as if she could leave at any moment and these two wouldn’t even notice.

“It’s not like ‘Shez 2’ is any better than ‘Shithead’. Also, I gave you the name Shithead so it’s special.”

The way Professor Eisner could easily fluster Shi—Shez 2?—just by saying something like that makes Edelgard wonder all the more at the status of their relationship. Shez punches the professor’s thigh. Professor Eisner doesn’t flinch. She only tilts her head, noticing something about Edelgard.

“Grandma’s not with you? You reek of her.”

“She’s—wait, you didn’t know, Professor? She told me she’d be spending the day with your brother.”

Edelgard pauses because Professor Eisner herself is paused, face frozen in that now-familiar expression which Edelgard calls the ‘family matters face’. Shez waves a hand over the professor’s face.

“Uh. You okay, Assnerd? B? It almost looks like you’re emoting. You’re scaring me.”

The professor’s eyebrows twitch. She closes her eyes for a moment and raises her head so she can sniff the air like a dog. She stops when her lips purse as if she’d found an answer. 

“He didn’t say anything to me,” says the professor. 

“Rhea told me that your brother wanted to offer an olive branch of sorts to her.” 

Professor Eisner takes a deep breath. “I see. Hm.” She leans back onto Shez, so that she’s resting her head on Shez’s and Shez is resting her head on the professor’s shoulder. 

Before it could get too quiet between them, Shez speaks up. “Hey. I knew about you since you were the student unlucky enough to be thrown into the Eisner family bullshit. Since Assnerd over here can’t use words for shit, I’m going to thank you for her. For putting up with her crap even though you really didn’t have to.” The professor nods her head as if to say, ‘yeah, what she said’.

“Ah—no, it’s alright. I think I’m fine with how things turned out, if anything.”

Shez hums. “You know what? So am I, in a weird way. Things are different and I like this different. If only because it’s been making Assnerd slightly less annoying to deal with.”

“This,” Edelgard gestures vaguely at the professor and Shez, “is a… recent development then, I take it?”

Professor Eisner blinks. “It’s not.”

“B!” 

Edelgard nods and takes her leave before they devolve back into their bickering again, still unsure what to make of the scene. 

Edelgard drifts around aimlessly from there, just moving for the sake of doing something. People swarm around her like locusts, slowly infesting the grounds, making it difficult to maneuver around. She tries not to mind.

She sees a less crowded corner with only a few stragglers here and there, happy to be away from the crowd. She breathes in relief. She should’ve stayed home after all, maybe. But then she’d still be bombarded with the cacophony of celebration even from there.

Much to her dismay, lost in her thoughts, Edelgard doesn’t even notice two individuals walking up to approach her.

“Edie! Edelgard! Is that you? Hi!” comes a shrill cry and Edelgard turns around, finding her feet frozen in place. Annette Dominic and Mercedes von Martritz approach her, bags full of baked goods in tow. Much of it looks homemade, though it seems they’ve also bought from some of the food vendors on the grounds.

The taller of the two women who have caught her unawares is waving politely at her, with light brown hair neatly pinned up in a bun and a lighter shade of lavender staring back at her. ”It’s been so long, how have you been?”

“O-oh. Mercedes. Hello.” Edelgard stutters out, still surprised before quickly composing herself and regards the other person. “And you too, Annette. I didn’t see you there.”

“Hi, Edie!” says Annette, a polite smile on her face. “No worries, it looks like there’s a lot on your mind right now.”

Mercedes shakes her head fondly and turns to Edelgard. “Well, I hope that’s not the case. This is a time to have fun! If you’re not doing anything, it would be nice if you could join us for a chat.”

“Yeah, how have you been?” Annette says. “Do you want a cookie, or a pastry? We’ve got lots to share!”

So much for avoiding any familiar faces from before. Edelgard takes a deep breath. Well, at least it’s just these two for now. She doesn’t know if her brother told any of his friends about what happened between them. Edelgard can’t even say that she’d ever been close to Mercedes or Annette to begin with, so it’d be easier to pretend nothing happened with these two than with most of the other Blue Lions. She politely declines the snacks despite her grumbling stomach.

“I’ve been… fine, I guess,” Edelgard shrugs. “I don’t really have much to say about my life, really. Just grinding away at my master’s degree.”

“Wasn’t there something about you and a dragon a few months back?” Annette asks. “Oh, and I heard there were tons more dragons popping up around here! What’s with that?”

“That… that is a very long story, and I’m not sure if you’ll have the time to listen to it.” 

Edelgard is set upon by Mercedes and Annette, eyes wide and eager to get in on the hot gossip surrounding Edelgard.

“We’ll make all the time in the world if we have to,” Mercedes says with a bit of fire in her eyes. It’s somewhat scary. “That sounds much too interesting to just gloss over.”

With no way to escape, Edelgard tells yet another abridged version of everything, a story that really shouldn’t be hers to tell but that she was there for anyway. Edelgard asks them about their lives in turn—something about teaching and orphanage children, good for them—and asks them where the other Lions went. 

“Ash and Dedue went off together to sample all the food available. It’s been so long since we’ve been in UGM, so they’re planning on writing a cookbook for us alumni who miss all the yummy goodies you can get here!” Annette shares, the excitement so clear in her eyes that Edelgard can’t help but be intrigued.

“That… that sounds interesting, actually. I’d be interested.”

Mercedes smiles. “Right? It’s not like we can keep going back forever, but in a way, this school has always been another home to all of us. This way, we can always have a piece of home with us wherever we go! And we can share our happy memories to others through our food. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Edelgard feels stunned at the ease with which Mercedes and Annette have been able to connect to her; it’s second nature to them to understand the heart of other people, it seems. It’s like they know what’s been gnawing at Edelgard this entire time—she wouldn’t be surprised if that were actually the case. They are close to her brother, after all. 

Now, that’s what got her so troubled. Just listening in on Mercedes and Annette, and gleaning from how they have their own separate lives, Edelgard wonders just how. How, despite all the obstacles and challenges life present, did they manage to get all together? It would be so easy to fall behind in keeping up with your relationships as the years pass by, especially given the distance between everyone. And yet, here they are united and still in touch with each other. Just how far have the Black Eagles fallen away from each other? Sure, they may have their own reasons for not catching up much, but they could have at least tried to bring up a possible reunion.

Then Edelgard remembers.

She brings out her phone, absent-mindedly nodding to whatever her two other companions are talking about, and opens it until Edelgard finds what she’s looking for. It’s not a hard find, considering how quiet her chat history has been, but it’s easy to find the group chat with the Eagles.

BEAGLES 🐶❓🦅⁉️

Caspar: u guys wanna go or nah?  5 days ago

Oh.

She doesn’t open the rest of the chat but Edelgard distantly recalls that the few times the group chat resurrected was to bring up the Foundation Festival. So they could meet up after who knows how long, like the rest of their class.

She puts back her phone in her pocket. Edelgard is a hypocrite, thinking all these things about drifting apart, when she never even bothered to initiate anything on her end. She knows how the others wanted to reunite, but it’s like they are all waiting on someone to make the first move. A dreaded stalemate. Hell, even Bernie asked about it at some point.

There’s shouting from a distance. Four people are approaching from the carnival game stalls, and Edelgard’s throat tightens when she sees them.

A man with fiery, wild orange hair waves at them with a gold-plated owl feather necklace in hand. Sylvain Gautier. “Annie! Look what I made Felix win!”

“You didn’t ‘make me’ do anything, I did it so you’d stop bothering me,” says Sylvain’s dour companion, Felix Fraldarius.

“Aw, sure, buddy, it’s not like making Annie happy is anything special to you,” Sylvain says with his tongue out. 

“ You’re nothing special to me,” says Felix. They’re pushed apart from each other by a lithe, blonde woman between them. 

“Cut it out. You’re both too old for this,” she says. It’s Ingrid Galatea.

Sylvain pouts at her. “It’s called nostalgia, ‘Grid. What else is a guy in his mid-twenties supposed to do to have fun?” 

Edelgard slowly begins taking a step back, knowing who’s about to join the conversation. 

“We can have fun without resorting to bickering, guys. We don’t get to do this often, so let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening, alright?”

She can’t even look him in the eye anymore.

“You won’t blame me if I suddenly have to go and do, uh, my papers, right?” Edelgard whispers to Mercedes and Annette. They both look at her knowingly, and sadly. Her plans are thwarted, however, because the four merry friends of Faerghus fall silent the moment they reach them. 

Edelgard can’t look Dimitri in the eye, but he certainly can. And because he can, she’s compelled to do the same. She wants nothing more than to crawl into a hole as her brother and his closest friends gawk at her. The mischievous glee in Sylvain’s face dies down at the sight of her.

“Oooooooooooh shit—” Sylvain drawls, until Felix elbows him in the stomach. Sylvain doubles over in pain.

“You don’t just say that in front of people, dipshit,” Felix hisses at Sylvain. Ingrid shoves both of their heads down to admonish them. 

Edelgard and Dimitri just keep staring at each other. 

“Hey,” Dimitri says to finally break the ice.

“Hey yourself,” Edelgard says back. “Dee.”

“El.”

It’s a painfully long amount of time spent fidgeting around in front of each other before Ingrid coughs and rubs the back of her neck. “So… long time, no see, Edie. Um, how’s work been going?” 

Edelgard doesn’t lose eye contact with Dimitri. “I’m not working right now. I quit so I could do my master’s full time.”

“Oh. I see! That makes sense! Then how’s the master’s degree going?”

“It’s been going.” 

It occurs to Edelgard just how shot her social skills have become. More shot than a deer—than insert whatever other prey animal people shoot here GODDESS— during hunting season. Ingrid nods and laughs all ‘ha-ha well it’s been nice catching up to you Edelgard see you around whenever’ except she can’t leave because she’s with the rest of their group. So she joins in on the terrible, awkward, impromptu staring contest they’ve created. Felix has since checked out and is scrolling on his phone, waiting for them to get this over with. Sylvain sneezes and whispers a tiny little “ah, fuck” while he sticks next to Felix. Mercedes continues to look concerned as Annette rocks on the balls of her feet and tries to minimize the sound of her humming.

Dimitri stands like he’s hit the pause button on existence, waiting for the Edelgard livestream to finish buffering.

She concedes and presses play.

“Look, Dee, I—it’s not that I—well, you know how it is, but—”

She looks down and feels herself turn red. Goddess be damned, Edelgard, how hard could it be to talk to your brother? What’s another half decade or so of strained, stilted conversation over family dinners? Of tense, brief messages that still ache of concern and care? 

“Fuck me. I can’t even say this properly,” Edelgard mumbles to herself, face buried in her hands, waiting for Dimitri and his friends to get sick of her and walk away because she no longer knows how to face him.

She lifts her head up and he’s still there. He doesn’t frown at her.

“How about we talk at our usual place? I know it doesn’t help to feel put on the spot like this.”

Edelgard’s mouth hangs open. “You don’t mean…”

Dee smiles at her. “I do. Go ahead and I’ll meet you there; I’ll make sure to get us something to eat.”

“Are you sure? I know you rarely get to hang out with the Lions these days because of law school.”

“We’ve been waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass and finally do something about this. We’re good,” Felix says from the sideline. He cups his hands to his mouth so he can snarl straight into Dee’s ear. “About fucking time anyway.” Dee doesn’t flinch and just takes it.

He looks to each of the Lions around him, all expressing their support in some way or another before looking back at Edelgard. “They’re right, and I owe them for their patience this entire time. Let’s set things right, El. Please.”

There’s a hole in Edelgard’s heart that she’d learned to skirt around over the years; there’s slowly losing touch and there’s losing a part of yourself. The thought of patching it up, even partially, never occurred to her because she’d learned to ignore her mistakes. She’s not sure if she’s learned from them. 

This could be the part where she finds out.

“…Yeah. Okay. Let’s set things right.”

“Did I hear that right? A deep fried sandwich-style chocolate cookie? ” 

Rhea pokes at the battered, greasy blobs her grandson gave her with a toothpick. They’re dusted over with powdered sugar, as if there wasn’t enough sugar in there to rot your teeth. 

“Absolutely vile stuff, I assure you,” Belial says, biting through his meat skewers, “but you need to experience the essence of fair food just this once.”

“I fear this may be the one thing that finally ends me,” Rhea laments. 

“You’ll live. Just try it.”

Reluctantly, she goes in for the bite, and her worldview is completely shattered. The crisp outer shell gives way to a pillowy interior that cradles a sandwich cookie on the inside, softened to be almost cake-like in texture. The creme filling melts into each bite she makes, becoming something of a glaze that complements the plainness of the batter. Rhea inhales the rest of the pieces in her possession.

“…How many more of these do you think I could safely consume?” 

Belial pulls his grandmother away from the food cart, alarmed. 

“Let’s try other things. Onion rings. Tornado potatoes. You’ll shorten your lifespan on those. This was a mistake.” 

“I’ve lived long enough, Belial. If this is what death tastes like, I will gladly embrace it!”

It takes Belial nearly forty-five minutes of begging to get Rhea to leave the fried oreos alone. Instead, he brings her to the fair game stands and her face practically lights up with curiosity. 

“What are those soft toys displayed on the wall? Could we buy them?” Rhea points at the balloon darts game. “Edelgard might want one…” 

Belial’s interest perks up at the name. The very name that he’s heard so many times ever since his grandmother’s awakening. “That’s By’s student, right? The one she extorted into taking you in.”

Rhea looks back at him. “When you put it that way—”

“—The prizes can only be won if we get a high score in the game. Those numbers by the prizes are the number of points we need to earn.” Belial redirects his attention solely on the game stall before them.

“Ah! Then we must earn those…” Rhea reads the prize requirements, “750 points, post-haste!” 

Darts have existed in some form for centuries, so it doesn’t take long for Rhea to pick up on the mechanics of the game. It also doesn’t take long for her to nearly rip through the stall tent with her perfect bullseye shredding through her first balloon. Her throw doesn’t count and she is promptly banned from playing. Belial offers to win the prize in her stead. 

“You’re quite skilled at this, aren’t you?” Rhea points out, still pouting. She was hoping to win a stuffed toy for Edelgard. Belial easily tears through half the board of balloons in no time. 

“I took archery at some point, mostly because By wanted to,” Belial says, preparing his next shot. “When you’re a twin, it’s hard to go off and do things on your own when you’re young. It was either more convenient for our parents for us to just do everything together, or By would string me along herself. It’s not like I never did that to her in turn, but I never enjoyed being forced into things just because we’re twins.”

“Is that why you left Garreg Mach? Where do you live these days, and what are you doing?” Rhea asks in rapid fire, it’s been so long since she’s had an easygoing interaction with someone other than Edelgard. She hasn’t felt this much elation as of late, and Rhea misses it.

“When we went to college, I took up history because she was taking up history. That was fine at first. I could tolerate the subject enough, and I did fairly well at it. Then came the day she wanted to proceed to postgraduate. I couldn’t follow her to the end because I’m not as skilled as she is with history. I learned to hate it, so I had to go.”

Belial’s last shot flies true and cleans out the entire board, netting him the stuffed eagle plush that Rhea had been looking at. 

“I learned that I resented just being a twin. She’s my sister, and I will always be on her side, but I had to find out who I was outside of her. That brought me to Derdriu, and now I teach mathematics and engineering at the teacher’s college there.” He concludes, taking the prized plush from the stall keeper. Belial turns to her.

Rhea takes the eagle plush from Belial gently, as if it were an artifact of most grand importance. “Forgive me for saying this—there seems to be some parallel between your personal experiences and what you’ve… shown me about yourselves.”

“What is it that we say? That the other form is a manifestation of the real self? I don’t think it’s any coincidence that I’m the one who’s mastered and kept true to my other self.”

“…Byleth, on the other hand, as you say, cannot even bear to think of shifting,” Rhea mutters. Belial leads her to the ring toss tent next to pass the time. “She can’t bear being herself, then. You asked me about this for her, not yourself.”

Belial nods as he tosses a few coins towards the game’s operator. For a moment, he looks somber, eyes staring at something not entirely there. “I’m not as much of a traitor as she thinks I am.”

For a moment he turns silent. Rhea waits. 

The game operator hands him three rings. Belial prepares his first toss and promptly misses by an inch. The ring clatters down on the ground.

“I am left thinking of the undeniable truth, however; that none of this would have been a problem if it weren’t for me,” Rhea laments. “Why do you offer me your time so freely?” 

“I’d like to believe that our family bonds are stronger than our issues,” Belial says. He throws his next ring but barely misses. “What’s important is the effort we take to overcome these issues. To be ready the next time they arise, and be willing to open ourselves to one another again when we’re ready.”

He takes in a deep breath and throws his last ring. It shoots.

“Forgiveness is fleeting, as are the things we must forgive each other for. Acceptance endures. That’s what I think, at least.” 

Belial turns to the game operator but the man shakes his head, pointing to a small signage board. Shoot 3 to Win a prize . They leave.

“You look out for Byleth even when you’ve felt stifled because of her,” Rhea infers.

They walk around, no destination in mind but this, them talking, is enough.“I’m hoping she’ll see it, and find it in her to accept me again someday. You ask me why I’m willing to spend time with you, and it’s because I see the same struggle in you, grandmother,” Belial says, meeting her eye to eye.

Rhea feels her head light, eyes slightly burning but she blinks them away. She looks at the eagle plush toy in her hands and fidgets lighty with its soft wings. Rhea feels as if she’s in a dream.

“…Thank you, Belial.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think mom would have bothered telling us the truth if she didn’t try to accept you. In that sense, she’s trusting you’ll put in the effort to be better.”

Ah. Rhea stops in her tracks and her grandson follows suit. To be dealt with that much trust after everything that happened? Rhea can’t even believe it herself. “And I wonder why.”

“Why she would trust you?” he clarifies, sounding a bit puzzled at her statement.

“Yes. She—no one can ever be certain that I’d keep my word, not even myself.” Rhea replies, certainty coloring her words. She has given herself so many attempts in the past before, what else would change?

Belial puts a hand on his chin. “Why trust anyone, then? We can’t control each other, if you’re saying that you need to be certain to be able to trust.”

Rhea only gives him a stony expression at his hypothetical. He switches gears.

“How is your relationship with Edelgard?”

The mention of her name has Rhea raising both of her eyebrows, slightly taken aback. In an instant, the tall woman suddenly shrinks in place, shoulders slumping and her eyes shifting downwards.

“I’d be lying if I said we were mere roommates or even friends. There are… feelings between us.” She forces through the words. It’d be unfair of her to hide the truth when Belial has been so open with her for the entirety of their time together.

Rhea raises her gaze, and finds Belial patiently observing her. A hint of understanding behind those intelligent blue eyes.

“Do you trust her, then?” he asks in a soft tone.

“…I do. I trust her very much.” Rhea answers the same. If she can be candid, Rhea would have entrusted Edelgard her entire life.

“Do you know why, grandmother?”

“If I had to wager a guess, it would be because—she is a kindred spirit. I see myself in her, and perhaps vice versa. For some reason or another, she understands me even at my most obtuse. And I would like to think that I understand her too.”

How else were they able to call forth Edelgard’s crest that has been hidden deep beneath multiple generations. How else could you call it when Rhea has never felt so seen, in the absence of words and gestures. Edelgard can just see what’s on Rhea’s face and know exactly what’s on her mind. What was so clear at first, but blurred through superficiality and fear is how much they mirror each other. From past and to present. How else would they find even ground when they can’t even see what’s beyond themselves?

Her grandson smiles knowingly.

“Then her word should carry more weight than mine. It may be a good time to talk to her about the truth now. If you understand each other as much as you say you do, then she’ll be able to reach you where I can’t.”

Rhea looks down at the plush eagle in her hands. 

“I’ll tell her tonight,” she says in the end. “But please do not discredit yourself, dear grandson. You’ve helped me greatly tonight by listening to me and giving me a chance. It has been… much too long since I have had such precious moments with family.”

“It’s not too hard to start over, isn’t it?” Belial crosses his arms, satisfied. “You can message me any time even when I return to Derdriu; I’d be glad to hear from you.”

She lets out a sigh of relief, and Rhea smiles at him, grateful. “Of course. You said you were going to meet with a friend after this?”

“A childhood friend of mine, and a fellow twin. He might have it worse than me.”

“How so?”

“He and his sister have the exact same name. They’re only differentiated by the numbers 1 and 2 on their legal documents. Not even ‘the first’ or ‘the second’, but 1 and 2.” Belial rolls his eyes. It never loses its stupidity once you hear it out loud.

She’s flabbergasted. “Who—what manner of parent would do that to their own children?”

“They have Agarthan ancestry and inherited the ghost of their ancestor in their heads. I think it was their ghost-grandparent who named them,” Belial explains.

“I beg your pardon?”

Before Belial could elaborate any further, in comes running Byleth carrying an unconscious violet-haired woman on her back. The woman nuzzles her head closer to Byleth’s in her sleep. Byleth shoots a dirty glare at Belial and rummages through her pockets, producing a crumpled strip of paper which she shoves into Rhea’s hand. Rhea unfurls the paper and finds a string of numbers written on it.

“What is this?”

Byleth narrows her eyes at Rhea. “A phone number, obviously.”

“Yes, but whose—”

Byleth scuttles away with the unconscious woman in tow without another word.

“Who—what—”

“That would be my friend’s twin, Shez 2. I call her Shae to give her some amount of dignity.”

“Her and Byleth—” she points their way, a question heavy on Rhea’s tongue.

“They always had something weird going on between them. If you’re asking what their relationship is, nobody knows. I don’t think they know, either.”

“Do you at least know whose number Byleth pushed into my hands?”

Belial leans over to inspect the crumpled strip of paper. He lets out a fond huff.

“So my sister finally had a change of heart,” he says. “I think you already know whose number this is.”

Rhea looks at the number, then back at Belial. She does not dare answer her own question for fear of being proven wrong.

Like an eagle perched over its territory, Edelgard surveys the campus from the rooftop of the main building. The festival continues below her, the lights and sounds all the more mesmerizing from above.

This was their secret spot growing up; not many people go up here except for tourists and the odd couple of students who wanted something vaguely romantic in the middle of classes. There used to be a concessionaire up here at one point in time, but it had long shut down. They used to buy donuts from there, the three of them. Edelgard, Claude, Dimitri.

She’d been up here for more than thirty minutes at this point. Did Dee forget what he’d promised? 

Then the door to the rooftop opens, and Edelgard twists to find the very man she had been thinking who might have ditched her. Dimitri stares at her, albeit surprised for some weird reason as if he wasn’t the one who suggested they go up there. Edelgard stands still, not knowing what to say.

Thankfully, her brother breaks the impasse for her.

“Sorry I’m late,” Dimitri says. “There was a line for these.”

He raises up a plastic bag with what could only be a trio of sweet buns. Their favorite. 

Edelgard’s mouth opens. “Did… did you get the Noa Fruit flavor?” 

Dimitri rolls his eyes. “No, I got you the plain one.”

“Bastard,” Edelgard says. Neither of them mean it.

If she can, Edelgard might think these six—seven? Eight years? Goddess, has it been that long—years never happened. They’ve shifted to their usual banter like they haven’t been standing on edge for so long. Dimitri seems to notice it too, but pretends otherwise.

Testing his bluff, Edelgard refuses to take a bun for herself until he nudges it into her hand himself. She looks him straight in the eye as she brings the bun to her mouth and takes a bite, narrowing her gaze at him until the floral, citrusy taste of Noa Fruit gushes out of the pastry. 

“Bastard,” Edelgard repeats herself. She scarfs down the bun because she’d been too busy angsting all day to remember to eat. Sugar and crumbs and jam get all over her face in her rush to gobble up her food, and it’s only when the bun is finished that Edelgard remembers herself, wipes down her face, and turns away from Dimitri in embarrassment. 

“You’re welcome,” he says. He chuckles at her expense, but the smile fades away when he looks at her again.

The embarrassment evolves into guilt. Dimitri walks up beside her to lean on the railing and takes a bun from his bag for himself. Knowing him, it’s the Albinean Berry flavor. Edelgard wonders why he’d bought a third bun if it was just going to be the two of them up here; she knows you’re supposed to get them in sets of three, but he was never the type to do that simply out of tradition.

She sets the thought aside; maybe he’s saving it for later because he probably still eats like a black hole.

“Where… where am I supposed to start?” Edelgard begins, her voice low and unsure. It’s one thing to go up here on the rooftop and pretend like they were still teenagers going through the messy ups-and-downs of puberty and growing up. It’s another thing to be so openly vulnerable about their shared past and the mistakes made that come along with life.

“You could start from the beginning, as most people do,” Dimitri answers simply because of course he does.

Edelgard admits for once that, despite holding a degree in history, she has never been so retrospective about her own personal experiences.

So in Edelgard fashion, she deflects. “What, like the day mom decided to bang her local politician and get played like most people who do that do?”

Dimitri only gives her a wry smile. “That isn’t fair, is it? Politicians know how to fuck with people they haven’t even met, too.”

A small ache blooms in Edelgard’s chest because she missed this: the back-and-forth she’d share with this annoying boy she grew up with. It’s, as Sylvain said awhile ago, nostalgia. But the feeling is quashed again by the guilt looming over her as she stands beside her brother. It feels surreal after years of quiet standoffs at the dinner table, and the yearly ‘checking-to-see-if-you’re-alive’ text. 

“Alright,” Dimitri says after a time, “how about we start with the day we both got our college acceptance letters?”

“I’m pretty sure I was a stuck-up bitch long before that.”

“Don’t say that about yourself, El.”

Edelgard looks down, frowning at the crowds below them. “But what other reason would there be for our spat?”

“A lot of things,” Dimitri says while chewing his food. Edelgard is about to glare at him in warning but stops short. Perhaps he sees this, and swallows his food before continuing. “Nothing is as simple as we’d want it to be.”

“Is that about the cause of our problem or the resolution?”

“It could be both. Here we are to try anyway.”

They take a moment to continue watching the festivities below; over at the football field they could see some of the festival organizers preparing for the fireworks show that night. Some of the activity stalls are beginning to close shop as the dusk turns to night, but it doesn’t make the campus any less lively—if anything, the festivities have just started. A fledgling rock band from the high school tests out the audio equipment on the stage set up at the main plaza, and the microphone feedback stings through the air. Edelgard winces at the sound where Dimitri is unfazed.

“Ugh. I hate it when that happens,” she mutters, shaking her head acting like it would make the irritating sound disappear. “I don’t know how you can just stand there. I mean, you’re like that for a lot of things—”

Again, Edelgard stops herself. She suddenly remembers why and kicks herself internally for being so blasé about it.

“—fuck. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I forgot that. Goddess, I feel even more like a stuck-up bitch. I’m so sorry, Dee, I—”

“It’s alright, El. It’s gotten better over the years. And it’s been so long. I wouldn’t blame you for forgetting.” He waves away her apologies, and the act is only adding up to the guilt that Edelgard feels getting heavier by the second.

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It was there when we met, and I was already bossing you around at that age,” Edelgard explains herself. She really wants to slap herself; how did it take so long just for her to realize how much her actions impacted their relationship? “I can’t imagine having to deal with someone like me after what you went through as a kid. I’m sorry, Dee. For being… me the entire time.”

Dimitri is about to stop Edelgard, but she pushes on. 

“I bet it built up over the years, huh? Having to put up with me always judging you for everything, and demanding you do things a certain way because I thought it was the ‘right way’, and then it all blew up in my face when we got the college entrance results,” Edelgard’s voice grows faint at the last words.

She remembers that day like the back of her palm. It was one of the worst days she’s ever experienced in her entire life, and Edelgard has never regretted as much as she did until that moment. So many things were said, so many spiteful comments Edelgard never thought would have come out of her mouth.

Edelgard forces herself to meet Dimitri’s gaze.

“I’m sorry. For saying you don’t know how to think for yourself and that all you ever do is follow after your friends. And then I tried to force that opinion onto you and tried to make you do what I thought was better for you, which was the exact thing I was accusing you of doing.”

Dimitri decided to attend the Seirosian University of Fhirdiad that day, to pursue a degree in philosophy as a pre-law course. Edelgard’s issue was that the rest of the Blue Lions decided on the exact same university, and it pissed her off because she’d been henpecking Dimitri to stop being such a doormat to his friends. 

Something snapped in Dimitri that day, and the ensuing yelling match would be dubbed ‘The Battle of Gronder Field’ by his friends for the fire and brimstone that he and his sister rained upon each other. He’d always had a short fuse beneath his mild mannerisms, Dimitri; in hindsight, Edelgard was a fool to think that she would never have to experience the brunt of it herself. 

It takes Dimitri a while to collect his thoughts. Edelgard’s heart pounds up through her throat while she waits for him. 

“I needed to hear that from you,” he ends up saying. “Thank you. I’m… I’m sorry I exploded on you that day. I regret it deeply. I… hate the feeling of hurting the people around me.”

“I think it was a long time coming,” Edelgard says. “I kept trying to fix you when there was nothing to fix—maybe because I felt like there was always something to fix about me, too. How did we get along at all? We could’ve just been strangers living under the same roof once our parents married.”

It certainly would have been different if they had. Maybe they wouldn’t have experienced this much pain they feel right now. Edelgard’s face turns sour at the thought.

Dimitri’s words cut through the air like a knife. Sure and steady.

“It wouldn’t have made life better. I learned how to live again because you became my sister, El.”

“I’m sure you would’ve done well with or without me. You have so many friends who care about you.” She shrugs. The same could’ve been said for her, but with her behavior from the past few years, it certainly doesn’t feel like that.

“And I cherish each and every one of them. But they aren’t you,” Dimitri says back.

Edelgard laughs bitterly. “And what’s so good about that?”

“You’re more than your faults. You’ve always given me more reason to stay than to go.”

“You left eventually,” she mutters, slowly turning her gaze away from him.

“But I came back.”

A pause. Then, a whisper.

“Why?”

“Because you’re El.”

Edelgard quickly gapes at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know you can be better, but that’s true of anyone. Even just the way you are right now, I care about you. I accept you.” He smiles at her, softly like he used to when they were kids.

Edelgard’s chest tightens. It gets harder to keep calm with every word he says.

Dimitri takes in a staggered breath. It looks like they’re the same in that regard. “I just need to hear it from you: do you accept me, too?”

It hits her why he’d been so hurt that day when they fought. He thought she couldn’t accept him for who he was, and the thought of him being right…

“Dee,” Edelgard starts. She can’t hide the shudder in her voice anymore and lets it come out. “How couldn’t I accept you? Of course I do. I learned to miss the crap you leave around the house and the fact that you can’t be assed to wipe the rim around the sink when you’re done brushing your teeth.”

She runs a hand through her hair, pulling it in an attempt to maintain some composure. “I miss getting pissed whenever you’d space out during one of my rants and when you’d talk with food in your mouth like a fucking caveman. I don’t miss your anger issues or your hard-headedness.”

Dimitri takes in a sharp breath beside her. 

“But you wouldn’t be Dee otherwise.”

He lets the breath out. “I missed you too, El.”

She’s in a hug with him before she knows it, and it is tight and painful but warm and home. They were never the type to say they loved each other as siblings because they’d always felt it more than anything. They’d almost forgotten. 

“Y-you bastard, I wasn’t ready…” Edelgard says. But she squeezes him as if he’d disappear if she let go.

“You’re never ready,” Dimitri says back. His tears drip onto Edelgard’s hair and she doesn’t deny it. 

When they finally pull away to breathe and to wipe their faces, Dimitri hesitates for a moment looking at Edelgard.

“Your hair…”

“Are you judging my dye job after we just got all mushy over accepting each other?”

“No, it’s not that—your roots are showing. You never let them show.”

Edelgard lets go of him to pull out her phone and check her hair through her camera. And just as Dee said, a sliver of brown is starting to show up through the stark pale of her dyed hair. She dyes her hair religiously; this is the first time in nearly a decade that someone has seen her natural brunette in some form.

“Huh. I don’t know how to feel about this.”

Dimitri looks like he’s about to comment on that, raising a finger to start a discussion, but the door behind them swings open. 

“Heeeeeeey! I was wondering where my favorite people went.”

All the air in Edelgard’s lungs gets sucked out. Every muscle in her body refuses to twitch to turn around. Dimitri looks back for her instead.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You knew exactly where you were supposed to go,” he tells the intruder. 

“Eh, you got me. I got held up helping to clean up after our latest scheme.” Every word that is uttered by the intruder makes Edelgard tense even more. How long has it been since she heard that very voice sound that loose around her?

“Do I want to know?” Dimitri shakes his head and tosses the last sweet bun to the intruder. “Here, like you asked for some reason.”

When Edelgard hears the sound of the sweet bun being caught in someone’s hands, it’s the only time her breath returns to her. 

“I thought you hated sweets.”

She hears the intruder’s footsteps get closer to her. She feels his presence behind her—not too close, not too far. Just behind her, hesitating. 

“I’m… willing to compromise when I have to.”

“That’s new,” says an incredulous Edelgard. “Where was that when you needed it the most?”

She finally allows herself to turn around, to let this man standing behind her have a piece of her mind, to ask what gall he has to casually stroll into her safe space after she’d just reconciled with her brother, after everything that has and hasn’t been said between her and—

—Claude von Riegan, Khalid al-Zahrani, whoever he is, and whoever gave him the right to look at her with those sad puppy eyes holding that sweet bun away from himself like some dork she once knew. 

(It’s taking every last ounce of willpower in her not to laugh at him when she’s supposed to be upset with him.)

Claude looks at her first, then at Dee, then at the sweet bun he holds with such utter disdain in his hand, and slowly, slowly draws it close to his lips. 

“I could’ve gotten you your meat skewers,” Dimitri says, interrupting the dramatic tension Claude had been trying to build up. Claude makes an exaggerated look of betrayal at Dimitri.

“It’s called trying to prove a point, your princeliness!” He dramatically waves his other hand towards Dimitri. Edelgard almost snorts.

“Then prove your point faster.”

Claude stuffs the entire sweet bun into his mouth. This does two things: first, it amazes the step-siblings that his mouth is wide enough to do that. Second of all, it makes them break and chuckle at Claude’s misery because his face begins to contort in ways the human face should never have been able to. Not even Edelgard’s willpower is enough to hold herself back from laughing at him. 

“Ough, godsh, ih bowns muh thwoaght! Ith sho shweet!” Claude chokes out through the bread and sugar and jam. He forces himself to swallow the whole damn thing and heaves out a breath in relief. “Why do I do this to myself?!”

Dimitri flicks Claude in the forehead. “To prove a point.” 

“What kind of point is that pathetic display supposed to make?!” Edelgard finds herself retorting. 

The clown act falls away from Claude’s face into something more genuine. 

“That I’m willing to compromise my dignity if it means we could be together again. Us three.”

The laughter dies down after that. The air is heavy with somber and melancholy. Edelgard doesn’t know how to reply to that.

Fortunately for her, Dimitri is the one to break the silence. “When was the last time we were together like this?”

Edelgard closes her eyes and frowns. “…Senior year of high school. Goddess, it’s almost been a decade since.”

Claude counts with his fingers and looks upwards as if to do some very complicated maths. “Wow, that’s a lot of years. No wonder you guys forgot to start all this serious business without the Blessing. That’s mandatory!”

Edelgard immediately retorts, mild embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Claude, we are in our mid-20s, and do I need to remind you of how poorly things ended between us—"

Claude and Dimitri cut her off by striking their chests twice, lowering their heads, and raising their arms up in a reverse-T pose before chanting in unison:

“SHE IS SEATED AT THE RIGHT HAND OF THE LEFT SOCK, ALL HAIL!”

It was a promise they made long ago: to always bless their serious talks with this ridiculous, stupid greeting they made just because Edelgard got into hijinks involving their teacher Manuela’s laundry in high school. It was a promise to keep their friendship sacred even at the worst of times. 

To think that they would be back here, in this same spot chanting that very old ritualistic vow of theirs after all that has happened. Edelgard feels her eyes redden, and her chest starts jumping, hiccuping in a mixture between laughing and crying.

She missed them so much. “Y-you dweebs…”

“Speak for yourselves, but I missed being a dweeb. I mean, I’m always a dweeb, but I miss being a dweeb here .” Claude places his hand behind his head, awkwardly trying to seem nonchalant. Edelgard knows that, in reality, he very much is ‘chalant’ .

“Yeah? And how’d you get here?” Edelgard snipes at Claude, while shooting a look at Dimitri. Dimitri clears his throat.

“Admittedly,” he begins, “Claude and I have been talking about doing something like this for some time now. Since the Deer and the Lions were both coming back this year for the festival…”

Right. Edelgard remembers—she figured that they’d still been close to each other in the time she’d sabotaged her relationships to them both. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth to know she had cut herself from the both of them when she could have had this. Or perhaps, something had to give and their underlying issues, though may not have been apparent, were bound to explode.

“What Dima over here is trying to say is that it isn’t the same without you, Ellie,” Claude points his thumb towards their blond friend and winks at her. Something in Edelgard aches at the nickname. “We had to fix that.”

“It’s almost been ten years,” Edelgard mutters, frowning at them. “Why now? What made you both think this was something worth fighting for instead of leaving behind in the past?”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at Claude. “Especially you.”

“I just said it: it’s not the same without you. I could have just got up and moved on with my life, but something was telling me that it wasn’t over yet, yeah?”

Claude pounds on his chest again, this time not in ritual but because the sweet bun isn’t exactly agreeing with him. Or maybe it’s because he has his own nerves working against him. Edelgard doesn’t call him out on that and her lips turn upwards slightly in a small acknowledgement.

“I suppose nothing’s really over when you end it the way we did,” she agrees, nodding her head and meeting his green eyes that always fascinated her back then. Edelgard remembers looking up to his misty green eyes and finding so much comfort in them. For the first time in a long time, that same feeling washes over her as he patiently waits for her to collect her thoughts.

“Claude, during that time… Did you…” she slowly starts, but talking about that specific part of their relationship was always tricky. Or maybe talking in general. Perhaps that’s where the fault therein lies. “Did you stay with me because you genuinely liked me like that, or…”

She could almost hear her unsaid thoughts ring out around them and Edelgard can only keep still, waiting in apprehension for Claude’s true thoughts on the matter. College was really a messy time for the both of them. On account of Dimitri moving out to Fhirdiad and the aftermath of their fallout, Edelgard and Claude were left to pick up the pieces.

The pieces being the idea that if they tried hard enough, no one else would need to leave the other.

Claude takes a deep breath and sighs, bitterly chuckling, probably at something he thought. “You just had to bring it up eh, Ellie? You always know where to hit the hardest.”

Edelgard doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Claude quickly recovers himself, reverting back to his rare times of sincerity. “There was never a question of me liking you.”

“Then why?” Edelgard doesn’t know what specifically she’s asking for but the question has remained in her head for so long. There was so much to ask. She doesn’t know where to start. Why? Did you hate me? Was it something I did?

“I gotta admit, Ellie. I just don’t think we were ready for something like that yet. We were too young.”

Claude’s mouth is drawn in a straight line. His brows furrowed in consternation as he regarded her. A bitter smile graces his lips, recalling their previously downward spiral relationship. 

“You know the story by now, E: we were off to college, everything was changing, and you’d just had your massive fight with Dima. It was supposed to be our safety net; the one thing keeping us tied together when everything felt like it was going to fall apart at the seams.” 

“It did in the end, anyway,” Edelgard whispers, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“That’s what we got for pretending that everything could be sunshine and rainbows as long as you ignored the lightning in the distance," says Claude with a regretful look on his face. It’s a rare sight on the otherwise jovial history graduate student. “We were hurting each other under the guise of caring for each other.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen. She doesn’t say a word yet. Claude keeps talking.

“I mean, I was winging it because it was you, and how bad could it get if it was you? I’ve known you for years. Every time something happened between us, I thought, ‘well, I’ll just give her a few days and it’ll all be back to normal’, ‘cuz that always worked for us as friends.”

“But I hated that,” Edelgard replies. “I thought you were always running away from the issue.”

Claude’s face darkens, and it makes Edelgard’s heart sink. “And I hated that it always seemed like there was something wrong with me when you’d get mad.”

For a moment, Edelgard looks to Dimitri, her eyes still wide with realization.

“Did you know about that, Dee?” she asks him, because it horrifies her that she’d hurt the one boy in the exact same way she’d hurt the other.

“I’m learning this just as you are, El,” Dimitri responds. He looks at Claude with a question on his tongue that Claude answers without hearing.

“I knew what you guys fought about,” Claude says. “I didn’t want to add fuel to that fire.”

“So you thought the best answer was to just… shut down?” says Edelgard. “Is that why we—whatever we had going on between us became nothing more than a physical thing?”

No wonder things fell apart as easily as they did. Where one pushed too hard, the other gave way much too easily like a falling stack of cards. They were too in over their heads.

Edelgard should’ve realized how much one-sided their relationship had become. She vaguely recalls that moment how everything between the two of them ultimately ended. It happened all of a sudden, seemingly like Edelgard never noticed it before until she did. She had never seen that look on his face directed at her. Claude had never been so guarded with her. He had been so eerily closed off until that moment they fell apart.

It was hard to think about that moment and not wonder where the hell she went wrong. Where they went wrong.

“That’s where I screwed up, Ellie,” Claude says. “That’s when I knew I was too young for something like that. Feelings are hard for me and you know that; thinking about it was too much. I’m sorry. I didn’t want our situation to get in the way of my friendship with you and locked myself out of it in the process.”

Edelgard swallows the lump in her throat. “Don’t blame yourself entirely for it. I… know that I have a problem with being controlling at times. What happened is also on me for trying to twist you to fit my idealized image of you more; I think you’re right about us being too young at the time.” 

She takes a deep breath before continuing. “For better or worse, our mangled attempt at a relationship was when I learned that you find more flaws in someone the longer you spend time with them. I was too young to understand that you weren’t changing for the worse; you were still yourself, and I was just seeing sides of you I didn’t see before we became a thing. I’m sorry Claude. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

In hindsight, there were a lot of things Edelgard had missed about herself and the way she treated others. But to think that she had dared hurt the two most precious people in her life in the near exact way? It was truly a humbling realization. She just wished Edelgard realized it sooner.

Claude tries to offer Edelgard a soft smile, but it comes off more sad than anything. “Y’know, I once told Dima he was lucky you guys ended with a small-scale war, because that’s a clean ending tied up with a bow you can at least pretend to be satisfied with. I’d take it over the cliffhanger you and I ended on.”

“I’d rather the cliffhanger myself, Claude,” Dimitri says, looking away. “It’s easier to pretend you never hurt each other when you leave everything in question.”

 Edelgard butts in. “I prefer neither myself. I’d rather not have gone through both. This was what? Six, seven, almost ten years apart? How many years did we waste letting this all rot?”

“I’d still choose wasting it over letting it get worse,” says Claude, “like I’ve been doing for the past year or so. I have no excuse for being a dick to you every time we bumped into each other in grad school, Ellie. You can slap me all you want for it. Here, have my cheek.”

Claude leans over and offers the side of his face to Edelgard, who backs away slowly in response. “I’m not going to slap you, doofus. And stop doing that. You look like you’re trying to get a kiss from me.”

(Nevermind that these days, Edelgard only wants to kiss a certain someone with the ability to turn into a dragon and constantly give her a headache.)

That snaps Claude out of it almost immediately, and he quickly pulls back to hide behind Dimitri. “No, no, no, no, no! Nope! Gods, no, Ellie! I mean—it’s not that you’re not desirable or—look, I respect you too m—our friendship is sacred to me and ohhhh gods, Dima, I’m so fucked, help me.”

Dimitri stands in front of Claude as his stalwart protector… who promptly steps aside to fully expose the cowering Claude to Edelgard. “You dug your grave and you’re going to have to sit in it now, Claude.”

“I trusted you with my life, Dima! How could you do this to me?!” Claude leans back, a hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. 

Dimitri modulates his voice to sound imposing and prophetic. “It has been preordained. You must face the wrath of She, who sits at the right hand of the left sock.”

“Why are you dorks treating me like I’m some kind of demonic beast?” Edelgard’s eyebrow twitches when she stares at the both of them. 

“Her wrath is imminent. May the goddess have mercy on us all.”

“And the gods! Get the whole Almyran pantheon here while we’re at it, because one god won’t be enough to stop the wrath of her princessliness!”

They stare each other down until they can no longer tolerate it and almost fall over laughing. They catch each other before they could collapse in a heap, and pull themselves into a huddle. 

Edelgard looks at Dimitri. “Are… are we okay again?”

Dimitri looks at Claude. “I see no evidence to the contrary.”

Claude looks at Edelgard. “And thus, the legend of the Spectacular Society of the Worshippers of Manuela’s Left Sock lives on. SSWMLS. Suh-swim-uls.” 

Edelgard rolls her eyes. “Will you ever let that go?”

Claude smirks back at her. “Not until you do something even more mortifying and iconic than that. Like being a dragonfucker.”

Edelgard whips her head back at Claude over that last word, which he’d whispered. She accidentally bumps into his chin and he yelps. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he squeaks out through the pain.

“Claude, how would that even be physically possible?” Dimitri asks, watching the other two in befuddlement.

“Dima, you’re not gonna believe what Flayn tells me about that,” says Claude with a conspiratorial face. 

“Tells you about what? What exactly were you saying?” Edelgard narrows her eyes at Claude.

“Uhh, about her ‘cute lil’ spaghettis of doom’ from med school!”

Dimitri tilts his head with a confused frown. “But what does that have to do with dragonfu—”

“RECONCILIATION SELFIE TIME!”

In his haste to cover his tracks, Claude ends up toppling everyone down as they were supposed to when they first started bending over laughing. It’s the perfect moment for him to whip out his phone and snap a photo of them all collapsed in a pile on the rooftop. 

“You post that one on social media and you’re a dead man, Al-Zahrani,” Edelgard glares at Claude. 

“And you’re asking why you’re a demonic beast?” Claude raises a cheeky eyebrow at Edelgard. “Nah. This one’s for the personal scrapbook.”

Edelgard turns her head towards Claude. “You still keep that?”

“I’ll never let it go,” Claude says.

They let themselves melt into their pile for a while, even when the floor of the rooftop is freezing cold; the paradox is that they’ve never felt this warm in a long time.

“…I think I needed this a lot more than I thought I did,” Edelgard admits. “It’s been lonely for me since college ended and people really started to find their own paths. I was fine for some time even after I fell apart from you two. 

“But that was when no one in the Eagles really knew how to live their lives yet, so we still stuck together for a bit. Ferdie was the first to figure that out, though, and then Bernie, and… it just kept going from there. My life started crumbling one friend at a time, because I hadn’t really found anyone else outside of our high school group to trust. 

“And it’s not like I could stop them from going off on their own; that’d be an insult to them. I ended up with this situation where I began to push them away even when they’d show up, so I wouldn’t have to go through losing or hurting people all over again. Which is funny, because that’s exactly how you lose and hurt people.

“I knew even then that change was inevitable. But I think that only really sunk in recently. I’ve been drowning myself in nostalgia because of it. It’s nice to see the real, breathing versions of people again. Not their ghosts,” she finishes.

Edelgard decides then to stand up from their pile and helps pull the boys up back on their feet. They go back to lean on the railings.

“I mean, you are studying to be an archaeologist. Thinking about the past is in your job description,” Claude muses.

“Shouldn’t that also apply to you? You’re a historian.”

“Fair enough, fair enough, but I should tell you that being a historian also taught me that time is a flat circle and you’ll never truly be able to escape the past.”

“And that’s supposed to be encouraging for her, how?” Dimitri raises his eyebrow.

“Hold your horses, your princeliness! I’m not done. What that means is that, even when it looks like the world has moved on, sometimes… sometimes there’s a chance to revisit the way things were. And sometimes you could bring those ways into the future with you. And it changes things forever.”

“I’m… still not sure I follow,” Edelgard frowns at Claude. “I get what you’re saying but not how this connects to you being a historian.”

“Okay, so forget the historian part! Live your life, and when there’s an opportunity to cross paths with someone again, you can take it. And take care of it. Maybe you’ll walk together this time, or maybe it’s just a passing hello before you go your separate ways again.

“But basically, some things are better left behind in the past, and some things are worth keeping for the rest of your life. Even if you lose sight of each other for a bit, you can try to find each other again and keep it that way. Or do it every couple years, I dunno!”

Edelgard reaches for Claude’s hand, and for a moment it seems to him that she’s about to act on some old feelings again. But instead she yanks it up and gets him to do their secret handshake again from forever ago. The one with all the weird twists and turns and finger movements. 

“I’m glad we kept this, then.”

Claude beams at her, and the smile reaches his eyes fully again. 

It’s too bad that the moment is broken by the grumbling of Edelgard’s stomach. Dimitri looks at her with concern. 

“…El, have you eaten anything today?”

“Does the sweet bun count?”

He looks at her deadpan. “No.”

Edelgard turns away sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, it’s a miracle I haven’t passed out.”

Dimitri throws Claude a look. “I should’ve given El the last sweet bun instead of letting you make a fool out of yourself with it.”

Claude just winks at Dimitri. “Hey, it was a very productive use of the sweet bun if it got Ellie to give me the time of day.” 

“What flavor was the bun, Claude?” Edelgard looks at him with an almost feral look in her eye. 

“Uhh, I’m not gonna answer that because I value my life, thank you very much. I think this means we ought to find ourselves a good bar to catch up in. We gotta feed you, get some drinks, aaaaand I’m itching to know about the dragon GILF you keep in your apartment.”

His eyebrows wiggle. Edelgard’s hunger gives into her shame and she yells into her palms.

“Oh goddess, shut the hell up, where did you even—” Edelgard’s head jerks out of her hands. “FLAYN.”

Claude’s shit-eating grin is a nearly perfect echo of Flayn’s mischievous one. Edelgard realizes who among the Deer was chiefly responsible for getting Flayn used to things when she first joined their class.

“Ah, that girl makes me so proud,” Claude says, flicking away an imaginary tear. “They grow up so fast in the ways of scheming.”

Here Edelgard is reminded to always keep an eye on these pesky Deer. 

Dimitri shifts his eyes between Claude and Edelgard in confusion. “What is a ‘GILF’?” 

Edelgard’s face warps in horror and she accosts Claude for the sin of introducing the concept of Grandmothers I’d Like to Fuck (do you, Edelgard?) to her brother. Claude laughs to himself like a hyena as Edelgard shakes him around by the shoulders. 

“IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou I’M NOT EXPLAINING THAT TO HIM, FUCK YOU, AL-ZAHRANI RIEGAN BOY—”

“—Hey, hey, I thought we were done with that part of our lives.”

Edelgard shoves Claude aside. She turns away and misses the part where he slips and falls flat on his ass. “This was a mistake. I take it all back. I don’t want to be friends anymore. Ship him back to Almyra.” 

“That’s not until this summer!” Claude calls out from the floor. 

“I’ll make my dragon G—ROOMMATE—shoot deadly lasers at the sun until I make summer come six months early!” Edelgard yells, threateningly pointing at the sky but he’s busy cracking up at the near slip.

“You’ve broken her, Claude. Congratulations,” Dimitri says, pulling Claude back up from the ground. 

Claude only returns a pair of finger guns and another wink to Dimitri. “Mission accomplished!”

The lanterns and lights down below are all suddenly shut off. All fall silent. Even the merrymakers on the roof who worship the left sock of their high school homeroom teacher stop to wonder at the sudden shift in mood. It doesn’t take them long to realize what the event is. The three of them look up in anticipation, huddled together to ward off the chill.

And the fireworks begin to light the night sky. 

Chapter Text

“You really didn’t have to bring me here. You two are more sloshed than I am.”

Edelgard is slung over Claude and Dimitri’s shoulders at their insistence, getting hauled up the apartment stairs at a glacial pace, despite being the one with the most faculties intact. Dimitri’s face is completely red and Claude keeps flopping over like a fish. But they insist. They’re gentlemen.

“‘S moral support,” Claude mumbles, “f’r when y’ talk to your dragon GILF ‘bout her messh.”

“I think… she is more of a MILF…” Dimitri drawls out. He had been enlightened about the MILFs and the GILFs over drinks. “GILFs should be wrinkly…”

“Claude, I still hate you for introducing that to him,” Edelgard spits at Claude. 

“‘M an edjudicat—hedgeb—hedjuga—educator at heart.” 

“You’re both useless.”

By the time they reach Edelgard’s apartment, and Edelgard unhooks her arms from their shoulders, she’s left standing at her door waiting for the two to make their leave so they could say their goodbyes. She waits for a solid two minutes in a silence only broken by the occasional yawn or hiccup.

Turning around to raise her eyebrow at them, Edelgard speaks up. “…You know you can go now, right?” 

“Y’ need our moral subboa—support!” Claude declares.

“Support, for your morals,” Dimitri follows.

Edelgard grimaces at the state of them, mildly concerned and ashamed for them in equal measure. “That’s great and all but how about—how about you two do your moral support from the stairwell? I don’t want Rhea to be spooked into silence by strange men leering at her.”

“Her princeli—cessness wills it… Dima, we’re unwanted…”

“Banished to the stairwell…”

Like corpses reanimated by a necromancer, they obey the bidding of their mistress. Claude and Dimitri end up sitting on the stairs, Claude smooshing his face through the railings and Dimitri waving? Flailing? His hand at Edelgard enthusiastically. The slight flush on Edelgard’s face from the alcohol deepens in embarrassment for them. She prays they won’t be much of a nuisance before they sober up. 

When she opens the door, Edelgard does not expect to see Rhea standing right in front of her. The older woman is shocked still, body posed as if she had been standing in front of the door for longer than necessary, hand raised as if reaching for the doorknob.

They quietly stare at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Edelga—”

“Rhea—”

They speak simultaneously, and stop altogether. Edelgard isn’t exactly coherent at the moment, mind still slightly influenced by the alcohol, but she is not blind to notice how Rhea’s face expresses concern. It does not take another second for her to realize that she has forgotten to notify Rhea of her whereabouts.

“I was just about to look for you,” Rhea explains, and Edelgard absently nods. “The festivities have died down for the night and you still haven’t come home.”

It was just earlier that Edelgard felt such lightness from the relief of reuniting with the boys, but now the atmosphere has shifted, and she can feel an air of pressure around her.

She still hasn’t said a word.

Licking her dry lips and feeling conscious, Edelgard finally says, “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Rhea’s wound up body suddenly slumps with ease and she huffs in amusement. “Here I thought that you had finally forgotten about me.”

Edelgard blurts out earnestly, “Never. I could never forget you.”

Rhea looks at her, green eyes shining with indescribable emotions, and graces her with a smile so soft and tender. Edelgard badly wants to hold her in her arms.

It doesn’t escape her mind that this is all happening right along their doorway.

“Where have you been?” Rhea asks.

Edelgard’s smile softens in turn. 

“I ended up taking your advice against my own will—I made up with my brother, and an old friend of mine.”

“That explains the smell of alcohol on you. And how does it feel?”

Edelgard breathes in, and out. Contentment seems to flow through her, and when she looks at Rhea again, the warmth is infectious.

“I feel almost whole again. You should try it. It’s good for you.”

“Then… perhaps I will.” 

Edelgard’s eyebrows raise with an unspoken question. Rhea smiles at her in apology.

“Edelgard,” Rhea says, her voice turned serious, but with a hint of hesitancy in her tone. “I’m ready, now. I will tell you everything.”

Edelgard hovers around the doorway to process what she just heard. This is it, the one moment they’ve been building up to, and she’s mildly buzzed. That needs to be taken care of.

“Alright,” she says, nodding a bit carelessly, still somewhat stunned. “Let me get my bearings first. You deserve someone with a few more brain cells to spare tonight than I have right now.”

She shuffles past Rhea, goes into the kitchen, downs a liter of water in only a handful of gulps, and excuses herself to the bathroom and locks herself inside. She leans against the bathroom door and slides all the way down to the floor, phone in hand. She jolts when she feels a few knocks behind her back.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Rhea says through the door.

“I’m getting my brain cells back,” Edelgard says back. “Gimme a minute.”

🦅🦁🦌 The spectacular society of the worshippers of manuela's left sock  

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk : It’s happening now, the talk, fuck me

Claude the clod who likes to cockblock: thatss her joob, not ours

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk : Are you joking or too drunk to understand.

Claude the clod who likes to cockblock: yes

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock : Bnanished to the stairwell,

Dee-bo the gift dragon who lives under a rock : Now she wants our spuport for her morals.

Ellie the emotionally constipated hawk : Hold on 

Edelgard changed her nickname to L.

Edelgard changed Khalid’s nickname to C.

Edelgard changed Dimitri’s nickname to D.

C: NO NOT MY HANDWIWRKO

L: You can complain or put it back when you’re sober. please just send me your support, for my morals.

D: They are supp

D: ported.

C: u got this L-e

D: Get us at the stairw

D: ell if you need us. 

C: banshished but never in ur heart ! <3 

L: Ok. somehow that makes me feel better. 

L: Now please go home. or wherever it is you’re staying. 

C: bbut

L: I command you to get some rest.

D: If it is as she fishes.

D: wishe

D: wishes.

L: I know you guys got me. thanks.

She shouldn’t be tearing up at such a dumb conversation.

When Edelgard finally deems herself collected enough to spare a brain cell and emotional intelligence for the important talk that will happen, she turns her phone to silent mode and reemerges from the bathroom. She finds Rhea is sitting on the couch, looking at her with a nervous edge, and takes a seat next to her. They sit comfortably in the silence, neither pushing the other or forcing to break the calm between them. Edelgard waits for her ancient roommate to gather herself and basks in her presence.

Rhea puts a hand to her forehead. “Where… where am I supposed to start?”

Edelgard snorts to herself. Rhea stares at her quizzically.

“I was under the impression that you had your brain… cells in order.”

“Sorry, sorry… I said the exact same thing a while ago. Go figure. So let me tell you what my brother told me in return: you could start from the beginning, as most people do.”

Rhea looks down, mildly self-conscious. “It would take us all night if I were to start from the very beginning.”

“Then tell me the beginning where it matters,” Edelgard repeats, shifting her body towards Rhea in complete openness.

It takes a few moments before Rhea finally composes herself enough to start. She takes a deep breath.

“Very well.” Rhea looks at Edelgard straight in the eyes. “I recall we spoke of this briefly through your research work, but my people were unjustly slaughtered in the pursuit of power. For a long time I was engulfed in rage and obsessed with revenge; I started a war against the perpetrators with the first of the Hresvelg line by my side.”

Edelgard hums in recognition. “The War of Heroes.”

“I certainly did not feel like a hero by the end of it,” Rhea’s voice trails off, a mixture of regret and shame painting her facial expression. Edelgard tries to resist the urge to comment. “Sitri was born around that time. I regret it now, but she was second to my thirst for vengeance. Truth be told, I… only kept her at the time because of a nefarious thought in my head.”

Rhea looks hesitant now, her face contorting into one of pain and deep guilt. Was what she did so wholly abhorrent that she can’t even fathom to put it into words? For a near immortal who has lived so long, was it too much for even her to think about?

“Go on…” Edelgard encourages her softly.

Rhea flits her gaze towards her and back down to the floor. “You must know that when a Nabatean dies, their heart calcifies into a crest stone. That stone holds what remains of their magic and their spirit. This was the power my brethren were killed for. I…

She takes another deep breath. Her eyes mist up.

“When Mother—the goddess, Sothis—when she was murdered ,” Rhea forced the words out, eyes tightly shutting close as if it may stave off the truth of the past before relaxing. “They stole her heart to fuel a weapon of mass destruction forged out of her desecrated remains. I figured: if her crest stone could bring to life her mangled remains… what of a suitable vessel meant for her?”

Rhea’s rhetorical question hangs in the air as if prompting Edelgard to pick up the clues. The gears start to turn in Edelgard’s head; puzzle pieces she’d set aside were coming together to form a twisted image in her mind. 

It was a horrible thought with far-reaching consequences. She could not deny that. And yet Edelgard looks back at Rhea: the disdain she holds herself to is more clear than ever. For that, the woman has Edelgard’s sympathy. 

“It was a thought I soon forgot,” Rhea amended, her face turning tender with her eyes crinkling with fondness and sentimentality. “My daughter stole my heart in a different way. I decided to be a mother hoping to emulate even a fraction of what the goddess was to me.”

The smile is wiped off her face just as fast as it had appeared the more she opens up. Rhea frowns, lips downturning as she stares to the ground with self-deprecation. “I’d soon learn all the ways I was lacking in that, starting with the fact that I allowed my young child to join me in battle. Sitri slept for more than a century while I was beside myself with grief, throwing myself into war after war as a soulless weapon to forget it all.

“When she awoke I swore to be better. And I was, for a time!” Rhea emphasizes, as if trying to remind herself of that. “We grew closer than ever, and it was a joy to see her bloom into a wonderful woman. I even had the honor of marrying her off to a brave young man who shielded her from a lethal blow. I saved him in gratitude; my blood lets him spend the ages with her.”

Rhea smiles proudly while she reminisces. Edelgard watches her, imagining Rhea giving Sitri away to Mr. Eisner. The thought of that time lingers for a while as Rhea lets herself melt into the memory.

Then her mouth turns tight-lipped.

“…The end began just as the Unification War swept the continent. I was captured by my old enemies while I was fighting for Faerghus as the Immaculate One. They—”

Rhea rubs her arms and shudders. She stares at nothing, her skin paling and hair standing on ends. With a low voice, she breathed out. Edelgard waited with trepidation.

“—unimaginable things were done to my body. These were the masterminds behind the slaughter of my people, and no doubt they were deigning to use my corpse in the same way. I felt my mind begin to fray with each… experiment they did.

“My rescue came in the form of my next captor, the Emperor of Adrestia, aggressor to the war and would-be conqueror of the continent. Her forces stormed the stronghold of the old enemy and I was their reward for their efforts. She only wanted to study me, see if they could have some similar power on their side at first.”

She gave an affectionate chuckle, one with mirth as she recalls a beloved person from her past. “We grew a peculiar relationship eventually, one of battling wits and personal curiosity. She became a nuisance to me, and then a friend. And then, one day… something more.”

Rhea silently looks at Edelgard for a very long time. Green eyes study her, but it feels like Rhea is looking through her . Edelgard is confused, and a small part in the back of her mind reads it as apprehension.

“It amused and pained me all the same that I never learned the name of that emperor,” Rhea says, and Edelgard has a sense of foreboding washing through her. “I suppose we were far too proud for that, even well into our arrangement. All that I have of her in my memory is the lilac of her eyes, and the chestnut brown of her hair—honestly, Edelgard, had you inherited the hair of your ancestors I would not be able to tell you apart—”

Rhea looks at her, and it takes a while for Edelgard to notice that Rhea had been examining her head. The sliver of brown peeks through the blonde dye of her hair, and it makes Rhea’s eyes widen when she sees it.

“…This isn’t the real color of my hair,” Edelgard admits.

Rhea contemplates for a few seconds. “You’d know her name. This is your field of study, after all.” 

“I think you already know what her name was.”

They stare into each others’ eyes. Rhea reaches out for Edelgard’s hair and runs her hand through. Edelgard reaches for Rhea’s hand in her hair and holds it.

They both stare down at their intertwined hands. Edelgard chances a glance upwards and finds Rhea smiling gently. “…She was stubborn to a fault, the emperor. Refused to surrender. You know her end, but at the time I did not.”

Her expression turns rueful.

“I was left to starve slowly in the dungeons of Enbarr palace for what seemed like an eternity until my family found me.”

Edelgard tries to picture Rhea left behind, hoping for any inkling that the person she loved had survived. That mere hope vanishes as time passes by and Rhea is ultimately left in the dark, all alone.

Edelgard’s chest twinges with pity.

“I’d well and truly lost myself by that point, lifeless in all but body,” Rhea bitterly scoffs to herself. “Reality was a mere suggestion to me while my daughter and…” Rhea looks up briefly, wracking her brain to remember. “I believe Flayn did their best to heal me. In my stupor, I deluded myself with wishful thinking. That, perhaps, my emperor had some sense in her and surrendered peacefully after all. That she was alive. Knowing the truth finally broke me.”

Edelgard leans forward. “And… how did you break, exactly?”

“I kept the heart of the goddess on my person at all times after the War of Heroes. I… never truly healed from her loss. In my madness, I thought—”

Rhea’s breath catches, and her misty eyes redden but there are no tears falling. Edelgard squeezes the hand in hers, reminding Rhea of her presence.

“—I thought that everything had gone wrong in my life.” Rhea’s head hangs low, hiding from the truth of her insecurities. “I thought that I was an abject failure of a mother and an utter disappointment as a scion of the goddess. I thought that, should the goddess return, she could undo it all.”

Then Rhea raises her head, peering at Edelgard, but it feels like she’s not there, like she’s transported back into the past where she had nothing left but her own shortcomings.

“And what was one more loss in the face of seeing Mother again?” Rhea cries out humorlessly. She swiftly pulls away from Edelgard’s hold to hold her face in her hands. “Mother could fix it. Mother could bring everyone back! My people, my lover, my child! What did it matter that I would sacrifice my daughter if Sothis could return her to me just as quickly as I’d lose her?”

Rhea begins dry heaving; she loses her balance from the nausea of remembering what she’d done. Edelgard is swift to reach her arms out to hold Rhea steady, holding her close to keep her upright. 

“Hey! Careful now. You—you don’t have to keep going if you can’t.”

If talking can only mean having her reacting like this, unbearably sick at the thought, then Edelgard would rather not hear the rest. She’d heard enough to largely piece the story together. Other questions continue to float around her mind, but she sets them aside; listening to Rhea is her current priority.

Rhea shakes her head, steadying her breath. “T-thank you, but I promised you everything. I must… pull through to expose my crimes to you.”

Edelgard wants to retort but she holds her tongue. If she stops her now, how much worse will Rhea feel when she breaks yet again? When Rhea moves to pull away from Edelgard, Edelgard tightens her hold on her.

“Lean on me,” Edelgard asserts, afraid to let her go just yet.

Rhea silently peers up at her for a moment, looking for something Edelgard isn’t sure of and nods. “…If you insist.”

“Take your time,” Edelgard says. “We have all night.”

The older woman pauses to recollect, taking slow deep breaths and breathing in the scent of Edelgard. It is a comforting thing, to be held in her warmth. Rhea starts again.

“My memory here is a blur, but I do know this: that I had ripped open my daughter’s chest and forcefully shoved the heart of the goddess into her body. I was elated at first to see the pulse and glow of the goddess’ power. What woke me from my trance was the screaming.” She says, unconsciously grasping onto Edelgard for strength.

“It was Sitri’s voice, at first, calling out to me. Then another voice replaced hers, screaming the same thing: mother. Then their voices began to blend together… as did their bodies.” 

Rhea tries to swallow down the memory, composing herself for a moment so that she could relay the events without getting sick.

“I did not get my mother back, nor was it my daughter before me. It was some… grotesque amalgamation that emerged when Sitri’s other form was forced out.”

Edelgard frowns as yet another piece she’d set aside came back to make sense to her: that time all those months ago, shortly after she’d met Rhea, when they saw Sitri take her dragon form to revive her garden. Even back then, it was obvious that something was wrong with Sitri. It’s not hard to imagine the details that Rhea is leaving out of her narration that would cause that.

Rhea continues. “I was wide awake by then, and distraught by the horror I had wrought with my own hands. In desperation, I reached for the stone pulsating in Sitri’s chest, and I saw them,” she says in a hushed tone, before stopping altogether.

Edelgard would be lying if she said that the suspension wasn’t killing her. “Saw them…?”

“When my fingers grazed the crest stone, I saw a vision of two figures before the throne of the goddess herself.”

Two women or two children—Rhea could not tell, but there the two of them were in certainty. The throne upon which only the Progenitor God could sit lay before Rhea, and on it sat a girl who was with absolute surety the woman whom Rhea called Mother. The other one was on the floor, resting her head upon the seat of the throne, while the enthroned girl ran her fingers through her hair.

“It hurts... It hurts…” the one who sat on the floor whimpered. The sound was heartrending for Rhea to hear.

“I know, child. Your hurt is mine,” said the one on the throne. Her voice was soothing and calm, rich with the wisdom of millennia despite its unusually youthful pitch. “What a great and cavernous pain it is.”

“Is this it? Will I die?” The girl on the floor raised her head up, staring up at the one on the throne. Rhea couldn’t see her face clearly. “Is this... all that mother wanted for me...?”

“Be at ease, dear child. Dry your tears and soothe your aching heart. I am The Beginning , and I will see to it that you shall not meet your end here,” the girl on the throne cooed, wiping away the other girl’s tears.

"But... how?” the other girl asked, pushing herself off from the offered comfort. Her voice went faint and timid, and in childlike innocence continued: “Won't mother... won't mother be cross with me? If I don't become you?"

The girl on the throne scoffed. "She will never be as cross with you as I am with her, I assure you."

"I can't... feel anything... anymore..." the other girl curled up on the floor, an unforeseen pain coursing through her entire body.

The seemingly wise girl knelt down from her throne and slowly gathered the other in her arms in a comforting embrace.

“Forgive me,” she said, sincerely apologetic. She brushed back strands of hair covering the girl’s face and looked at her with remorse. “There is much that needs to be undone, an untangling of our souls within your body. Even with the last of my power, it will take you lifetimes yet to truly be alive again.”

A moment passed between them. Rhea continued to watch from the shadows, their uninvited guest.

The girl pulled her head up from the other one’s chest and asked in a small voice: “But what about mother?”

The question almost broke Rhea’s heart.

Small chuckles spilled forth from the girl with a million lifetimes before her, lightly shaking her head with affection. To the girl in her arms, she said: “Live for the ones who have stood by you, little one. You will discover the answer to your own question in time. Now lay your head to rest; I will protect you.”

The girl in pain complied and hid her face under the safe cover of the other. Arms encircled the other as whispers of comfort echoed across the void. Rhea felt the sting of her intrusion.

“Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh…” the girl with the throne said in a haunting, grave voice, but it wasn’t directed to the one in her arms. Rhea’s blood surged within her, reacting wildly to her presence. Ice filled Rhea’s veins as the girl with the throne knelt there, tone tinted with disgust. “Were she a vessel crafted to house my spirit, then I would have no qualms with our merging. But this! What have you done?”

And then the girl who knelt down from her throne snapped her head towards Rhea, and her glare was miles wide and fathoms deep. The girl’s face morphed into that of a woman whom Rhea had been searching for since time immemorial.

Rhea found herself frozen under her glare, unable to move. Whatever joy she would have felt seeing that woman again paled in the face of horror as the woman’s fangs emerged, her serpentine, lupine body wrapping across the void of the dream into infinity, her terrible flames and all-seeing dozens of eyes circling Rhea as if ready to pounce. 

“What have you done?!”

Rhea blinks off the memory of the vision. In response, Edelgard pulls her closer.

“I was ripped out of their world when the crest stone shattered. Whatever unfathomable being my daughter had become, she’d turned back to normal. The… the hole in her chest seemed to begin stitching itself back together, but she was clearly at death’s door.

“I stood there with my hands shaking, disgusted with what I had done, at the disregard I’d given to the beauty of Sitri’s life. My greatest shame, beyond all that I had done, is that I ran away the moment I heard the rest of the family rushing to check on the commotion.

“I refused to take responsibility. I ran back to the ruins of Zanado, to the tomb where my daughter slept the last of her childhood away, and buried myself. I prayed to what remained of Sothis that I would never be granted the chance to wake up again.” 

She looks at Edelgard intently. “But you found me.”

“I found you,” Edelgard says back, then knits her eyebrows in thought. “But you didn’t look like you were in shambles like what you’re saying,” says Edelgard, shifting her gaze away from Rhea, contemplating the detail. “If anything, you looked dignified with all your weapons and armor on you. I’m amazed you still had the time to put them on before… yeah.” 

“I didn’t put them on,” Rhea says, confused.

“You literally woke up screaming that someone stole them from you,” Edelgard says and frowns.

“The—the memory slipped from me for a moment! I thought it was like any other time I’d been woken up, to be used as someone’s weapon… but I remembered not too long after. I can’t think of how—”

Rhea stops herself.

“Oh. Oh, sweet goddess. Sitri.”

The realization hits, and oh, is the expression on Rhea’s face a sight. Her reddened eyes finally shed the tears she had been withholding the entire exchange. She smiles despondently and shakes her head, disbelief clear in her eyes and yet there is no other possibility. “She must have found my body at some point and…

“I don’t deserve her, Edelgard!” Rhea cries out, no longer able to suppress the pain anymore. She tightly grips onto Edelgard’s shoulders to shake her for a moment, but the sudden energy dissipates from her as she slumps over, curling onto Edelgard’s lap. She grips her own head instead and sobs out, “I don’t deserve any of this! Redemption? Forgiveness? A new chance at life? The goddess herself is repulsed by me!”

The wave of emotions crashes onto Rhea, and Edelgard finds herself witness to the explosion of regret that had been building up in thousands of years. Rhea stays there, coiled into herself weeping. Edelgard gently pries Rhea out of her crumpled form, and Rhea follows without any resistance.

“I thought we were over this,” Edelgard tells Rhea, brushing away her tears. She moves herself closer to her, and stretches out to take Rhea’s free hand in hers. “You deserve to live just as anyone else.”

“How could you…” Rhea finds herself almost aghast at the audacity. “How could you care about me still, knowing the truth?”

She had imagined the worst when she finally revealed the truth. Rhea had expected a hint of betrayal or repulsion of what she was as a person. Whatever was holding her back washed away as she became certain that Edelgard would continue to choose to stand by her.

“Because, let me spell it out again for your stubborn ass… you’re not unlovable,” Edelgard says,  raising the hand holding Rhea’s in hers, lilac eyes staring straight at verdant green, before tenderly placing her lips against the inside of Rhea’s wrist.

Rhea’s mouth dries up. Edelgard pushes her pointer finger against Rhea’s sternum.

“Listen. I’d be lying through my teeth if I told you this was love at first sight, because I genuinely thought you were absolutely full of yourself when we first met. And maybe that’s still true when you’re not wasting away in your own bullshit. But you know what? That’s alright. You do a lot of shit that pisses me off or drives me crazy but that’s alright. I accept you.”

“Y-you… you accept me…” Rhea is left agape, cheeks flushed violently from Edelgard’s kiss to her wrist. 

Edelgard closes her fingers around Rhea’s. “Damn right I do.”

“E-Edelgard, ” Rhea stutters out, heart jumping in her chest. She cannot think. She cannot even deign to respond properly.

Edelgard watches her, her cheeks slightly tinting at her own actions, but she pushes through. Her heart beats erratically in her chest, shocked that she had the guts to do what she just did.

“I can’t pretend that what we have is just a friendship based on a shared loneliness anymore,” Edelgard declares. “I… I’ve changed because of you.”

Rhea’s eyes flicker at Edelgard in disbelief. Edelgard keeps talking.

“Before we met, I had the habit of being too set in my own ways. Everything always had to be a certain way. That was my problem; my mistake was making it everyone else’s problem. I had so many friends, people I loved and could rely on, but… I was always looking for their faults and trying to ‘fix’ them like they were broken toys because I thought I was helping them.”

She laughs bitterly. Rhea looks at her with concern. “Really, though, I was just pushing them away because they’ll never be that perfect. No one is. Especially not me. How could I let them love me after that?

“That changed when I met you. There’s a lot of things about you that I don’t like or agree with, but there’s a lot more to who you are than just those things. You just didn’t believe it because you cut yourself off from the rest of the world—and I realized we’re the same. I understood you. And I learned how to live with you. I learned how to live with the people I care about. And… maybe I’m learning how to live with myself because of you.”

Rhea quietly regards her, and Edelgard doesn’t know what she’s thinking but she doesn’t care at the moment. She needs to say her piece. “Look, I… I know how it feels to give up because you think you’ve crossed the point of no return. But you know what my friends taught me today? As long as we’re still alive and willing there’s always another chance. I can’t say I know what goes on in Mrs. Eisner’s head, but I do know this: she is willing, and you’re still alive. Why don’t you take that chance?”

“Edelgard,” Rhea interrupts, “But what if nothing will change?”

“Last I checked, psychic powers weren’t in your arsenal,” Edelgard retorts. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Rhea couldn’t answer.

“If you can’t believe in yourself, in your ability to change things for the better, then at least believe in me,” Edelgard says, caressing the side of Rhea’s cheek. “Please. Don’t make me regret confessing to you tonight by shutting down on yourself. People love you. I— When will you get that through your thick skull?”

Rhea gulps, then looks Edelgard straight in the eye. She sits up, but she hasn’t let go of Edelgard’s hand. “…Alright. I’ll believe in you. When you woke me up, I wasn’t planning on letting love rule me any more than it did, but you…” Rhea cuts herself off, and breaks away from Edelgard’s gaze. She heaves a deep breath before looking back at her, green eyes shining with such longing.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. If your conviction has been strong enough to move me there, then… I want to believe that it will be enough to move me where I need to.”

Edelgard is quick. “I don’t mind.”

In the lull between them, through the words both said and unsaid, Edelgard looks away to think and her eyes end up drawn towards a stuffed eagle left on the coffee table in front of them.

“Isn’t that the grand prize from the darts game?” she says, looking at Rhea in surprise.

Rhea perks up, remembering her hard earned prize. She flits her eyes to look at said stuffed eagle.

“Ah! Yes. My—my grandson helped me win that. I thought you would want it.” Rhea shares, looking all too pleased with her gesture.

Wordlessly, Edelgard reaches over to take the eagle plushie and hugs it to herself tightly, allowing herself to lean into Rhea.

“I love him,” she says. “He’s beautiful.”

“No match for his mistress, I’d say,” Rhea says back.

“Sh—shut up,” says Edelgard, burying her face into the eagle. She’s about to throw another quip when she’s interrupted by a long, wide yawn.

“I… I can sleep on you, right? We didn’t just vomit our feelings out for nothing? I don’t… I don’t really want to move from the couch.”

Rhea shakes her head and pulls Edelgard closer to her. “Rest. You have had a long day, I do not mind it.”

“…Thanks.” Her voice slurs out, Edelgard’s consciousness slowly dissipating.

“I should be the one to thank you.”

Edelgard pauses, again to yawn, before cuddling into Rhea and closing her eyes.

“Save it for when you fix this. I’ll wait for you,” Edelgard mumbles, and loses herself to sleep.

Rhea feels compelled to leave a kiss on Edelgard’s forehead. “I won’t take long.”

Not even an hour ago, Rhea was the one curled into Edelgard’s side, and now it’s Edelgard who rests secure upon Rhea’s chest, clutching the plush eagle jealously in her sleep. Rhea is left to stare into space after everything, a vacuum of tranquility after the storm of emotions she’d been through tonight. Speechless. She’s unconvinced that they’d done what they just did, said what they said. But the evidence is plain as day in the woman who sleeps soundly in her arms, when they hardly tolerated sleeping in the same bed not so long ago. Rhea lets her fingers hover over her wrist, feeling the ghost of Edelgard’s kiss even then.

She could feel whole again like this, having intimate relationships with the people around her once more.

Rhea shakes herself out of her trance. She’s reminded again of Byleth’s peculiar little present, which she cautiously pulls out of her pocket. It is, in fact, still a phone number she knows nothing about, and nothing in between the time Rhea received it from Byleth has changed that. But Belial’s words ring more true to her this time—she does know what this is.

“Those twins…” Rhea whispers to herself with a slight smile. Odd they may be, that they both chose to help her sparks hope that she could build a relationship with her grandchildren going forward. But Rhea has something to resolve before she could think of that. She reaches for her phone and pulls up the dial function, holding the slip of paper up as reference.

“They take after you,” Rhea says, looking at the phone number written down on the paper. The thought eases her nerves, if only a little. But she’d be lying if she said she was ready for this. She steels herself regardless, eager to ensure that Edelgard’s faith in her hasn’t been misplaced.

Hands shaking, Rhea dials in the number. She suffocates on her own breath listening to the ringing of her call. It takes a while, but eventually someone answers.

“Good evening, this is Sitri Eisner speaking. May I ask who this is?”

Rhea's throat tightens. Her voice feels dry and sounds hollow. But still, she forces herself to speak.

“…Sitri? This is your mo—This is Rhea. I would like to meet with you, if it wouldn't be a bother.”