Chapter Text
Dearest Reader,
That beloved and reviled time of year has come again at last. Empress Rhea is hosting her annual Great Tree Moon Ball tonight. Already I hear wishful speculation as to potential matches between bright eyed debutantes and so many handsome eligible bachelors. However, gossip about the sons and daughters of mere barons and counts pales in comparison to the rumor that the court will be beset by a true glut of unattached royalty this spring. Two princesses, two princes, and even a king are all expected to grace the ball this evening. Has the Empress finally decided to name herself a formal heir after so many years of uncertainty? This writer can only wager a guess, but it appears that our dear leader is arranging all her pieces into place for what is sure to be an eventful season.
-Lady Whispersmuch
§
The suggestion of the marriage match, while not unexpected, was not especially welcomed. Still, Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg kept patient as Empress Rhea inspected the small portrait of the prince of Almyra once more. “He is quite striking, you cannot deny that,” said Rhea as she traced an aged finger around the curve of the young man’s jaw.
Striking indeed. The artist had given him an teasing expression that made it look like he knew something the viewer did not. Edelgard’s violet eyes lingered upon the little braid that ran down the side of the prince’s face and ended in a golden clip. Such a style was very unusual for Fodlan; Edelgard rather liked it for that reason. At the very least Prince Claude was unlikely to be the same stuffy sort she’d been paraded past last year when she entered the marriage market. She had tried to put an engagement off as long as possible, but now she found she could wait no longer.
The summer Edelgard turned eighteen, she claimed she was feeling just so very ill that she had to spend the whole season on the coast attended by her closest friend, Hubert von Vestra. She had been dreadfully sick as a young girl and no one wanted to threaten what sure to be a fragile constitution. The summer of her nineteenth birthday was spent in the court of Brigid at the invitation of their king, and what lovely summer that was in the company of Princess Petra. Yet when Edelgard turned twenty the Empress’ patience had grown thin, and Edelgard was debuted to the court to signal the availability of her hand in marriage. That was also the year the damned Lady Whispersmuch began to publish her little anonymous gossip rag exposing all the dirt clinging to the nobility.
Edelgard’s potential engagements were a favorite topic of Lady Whispersmuch. The princess' suitors ranged from the inoffensive but uninspiring to the truly absurd. The court erupted with murmurs at the audacity of Rhea’s suggestion that a man like Ludwig von Aegir marry the Imperial Princess. It was a slap in the face after his history with her family, but at least Edelgard’s father had been alive to put a stop to it. Yet now Ionius was passed, and Edelgard found herself more than ever a pawn at Rhea’s mercy. The princess could only dodge so many proposals before she found the lower limits of the Empress’ tolerance. In fact, Edelgard’s imperial wedding had been in the works for years. It was happening this Garland Moon, and so Edelgard had to settle upon a groom or else she risked losing all favor and getting stuck with whomever Rhea selected.
As far as suggested matches went, this one was the best by far. Claude-Khalid was a prince and, fine looks aside, he was not forty years her senior nor an outright political enemy. He had connections, but with him came a whole host of uncertainties. The pair had never met and little was known of Almyra in Fodlan. Edelgard took her eyes off the handsome portrait and focused upon Rhea, “Your majesty, does the prince stand to inherit the Almyran throne?”
“I have heard he is fourth in line at present, and he is in line for the throne of Fodlan through his mother, Tiana von Riegan,” said Rhea with a mirthless smile. The von Riegans controlled a very influential dukedom in the east of the Holy Fodlan Empire. They were just one of many such powerful houses vying to inherit the highest seat in the land. The succession of Fodlan could be described as confusing in polite terms, and a downright tangled web if one was reading Lady Whispersmuch.
Edelgard, through the catastrophic misfortune of her family, had landed next in line to the throne by most readings of the Imperial family tree, though she was not without her challengers. The disease that swept through the Hresvelg nursery was unforgiving as it killed off all her siblings and left her weakened and marked. Edelgard’s hair was a shining white, having lost all its color following her fever. Her height, or lack there of, was attributed to the disease as well. It left her with scars from the pox upon her limbs, and so she donned modest styles to hide them away.
Edelgard’s step-brother, Dimitri Blaiddyd, was just behind her for the throne by most accounts. Then there were the various Dukes — von Riegan, von Aegir, Fraldarius — and their sons and grandsons of varying constitution. Yet none of this mattered in the face of Rhea’s refusal to step down. She was getting on in years and the window in which she might have married and produced a direct heir was closed. Lady Whispersmuch likened her to an ancient wrinkled lizard, and opinioned it was well past the time when it would have been appropriate to announce her chosen heir.
Sitting across from the older Empress now, Edelgard had to agree the description was spot on. Rhea was elegant and graceful to be sure, but she was old and had a certain crocodilian manner about her. No one knew exactly how old she was because the records of her birth had been destroyed in a massive fire twenty or so years prior, and it would be rude to ask. The only thing that was certain was that this year Rhea was celebrating her Diamond Jubilee to mark sixty years upon the throne. She promised to name herself an heir by the end of summer. Edelgard sincerely hoped that this match with Prince Claude-Khalid signaled that Rhea was choosing the pair of them for the throne. It would be more sure if Rhea had arranged Dimitri and Edelgard, but the prospect of such a match was rendered moot the moment Edelgard’s mother married Dimitri’s father.
“I understand you have your reservations,” said Rhea in a placating tone. “Dance with the prince tonight, converse with him, and we will meet again to discuss your feelings towards the marriage offer.”
“Of course your majesty. I greatly look forward to making the prince’s acquaintance. I am very optimistic about this match,” said Edelgard with a cool, thin smile. She hoped Prince Claude-Khalid would not prove to be a bore. If Edelgard refused him too she risked Rhea proposing to someone like Ludwig von Aegir on her behalf.
§
The Empress’ Ball was always one of the most important events of the season. Edelgard was in an absolutely glittering pale pink dress adorned with too many crystals along the bust. Rhea had selected the entire ensemble for her down to even her stockings that no one else would see. Looking in the mirror now in the antechamber of the ballroom Edelgard wondered if her signature violet hair ribbons were too juvenile. She wanted to appear a confident young woman ready to assume the throne, and not an innocent girl facing uncertain prospects.
“Hubert, my ribbons, what do you think of them?”
Hubert was always her stalwart companion through the years. He was technically on the marriage market as well, though one would never know it by how thoroughly he ignored each cohort of debutantes. He regarded her ribbons with a long look before returning his stare to the people ahead of them in line. “Last year all the young women adopted the trend of wearing their ribbons like you after your debut. Perhaps you should remove them now, if only to measure how fast they rush to imitate you.”
Edelgard could not agree more as she hastened to remove the ribbons while she and Hubert waited to be announced. She tied the ribbons with delicate bows around her wrists for want of a place to put them. “Thank you Hubert,” she murmured as they advanced their position in the queue. Beside Hubert, Edelgard appeared so very small. He towered over her, but Edelgard had come to take great comfort his size. No one wanted to cross him, and if anyone bothered her the looming Marquis merely had to step near her to shoo them off.
He looked as uncomfortable as she felt as they waited their turn to enter the ballroom. His long black hair was pulled back in a formal fashion which exposed the drooping side of his face. Every time she looked upon his lips, the right side fixed in their down turned position, she felt a tremendous guilt. Edelgard’s childhood sickness had ended up scarring him too.
At eight years old, after the worst of her illness had passed, she found herself quarantined from her siblings and all of her friends. Hubert, desperate to be with her in the difficult time, had secreted into her room one night while his family was visiting the palace in Enbarr for official business. She recalled being so grateful to see him and had readily fallen asleep in his arms. When they woke in the morning, caught by a maid, all hell broke loose. Hubert’s hands, where they had held hers, had pox all over them. His face, where her lightening hair had rested along his cheek, no longer moved and drooped instead. Hubert was then forced to quarantine too, though his case was not nearly so bad nor contagious.
The friends did not see each other for nearly four years after that. Now as adults, Hubert had stepped in to protect Edelgard and her interests in the absence of her father and brothers. Edelgard had little doubt that if Rhea tried to marry her off to Ludwig von Aegir again, the duke would surely find some lethal poison in his drink before such an arrangement could go through. While Hubert’s constant presence was comforting, Edelgard was keenly aware that his power had its limits. Even he could not stop the likes of Lady Whispersmuch from commenting upon his personal affairs. She was getting bolder in her reporting, and Edelgard wondered how far the rumormonger could go before she was caught.
Edelgard and Hubert advanced to the magnificent doorway that connected the antechamber to the main room. “Presenting the Marquis von Vestra and the Imperial Adrestian Princess Edelgard von Hrsevelg,” said the announcer, Alois, in an unmatched booming voice. Edelgard felt a hundred pairs of eyes upon her holding Hubert’s arm as they descended the staircase into the ballroom. They walked all the way to Rhea’s throne across the entire room just to bow in silence. The Empress spared them a polite smile, but said nothing as she waved them on. The easy part of the night was over.
“Oh dear, the debutantes now have to present themselves,” said Edelgard as she watched the first of the young women being brought in front of Rhea.
Bernadetta von Varley was a slight and trembling girl chaperoned by her humorless looking father. Count von Varley’s smile read false as he bowed for the Empress. His daughter dropped into too deep a curtsy and proceeded to faint as she tried to come up from it too fast. Gasps echoed through the crowd from those close enough to observe the absolute debacle.
Hubert gave Edelgard the benefit of a raised eyebrow but kept his biting commentary to himself. Edelgard was horrified on the young woman’s behalf. She would have to invite Bernadetta to tea later in the week to signal that this misstep was not too large. To be shunned for a simple accident at one’s debut was a terrible fate. Hopefully Lady Whispersmuch did not catch wind of this.
Next up was a sweet looking young redhead. Annette Dominic did almost trip a time or two as she approach the Empress, but managed to get through the ordeal unscathed. The young woman that followed Annette was too eye catching for Edelgard to look away from.
Lysithea von Ordelia was small and white haired, just like Edelgard. The princess found her breath catching in her throat as she watched the young debutante present herself with poise and confidence. “Hubert, what do you know about her?”
“She is the daughter and heir of Count Ordelia,” said Hubert under his breath. “She fell sick with the same disease that you had, but years before it came to Enbarr. I heard that she is the only survivor of her siblings. Her house is in a precarious position of late, which is why she is debuting so early.”
Edelgard found herself unable to focus on the remaining debutantes as her eyes glued themselves to Lysithea. Edelgard wanted an introduction but perhaps she would wait for a more private opportunity. Tonight was not an appropriate venue to discuss a shared tragedy like the disease that had stolen her family. Edelgard would simply hope the young woman enjoyed sweets and tempt her to a tea time. If her house was truly in a tight spot, Lysithea might even appreciate the attentions of the Imperial princess.
“Presenting his royal majesty, King Dedue of Duscur,” announced Alois. The noise in the room dropped for a few beats before picking up once more. King Dedue was the first member of the Molinaro dynasty to visit the capital of Fodlan in decades. There was a tense history between his small peninsula and the territory of Faerghus, but with new leadership came new opportunities for alliances.
“He’s much younger than I expected,” said Edelgard in a hushed tone as she watched the handsome man coming down the stairs. Given Rhea’s advanced age it was easy to assume all kings and queens were old at times. Dedue in contrast could not be much older than Edelgard, and had to be the tallest man in the room. He too had white hair, and it stood out starkly against his darkened skin. It was braided back into neat little rows that framed his elegant crown. Edelgard wondered if it was his natural hair color, or if he had suffered from a similar affliction to herself and Lysithea.
Edelgard’s nerves were beginning to buzz as the night progressed. Prince Claude-Khalid was sure to arrive soon and then Edelgard would have to face her potential marriage partner. Until then, she was being careful as to which invitations she accepted to dance. There was a fine line between being seen as impolite and being too agreeable.
“Hubert, will you dance with anyone tonight?” asked Edelgard in an attempt to distract herself.
Hubert snorted at her suggestion, but then immediately caught himself and returned his face to a resting frown. “No,” said Hubert as his eyes scanned the room. “I do not wish to give anyone the wrong impression.”
Edelgard envied him at times. When his father died, Hubert became a Marquis and in control of his own future. There was no rush for him to marry and no external pressures forcing his hand. He was certainly not subjected to the whims of an ancient Empress. When Edelgard and Hubert were children they had resolved to marry each other, for there was no better partner than one’s own best friend, but as adults it was clear such a match would kill Edelgard’s chances at becoming Empress. Hubert remained unattached and available to her if she should need him to rescue her from an ill made match, but Edelgard had no intentions of throwing away her position. She would have that throne.
All of it hinged upon the man walking up to Rhea now. Prince Claude-Khalid of Almyra had arrived. He carried himself with an easy confidence and a far too friendly smile. Rhea even stood up from her throne to welcome him. Edelgard’s stomach flipped as she realized their formal introduction was immanent. Seteth came over to usher the princess back towards the Empress.
There was no pressure quite like having every noble at court watching the Empress introduce two young people. The small portrait Edelgard had seen had been no exaggeration; the prince was truly that attractive in person.
“Prince Claude, may I present the imperial princess, Edelgard,” said Rhea as she gestured to the waiting young woman.
It was the finest curtsy of Edelgard's life. “A pleasure, your highness,” said Edelgard. She locked eyes with him as she rose back up. His eyes were green and lively with curiosity. The shape of them and the way they crinkled with his smile made her heart pound with anticipation for their conversation.
The prince bowed in return, “I believe I am the one who is honored.” He was charming too, damn him.
Rhea smiled and clapped once before nodding her head, “Please enjoy the ball.” That was their signal to move towards the dance floor.
Claude extended his hand, “Shall we, your highness?”
Edelgard nodded as she accepted his lead. These kinds of songs could stretch on for as long a half an hour. It was like a jail sentence when one was with a disagreeable partner, and like a fleeting dream when one found someone just right.
“Your highness, do I address you as Prince Claude, or Prince Khalid? Or Prince Claude-Khalid? You see, I have heard all three used,” said Edelgard. No one had given her a straight answer and she could not help but suspect it was to make her look bad by using the wrong one.
“Claude is what I go by in Fodlan, Khalid is what I answer to in Almyra. Claude-Khalid is what my mother uses when she is scolding me,” said Claude with an easy laugh. It was not an answer. He winked at her. “Claude will be just fine, for now.”
“And when did you arrive in Fodlan?” asked Edelgard as they made their precise steps to the lingering notes of the violins.
“Last fall I took up residence at the von Riegan estate. I must say I knew Fodlan’s winters were cold, but I had no idea just how frigid it would get,” said Claude with an exaggerated shiver.
“If you believe the Leicester territory to be too cold I caution you on visiting Faerghus,” said Edelgard with a tiny laugh.
“Oh I would like to see it, but perhaps you’re right and I am not up for their snow. Maybe I will go in summer,” said Claude. “Do you think it would make a suitable honeymoon location?”
Ah yes, this was a marriage talk and not a casual conversation. Edelgard hoped he was making the suggestion in jest, and she went along as if he were. “I cannot say it is the top of my list.”
“And where would you have us go?” asked Claude as he watched her face with interest. It was intense to be the subject of this close a focus from such an attractive man. Edelgard was embarrassed that her body was daring to betray her with a heat in her cheeks at his attentions.
Edelgard focused on making a good impression. “Two summers ago I spent several months in Brigid. It was lovely. I have always wished to return.”
“I met Princess Petra while waiting in the antechamber upstairs. She is very spirited,” said Claude as he glanced around the room as if to locate Petra in the crowd.
“She is a dear friend,” said Edelgard with fond memories of collecting shells upon the beach and watching the turtles come up onto the shore at night to lay their eggs. Petra was also recently introduced to the marriage market, but since she was uncontested as heir to her grandfather’s throne she had far greater control over who and when she married.
“Brigid sounds wonderful, though if we are to wed this Garland Moon, I do not think we should stray too far from the capital for our honeymoon,” said Claude. It was dangerous territory to already be planning such an intimate trip when neither had made a motion to propose. They had just met; Edelgard suddenly felt that things were venturing quickly towards too great a familiarity. This was the kind of exchange Lady Whispersmuch would splash across a front page.
“And what makes you say that?” asked Edelgard as she mentally ran through potential topics of conversation to divert him to instead.
“Well it’s never good to be too far from the action,” said Claude as his eyes darted towards the Empress. His eyes returned to Edelgard’s. “Prince Dimitri will not leave for the season. With all this talk of Empress Rhea naming her successor by the end of the summer, I daresay we should not leave either. Out of sight, out of mind, and that is not a place we will want to be.”
If she had any doubts they were now laid to rest. Claude appeared to have intentions for the throne. Edelgard was left to wonder if that was to her benefit or detriment. Regardless, what she could safely say after their dance was that Claude was anything but a bore.