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Edelgard almost snaps her quill in half when she hears the door to the study open. She had spent a week scoping the available offices in Askr's grand castle to select one she was certain was never used, tucked away in a back corner to grant her some much needed privacy to contemplate the insights she collected from other leaders turned temporary allies. She had to remind herself that she was not an emperor here, that she was as much a guest as any other summoned hero, before she turned to her unexpected visitor to urge them to find another room.
The effort to curb her complaint proved wasted; the request died in her throat as she recognized the long black coat and dark navy hair of the woman at the entrance. Byleth stood rigid at the door, ear braced against the wood to listen to the hallway beyond, back to the study and unaware of its occupant.
Edelgard caught herself before she called to her with a term of affection - despite the heartwrenching familiarity, this would not be the same woman that she exchanged rings with in the very tower where her own parents had pledged their love. No, this would be a Byleth of years past, settling into a new role as a professor and unaware of an inevitable approaching war. After a moment of thought, Edelgard settles on a gentle call of "My teacher?"
Byleth startles, her eyes wide with surprise when she whips around before she is able to school her expression back into something guarded. Edelgard disregards the sudden rush of endearment she feels and quirks her eyebrow in a silent question of what in the world are you doing? Byleth remains unspeaking, but in the quiet, the answer drifts through the crack under the door.
A pair of footsteps pass by in the hallway beyond, and Edelgard can just make out a pair of voices going with them. One she doesn't fully recognize, raised in a cheerful lilt as its owner discusses the layout of the castle. The other, however... although the recipient of the tour only speaks a few words throughout the conversation, Edelgard would recognize that clear and assured voice anywhere. As the voices fade away down the hall, Edelgard fixes Byleth with a stare of disbelief. "Are you... hiding from yourself?"
Byleth makes a commendable effort to keep a neutral expression, but Edelgard can easily spot the discomfort in her stiff posture. "I- she is from a different time. It would be wise to avoid crossing paths when possible."
Ah, of course. Edelgard had heard that another version of the professor had been summoned recently, this one with bright green hair and eyes, and a familiarity with war. Although the versions of Claude and Dimitri that had been brought to this world at the same time as Edelgard had been excited to meet with this new Hero, Edelgard herself had been keeping her distance; the ease with which Byleth carried herself in the regalia of the Church of Seiros instilled a deep dread in her heart. In the end, the woman's presence only sharpened Edelgard's longing for the Byleth of her own world.
Ironic, she thinks, that she and her visitor would wish to avoid the same person for such different reasons. "Well, you are welcome to stay, should you wish," Edelgard offers in solidarity, gesturing invitingly to the small tea table at the opposite end of the room. "This study sees very little traffic. It's a good place to be if you desire not to be found."
Byleth remains at the door, posture still stiff and expression remaining inscrutably blank in a way that Edelgard had since grown unaccustomed to in her own time. It makes it difficult to guess at her thoughts, although an idea suddenly dawns on her. "Oh, I have work to do on my own," Edelgard remarks reassuringly. "I do not plan on discussing the future from my own world with you, if that is your concern."
Byleth lets out a short, amused huff of air, as though Edelgard had told her some inside joke. But her shoulders relax, and she finally steps away from her uncomfortable post by the door to take the offered seat. "Keeping so busy even in another world? I suppose I should not be surprised by that."
The familiarity in her words makes Edelgard wonder if this version of Byleth had chosen to lead the Black Eagles, but she refrains from asking. It would feel unfair to inquire after she's established that she would keep quiet on details from her own world, and besides which, she does not wish to know if her assumption is untrue. Logically, she knows that there must be versions of Byleth that chose a different house and a different path from her own; the presence of Dimitri and Claude as kings in their own right all but confirms that. Still, she does not like to think on it for long. It makes her own world and her own life feel so... precarious.
She forces out her own little amused huff of air, turning in her chair to face her work again. "Am I so predictable? Regardless, only a fool would not take advantage of the opportunities this world presents. There is much I could learn here." In fact, the paper she is currently studying is a draft of policies inspired by her recent meeting with the two young leaders of Valentia. It was a boon Edelgard never could have expected, to find others that would need to lead a continent in the aftermath of slain gods. They had provided a wealth of advice in empowering a mourning populace to stand on their own, independent of divine interference.
It was a fascinating document, and one that Edelgard found herself almost entirely incapable of focusing on.
Her guest was entirely soundless, providing no means of distraction from her corner of the study, and yet her presence dragged on Edelgard's mind like a physical weight. She had had plenty of opportunities in her own world to surreptitiously observe her wife in the quiet moments that they shared, and her imagination could easily fill in how Byleth might look right now. Perhaps she was merely sitting quietly, hands clasped together on the table in front of her, her gaze staring through a wall as she got lost in her own thoughts. Maybe she had chosen a book from the modest shelf in the corner, and was leaning her head on a hand as she flipped through the pages, that one lock of hair of hers that refused to remain tucked behind her ear dangling down to obscure her face. Sometimes, if the hour was growing late and the light dwindling, Byleth might turn to her with a mischievous smile, hand reaching to massage the tension out of Edelgard's shoulders as she suggested retiring for the night...
Edelgard hunches further over her desk, pinching tightly at the bridge of her nose and attempting to will her sudden blush away. No, that last look would certainly be reserved to her own world (and to the pages of her sketchbook, hidden securely within her own private chambers). Still, the urge to sneak a glance behind her and see how her visitor might match her own mental images was nearly overwhelming.
The Emperor of Adrestia was well above stealing furtive glances, however. She would rely on a more dignified means to get it out of her system. "Tea?" she offers, swiveling in her chair quite suddenly.
"Hm?" Byleth was already looking at her inquisitively, either having already been staring or more likely, Edelgard reasoned, owing to her fast reflexes.
"Would you like some tea? You always offer a cup to anyone that visits you, it feels wrong not to return the favor." Edelgard does not wait for an answer before retrieving the spare teaset she keeps in this room - when had the professor ever turned down an invitation for tea with her students, after all? “I trust Bergamot is acceptable? I’m afraid it’s the only kind I have stashed here…”
“Oh. Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.” Byleth’s tone is politely neutral, but Edelgard is again struck with the sense that she is being deliberately inscrutable. Perhaps she is merely conflating this Byleth with the one she knows; she recalls that her professor was once perpetually closed off and stoic. In her own time, the Byleth that she has come to know only puts in this much effort to be impassive when she wishes to hide her thoughts.
Whatever the case, thoughts of her wife as she sets out the tea causes Edelgard to realize she has an opportunity here that she could take advantage of. “Actually, as long as I have you here, would you mind a personal question?”
Her guest eyes her warily at that, mouth drawn into a thin line, and it’s such a contrast to her earlier stoicism that Edelgard could almost laugh. It’s quite reminiscent of how her own wife might react to such a prompt, actually; Byleth might have always indulged her students when they requested her company for tea, but she had always disliked speaking of herself. Edelgard instead takes pity and adds, “It’s a rather simple question, actually. I merely wish to ask because I only ever received a noncommittal answer from my Byleth.”
Byleth’s concern at once morphs to amusement. “Your Byleth?” she echoes, a faint mischievous lilt to her voice, and Edelgard flushes as she realizes how that must have sounded.
She forces on a scowl in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “Honestly. I believe it’s forgivable that my lessons in etiquette never covered how one should speak to differentiate an acquaintance across two entirely different timelines. Although I believe it would do you well to remember that I am not your student, but the Emperor of Adrestia. I do not request that you feign reverence, but you should know that I am not so easily teased.”
Byleth takes a sip of her tea, entirely uncowed. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she agrees, but her tone is a mere step away from being flippant and there is still that gleam of mirth in her eyes. It would drive Edelgard crazy if not for the fact that it was so much of why she had fallen in love with this woman in the first place. Byleth was one of the few people in her life who had never spoken to her as heir or emperor, but merely as Edelgard.
Charmed as she might be, however, she refuses to be distracted from her initial inquiry. “Enough, let me get to my question. What is your favorite blend of tea?”
Byleth’s brows lift in surprise - whatever sort of question she was bracing for, this was certainly not it. She sits for a moment in contemplative thought, but she seems to be considering Edelgard rather than the query itself. “...You said that you already asked me this in your own world. What did I say then?”
Edelgard frowns at that. “Give me your answer first, and then I will tell you what you said. I do not want you to simply repeat your own answer.”
Byleth’s lips quirk up at that grammatical mess of a response before she obliges. “Alright, although I imagine you will be disappointed. In truth, I do not have a favorite. I am pleased to share whichever blend that my guest would prefer.”
Edelgard’s frown deepens. “You are correct, I am disappointed. Come now, you do not need to give me such a diplomatic response. Surely there is a blend you prefer above the others? It will not affect your own world in the slightest if you tell me the truth. ”
Byleth shakes her head. “I prefer sharing the favorite blend of whoever I am with. I am happiest when those that I care about are happy.”
“And that is really the truth? Not simply a nice platitude?” At Byleth’s nod, Edelgard slumps in her chair, caught between frustration and endearment. “Hmm. Well, yes, that was the answer I received in my own world as well. That is a shame, I was hoping I might surprise you with your favorite tea when I returned to my world.” She pauses, and then adds with a soft smile, “I had not heard your reasoning before, however. That is quite thoughtful of you. I wish you had included that in your response.”
“Well, it was your birthday when you asked,” Byleth points out, smiling in turn. “I would have wanted to share your favorite with you, regardless.”
Edelgard hums a thoughtful agreement to that as she reaches for her teacup, only for her hand to freeze as realization strikes. Yes, she had indeed asked Byleth that question on her own birthday.
…Her most recent birthday.
Her eyes dart back to the woman sitting across from her, still calmly sipping tea and unaware of her scrutiny. Certainly, it was possible that the Edelgard of this Byleth’s world had thought to ask that question sooner, when she was still a student. Unless she had some other reason to suspect something was wrong, it would be best to let her suspicions die. She lowers her gaze to her guest’s side, where her sheathed sword glows a faint, constant red. The Sword of the Creator would prove her identity; after the disappearance of her Crest Stone, the Byleth of her own time had lost the ability to wield the legendary relic.
Except the weapon at Byleth’s side is not actually the Sword of the Creator.
Edelgard takes a long drink from her cup, buying herself time to calm down before she speaks. “Why did you choose to wield a Firesweep Sword?” she asks at last, keeping her tone casual.
The playfulness in Byleth’s expression is wiped away at that question. She reconstructs her neutral mask as she glances down at the aforementioned weapon. “There were already several versions of me in Askr by the time I was summoned, most of which wielded the Sword of the Creator. I thought it wise to make a niche for myself, and the summoner was eager enough to help me decide on a new skillset.”
A sound enough reason, and one that Edelgard might even believe, if not for Byleth’s unwillingness to meet her eyes as she spoke. “So it’s not because you no longer can wield it?” she pressed, allowing the accusation to creep clear into her tone.
Byleth’s startled gaze meets her own. Edelgard maintains that gaze steadily, and sees the moment her companion comes to a decision. Byleth discards her expressionless mask as she sags in her chair with a small sigh, defeated. “I knew it would be a mistake to speak with you for too long, El.”
El. The name melts something in her heart, even if she had already suspected the truth. “You’re not from the past.”
Byleth shakes her head. “I am from a time like yours, though likely not your exact world, given my understanding of how summoning works here. I chose to fight beside my own Edelgard to rid Fódlan of the church’s influence.”
What Edelgard knows she should ask is “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”, but it’s not the question that she really wants to ask. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her words hang heavily in the air, dripping with barely concealed hurt. Did Byleth have any idea how much she had missed her? How she longed to share each new discovery with her, how she wished to have her comforting presence at her side, how lonely it was every night to return to an empty bed? Even if this wasn’t her wife, even if they would only share their daylight hours, her company at least would have been a great comfort.
Byleth’s eyes drop to her hands, avoiding Edelgard’s unwavering stare again. Her fingers reach behind her neck to fumble with something, eventually unclasping a chain that Edelgard had not realized was there. She lifts the necklace up, revealing a ring suspended securely along the silver links, previously hidden behind her medallion. Byleth places it reverentially at the center of the table, and Edelgard’s breath catches as she recognizes the gold band and its single perfect ruby, set among smaller onyx stones. It’s the ring that has been passed down among the Adrestian royal family for generations, the very same that she once slipped onto her wife’s finger.
“I did not wish to make you uncomfortable,” Byleth confesses, which makes no sense to Edelgard, who is currently experiencing shock and elation in equal measures. “The relationship between myself and my own Edelgard is… romantic, in nature,” she says, gesturing to the ring between them as evidence. “Frankly, I miss her immensely, but I never wanted to burden you with those feelings.”
Byleth is watching her, waiting for her to speak, but Edelgard finds her words failing her. Instead, she reaches into her cape, fishing for the hidden pocket that she had used in wartime to keep important, secure documents at hand and secret. Now, she pulls her greatest treasure out of it, placing it on the table beside Byleth’s own ring.
It’s her turn to watch in anticipatory silence as Byleth recognizes the silver ring in front of her, bequeathed by her father with the wish that she would one day give it to someone that she loved as dearly as he had loved her mother. Her stunned gaze shifts between the two rings, back up to Edelgard, and falls again on the rings. “...Oh,” she manages at last, burying her face in her hands as the realization sinks in.
“All this time,” Edelgard laments, and there’s an embarrassed noise of muffled agreement from between Byleth’s fingers. “This entire time, we could have… how long have you been here, in Askr?”
Byleth keeps her face hidden behind her hands, but Edelgard spots a flush of color spreading to her ears. “Three months,” she admits into her palms.
“Three months,” Edelgard repeats. Nearly half of the time that she herself had been in this realm. It had felt like a small eternity. She shakes her head, even though she knows Byleth won’t see it. “Well, I certainly hope you feel appropriately foolish.”
The words are delivered with no real bite, and they seem to break the dam. Byleth drops her hands, stares at her, and then laughs, eyes squeezed shut as it bubbles out of her. It’s laughter only partly borne of amusement, and mostly an expression of overwhelming relief and joy.
Edelgard understands this because, underneath the shock and the frustration of needlessly lost time, she feels the same. She smiles gently and places her upturned hand on the table, beside the rings. When Byleth calms down enough to see it, she reaches for it unhesitatingly, placing her palm against Edelgard’s own. She meets her eyes now, a bright smile blooming across her face.
In that moment, Edelgard knows that it does not matter that there is no way to be sure if they are from the same world. This is a Byleth that fought with her, that believed in her, that loved her. This is the woman that she married. Byleth interlaces their fingers, and the way they fit together is achingly familiar. “Should we start making up for lost time, then?” Edelgard suggests.
Byleth’s smile widens, and she raises their entwined fists to place a soft kiss against the back of Edelgard’s hand.