In truth, Rinea's first impression of Lord Berkut was not the best. She thought him reckless and obsessed with war, like most Rigelian men. She had only seen him from a distance, at balls and so forth, where she was naturally on the edges of society, being from a lesser noble family with no particular martial skills or gift for strategy to recommend her. Rinea's father had even talked of betrothing her to a Zofian lord, thinking she might like such a life better.
Berkut knew he was never supposed to be his uncle's heir. Everyone loved and admired Emperor Rudolf; surely, they said, he would have a son bearing the Brand, just as he did. But Prince Albein died in infancy with Queen Hilda, and Berkut was the next in line. And everyone knew he didn't carry the Brand.
He trained hard, day after day, making himself as strong as he could – the best rider, the best strategist. But it was never enough. 'He doesn't have the Brand,' they would say. 'He isn't meant to rule.'
Berkut did not know how to please them except to be even stronger.
But that was before she met him. He asked her to dance! Lord Berkut! The emperor's nephew!
Rinea was the only person the whole night who had spoken to Berkut like she was a real person. It pained him to hear her say she wasn't supposed to be there. There weren't additional requirements for attending a ball. Being a noble was enough.
(Being a Prince was enough. It was. He would make it so.)
And though he was not the best of dancers then, he learned better just to please her, because she loved to dance.
He didn't intend to dance with her again, but it felt shameful to have her merely tolerate his misplaced steps and uncertain lead. Rinea was obviously a skilful dancer and deserved a better partner, but the thought that she would look upon any man as his better, even in dancing, made him feel unspeakably jealous. He wanted to see that shy smile of hers again, to earn it.
When Rinea said she did not care for violence or tournaments, Lord Berkut read her poetry and teased her fondly with some of the more romantic passages. He had theatre troupes stage elaborate plays to which she was always, pointedly, invited. He let her talk on about wildflowers with flattering interest, even though he must've found it dreadfully boring, and delighted over the small sketches she made of the birds in her garden.
It's in courting Rinea that Berkut realised how much he still lacked. Her education outside of military matters was exceptional – Berkut could not tell one leaf from another, but Rinea had memorised entire volumes about the natural world; she could draw and paint wonderfully; she read in a clear and powerful voice that Berkut found himself thinking of more and more.
And yet, more and more, he came up against his own limits. He had no talent for poetry; even reading Rinea's favourite verses aloud, his voice sounded clumsy and stilted, although maybe that was just the unease at using other mens' words to woo a lady – especially one as gifted and as lovely as Rinea. She said she had not seen much theatre, so Berkut arranged some performances for her, but then found himself painfully jealous that she was being delighted by the works of others, not himself.
All Berkut has in the way of expressing himself is dances with Rinea. Even in that, he is only technically competent, whereas Rinea moves with the natural talent and grace she was born with. The only thing more wonderful to see is how beautiful she looks doing what she loves. Dancing with Rinea feels a little like clipping the wings of a bird: it is pleasant to hear it sing for you, but it will never be as sweet as the song it sang with the sunrise when it was free.
Even when people were remarking on his special regard for Rinea, she didn't believe that much would come of it – could come of it – until the day he danced with her in the garden with the birds, and promised that he would build her another garden just like it in Rigel Castle, so long as she would consent to being his wife, and his Empress.
In the end, it was Berkut's inadequacies that convince Emperor Rudolf to give his permission for them to marry. "She may be from a lesser house, but she complements you well. If you learn from Rinea, you will find yourself a better man for it."
Berkut gritted his teeth to stop himself from shouting. 'I'm trying! What more can you ask of me?!' Emperor Rudolf could not write poetry or draw and knew nothing of natural history, either, but that didn't matter because he has the Brand; Berkut had to prove himself in everything before he would even be considered a tolerable heir. But he had what he wanted from Rudolf: permission to marry Rinea.
He already knew better than to expect Rudolf's blessing in anything else.
Rinea had no wish to become the Empress of Rigel. Though she much admired the skills of those women like her mother, who wore a smile like a shield as she played politics against the other noble houses, she didn't think she had the strength to do those things herself. And her mother was from a lesser house, needing only the expertise to turn aside insults against them and to get her daughters the opportunity to marry well. The Empress of Rigel would surely need to be able to do much more.
So Rinea hesitated. She had no idea why Lord Berkut was so infatuated with her. Perhaps it was best to turn him down, let him get over his attachment to her and find a more suitable wife. Rinea could still marry a Zofian noble, or simply be a doting aunt to her elder sisters' eventual children. It wouldn't be a bad life to have.
She didn't answer immediately, and Berkut was filled with a terrible dread as to her answer. It's true that Rinea was from a lesser house, and for anyone else in that position, an offer of marriage from the future Emperor would be something they could never turn down. But Rinea was above such considerations. Perhaps Berkut was foolish to assume she had some regard for him. Maybe all along, she only tolerated his interest like she tolerated his poor footwork on the night they met.
But it would mean she could never dance with Lord Berkut again. There would be entire volumes of poetry in the library which she would never be able to read, because she could only hear them in his voice. Even this space in her garden would be one of mixed feelings, remembering when hearing Lord Berkut say, 'Rinea, I love you', had made her the happiest woman in the world.
Suddenly, it seemed that to say no would take more strength than she was capable of. So Rinea clasped his hands, and hoped that every bit of her happiness shone out of her smile and the tears of joy in her eyes, to make up for any inadequacies she might have. "Lord Berkut," she said, "if I am your choice of wife, I will do everything in my power to never disappoint you."
Oh, Rinea. How could you ever be a disappointment? I am the disappointing one.
Lord Berkut's own smile was blinding. He kissed her then, amongst the garden and the birds, and although it wasn't quite proper, Rinea loved him for it, for loving her, more than she could ever possibly say.
The kiss was all the sweeter against the sharp tang of relief. Berkut would never give her cause to doubt him again. He will be an Emperor that she can be proud to stand beside – whatever the cost.
It was so hard to watch him doubt himself, and Rinea cursed her own clumsiness that she could never find the right words to tell him he was already enough as he was; she would love him if he dressed in rags, stepped on her feet every dance, and didn't know one end of a spear from the other. Lord Berkut had always put so much pressure on himself, and it killed Rinea that she couldn't alleviate his burden even a little, when he did everything for her—
After everything, after everything, it's still not enough – now a farmboy can be the Emperor if he has the Brand, and of course Rinea would rather be his Emperor than belong to a waste of a man, a man who has only ever been good at killing…
A/N: Written for a prompt from the Fire Emblem subreddit. Partially inspired by information from the Valentia artbook, that Emperor Rudolf was crowned ahead of several more direct heirs because he bore the Brand. Does this make it really weird that everyone easily identifies Celica and Alm as the Children of Fate if the Brands aren't that unusual in the royal families? Yes. Does it cast a new an interesting light on Berkut's inferiority complex? Also yes in my opinion.