c/w: discussion about suicide in the approach scene, needles in the final scene, and Alister being a sick fuck to Marianne for the entire chapter
She could see it through the trees as they approached with still a mile to go. Trees had never done well in the area, but the Margrave had always made a point of keeping the path to his estate well kept. Withered trees clinging to their greenery almost looked healthy if she couldn't feel the touch of magic in their bark.
"Appearances are important, Marianne," he'd said to her once, years before she spent nights crying herself to sleep. She'd followed that lesson, learning from the best. While Margrave Edmund fooled the world into thinking one way of him, she'd fooled her world into thinking her fine. Perhaps she gave herself too much credit, as that world was far smaller. A few servants, a pet or two, easy in hindsight.
Good thing that mask had been dropped, or else she might not have her wife's arms around her, riding tandem, as Dorte walked down the path to Edmund Manor.
It'd been a quiet trip, neither saying much to the other. Her, preoccupied with her adoptive father. Hilda, she suspected, stuck on Claude's attitude in their recent meeting.
Did she blame Claude? No, Marianne tried to keep those thoughts out of her head. Blame didn't do much to make the world a better place. It just added hurt. When Marianne first met Claude, he reminded her of herself. A man hiding raw, unhealed wounds. In time she'd find she was right.
Claude did his best with what he had. As did she. He didn't sell her out to Alister, so she had nothing to hold against him.
Hilda didn't see the world that way. Bless her, she was protective to a fault. Marianne loved that about her, but knew enough to see it for what it was.
The trees grew healthier as they approached the manor. Its brick façade stood out against the grey clouds, rumbled of thunder making it even clearer that she'd be there for the night. Perhaps if the foul weather hadn't reared its head, she could have absconded after whatever matters Alister wished were dealt with.
In for a penny, in for a pound. She'd be staying the night here.
"Are you scared?" Hilda asked after the past hours had been spent silent.
Marianne thought about it for a moment before deciding. "Maybe a little. Nervous, more so."
Her wife's grip tightened around her. "I'm so proud of you for doing this. It's got to be the hardest thing you've ever done."
"It's not," Marianne said with no hesitation. Of that, she had absolute certainty.
"Oh? Was it marrying me?" Hilda teased.
Marianne laughed. "Hilda, marrying you was the easiest thing I've ever done." She didn't have to look to know Hilda was blushing. "No, the hardest thing I've ever done was decide not to end my life."
"Oh," Hilda said, her hold on Marianne doubling, unsure what to say.
Marianne continued. "It was a difficult choice, at the time. And looking back, I know I made the right choice. But it puts things into perspective, for me. Every choice, every decision I make, they all feel smaller now."
Hilda whispered, "What do you mean?"
She smiled. "I've made the hardest decision in my life already. I made it and beat it. Nothing will surpass it. In a way, it's liberating. Like if I could overcome that, I can do anything."
"That," Hilda paused, "that makes sense."
"Facing Alister, it's nothing compared to that," Marianne said. "Difficult, yes, but nothing I haven't overcome before."
"If it counts for anything, I'm glad you think like that," Hilda said.
She laughed and it was a beautiful noise among the dark forest of her youth, so effervescent and full of joy. "Hilda, your opinion matters most to me. You're my family. Like I said, that was an easy decision."
"No, I'm the one supposed to be making you feel better on this trip!" Hilda protested. "Instead you're making me feel like that!"
Marianne laughed again. It really was a wonderful sound.
Edmund Manor was smaller than its Riegan equivalent. Its real wealth was the vast forested area around it. On the fringes of the woods, logging was conducted which resulted in a great deal of the Edmund territory's wealth.
But that was miles away. Edmund Manor was, for all intents and purposes, cut off from the world. A refuge in the wilderness that housed all its servants in addition to its lord.
Her wife gawked at the gothic architecture while she paid it no mind. It was a style not seen elsewhere in the Alliance, originating from western Faerghus. Gargoyles hung over the sides of the roof and around turrets. As a child, she'd named them all.
Marianne spared them and their ghastly faces a passing glance. That was a lifetime ago, back when she could still be frightened of them.
With practiced ease, she walked Dorte into the stable and made sure he was taken care of. After giving him some love and affection (and too many treats), she grabbed Hilda's hand and began to lead her towards the front door.
Hilda looked at everything, from the moss along the walls to the stained glass windows higher on the manor. "Okay, I hate him but he does have decent taste."
On that they agreed. "He built it in his lifetime once he began to establish power. He's a man of appearance, so I'm sure it played into making people see him as a Margrave."
"I can see it. Fuck him, but I can see it," Hilda mused.
She smiled. "Never change, Hilda. Now, are you ready to go in?"
"I should be asking you that!" Hilda protested. "Stop out-wifing me!"
"It's not a contest," Marianne chided lightly. "But yes, I am ready. If you are, that is."
Hilda grumbled and checked to make sure her hand axe was at her belt. "Yes, yes, I am. We gonna see him in our riding clothes, though?"
"Oh, we'll be changing," Marianne assured. "Just do as I say, I know how to deal with him." I hope.
Marianne rested a hand on the front door and paused. She took a deep breath, then opened the door.
The foyer was dimly lit with the storm as the backdrop while torches flickered along the walls. Before they could even think to take in more, a servant cleared his throat.
"Madam Edmund, it's good of you to return," he said, dressed to the nines in black. "Shall I let the master know you've arrived?"
"Edgar." Marianne offered a soft smile to the familiar butler. His age was all the more evident now, wrinkles wizening his face. "My wife and I will be changing before seeing my father."
"Of course, madam." Edgar bowed low. "I shall inform the master of such. He requested you meet him in the dining room once you arrived. Once you have finished your affairs, he is expecting you." Like a shadow retreating in sunlight, the butler left.
"Goddess, he startled me," Hilda whispered.
"Knowing him, he's been waiting there for hours for us to arrive," Marianne remarked. "Come, let's get prepared for dinner."
Marianne led Hilda to the stairs adjacent to the foyer. The wood groaned under their feet as thunder rolled outside. Portraits lined the walls, depicting previous Margrave Edmunds. The final at the top of the stairs was a younger Alister von Edmund, looking down imposingly at them.
"This house feels like a ghost is going to jump out at me," Hilda grumbled. "I'm glad you're not as macabre as he is."
"No ghosts in this house," Marianne said, "just memories."
They passed a series of closed doors until arriving at the end of the hall. Marianne opened it and strode in, giving Hilda a chance to look around.
"My old room," she explained, immediately walking into the closet to pick out their evening attire. Hilda would probably fit into some of older dresses.
Hilda didn't say anything, choosing to take a look around instead. The room was simple, devoid of personality. Not even the bookshelf had many occupants.
"The view out the window is the best part," Marianne called out, draping a blue dress over her shoulder that she'd missed.
"Oh, you weren't kidding."
She smiled. The view was over the wide forest, greenery that stretched on and on, obscuring the many trees that were withered and leafless. It was the one thing she missed about the room.
Marianne emerged from the closet, laying a dress on the bed. "This should fit you. It might be a little loose in the chest, but you'll manage."
Hilda giggled. "If you say so, dear." She skipped over to her wife and pressed a kiss to her cheek, snatching the dress of the bed to put on.
Turning her back to give her privacy, Marianne walked to the window. The rain hadn't begun yet, so she opened it. In the distance, an owl hooted. Like she expected, the bird flew up to the window, landing on the roof outside the window. It looked up at her with those big, sad eyes she knew well.
"Hello there, old friend," she murmured. Not that he could understand her anymore. That hadn't been for years. A decade, likely. She'd lost count.
He hooted again, jumping up to the window sill. Marianne brushed the back of her hand against his feathers and smiled. "Good to see you too," she whispered.
"Is that an owl?"
The owl took off at the voice. He'd always been skittish around anyone else. "The animals around her remember me," she said, shutting the window. "There was a deer that followed us for a bit on the way in."
"I knew you were good with animals, but damn, look at my girl go."
Marianne turned around to see Hilda wearing a short dress of hers. On Hilda, it reached lower and probably could pass as intentional. It was midnight with deep blue chiffon, the colors of Edmund. It clashed with Hilda's hair, but Marianne thought she looked beautiful.
"Was your plan to dress me all pretty while you pick something mundane?" Hilda asked, glancing at the pale blue dress Marianne had set out for herself.
Yes. "That one just suits you well, Hils. And the blue one is a favorite of mine."
"Then get suited up, soldier," Hilda said. "As much as I like putting you in the clothes I make, I want to see you in someone else's handiwork."
"Try not to get jealous," Marianne teased.
Hilda scoffed and walked to the bookshelf while Marianne put her dress on. "I would have thought you'd have more books, Mari."
"Those were mostly for research," Marianne said beneath fabric.
"Fairytales?" Hilda asked, pulling one off the shelf.
"Probably something I was interested in as a child," Marianne deflected.
Hilda hummed. "Was little Marianne interested in 'Therianthropy' as well?"
She stopped cold. Then, "Maybe. It's been a long time, I haven't thought about anything I researched as a child in a long time."
Hilda, her back to Marianne, hadn't seen her nervous reaction. "Big word for a kid. I was just looking fashion portfolios from Derdriu as a brat."
"Oh? You, a brat? I can't imagine," Marianne teased.
"Hey!" Hilda turned around. "No using my—oh, hell, I take back what I said. That dress looks gorgeous on you."
"Somehow, I feel like anything I wear would elicit that response from you," Marianne said with a smile.
Hilda pouted. "That may be true, but so is what I said!"
Marianne walked to her and kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips before parting. "I love you, Hilda."
"I love you too, Mari," Hilda said back. "Especially when you're all confident and happy like this."
"Only for you," Marianne breathed, leaning down to steal another kiss before reality came back. "It's easy to be me when it's just you."
"Be still, my beating heart," Hilda waxed, "for this woman does not know what she does to me."
Marianne's lips quirked. "I think I know just what I do to you." Before Hilda could respond, she continued. "But we better head to dinner. The sooner we wrap things up, the sooner we leave."
Hilda shuddered. "You sure you're ready?"
"As I'll ever be." She kissed Hilda's forehead. "Are you?"
Lady Goneril pulled up the hem of her dress, revealing her hand axe strapped to her thigh. "If he puts a hand on you, he loses the hand."
Marianne fell a bit more in love with her.
From behind the doors to the dining room, a violin's soft sound bled through the wood. Marianne opened the door.
The room was smaller than any other noble's. Most dining rooms accommodated large political meetings, but not Margrave Edmund's. He rarely invited anyone to his own home, meeting others on their turf instead.
Light emanated from the fireplace in the room, a roaring blaze devouring logs while a musician sat next to it, playing his violin. Their entrance didn't even make him look up, instead he continued as if no interruption had occurred.
Seated at the head of the table was her adoptive father. His black hair was tied up into a neat bun with a neatly groomed pointed beard. As he sat beneath the candlelit chandelier, shrouded in black attire, he looked at her just as he had when she'd told him she was going to Garreg Mach.
He smiled and gestured. "Daughter and daughter-in-law. You both look radiant. Come, our meal awaits."
Place settings were out to the chairs on his left and right. Edgar, the butler, emerged from the back of the room where he had been standing. Pulling out the chair on Alister's right, he said, "Lady Edmund."
She took the seat while Edgar did the same for Hilda. Her wife wrinkled her nose at the idea of someone pulling a chair out for her, but thankfully said nothing.
"Father," Marianne greeted, curtly.
He ignored her tone and looked to Edgar. "You may let the cooks in."
A parade of food ensued, cooks emerging from the kitchens and serving them. They set opulent dishes that smelled divine in front of them.
"I called for that cook from western Adrestia that you always enjoyed. They rode to Edmund Manor for your visit," Alister said as their meal was served. "I hope it's to your liking."
"You're too kind," Marianne said.
As soon as they arrived, the cooks vanished. All the while, the violin never ceased except the briefest of moments between songs. Edgar crept back into the back of the room, alert for if his master needed him.
As Alister began to cut into the braised pheasant, he glanced at Hilda. "So, forgive me, but I cannot hold my patience any longer. Tell me about your wedding."
Hilda blinked, surprised. "It's was beautiful. There's an area between the mountains near Goneril where a small forest is. We got married in the early autumn as the leaves turned gold."
"It sounds stunning," Alister murmured. "I should have liked to have been there."
Marianne bit her lip.
Hilda nodded. "I understand. We're sorry about that. With all the work we do with Riegan, it was more a spur of the moment affair than a planned one. Not even all our friends were in attendance."
That was a lie. Even Claude had made it.
"Indeed?" Alister quirked an eyebrow. "Your work must be important to not even consider your future father-in-law's attendance, much less meeting him at all before wedding his daughter."
"We're just trying to keep the Alliance afloat," Hilda deflected.
"Aren't we all. Marianne, I never would have thought you running away to Garreg Mach would turn you into a patriot." His eyes flicked over to her.
"Five years is a long time, father," Marianne said, stiffly. "I think everyone would change in that amount of time."
"And I see you've grown into a fine, young woman," Alister said, smiling. "A pity you did not think you could stay here."
"You know why I left, father," Marianne whispered.
His smile wavered for a moment. "I know the stories you've told me. Creative, if nothing else."
"Stories?" Hilda growled. "Marianne has—"
"Hilda," Marianne cut off. Her wife closed her mouth, watching Alister like a hound on the hunt. "Father, let's skip over these games. I—we—do not have time for it."
Alister took a bite of pheasant, chewing slowly. Swallowing, he said, "Hilda, my daughter has an active imagination. Whatever she's told you, I trust it has been greatly exaggerated."
"Bullshit—"
"Hilda!" Marianne said sharply. "Alister, I do not want to be here longer than necessary. War is coming and we are needed elsewhere. What do you need from me?"
Alister sat back in his chair, giving her a long look. "You've changed quite a bit, Marianne. I do not think I approve."
"I am not here for your approval," Marianne said, "only your vote."
"And you will have it," he said, dismissive. "A game between nations does not concern me. You know what it is I want."
"And you may have it, should I have your word you will never step into my life again," Marianne said.
Hilda leaned forward, watching Alister. He noticed, but didn't shift focus.
"You have my word," he said. "Provided you do not choose to continue to…spread such vicious lies about me." He picked up his knife and stabbed a piece of meat. He watched her as he ate it.
"We have an accord," Marianne said. She held out her hand to shake. After a moment, he took it.
"I've given you everything," he murmured. "And yet you turn your back on me."
"You've taken everything I was," Marianne returned. "Everything that made a little girl smile."
Alister drew his hand back. "Hilda, you'll need to watch out for this woman. Let down your guard and she may show you how much of a monster she is." Marianne visibly flinched.
Hilda stood, grabbing the knife by her plate. "You want to repeat that?"
The violinist stopped playing, looking at Hilda as she faced down the Margrave.
"Will you kill me?" he asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. "People would talk. Gloucester dead, me dead. Seems like maybe your side kills who gets in their way. Might Holst take issue to that?"
Hilda didn't even register the news. Marianne gasped.
"You'd deserve it," she spat.
Alister laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed. "Oh, Hilda. I see why my daughter likes you. But the moment you try to kill me will be your last."
Marianne glanced at the violinist who had yet to resume playing, staring down Hilda. She looked at his hands, his all too pale hands, as they flickered with the faintest electricity.
She turned to Edgar, who'd stepped out of the shadows, looking younger than he had before as he watched Hilda. In his hands folded behind his back, a knife of his own.
Alister smirked. "So do take a moment to think before making a rash decision, Lady Goneril."
Marianne could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. "Hilda," she urged.
Her wife's rage cracked, and she sat back down. But her eyes didn't leave Alister.
"Good," Alister said. "Now, let us get back to our meal."
"No, we get this over with," Marianne spoke up, finding her voice again.
"So you can leave? Into a storm?" His lip curled. "I think not. I'd be remiss as a father to cast you out into this weather. Stay the night, we shall conduct our business in the morning."
Marianne wilted, digging deep into herself for any shred of resolve she had left. She stood, nodding to Hilda. "Then I'm afraid I am not feeling will. The ride has left me weary. I think my wife and I shall retire."
"I see," Alister said, smiling. "I hope you rest up for the morning."
"I hate him!" Hilda snarled as soon as they were behind closed doors, not that they did much for her volume.
Marianne shivered and didn't respond, retreating to the bed and sitting down on it.
"What a manipulative prick," Hilda continued. "Seriously, how did you put up with that for nearly two decades? What a hateful fuck!"
Marianne said nothing, wrapping her arms around herself more.
"Mari?" She could hear Hilda's voice somewhere in the room, distant from where she sat. "—nne. Marianne!"
She blinked and her wife was sitting next to her, arms tentatively around her in silent question. Distracted, Marianne nodded, and Hilda latched onto her, holding her so-tight-to-never-let-go.
"Sorry." Marianne looked down, avoiding eye contact.
"You don't need to apologize for needing comfort," Hilda whispered, guiding Marianne back on the bed to lay down.
"No, I'm sorry for thinking I was ready to face him. I wasn't."
"Oh, honey," Hilda murmured, clutching her tighter. "You were so brave. So, so brave."
"I don't feel it," she replied, voice minute.
"Mari, look at me," Hilda urged. She did so. "You didn't show him any fear. You held together in front of him. You stood up to him."
"I don't—I just—" Marianne said, losing the words as soon as she had them.
"Shh, shh." Hilda rubbed her back. "You don't need to do anything. I've got you here." She paused, before asking, "Do you want to leave? Storm or not, we can if you want to. I'd walk through the Eternal Flames for you, rain doesn't bother me."
"We have to stay," she murmured. "Have to."
"I'm asking what you want," Hilda said. "Not me, not Claude, not anyone. Just you."
Marianne said nothing, listening to her wife's heartbeat. It was steady, constant, powerful, just like the arms that held her.
"I won't run," she said, quiet and weak, but not beaten.
Hilda nodded. "I'm in awe of you. Every day, Mari."
"I don't know why," Marianne mumbled.
Lips pressed to her forehead. "Yes, you do," Hilda said. "You're indomitable."
"Can you hold me, tonight?" Marianne asked. "I don't feel safe here."
"Always, my love."
Rain lulled them to sleep, pattering against the window steadily, as the rare crash of thunder grew too far away to wake them.
Or rather, it lulled Marianne to sleep. Hilda, who had tucked Marianne in proper next to her, sat upright watching the door. The axe previously strapped to her leg lay next to her, free to pick up and throw if necessary.
Because she would kill anyone—everyone—that came to harm her wife.
Marianne stretched her sore shoulder from where she'd fallen asleep on Hilda last night. Hilda yawned loudly, following behind her as they walked down the stairs.
Edgar met them at the landing, clearing his throat and not mentioning that they wore the same clothes as the previous night. "The master is waiting for you in his study."
"We can find our way," Marianne said, blunt.
The butler nodded and did not follow them. But Marianne could feel his eyes on her as they walked down the hall towards Alister's study.
She did knock, instead opening the door. Her adoptive father looked up from his wood desk, irked. He smoothed it away, standing.
"I hope you each had a pleasant night's sleep," Alister greeted.
"Enough," Marianne said. "Do it, then be done."
Alister frowned before straightening his black tunic and walking across the study to a door on the opposite side. "Will your wife be joining us?"
"Of course I will," Hilda scoffed.
Marianne watched Alister, his lips quirking into a smile. Her eyes went wide and she understood.
Eternal Flames, he would tell her.
"Hilda," Marianne said weakly. "Wait out here."
"What? Mari—"
"Please," she begged.
Hilda stopped, looking at her wife, torn between her choices. "If…if that's what you want, Marianne."
Without looking back, lest she change her mind, Marianne walked through the door. She caught a glimpse of Alister's smile again.
The adjacent room was a small stone walled area with no adornments. A chair with restraints attached to the arms and legs sat in a corner, a wooden desk with various vials laid out.
"Get it over with," Marianne said, voice faltering as she walked to the chair she'd sat in many times before and rolled up her right sleeve.
Alister looked to the door he closed behind himself, as if contemplating something. He turned back around, looking to her. "None of your Crest's abilities have come back, have they?"
"No," she said, shortly. Angrily.
He nodded. "In line with my hypothesis." Alister opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a needle and syringe. "Thank you for returning. I promise to use Maurice's Crest responsibly, you need not worry."
Each time he drew her blood, he stole something else from her. First was being able to speak to animals, now it was whatever else he hadn't already taken.
"What you do with it is not my concern," she said truthfully. Marianne just wanted to be gone.
"Arm out," he directed. She obeyed and he took a damp cloth and wiped her skin. Marianne flinched, but he didn't give her a moment of rest as the needle lanced into her.
It was cold. Familiar. Uncomfortable.
When she blinked again, he drew the syringe out, full of blood. As she moved to roll her sleeve back down, he said, "I need one more."
Marianne froze and Alister, without looking up from his desk, said, "Or should I signal Edgar to harm that pretty wife of yours?"
She put her arm back out.
He took another vial of blood from her efficiently, making no objection when she rolled her sleeve back down.
"What did you take from me this time?" she asked in a moment of defiance.
Alister looked at her. "Everything else. Your Crest is in name alone." He looked back at the vials of blood in front of him. "You may go. Edgar has a gift for you."
"And you'll hold up your end of this deal?" Marianne asked, legs shaking.
"Yes," he said, not paying her any attention.
Quickly, she turned face and walked out the door. When she entered the study, Hilda leapt up and ran to her. "Marianne, are you—"
"To Dorte, let's go." She wanted to be rid of this place.
"Are you—"
"Later!" she hissed.
Hilda nodded and took her hand. Together they made it to the front door, where Edgar stood waiting for them.
"Lady Edmund," he greeted.
"Out of our way," Hilda spat.
Edgar nodded, stepping aside. From behind his back, he produced a curved sword. "Your father wishes for you to take this with. A gift. Blutgang."
Marianne didn't recognize the name. Nor did she pay any attention to it as she grabbed it and opened the door.
Beneath grey skies, she and Hilda got to Dorte and rode out within minutes. Hilda watched for anyone who might follow, but there were none.
The road was clear as they left behind Edmund Manor.
Author Notes: Sorry for the wait on this one, those side effects from the second vaccine dose are no joke. I was out for the count for a hot minute. Plus I helped a friend propose to his now fiancé. And I got a new laptop. Busy May. Pun intended.
On the subject of the first scene's discussion around suicide, Marianne's point of view is my own. I don't venture close to the subject too often (except in writing as that's one of the few places I feel safe remembering it), but a few years ago I attempted suicide. I'm still here and I'm doing better. The perspective of overcoming the hardest thing imaginable, that's a thought that's really helps me grapple with being a survivor. It's certainly not something everyone thinks in regards to it and not something everyone might be receptive to. But it is my experience. I wanted to include it as a means to frame how Marianne is doing in regards to her depression. That isn't to say she (or me, for that matter) is okay all the time, but she is doing better.
It's fair to disclose Marianne is my favorite FE character of all. She's very important to me, so I really have tried to do her journey in this fic justice. That was a heavy chapter though, touching really close to my own experience with confronting one of my abusers. Gonna step away for a bit to recover from it. I'll respond to comments as soon as I feel better.
On a much more lighthearted note, I wanna plug a friend's fic. COOKIECHEESEMAN is a longtime friend of mine on here and he has a really good fic called Sins of the Past. It's an FE15 fic, so if you've played the game, you should check it out! If you haven't, well, you still could check it out, but I dunno how much sense it would make.