In the early mornings of the Great Tree Moon, it was easy to forget the war.

The Bridge of Myrddin had largely been untouched over the last four years. As vital a choke-point as it was, both the Empire and the Alliance needed the trade it facilitated more. It hadn't taken long for a quasi-truce to form between its neighboring regions. As long as each country's soldiers were accommodating to the other's merchants and careful with their blades, they could maintain the illusion of peace. Inevitably, one day they'd fight, but for now they all had the decency to be in denial of it.

When he was first assigned to the Bridge, Ferdinand wondered if it was supposed to be an honor or an insult. Was it a sign of trust and friendship to hold such an important yet safe position, or a show that his ideals were of little use outside of these theatrics? Back in those early days, he burned with a desire to prove himself.

But after four years of being in a war he didn't believe in, Ferdinand had decided it was best to pick his battles. As he climbed to his post, he decided rather than worry about honor and glory, it was better to simply sit back and take in the beauty of the morning glow.

He closed his eyes and breathed in the spring dew.

Today would be a good day to die.


Many things went wrong after the Professor's disappearance.

Yet, between Garreg Mach's fall, the week he spent imprisoned, and the farce of a trial that followed soon after, what haunted his dreams the most was the sole witness who stood up to testify for him.

It was the first time he had truly committed a crime. Because as he watched that golden hair sway in the wind, Ferdinand was certain she was more holy than the Goddess herself.


All his life, Ferdinand had never been afraid of sacrificing himself for the greater good; service was the price one paid for nobility. But sacrificing the men he had been charged to lead was a different scenario. For the longest time, it was their concerns for their futures that stayed his hand.

But even in comparative paradise, dissent leaked through in a pointed look or a strained silence. Outright discussion would be treason of the highest accord, so instead he carefully kept track of which soldiers proved to be the most dependable.

"Be prepared to shoot on my orders." He kept his eyes trained on the documents before him as he passed an archer testing her bow. "Today there will be many travelers passing through."

The archer raised an eyebrow, emphasizing her crow's feet. He had tried to choose a confidant with little to lose, and with her age and lack of family records, she had seemed a pragmatic choice.

He only realized then that everyone always had something to lose.

"If this is too much to ask of you, then I can always find someone else to fill your role." He thought of the recent draft letters he had signed not two weeks ago. "I won't force your hand."

"I'll do it." The archer stood up and left for her post-her back straight and her vision clear.

Ferdinand didn't know it would be the last time he saw her alive.


The minute he stepped through the door, his mother descended upon him in a flurry of tears. As she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed into his chest, the best he could do to ease her sorrow was stroke her hair and insist he was fine.

"They took your father away..." In all his years alive, Ferdinand had never heard her voice such affection for him.

"I know."

"...I haven't seen him since..."

"I know." It was easier to focus on the slight tremble of her voice than the words themselves.

"...promise me, I won't lose you too." She cupped his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I couldn't bear it."

Ferdinand covered her hand with his own, throat tight with emotion.

"I promise." He didn't know it would be the first of many lies he'd tell.


The imperial convoy entered in a calm and orderly matter. When Ferdinand motioned for them to stop for inspection, they were nothing but respectful and compliant. An olive-haired wyvern rider even stopped to chat with him, commenting on the warming weather.

The fire that broke out at the armory was a distraction, first and foremost. While everyone's attention was directed towards the blaze, the archer lined up her shot.

And even still, he expected her to deflect the arrow with an expert swipe of her cloak. That's why he already had his sword drawn and aimed for her rib cage before the shot was fired.

Despite the chaos, the clash of steel against steel pierced his ears. The ringing was so overwhelming, he found himself lucky to be able to sidestep the dagger's parrying thrust.

For one brief moment, he met Edelgard's gaze. In it, he found a strange mixture of rage and resignation. For a moment, he remembered their schoolyard days.

In the next moment, they went back to attempting to kill each other.


He was never one to love war, but he had hoped he could tolerate it for Adrestia's sake. If he, of all people, had been given a second chance at life, then he had to put it to good use. Helping steer his country down the right path had to be a noble enough reason to keep going.

But no matter what he said, she didn't listen. Since the Battle of Garrag Mach, there has been a barrier between Edelgard and the rest of the world. The only person who seemed able to get past her walls was her uncle and his mysterious entourage.

He had never considered himself an angry man, but his temper reached a boiling point when Lord Arundel suggested lowering the conscription age to thirteen.

"After robbing graves, I see we've moved on to robbing cradles as well."

The shouting match that followed was unbecoming of a noble, but Goddess was he tired. So tired of sitting on the sidelines, trying to be polite and gracious to a pit of vipers.

Eventually, the argument was settled when Edelgard demanded everyone else leave the meeting so she could speak to Ferdinand alone. The silence that followed was so deafening, he was almost certain he could hear the blood pulsing through her veins.

"That was a childish way to voice disagreement, and you know that." She tidied her buns as she spoke. From the circles under her eyes, it looked as if she hadn't slept in weeks. "He's a prideful man, but the sooner you apologize to Lord Arundel, the sooner you can actually get around to talking him down."

Somehow, something even deeper inside Ferdinand began to break.

"That man can do no wrong in your eyes, can he? You'll let him raze the continent to the ground if he wants."

If looks could kill, he would have found himself severed into several tiny pieces just from the twitch in her eye.

"The only reason you have a seat at this table is because of her." Edelgard's voice was heavy with anger. "She was the one who insisted that no matter the circumstances, you'd always put Adrestia first. You could focus on the greater good."

It was the barest of references, yet that was all it took for him to be transported back to that fateful day. He tried to think of something, anything, to say in response, but words failed him at every turn.

Less than twenty-four hours later, and he found himself assigned to the Bridge without a single note or explanation.


A certain clarity came with battle. The world slowed down to the point that an eternity could be found in between each breath.

"You are hereby condemned, exiled from these lands, stripped of all your titles for crimes against the Adrestian Empire."

Each word was like another strike across the face, but he could do little else but take it with his right leg broken and Edelgard's knee digging into his chest.

Behind her, the Bridge burned. Screams and cries filled the air. He couldn't tell whether they came from his or her soldiers. All he knew was that more would inevitably follow.

"Why?" He coughed up a mixture of blood and phlegm.

"If you ever step foot in the empire again, you will be executed."

"Why spare me?" His voice cracked with emotion. "After everything, why should I be the one to survive?"

Edelgard stared at him as if he was a corpse that had suddenly stood up and spoken.

"I ask that same question, every day."

Without another word, she rose and walked back into the blaze.


It was strange how events kept repeating in slightly different ways.

An argument broke out between two merchants who were trying to cross. Nothing out of the ordinary, tempers were high with the recent new taxes imposed, but both traders also had their own hired help tagging along. Sometimes it was useful to make a show of his authority to keep a fight from turning physical.

Yet by the time he got there, another woman was breaking up the fight. Despite the years, her golden hair shone just as brightly as it did back then.

He wanted to say something, but she was already leaving, disappearing among the crowd. On impulse, he called her name.

For a moment, blue eyes glanced back towards him.

Then she was gone, just as quickly as she had entered and exited his life before.


On his way back to the reunion, he heard rumors of a traveling bishop tending to the local children. It could be just a coincidence, but nevertheless, he took time out of his schedule to check just in case.

He found Mercedes seated under an oak tree, tending to a child's scraped knee. It was like something out of a storybook illustration, so peaceful and serene that he feared his presence would tear it in two.

Suddenly, her gaze caught his, like a spotlight on an actor. Not knowing what else to do, he stepped forward.

She whispered something in the child's ear, and he scampered off by the time Ferdinand arrived. For the first time since the battle of Garreg Mach, they were truly alone.

"You're alive." Mercedes murmured, eyes misty with tears. "I heard about the Bridge, and, and... I was so worried..."

"I'm alive," Years of exhaustion seemed to collapse on his shoulder. He didn't know what more to say, so instead he seated himself next to her.

For a long time, they simply shared the silence. A part of Ferdinand thought that perhaps the illustration hadn't been ruined completely. As long as he stayed strong, then things would still remain intact. But before he could lose himself in the quiet, Mercedes started to wind her hand around his.

"I prayed for you." Her voice was so quiet it could have been mistaken for the wind. "I never stopped."

"I'm sorry I wasted your pardon. You worked so hard for my freedom, and I..." His failure seemed too shameful to even voice.

"You called me noble. For doing nothing more than settling a squabble. I only wanted to live up to your high regard." Her story sounded as if it could have come from a lifetime ago. "But even now, I can't do anything to save anyone."

"Don't talk like that." Ferdinand gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I made my choice. A life like that, blindly following Edelgard's orders. It wasn't worth saving."

"Even so..." Mercedes voice drifted off. "...I just didn't want you to have to lose everything too."

Everything. With it said so plainly like that, something inside him seemed to snap.

"Forgive me." He wished he could have said the same to so many others.

For the first time in five years, Ferdinand cried.