"No way… Professor actually told you guys to fuck off?" Lindhardt exclaimed, perhaps with the most energy I've heard behind a sentence of his in my entire history of knowing him.
He looked at me with expectant eyes - I could see them from my periphery. But my view was elsewhere. My heart was elsewhere. And it was starting to get really, really worked up.
But not in sadness. What was filling it was fury.
"...Edelgard… did it work, by chance? It's a question for my own research purposes, of course."
Hilda Goneril….
"Lady Edelgard… you seem a bit flustered." Hubert noted, "Does this have to do with that revelation about Sothis?"
At that moment I realized that they both stopped short of where my eyes were - the next page. It's good that they did, honestly. I shut the book suddenly with a quick snap, nearly catching Lindhardt's finger idling at the top of the page, which was in the midst of flattening a crease.
"Edelgard, what was that for? I wanted to continue reading the Professor's account. Maybe that Sothis dream of his is related to his Crest of Flames?" Lindhardt asked pleadingly.
"H-hmmmm… N-no, I don't think I will allow such a thing. I-I've forgotten that My Teacher only wanted me to read this, s-so… I must observe his condition… alone, yes!"
I must look and sound as deranged as Catherine von Nuvelle at the moment. As if to confirm my suspicion, Hubert and Lindhart both give me the same look they give that woman when she starts raving about her experiments.
"Lady Edelgard, if the Professor indeed claims to be communicating with Sothis, the Goddess herself, I must insist that I take the text for my own self-study after you've finished a perusal. It's simply too important for our broader project to gloss over."
"A-absolutely not!"
"Aw, come on, Edelgard. I really want to read more before... I get sleepy" Lindhardt moans through a yawn.
I gradually try to bring myself to grips with what I just read while clutching Byleth's diary. Who cares about Sothis? I don't. So what if he told us to fuck off? We were annoying him. What I care about is Hilda Goneril. This diary- In reality I should be burning it. The things he wrote in that next entry… I wanted to vomit. Was he really that observant about my mental state that early? Does he really think that bitch Hilda is prettier than I am? Hilda?
"L-Lindhardt, warp us out of here immediately."
"...What?"
"I-Immediately!"
"Lady Edelgard, we can just exit through the door. It is unlocked on this side." Hubert notes. He cracks it open.
"Well, t-then I need to leave! Right this second, as it happens!"
I storm out the door. Directly into a torrential rainstorm. When did it start raining?
I couldn't bear it anymore.
I needed some girl talk.
I needed Dorothea.
"Edie, did you really...?"
I know how stupid this all is. I know that Dorothea's been taking this just as hard as I have for the past month. I know she actually likes Byleth… that way… as well, and kept her mouth shut for my sake. They're the same age. And both non-royals. They could've hit it off without me ever knowing. But Dorothea picked up on my feelings and was such a good friend about everything. And now I'm rubbing her face in it.
...But because I've spent my entire adolescent life locked away in a dungeon, or shoving people away who get close to me until literally last year, she's the only female peer I have with sufficient experience in…matters of the heart… who I feel comfortable presenting my current torrent of emotions to. Who else can I show this to? Ladislava doesn't participate in romantic affairs with men. Bernadetta would probably have a meltdown. Petra… no. I'd give myself an ulcer trying to explain the finer points of all this stuff to her.
It has to be Dorothea.
Is that healthy?
Probably not.
Is this even remotely considerate to her own emotional state?
Definitely not.
Would I prefer to be just reaming out Byleth right now for having the absolute GALL to compare me, the person he… you know… with... to Hilda Fucking Goneril? Who's currently expecting a child with that bastard Claude... the same Claude who basically occupied half of Hrym last month on the absolute flimsiest of pretenses?
Yes.
But I can't!
"I did, Dorothea…"
Both of us are sitting in Manuela's old infirmary. We're staring at Byleth's diary which I placed - swaddled in my own cape to protect from the rain - like a baby on her desk. Technically, this room is now Dorothea's office. As she calls it, her "salon" - or at least, that's what she plans on the office eventually becoming. At some point. Against her own desires, I was told.
I… really committed a grave error.
In the aftermath of the siege, the Imperial Page noted that I was currently short a culture minister - it turns out that Hubert had the previous one purged for circulating a caricature of me sitting on a throne of crowned skulls in a private newsletter of the Enbarr Opera House.
It was honestly unclear to me whether or not those skulls were representing the lower nobility - who also wore ceremonial crowns, or my own ancestors.
Hubert didn't see a meaningful difference in either message.
I did, but no one ever consulted me before that guy ended up flayed alive in Enbarr's execution square. He was torn to shreds with hooked whips shortly after Hubert's own father, the late Marquis Vestra.
I think it bears repeating that I have… issues with Hubert's management style.
Which is why I need to find Byleth and get back to being a proper ruler again.
Anyway.. that day, I was preoccupied with a rumor about my teacher's whereabouts. One of the Abyss residents said she may have spotted a body on her last foraging trip into the ravine. Needless to say, I was pacing around the drawing room of Garegg Mach's audience hall, shouting incoherent orders at poor Ladislava about mounting a rescue operation. That page didn't catch me in the right frame of mind, you see. In my torment, I may have appointed Dorothea the Empire's new cultural minister, and by extension, Director of the Enbarr Opera House. By "may" I also mean "definitely did".
And, well… I didn't really ask her before doing so. In fact, I had never once mentioned the idea to her, even.
While that's not to say it's a genuine feeling of mine - I think Dorothea's wonderful and brilliant and beautiful and oh-so-cool and competent and a natural leader and she even got a noble particle for the whole thing - it was probably me making the most inconsiderate decision that I've made in a long while. And I did that to my friend, on top of it. What was becoming of me?
...And I haven't really had the opportunity to apologize for doing that, yet. Or even explain my rationale for doing so.
Yet here I am, about to have a meltdown over something really trivial in the grand scheme of things. Would I have done this a year ago? Would I have done this had I not opened my heart to Byleth? Now I'm leaning on Dorothea in his absence. In spite of everything.
"Dorothea… I'm truly sorry about the whole affair earlier with the ministry." Is that truly the best I can manage? I guess so.
"You know Edie, if you had said that to me like maybe a couple of days ago, I'd still be quite mad about it."
"O-of course you would…"
"But I guess I'm not really all that mad about it anymore. I'm actually kind of excited, you know..."
"I-Is that so?"
Dorothea sips some tea cooling off in a mug on her desk. I can smell it, faintly. It's Sweet Apple Blend. It's so fitting for her, really.
"There's something I've been thinking about recently…" she says wistfully.
Dread fills every crevice of my chest cavity.
"What's that, Dorothea?"
"I kind of want to write an opera. A new one. Totally original. Not about you, I mean. I know you'd hate for me to do that now. This one would be about something special, I promise."
I take a deep breath and relax a bit. I can't say I was expecting that answer. I'm kind of relieved, honestly.
"About what, then?" I ask.
"Maybe.. It's best I tell you later. Let's talk about this." Her hand, bare, caressed the leather cover of his diary. I recoiled a bit when I noticed how tenderly she held that book in her perfect, dainty, unblemished hands. Would she have held my Byleth like that? Would he have liked it?
"Of course..."
"Where did you find this, Edie?"
"In his room. I... had Lindhardt warp me inside."
As I reported this, I suddenly felt like Dorothea held all the leverage over me in this conversation.. When did I become such a child again? Why was I like this whenever I thought about my teacher? Why was I showing her his diary, even?
"Really, Edie?"
"I'm afraid so."
Dorothea heaved her chest a bit.
"Does that mean…"
"N-no! I am truly hoping there's a clue inside. That maybe his condition… is related to why we cannot seem to find him."
Dorothea seemed to accept my rationale, but the melancholy that had seeped into her expression in the interim made no effort to subside.
"I see… things like his hair and eye color changing, you mean..."
"Sort of."
"Right…"
This is clearly hurting her. I'm clearly hurting her. But I can't stop doing it. I'm like a Faerghan bull in a Albinean Ceramic shop... Or an Almyran Scorpion riding on a Gloucester Tortoise.
"Anyway… My intent is to read the whole thing soon and try to see if there might be anything that can help us find him… but..." I began.
"But..?" She asked.
"But… I would be most appreciative for your input on something…"
"Oh?"
"It is just kind of personal and maybe a little annoying, but I just want a second opinion. That is really all, truly..."
"Just tell me, Edie."
"When Byleth compares me to another woman and thinks…"
Dorothea bursts out laughing before I can even finish the thought.
I'm literally dying. I just want to crawl under my bed and hide. I understand Bernadetta now. I really get it. I will never endeavor to criticize her again - I swear on this crown I won't.
"Oh Goddess... I'm sorry… Sorry…. But really-?" Her eyes then cast down on the book. I know she's doing everything she can not to open it.
After a few moments, she looks back up at me, a devilish smirk creeping on her lips.
"This girl he's comparing you to… now, it couldn't be me, could it?" Dorothea seems to savor that question.
I hate to burst her bubble. Actually, I really don't.
"No."
A deep frown casts over her face. She leans in.
"Who…?"
Before I can answer, my page appears at the door.
"-Your Majesty?"
"What?!" Dorothea snaps. The poor boy recoils like he usually does, unaware that Dorothea should not be responding to a Your-Majesty, but rather a Your Highness. For now anyway. I'm going to destroy this whole system before I die. With Byleth, of course.
"C-count Varley is here to petition about the restoration of his privileges… he wishes to meet with Emperor Edelgard."
"Bernie's dad? Isn't he supposed to be under house arrest?" Dorothea asks.
The page is unsure how to respond. I take the mantle.
"Yes. He is. Page, Fetch Ladislava, tell her in no uncertain terms that he's to rot in the dungeon until I'm ready to see him. Understand?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Do I seem like an unapproachable tyrant?
"Edie. Edie. Edie!"
Maybe not, at least to Dorthea. She's right up against my face now.
"Who...?"
I close my eyes and utter the name.
"...Goneril."
"...Hilda Goneril?"
I nod vigorously.
"What?!"
"...You need to read it, Dorothea! Let me show you!"
I show her the entry. She begins to read it.
What am I doing with my life? Is there truly enough of it left to waste with this?
