Edelgard wasn't sure that she had ever come to the greenhouse when she was a student. She thought she would have rather liked the slow pace of gardening, but there had been no time for hobbies between her schoolwork, planning a war, and doing Thales' dirty work as the Flame Emperor. Bernadetta had been here on the rare occasions Manuela could coax her from her room, and Edelgard did her best to avoid her screaming fits. Bernadetta. Her fist clenched. No, she wouldn't think about Gronder. Bernadetta had chosen to fight by her side. She wouldn't dishonor that. But she hadn't chosen the flames, Edelgard's last desperate attempt to halt the Alliance. Her screams had cut through the air and Edelgard had punched the wall of her makeshift wooden fortification so hard that there had been splinters in her hand afterwards.

"Edelgard!" Lysithea's voice yanked her back to reality. "Careful."

Edelgard looked down at a nearly-mangled rosebush and hastily put down the pruning shears. She had managed to confine unwanted memories to her nightmares for years, but ever since her defeat they came unbidden. She was tired of useless grief that helped no one. Tears weren't fitting tributes, only actions were. Not that she had had a chance to do much beyond stew in her thoughts since Byleth and Claude had departed for Hrym.

She had expected church assassins to come from her the moment Byleth's back was turned, but Seteth had honored the terms of her stay, surprisingly, and Rhea had confined herself to her room on the third floor. Her guard was a rotating set of her former schoolmates, usually Lysithea or Ashe, but sometimes Caspar or Ferdinand, and their reputations had ensured that she had suffered nothing more than glares, when she saw people at all. They had a genius for finding places in the monastery that were nearly deserted, and for discovering places she could take meals without feeling like an animal in the menagerie. Her memories of her time in Fhirdiad were fractured like glass, but there was the same feeling of being a game piece and wondering what the next move was. This time she had submitted to the game for the sake of accomplishing something to make the last five years matter.

And, she thought ruefully, she cared far more about Byleth than the man who had deposed her father.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Just thinking."

"I'm sick of thinking." Caspar paced the length of the greenhouse for what must have been the tenth time that day. "Do you think the professor will be able to talk my father down? Stubbornness does kind of run in the family."

"I don't know," Lysithea said. "Just like I didn't know when you asked five minutes ago."

"Can you blame me for being nervous?"

"Calm yourself, Caspar," Ferdinand dug into the soil with his hand trowl. "The professor saved all of us, after all."

"Yes, she did." Ashe looked down, and his voice was soft and sad. "We're the ones who would be dead if not for the professor. Or worse than dead. Except for Lysithea, I suppose. She would have ended up fighting with Claude regardless."

"No, I'd probably be dead by now as well." Edelgard had seen that tired, regretful expression in the mirror more times than she cared to count. "Throwing my life away in a desperate attempt to make what time I did have matter."

"The professor helped you?" Her shoulder ached, the legacy of that last battle. She knew what it was like to know that the sands in the hourglass of her life were flowing far too quickly. Fifteen years of good health, another twenty of slow decline. She would not see sixty. Every battle of the war, every moment that she swallowed her hatred for her siblings murderers, every horror she herself inflicted, was done to win the war as quickly as possible and by herself one more day to build a more just Fódlan. But as the proof of concept for what Edelgard had endured, Lysithea likely had even less time. "You don't always hear the clock in your head?"

Ferdinand's brows creased in confusion. "Why would either of you hear clocks?"

Edelgard winced. She had been forced to reveal her twin Crests to Lysithea, Byleth, and Claude, but Ferdinand was another matter entirely. "A metaphor. Surely you understand what a metaphor is?"

He winced, but then he laughed and Edelgard felt a mild stab of guilt. "Ah, your familiar annoyance. I was beginning to think you have been rendered permanently sullen. I am glad to see you are recovering."

The stab sharpened a bit. He had been concerned about her? After she had attainted his father and driven him into exile? "I can't wallow in what-might-have-beens. The professor has chosen to spare my life." She looked at Lysithea. "I will use what time I have in service to Adrestia and freeing her from those who have controlled her from the shadows."

"Here here." Ashe smiled a little. "Those who have received what they don't deserve must use it wisely. Like the Silver Falcon."

"Silver Falcon?"

"A tale of chivalry, though not one usually told in Faerghus." His voice took on the low and rhythmic cadence of a storyteller. "There once was a knight who was known throughout the land for his skill, but also for his arrogance. In his arrogance he rebelled against the king, who was a drunk and a philanderer. The knight was captured and sentenced to death for his treason. His wife begged the king's advisor for mercy, and he took pity on her, for he knew how wicked his liege truly was. He used his magic to turn the knight into a falcon, intending to have him fly away. But the knight loved his new form and used his talons and claws to kill anyone who harmed those who lived on his former lands. His wife ruled in his place, but the king was still a bad king and the knight resolved to end his tyranny. He tore a pound of flesh from the king's chest and killed him, but not before the king shot him with a poisoned arrow. The knight died as a human in his wife's arms."

No wonder they didn't like the story in the Kingdom. Rebellion was not knightly and never mind the gaggle of nobles who had been happy to help orchestrate Lambert's death. "So you hope we all have heroic deaths?"

"I—"

"Don't mind Edelgard. I don't think she ever liked stories."

"I do like stories. But I've never been much for chivalry, I'm afraid." Or any reminder of the code taught by well-meaning priests who had had the nerve to preach of justice after she'd been freed from the dungeons. "What's the point if he dies anyway?"

"Huh. When you put it that way..." He shrugged. "That he did the same things for the right reasons. Does it not matter?"

"Can we stop talking about death?" Caspar flailed wildly and almost knocked over a tray of potting soil in his frustration. "Because my father is exactly the kind of man who would turn into a falcon."

The bells chimed four times, the signal that Byleth and her forces had returned. They shot up in surprise. It was a full two days before she was expected to return. Edelgard forced herself to put her gardening supplies away neatly before making sure her hood was up and rushing out the door. It seemed unlikely that anything had happened to Byleth when she had endured the full fury of Edelgard and her best troops with nothing more than a few cuts and bruises, but she still hurried.

Seemingly everyone at the monastery thronged at the gate. Edelgard mentally cursed her lack of height. It shouldn't matter, but she wanted to see Byleth and not the backs and heads of soldiers and merchants. The alternative was drawing attention to herself by pushing to the front, though, so she was forced to settle for listening. The crowd cheered as hooves sounded on the cobblestones. Edelgard exhaled. Byleth must have been safe. She looked over at Caspar, who was frowning at his own poor sightline and trying to convince Ferdinand to hoist him on his shoulders "just for a second" so that he could see over the crowd. She hoped Bergliez had seen reason. Thales didn't deserve the satisfaction of forcing a competent general to throw his life away.

The crowd parted for the briefest of moments. Edelgard slipped through the gap and saw Byleth. She sat straight upon her white horse and seemed every inch the returning conqueror. Her face was impassive, as it usually was, but she seemed paler. She didn't seem injured. There was no sign of Bergliez. If he had been captured, tradition would have dictated that he ride immediately behind her as a captive. Granted, Byleth had spared Edelgard that humiliation, but she would have felt better if she had seen Bergliez.

Byleth turned her head, and Edelgard swallowed her breath. She didn't know how she knew, but Byleth saw her. Her gaze rooted Edelgard to the spot. She had thought those eyes blank and uncanny when they first met, but by the time she had been unmasked in the Holy Tomb, those eyes had seemed so deep that the unwary could drown in them. There was no point in hiding anything from that gaze because it could see both the emperor and the little girl who just wanted out of the darkness. Or so her fevered, half-infatuated mind told her.

The moment passed, and Edelgard was released to find a new hobby with which to avoid the crowd. It was Lysithea's turn to guard her, if she wasn't mistaken. Maybe they could sneak to the market and see if any of the merchants had sweets.

It wasn't to be. She entered the hall and nearly collided with Seteth. "Edelgard." His voice was as clipped and sternly polite as always, but he too seemed a little pale. "Your presence is required immediately." He glared at Caspar and Ferdinand. "Alone."

Speaking to her but not one of Byleth's trusted lieutenants couldn't portend anything good, but there was little she could do in the heart of the monastery and with a dozen Knights looking at her as if she were Nemesis come again. "As you wish."

He led her upstairs to the part of the monastery that had been professors' offices and the audience chamber. Instead of heading to either of those places, they took a right turn down a corridor where Edelgard had never been. There were a few monks and scholars here, the insignia on their robes indicating senior positions. They stared at Edelgard with the same malice as their fellows. She kept her head up and matched the pace of her escort. Whatever came next, she would not be cowed.

Seteth led her to an unmarked door and motioned for the Knights to stop. "Few outside the highest levels of the church hierarchy ever see this room. I trust you are aware of the irony of the situation and will attempt to be respectful. With that, he ushered her inside and locked the door behind them.

Light filtered in from high, narrow windows onto the enormous table that dominated the room. A mural of Saint Seiros descending from the heavens adorned the opposite wall, but otherwise the pomp that surrounded the Central Church was absent. She sniffed. The air was musty as well. Only one place could be so secret and yet so honored. "So this is where the Cardinals convene."

Rhea sat at the head of the table. Her bruises had healed somewhat, but not to the degree they should have after almost a month. She regarded Edelgard with contempt, but it was more controlled than it had been the first day. Claude and Byleth were still in their riding clothes, looking grim. Edelgard took the open seat nearest Byleth and waited.

"We found Bergliez." Claude said without preamble. "He's heading for the monastery. Best guess? He'll be here the day after tomorrow."

"He's coming here?" Edelgard did the calculations in her head. She had only managed to take the monastery the first time with overwhelming force, and even then it had been a near thing. "He'll be slaughtered in a frontal assault, and he doesn't have the manpower for a siege either. And he knows both those things."

"Yes. He's coming for you. So that the Empire no longer needs a Regent."

The pieces clicked into place. Bergliez would create a court in exile for her. Whether they had any realistic hope for raising enough forces to continue the war hardly mattered. As long as the Emperor of Adrestia reigned, she would be an obstacle for Claude's own plans for the continent. Rebellions would be raised in her name. "As long as I live, this war will never end."

Byleth's pallor deepened, but none of them looked surprised by her words. So this was it then. They were giving her the courtesy of an explanation before they executed her. A month, that was all taking Byleth's hand had bought her. A month and a chance to part on somewhat friendlier terms with her old enemies. It wasn't enough. She...she didn't want to die. The thought came as a shock that forced her to bury her face in her hands. For years, she had known that she was slowly dying. The world she was building wasn't one that she was going to live in. She had accepted her death at Byleth's hands. But she wanted to avenge her family and to have more moments in the greenhouse and the thousand other things she had denied herself to become the leader that Fódlan needed. To discover that now... the world must enjoy playing cruel jokes on her.

"I would like it done quickly and quietly," she managed. "I won't be a spectacle."

"That's one alternative," Claude said. "Not my preferred plan, though. You see, I don't need you dead. I just need you not to be Emperor." He bent down, produced a wooden box, and opened it. Carefully wrapped in silk was the Adrestian crown. Not the tiara she had fashioned for herself, but the plain gold circlet topped with the double-headed eagle that legend said Saint Seiros had crafted for Grand Emperor Wilhelm. The crown used when every Emperor for a thousand years had crowned their successor.

"You want me to abdicate."

"For the sake of peace." His voice was gentle. "I want you to murder your pride for the sake of Bergliez's life. And your own."

The room was suddenly very cold. She had prepared for death, but not for surrender. To abdicate was to abandon her dream and watch as someone else took Fódlan down a different path. To admit in some small way that she was wrong. And, as much as the memories of her dead friends haunted her, she could not say that. Death might be preferable to the lie.

A warm, calloused hand covered her own. Byleth. "Please. I would like you to live. They will remember you as a martyr or a monster if you die now. But I think you should be remembered as the brilliant woman who helped push Fódlan into the future." Her lips turned upwards. "And as the girl who tackled me during the Battle of the Eagle and Lion."

She had almost forgotten about that. Byleth had cut through half the Black Eagles on her own and Edelgard had flown at her in a desperate attempt to stem the tide. They had rolled together in the grass and Edelgard had been so distracted by the warm muscle that she had barely noticed when Felix had taken the opportunity to eliminate them both. The thought that someone thought of her as that girl made her chest ache. "For the sake of Adrestia, I will do this on two conditions. First, the archbishop will not stand as witness. I will not play the penitent."

Rhea made a choked sound. "Even with your life forfeit, you show no respect for the Goddess."

Claude smiled at her. "We're doing this to stop her army, and I imagine the people who would care were purged long ago. I'm sure old school friends will be happy to stand in. What's the second condition?"

Edelgard inhaled. The Emperor always chose their successor. The best of them chose with the welfare of Adrestia above all other concerns or affection. There was only one person that she trusted to lead Adrestia into a new dawn. The person she had wanted to guide her own path. "I will crown Professor Byleth and none other."

Claude's smile widened, and Edelgard couldn't escape the feeling she'd played into some scheme. Even Rhea smiled. "The Goddess gifted you with this power. How right that you'll now use it to heal the land where the church was founded."

Now it was Byleth who buried her face in her hands. "Damn you," she whispered. "Damn all of you."

"At least everyone will live, Teach. I'm thinking we should do the coronation as close to Bergliez's arrival as possible." He smiled that strange smile again, earning a glare with a surprising amount of heat behind it from his professor. "We'll leave you two to iron out the protocol. Archbishop, may I escort you to the gardens? You look like you could use some fresh air. You too, Seteth. You've been running yourself ragged since Enbarr, and I want a chance to pry away some of those lovely secrets that you two have been keeping."

The three of them shuffled out, and Edelgard and Byleth were left alone. Edelgard had no idea what to say. She had always planned on giving up her crown, but only once Fódlan was united and the idolization of Crests was abolished. The only time Byleth had figured into those plans, was when one of the younger Eagles had smuggled in some alcohol and Caspar had dared her to try it. She'd completely lost her reason and waxed poetic about how when she was Emperor, she would lay her crown at Byleth's feet.

This hadn't been what she'd had in mind.

"I don't know about you," Byleth blurted out at last, "but I need a drink."

Edelgard couldn't help herself. She laughed, for the first time in she didn't even remember. It felt strange, like a stone that had been embedded in her flesh was at last loose. "I don't think it's a very good idea for me to have alcohol at the moment. Do you have any tea?"

Byleth still used her former quarters on the first floor. Edelgard surveyed the worn furniture and faded carpet for clues about the woman who would soon rule Adrestia before giving up. She had made her choice, and there was nothing left to do but deal with it and carry out her last duties as Emperor.

Byleth busied herself with the tea set. It was fine porcelain from somewhere to the east, likely a gift from Ferdinand or Lorenz. She tapped her teeth and selected a packet of tea leaves. It felt oddly...normal, watching her prepare tea, as if they hadn't been trying to kill each other a month ago and as if Edelgard hadn't just escaped the axe. Sometimes she wondered if the sheer strangeness of how they were treating her was what kept her from lashing out.

A familiar citrusy aroma wafted through the air. "My favorite."

Byleth looked down, almost shy. "I thought it might be. It suits you. Refined, elegant."

Edelgard flushed. She was used to such flattery from admirers for whom the remote, cold Emperor was an irresistible challenge or from fawning courtiers, but Byleth was neither of those things. It felt good and terribly confusing. "Why? After everything, you go out of your way to select my favorite tea?"

Byleth frowned, confused. "You asked if I had tea. Why wouldn't I serve you something you'd like?"

"Because I'm your prisoner. Because is much as I hate them, I was allies with your father's murderers. Because I can't possibly justify all the trouble you've gone to keep me alive. And yet, you not only spared me, you've been kind. Even now that you've gotten the last useful thing that I can give you. Why?"

"Because I want to? Please don't glare at me like that. I'm not good with those kinds of questions." She poured the tea into cups and threw herself into the chair opposite. "You said we were alike the day that I asked you about you and your classmates. I suppose I agree with you. And honestly, if I'm understanding what you are actually helping to accomplish correctly, it doesn't sound so terrible. I love Rhea but things can't go on like this. I've seen the way people are abandoned or sold off because of Crests. Or treated like dirt for being foreign. Or murdered for no reason than because a noble wanted more money and power. If I have to be Emperor, I'll use that power to make things better."

What? She had known Claude was not a follower of the Goddess and that he had intended some sort of unification, but an outsider could never understand how diseased society had become. But Byleth had seen and did care. Edelgard closed her eyes. "I wonder if it would have made a difference," she whispered. "If I had dared reach out my hand sooner. If you have been my teacher. If I would have been strong enough to achieve my dream without, well you saw."

"I don't know. No one is ever told what would have happened. But I…admired you once. That's a good enough reason to be kind, don't you think?"

"I'm afraid the girl you knew back then was burned away years ago."

She shrugged. "I might come to admire the person you are now. There's only one way one way to find out."

Edelgard had no idea how to respond to that, so she didn't try. They sipped their tea in silence. The awkwardness faded little by little until the silence was peaceful instead of tense. Byleth was odd, and Edelgard still didn't know what to do with her kindness, but it was nice to be able to exhale, for a little of the weight to slide from her shoulders. It would have been nice to have had this during her school days, but perhaps the new emperor would consent to the occasional tea break.

The new emperor. There was something she had to do for the sake of her father and for the sake of everyone who had died for her crusade. She cleared her throat. "The first emperor was a companion of Saint Seiros, who helped him win the War of Heroes. The books in the library will tell you all about how heroic they were and how much the Goddess blessed humanity. It isn't the truth. The truth has been passed down from Emperor to Emperor since the first. I'll tell you what Father told me, if you'll allow it."

Byleth put down her teacup and leaned forward slightly, motioning for Edelgard to continue. "The War of Heroes wasn't the chosen of the Goddess striking down the vile apostate. It was an ordinary war, fought for the usual reasons of territory and resources. Relics were crafted by humanity from a substance now mostly lost. But they lost anyway because Wilhelm betrayed them and joined with Seiros. The two of them created what became church dogma in order to establish legitimacy and allow Seiros' people to subtly shape the minds of the entire continent. Starting with the creation of the Crest system." Edelgard sighed. "There you have it. The truth is that the Adrestian Empire was built on deception and bloodshed."

"That's...a lot to take in."

"You've seen Rhea turn into a dragon. And I can vouch for the ability to create a Relic."

"Aymr. I'd wondered where you got that."

"Fashioned by my 'allies.'" She barely kept the snarl from her voice. "Think me a tyrant or a monster, but I'm not mad. Some details are doubtless lost to history, but what I've told you is more true than not."

Byleth's face betrayed not even subtle emotion. "I've already learned about a shadow war that has been going on for a millennium. I'm not ruling anything out in either direction." Something pained, almost too faint for Edelgard to discern, passed across her face. "I could never think you mad. You're the last, most brilliant of the Hresvelgs. And I have a thousand questions for the person who was actually raised to do this."

They talked for hours, filling and refilling their cups until there was nothing left. Edelgard told her all she knew of how to keep nobles in line, what sorts of taxes best struck a balance between fairness and raising revenue, and what sorts of qualities to look for in those she appointed to office. Byleth was an eager student, asking questions and grabbing a pen and parchment to scribble notes. If Edelgard had to relinquish her crown, at least it would be to someone who cared for her advice.

"I think that's all my poor mind can take for one day. But I'll definitely be looking at those books you mentioned." Byleth stood and stretched, languid and almost catlike. "And I'll have to keep you close for a while to explain what tax is equivalent to what service."

Edelgard raised an eyebrow. "Keeping the tyrannical emperor you deposed at hand will not endear you to the more pious among your subjects."

"I said that I wanted your advice, not that I'm making you a minister. And fortunately for me those same subjects think that I'm the reincarnation of Seiros or that Sothis chose me." Her gaze flickered down. "They don't know what I am. What good is adulation you don't deserve if you can't use it to get decent advice? Most of my work as a mercenary was putting down rebellions. That you kept your Empire stable during the war tells me that you're someone whose opinion I want, if only so I can get a more…pragmatic perspective. "

Pragmatic. A diplomatic way of describing how she had conducted her war. If she could keep it up, Byleth had the makings of a fine political instinct. If it meant more evenings like this one that had made what should have been a terrible day somewhat pleasant, then Edelgard would give her all the advice she wanted. "I will be ever at Your Majesty's service." She smiled and almost meant it.

Byleth repaid her with one of her own small smiles. "I suppose I have get used to people calling me that. May I walk you back to your room? I kept you here so late, and I feel guilty pulling the others away from what they're doing."

They made their way down the corridors, and if Edelgard ignored the flowing material of her robe and the glares of the soldiers they passed, she could almost pretend she was a student being escorted back to her room by a professor whose tutoring session had run too long. Byleth stopped in front of her door. "Thank you, for helping me when you didn't have to."

"Things are what they are. You will rule Adrestia and probably all of Fódlan after that. I'd rather my subjects have a good emperor than a bad one."

"Still… Thank you." Byleth took her hand. Her fingers were calloused from a lifetime of holding a blade, but they were so long and warm. Edelgard's breath caught in her throat. She had driven Dorothea to distraction with her innocent, girlish fantasies of holding the unobtainable professor's hand. Why it was happening now when her dream was a failure and she had nothing to offer was a mystery that she couldn't fathom. "Goodnight, Edelgard."

The nightmare came as if to remind her that her happiness would always be transient. She dreamed of Gronder, of being both responsible and helpless as the ballista was engulfed in flames. Bernadetta's screams echoed in her ears the way they never had in life. There were other voices too: Dorothea, Hubert, her siblings, all saying the same thing.

You are alive and we are dead. You lied to us and you surrendered rather than die for your ideals. Traitor.

Edelgard woke in the predawn light, shivering. The nightmares were always lies. The nightmares were always lies. She had played a terrible hand as best she could to bring an end to Agartha. She could die when they were gone but not before.

There was a knock at her door. "Edelgard," Lysithea said. "Count Bergliez has been sighted. We need to do the coronation now. May I come in?"

"Yes." She breathed in. From now on, she could not show fear nor regret. If there was any hope of saving what remained of Adrestia from Thales, she could only be the emperor passing her crown to the best possible successor, just as before she could only be the warrior. Edelgard's feelings would have to wait.

Lysithea entered, and looked Edelgard up and down. "Of all the time for you to have a bad night's sleep. Honestly!"

She helped Edelgard don the imperial regalia for the last time. It felt heavier than it ever had, and she wondered how she had ever managed to fight in it. Even the crown felt heavier than it should have. She had never been much for makeup, but today she did her best to hide the shadows under her eyes and bring color to her cheeks. She looked at herself in the mirror. The last Hresvelg emperor, her hair loose as she rarely had a chance to wear it while she reigned.

My dear El...I leave the fate of Fódlan in your capable hands.

"I'm sorry, Father," she whispered. "I suppose that's it then. Shall we go?"

"One last thing." Lysithea reached into her robes and pulled out a slightly smushed piece of cake. "This always calm my nerves."

"Thank you," Edelgard nibbled delicately and didn't immediately vomit, so she took that as a good sign.

"Edelgard?" Lysithea twirled a strand of white hair. "You asked me how I stopped always thinking about how much time I have left, but I never got the chance to answer you. The truth is that I saw too many people die stupid deaths in this war. People who should have lived another fifty years. So I might live another day or another five years, or Claude might find a way to perform that miracle he's always promising. But I can do something meaningful in the time I have left, even though I may not finish. And having friends I know will pick up where I left off helps."

Claude and Byleth awaited them in the entrance hall. Byleth looked no better than she felt, and Claude's smile was more forced than usual. "Bergliez and his men are just beyond our perimeter. I don't think we're going to lack for witnesses."

"I just hope he honors this."

"I think he will. I hope he will. He never much cared for my allies." A thought struck her. "Invite him to parlay at the gates, it may be more effective. Let him see for himself that I do this by my own will. Let the people who were willing to give their lives for me stand witness to my final hour as their emperor."

"And hope this isn't an elaborate plan to knife us in the back and make a run for it," Claude said lightly. "Lead on, Your Majesties."

They went out and despite the early hour and the soft glow of sunrise on the monastery stone, the late summer air was thick with heat. She had never much cared for mornings even under the best circumstances because it meant another day in which disaster might strike or she would be forced to make another painful sacrifice. Her heart pounded in her chest with every step as they walked towards the gate. Even though yesterday had given her a hope for Byleth's role beyond anything she had ever dreamed, it still felt like going to the executioner's block.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Rhea, dressed in the same kind of robes Edelgard wore when she needed to be inconspicuous and with the cowl pulled up to hide her hair and ears. She stopped and simply stood there, watching. Gloating at her enemy's defeat? But if anything, Edelgard would have said that she looked wistful.

Byleth followed her gaze. "What's Rhea doing here? And why is she trying to hide herself away?"

Claude frowned. "Well, the story goes that Seiros crowned the first Hresvelg Emperor, right? Maybe she thinks she ought to see the first Eisner Emperor crowned?"

"And the last," Byleth muttered. "I'll take the crown, but I draw the line at natural children."

Bergliez was waiting for her with his honor guard. They looked as if they had spent a week camping in the mud. He came as close to a smile as she had ever seen from him. "Your Majesty. I'm delighted you're unharmed."

"Likewise, Bergliez." She drew herself to her full height. Now was the critical moment. She had always known how to sway a crowd and inspire adulation when needed. She varied her pitch and rhythm until her voice was a hook that yanked her listener forward. "I am aware of those who have abused you and your men and hijacked our dream in the service of revenge and cruelty. This will not stand, and I consider their destruction more important than all elsr."

She motioned for Byleth to stand beside her. "That is why I am giving my crown to this woman. You've faced her, but her combat skill is not why I must step aside. You did nothing while my siblings and I endured unspeakable horror. Those monsters sought to create a new Nemesis. Well, the Crest I bled for is her natural gift. She can wield the Sword of the Creator without a Crest Stone. This is Nemesis' true heir and our hope for an end to the tyranny of Crests and for a peaceful and free Fódlan." She heard a gasp, and it occurred to her that she had never told Byleth or the others what her second Crest was. Too late now. "Redeem yourself for your inaction and follow her as you have followed me."

Bergliez looked skeptical. "This is your choice? Your free choice?"

Edelgard hadn't had a free choice since she was nine years old, but that was irrelevent. "Our army needs reinforcements, and Thales and his minions must be purged. I always intended to give up my crown when I found a worthy successor. I have. In becoming Adrestia's emperor, she will turn our tactical defeat into a strategic victory."

Seconds passed. They felt like decades. But at last Bergliez bowed his head. "If you truly believe this is for the best, then I will kneel to her as my emperor. "

"It is." The difficult part was over and all that remained was putting her pride to death. "Byleth Eisner, step forward."

Byleth stood before her. She looked resolute, her unearthly hair swept up by the wind. Soldiers would throw themselves at her feet. "Do you come seeking the crown of Adrestia?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to rule with justice and wisdom?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to be valiant in defense from her enemies?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to place her before all your desires? Your loves and your hatreds?"

"I do."

Edelgard brought her hands together to slip her signet ring from her finger. "Then know from this day forward that your life does not belong only to you. Take this ring as a symbol of the vows you have made." She took Byleth's left hand. It was trembling, and there was an almost imperceptible blush to her cheeks. Edelgard steadied her own breathing and slipped the ring on her finger.

Byleth knelt in the grass as Edelgard had once knelt before the Imperial throne. It was almost over. She took the crown from her head and held it above Byleth's head. "Byleth Eisner, the crown is yours." She placed the crown on Byleth's head. Her shoulders tensed as some leashed, coiled power welled within her. "By the covenant between the red blood and the white sword, and by the double-headed eagle upon your head, I hereby proclaim you the new emperor."

Byleth rose. Royalty suited her. She seemed older, the aura of command she always had blazing like a flame. They regarded each other, and Edelgard hope she understood all the could not be said aloud. This burden is not an easy one. Bear it well. You must finish what I began. She knelt, as her father had done for her. "Long live the emperor."

"Long live the Emperor," Count Bergliez repeated.

The honor guard took up the chant and Edelgard was, for the moment, forgotten as Byleth drew the Sword of the Creator and let its power course through her. Edelgard closed her eyes against the light. Someone else would take up the work she had left unfinished. The thought might comfort Lysithea, but it only reminded Edelgard of how far she had fallen short.

May Byleth wear the crown better than she had.