Edelgard remembered little of her exile in Faerghus: flashes of staring out a window, sneaking to the stables to ride a horse, her uncle when he was still her uncle putting his hand on her shoulder and telling her that he would explain everything when she was older. She had left most of the pacification to Cornelia aside from the occasional rebellion that had raged too long for comfort, and those campaigns had been during the height of spring and summer and she had seen more of her command tent than the countryside.
Which was to say that she had forgotten just how cold Faerghus was at night.
She shivered and stamped her feet. The wind bit through her coat and the autumn frost crunched under her boots. There was a joke in the Imperial Army that adjutant was just a nice way of saying "the bootlicker who got stuck doing the things nobody else wanted to do." She had just spent the last forty-five minutes delivering orders to the sentries. The Adrestians had been grateful, even fawning, but one of the Alliance soldiers had made her throw her packet because he didn't want to get within ten feet of her. They had their reasons to be angry, but did they have to be so petty? At least she could sleep now.
She ducked into the tent she and Lysithea had been assigned. It was nothing compared to what she had used on campaign as Emperor, but as long as it kept out the accursed wind she didn't care. And Lysithea was one of the few people willing to share a tent with her. Lysithea sat atop her bedroll, knees curled to her chest, reading by candlelight. Edelgard clicked her tongue. "You should be in bed. We have a long day tomorrow."
Lysithea glared at her. "I'm not a child who needs to be told from to go to sleep." She yawned. "But you do have a point. We have a long day of marching ahead of us, and Byleth wants to see me first thing in the morning about taking temporary command of some extra mages. Something about Lorenz getting into a shouting match with one of the lieutenants."
"I'll be seeing her as well. I need to get an early start on her correspondence." Anxiety settled in her gut, which was ridiculous. It was the duty of an adjutant officer to serve her commander however was needed. She had sworn to do whatever was necessary to defeat the Agarthans. Whatever pride she possessed had been sacrificed on the altar of her ambitions when she had become the Flame Emperor rather than run them through with her axe.
No, it wasn't being a servant that unsettled her. It was Byleth herself. Ever since the day she had commanded Edelgard to serve as her adjutant, she had behaved strangely. Most of the time she was distant, even cold, but then her eyes would flash with some emotion Edelgard couldn't discern. She had always prided herself on her ability to read people, and Byleth being an enigma frustrated her to no end.
She flinched. That wasn't it either. It was that Byleth had been friendly, even warm in her way, after Enbarr. Edelgard had been her enemy, but she had still defended her from Rhea and given her her favorite tea when she had learned she must abdicate. It had seemed either a dream or a sadistic trap, but it had been so long since she had known even ordinary kindness that she had become as addicted to it as sweets. And now, something had changed and she didn't know what to expect from meeting to meeting.
They readied for bed. Lysithea put her books and candle to one side, but made no move to extinguish the flame as she settled down for the night. Edelgard raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you worried about a fire?"
"Enchanted," she muttered, already three quarters of the way to sleep.
Still, enchantments failed. Her youngest brother Ludwig had emerged from the experiments with the mind of a toddler. The country house where he had been secluded had been stuffed with enchantments and he had still found a way to wander off and drown himself in the river. She reached over and extinguished the candle. A pleasant darkness settled over them.
Lysithea sat upright. "What did you do that for?"
"Safety. And I sleep better in the dark."
"You do? Even after—well, I find it a little more restful to have a small light. Nothing unusual about that, is there?"
"I suppose not"." Suspicion floated across her mind. "Lysithea, are you afraid of the dark?"
"Of course not! Only children are afraid of the dark. I just sleep better with a light. But since you sleep better without it, I can go without it too."
"Really, I can just cover my head..."
"No, I insist! You've had a rough few months and it's only right that I accommodate you." Before Edelgard could say anything else, she shoved the candle into her bag. "Goodnight, Edelgard."
The nightmares came for her that night. Knives cut her flesh even as she screamed and begged to know what she had done wrong. Her torturers laughed at her and called her a weak little girl. She called for her father and they laughed harder. He had been unable to rescue her when she was in the Kingdom, and he couldn't save her now. Her siblings screamed too. But there was only the knives and the terrible, choking fear. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
Her eyes snapped open, but panic pinned her to the ground even as cold sweat drenched her clothes. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The dungeon and the tent blurred together into a prison world for her alone. Her siblings' screams mingled with the howl of the wind outside. The knives cut her arms with long, deep slashes and forced whimpers from her despite her best efforts to stay quiet.
She wasn't sure how long she hung between worlds, but little little she felt her bedroll instead of a stone floor and saw Lysithea's white hair where there had been only darkness a moment before. Lysithea held her gently but firmly as her screams subsided. "It's all right, Edelgard. You're in the Kingdom with me and the rest of the army. You're safe."
Edelgard shrank away as much as she could. Lysithea and Byleth had seen her in a much worse state, but the aftermath of her nightmares would never not be humiliating. "I'm all right. Please, you can let go."
Lysithea drew back. "Is it okay if I light the candle?" Edelgard nodded because it seemed selfish not to and Lysithea was bathed in a dull glow. Her eyes were shadowed and her hair was a mess as if she hadn't slept at all. "There's some water in my canteen if you need it."
Edelgard nodded gratefully. The water wasn't fresh, but it didn't taste like it had been there all night either. Focusing on that was infinitely preferable to talking about her night terrors. Lysithea hadn't slept. She had asked for the candle as soon as Edelgard was stable. "Are you afraid of the dark?"
"What? No, of course not. Only children are afraid of the dark." Then, in a smaller, younger voice, "The laboratory was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face I couldn't see Glenda when she died. That's her ghost, out there in the dark."
Edelgard put her hand down next to Lysithea, not touching. She wasn't certain she wanted a hand in her own, but the warmth of a friendly person nearby was almost comforting, and she hoped it was the same for Lysithea. She hated that she still needed comfort after all these years. She had a duty to make sure that she had some purpose for surviving when so many had died in her stead, but on nights like tonight she was little more than a glass figurine, cracked in a hundred places and needing only the lightest touch to fall apart. "This is horrible."
"You said it." Lysithea laughed, a hysterical cackle that filled the tent until Edelgard was laughing too, spewing forth the poison that they both had been injected with long ago until exhaustion reasserted itself and she could barely move.
"We should try to sleep," Lysithea said, "but I never sleep when I'm like this."
"Sorry. I should have warned you. I wish there was some cause, something I could do to avoid these accursed nightmares. I feel like such a child, waking in terror."
"And I wish that I wasn't afraid of the dark and heard ghosts." Lysithea found her hand and took it this time. "Now we have another reason to kill them, for making us such horrible roommates."
As predicted, neither of them went back to sleep, but they dragged themselves out of the tent at reveille regardless. The early morning cold was even more bitter than it had been the night before, and Edelgard pulled her cloak more tightly around her. Soldiers lumbered towards the mess tent. Adrestians, Alliance, Kingdom refugees, all wore red and silver emblazoned with the Crest of Flames. Edelgard stopped. She had long dreamed of a united Fódlan. Many in the Empire had. But for her it hadn't been a craving for faded glory. Commoners from Adrestia and Faerghus had more in common with each other than with the nobles of either nation. The true dividing line was not some artificial border but the one between those who used their privileges to oppress and their victims. She was supposed to have been the one who smashed those walls and helped people to throw off the chains the church and nobility had forged for them. Instead, Byleth had brought them together.
She could feel their gazes on her as if she were some animal in the menagerie. Curiosity. Hatred. Sympathy. She wished for the anonymity of her clerical garb and protection of Lysithea or Ashe. If wishes were pegasuses...Edelgard kept her gaze fixed ahead and lengthened her stride even as the gossip swirled.
"Why is she here? I thought Cornelia being in charge was her doing."
"I hear she can set people on fire just by looking at them. Annihilated a whole army that way."
"The Enlightened One ought to have chopped off her head and put it on a pike as a warning to the other heretics."
Edelgard entered the white tent at the center of camp. It was even less lavish than what she had had on campaign. Byleth sat at a rough wooden table, alternating her attention between a bowl of soup and a towering stack of papers. As ever, she wore plain black leather armor without insignia and even the circlet had been dispensed with. Her pale hair was lightly touseled. Edelgard watched fascinated as she ate and read. Even her mundane movements were almost inhumanly fluid. Not for the first time, Edelgard wondered just who held her life in her hands and what the power she wielded truly was. A demon who didn't act like a demon touched by a goddess who didn't exist.
Byleth looked up and her gaze was so intent that it sent a jolt through Edelgard's body. A demon who didn't act like a demon and who seemed to see all her fears and hopes, even those that should have been burned away by the war.. But then the blank stare returned, leaving Edelgard feeling adrift. "You look terrible."
"I slept poorly. It's nothing to concern yourself over, Your Majesty."
Byleth frowned. "Of course it's my concern. Lack of sleep is the most dangerous thing in the world for a soldier. Have you eaten?" And without even waiting for an answer she pushed the bowl toward Edelgard. "Eat. As you can see, I've already got enormous stack of paperwork to get through. I can't have you falling apart on me. Would you like some tea?"
Edelgard could only nod, bewildered. The soup was delightfully warm, filling up her insides. Byleth busied herself with the tea set and the familiar, comforting scent of citrus soothed Edelgard in a way more calming teas never could. Through it all, Byleth barely looked at her. So this would be their relationship, such as it was, from now on. It shouldn't bewilder her so, this mix of kindness and coldness and intensity. But she was. She missed those early days when she had expected death and been met by softness. Perhaps Byleth had been shocked and horrified to learn that the ice-hearted Emperor had actually done harsh things in pursuit of her victory. Yes, that was probably it. She had forgotten who she had saved, but it was too late to execute her and she was too useful to throw in a dungeon.
That didn't quite feel right. She had witnessed Byleth's rage from behind her mask at Remire and again when that mask had come off in the Holy Tomb. Her expressions had been muted, but her quiet fury had been unmistakable.
Byleth didn't speak again until Edelgard had had her fill. She brushed the plates to one side and replaced them with a stack of letters. "Nobody told me how much reading was involved in being an emperor."
"Paperwork is the true burden of the crown."
"Well, it's a good thing I have you to bear it in my stead."
Most of the missives were routine matters that required perfunctory answers that Edelgard could have written in her sleep, but one stood out. A rough hand had scrawled a letter on parchment.
Professor Byleth,
We have never met, but my sister Cassandra served you faithfully for many years. I hear I should be calling you Your Majesty. I can't imagine how you managed that, but I can only be grateful and hope the rumors are true that you will free us from that monster. We never gave up the fight against her, not even when Prince Dimitri died. If you want allies, House Charon, weak as we are, stand with you. I will be remaining in the village of Coldwatch, should you wish to reply.
Count Hector Gregory Charon
She passed the letter to Byleth, who read it with a frown. "House Charon. There's been no word of a messenger. It seems like a trap to me, and an obvious one."
"It does, doesn't it? Catherine's death wasn't commonly known. Something is very strange." She scowled as a memory broke to the surface. "Stubbornness runs in the family. Charon finally accepted Cornelia, but it was after I led troops against him, and even then I thought he was going to run off to Fraldarius or Gautier lands. I never came to Coldwatch but he still gave me some of my bloodiest battles." She had gotten a lance through the chest and almost died. Half the province had been razed in their miniature war until Hubert had captured the lord's young daughter as hostage for good behavior and sent her to a finishing school in Enbarr. "He would be a powerful ally if this weren't a trap."
Byleth's brows knit together. "If. But Cornelia probably has some nasty Agarthan surprise waiting for me." She snapped her fingers. "I suppose you and I will just have to spring that trap, then."
"What?"
"If Cornelia does have something planned, I'd rather she do it in a place and time where I know she's going to do something. And if this is genuine, I need all the help that I can get."
"You do realize this plan could get you killed, correct?" And Edelgard as well, though that part seemed less important.
"I know. That's why I'm taking the Dragon of Adrestia with me."
"Dragon of—oh." Her face warmed. "No one actually called me that. It was 'Flame Emperor' to my allies and a variety of less polite terms to my enemies."
"Then you are in dire need of a new nickname." Her lip curved upward slightly. Now we'll see if we're as formidable a team as I think. Or I'm an idiot with a hidden desire to get us and a lot of good men killed. Bother it all. I'm no good at jokes."
Well, even morbid jokes were an improvement. "Then I will do all I can to see that you come back alive."
Byleth's expression softened. Her hand hovered over Edelgard's. There was no comfort in this almost touch. She felt like a bowstring taut and ready to fire. They had touched each other countless times since Enbarr, but it was always Byleth tending to her or for comfort. This would be for no reason at all. Still, Edelgard wanted that hand in hers and for the frost in Bylethls eyes to never return.
Byleth turned away, and Edelgard tried her best to smother the flash of disappointment. "That reminds me. I have a gift for you."
She rummaged through the chest by her bedroll and produced a sheathed dagger, its hilt emblazoned with the arms of Blaiddyd. It was the dagger she had received when she was here as a child, that she had used to defend herself against Kostas and that she had pulled on Claude in a panic. "I'm trusting you with an axe. It seems foolish to keep this." She held the dagger out to Edelgard. "How did you come to have a dagger with the royal coat of arms?"
Edelgard's fingers closed around the hilt. She wished she remembered, but her exile remained a jumble of sensations without context. Perhaps she had met Lambert and he had given it to her. She remembered a blonde boy with delicate features playing with it. A child's words whispered through the air. Use this to cut your path, El. No matter what happens. "Someone I loved very much gave it to me." She must have loved them, if they used that childhood nickname. Robbing her of the memory was yet another thing the Agarthans would pay for.
"I'm sorry."
"It was long ago. Another life, when I was still capable of such tenderness." She couldn't keep the bitterness from her voice. She had pushed down every part of herself that wasn't necessary for the war: her sweet tooth, her fondness for cats, her talent for impressions. Even her infatuation with Byleth had been subliminated. She had donned the mask of Emperor, but during the last five-and-a-half years, it had fused to her face and she could no longer remove it. "Despite your mercy, I'm afraid only half of me survived the war."
"No," Byleth said with such vehemence that Edelgard was taken aback. "If that were true, I would know what I think about you. You're confusing,"
"Well, so are you."
Now it was Byleth who seemed taken aback. "Hmph. Well, we won't figure each other out standing here. Tomorrow, we ride for Coldwatch. Make sure you get some sleep. I can't afford a groggy bodyguard."
"I remember reading about this region of Faerghus. The growing season is terribly short." Ferdinand didn't turn his head as they rode, but Edelgard could feel the accusation emanating from him. "Nothing grows here but millet and barley. The only place poorer is Galatea."
Edelgard's jaw clenched, and she tightened her hand on the reins. What would you have done, noblest of nobles? she wanted to scream. Would you have watched the children of Aegir starve? But of course she knew what he would have done. He would have sued for peace no matter the terms and rendered Adrestia so in debt that her dreams would have died for a generation or longer. Another generation of those who bore Crests being bred like cattle and those without being thrown in the rubbish heap. Those who had already died would have died for nothing and she would be no better than a murderer. The only way to purify the blood that had been spilled on both sides had been to press forward.
Still, she couldn't deny the truth of Ferdinand's words. It had been warmer the last time she wrote through these plans to do battle, but the grass was scraggly all year round. It was a miserable hand-to-mouth existence in this part of the world. Pegasus fertilizer might have helped, but Rufus had been too busy chasing skirts to bother governing. They deserved better than what they had, better than what her war had done to them. Perhaps she could suggest fertilizer subsidies to Byleth. No, it would be better coming from someone else. She could suggest it to Lysithea, who could suggest it to Byleth.
They came to the crest of a hill, and Edelgard nearly doubled over in her saddle. The fields were spread out before them. Bare as they were in winter, even though it should have been in the midst of the harvest. Edelgard sniffed. The scent of sulfur, of dark magic, lingered in the air. "The Agarthans were here. Recently."
Byleth galloped ahead and Edelgard raced to follow. War was horror, but Agarthan magic was as close to the flames of torment as could exist. The stench grew stronger as they approached the village until Edelgard was greeted with a sight that had featured in her nightmares for six years.
Villagers poured from their homes, screaming in terror. There were other screams too, other villagers. Their eyes were white and unseeing, the veins on their face popping out like spiderwebs as they yelled and cackled and howled for blood. They had picked up farming implements, knives, even sticks as they chased down their friends and neighbors. In an hour or two, they would be sane again, but it didn't matter. An hour or two was all that had been needed to reduce Remire to a husk.
She had watched it all from behind the mask, wishing desperately that this had been the Black Eagles' mission so she could have had an excuse to take vengeance. But this time... well, as she was constantly reminded, she wasn't Emperor anymore. Edelgard leapt from her horse, drew her axe, and waded into the fray.
The magic made the villagers strong, but they were still untrained civilians. Edelgard checked her blows and hoped it was enough. She was aware of Byleth and Ferdinand beside her doing the same and of the stares of the horrified, disbelieving soldiers they had brought as support. The screams never stopped, and she saw flames out of the corner of her eye. A villager had taken shelter behind a makeshift barricade, and her neighbors were doing their best to burn it down. In a few moments, they would succeed. Edelgard ran towards her.
Another villager dashed in front of her, chasing a crying child with a butcher's cleaver. "Mama, don't hurt me!" The woman ignored her daughter and ran on, gaining. One second more and the little girl would be dead. The smell of smoke grew stronger. There was no time to save both.
Edelgard charged forward, the full weight of her armor knocking the woman to the ground. "Run!" she said to the child.
When she looked up again, the barricade was wreathed in flame and burning flesh had been added to the sick bouquet of odors.
She fought on, doing what she could against the rising tide of victims and hoped more were saved than lost. Sometimes Byleth was at her side. They were finally fighting together, but there was none of the glory or romance of her childish fantasies. The Sword of the Creator remained in its scabbard, but Byleth was just as potent with cold steel. She moved with clean efficiency from one villager to the next and only the thin line of her lips betrayed her anger.
"Where are they?" Her voice was clipped and cold even his battle raged around them. "The Agarthans stayed to watch last time."
If there was one thing Edelgard had learned about them, it was that they enjoyed watching their handiwork. She scanned the scene before her. There, to the east, half hidden by the trees, a cloak swirled. Byleth saw it at the same time she did and inclined her head. Edelgard understood. They were going hunting.
Edelgard summoned a bit of magic and one of the mages' escorts was dead before he hit the ground as she shredded his organs from the inside. A sharp jolt of pleasure shot through her. For years, she had dreamed of the day that she would be strong enough to break free from her tormentors. Well, she was weak, but there was a strength in the freedom this weakness offered. For Ludwig. For Cristina. And yes, for Jeralt and the people of Remire. For all those she had been unable to save.
"Well, long time no see," Metodey drawled as he stepped forward. "You're together! How charming."
Byleth held her bloodied blade in front of her, ready to strike. "Where is Charon? What's the meaning of this?"
"The count? Dead, of course. Suffer not a traitor to live, et cetera. As for the rest of them..." He smiled and bile rose in Edelgard's throat. "They're only cattle. Why not have a bit of fun and make you angry in the bargain?"
"Just when I think there's a limit to your and your masters' depravity, you surprise me," Edelgard said.
"Blame yourself, Flame Emperor. How many villages did you burn down in this province alone""
"That was war." She would not rise to his bait.
"I don't really see a difference. Especially when you were happy to use us. But it doesn't matter now. I come bearing a message from Lady Cornelia. She will do this hundred times over until there is nothing left of Faerghus. Burn the crops, drive men mad, anything to erase this filthy rag of a nation from history."
Byleth's answer was a slash. Metodey met her blade with his own as the rest of the Agarthan force joined him and the battle began in earnest.
She wasn't sure how long the endless chain of strikes and counterstrikes continued, but even as Edelgard felled one another took their place. Worse, Byleth was showing unmistakable signs of fatigue. She still parried every blow, but each was slower than the last. Metodey was only a competent swordsman, but that didn't matter when he had numbers and patience.
Finally, his moment came. Byleth parried a lance below from one of the infantrymen and sent him crumpling to the ground in a fluid motion that left her side and part of her back exposed. Time slowed as Metodey thrust. Byleth was going to die, distracted, not in a clash of wills to determine the fate of Fódlan, but to a petty thug in service to a sadist. Byleth who had saved her. Byleth who saw the same injustices she did and was going to use her power to do something about them. Byleth who thought she was still capable of tenderness and love.
Edelgard did the only thing she could think of and leapt in front of the blade. The sword slid between a gap in her armor, and hot pain filled her chest even as her arms and legs grew cold. Byleth roared and cleaved Metodey's head from his body. It was too good a death for him, Edelgard thought as she collapsed.
Byleth was by her side in a moment. "Stay with me," she muttered. Her hands glowed with golden light that warmed Edelgard and made the pain and the noise of battle seem distant. Byleth's voice was the only thing that was truly real. "You valiant idiot. You could have been killed."
"You would have died."
Her gloved hand, warm and solid stroked Edelgard's hair. Her voice was gentle, as it had been during the flight from Enbarr. It was almost worth being stabbed for that. "Then we are both valiant idiots. But I'll take care of you."
Edelgard hissed as Byleth swabbed her chest with disinfectant. Even the royal tent couldn't keep all the cold out and her skin burned. If the flames of judgment were more than a tale to keep believers in line, this would be how they felt. Worst of all was being exposed to Byleth's gaze. She was intensely conscious of the myriad scars she had earned in the war but also of the long, faded surgical scars on her arms and hands. She kept telling herself that Byleth already knew what she had endured and that she had seen her with far worse wounds after Enbarr, but it didn't bring the comfort it should have.
Byleth's gaze was focused as she worked. It must have been the scrutiny that unsettled Edelgard so. Scrutiny laced with an emotion so subtle that Edelgard couldn't read it. She only knew that Byleth's coldness had vanished for the moment. She had stroked her hair. Been gentle. She didn't know how long the thaw would last, only that she had enjoyed that softness and that now she was vulnerable before the most powerful woman in Fódlan.
Byleth hit a particularly sore spot and Edelgard flinched. "You don't have to do that."
"I don't want you to get an infection."
"No, I mean that you don't have to do it. I'm—" Your prisoner. The woman who tried to kill you. Responsible for more of this mess than I care to think about. "I'm sure you have better things to do, Your Majesty."
"No, I don't." Her voice was brusque but not dismissive. "When we fought Miklan Gautier, Leonie was nearly mauled to death by the thing he became and I made a new rule. If someone got hurt protecting me, then I would patch them up myself." She glanced down as she grabbed fresh bandages. "You could have died."
"I've received far worse injuries than this. As you can see. You gave me more than your share of them." Byleth tensed and Edelgard winced at her mistake. Her position was precarious. She must never forget that, no matter how much freedom she was granted. "My apologies. "
"You gave as good as your got. If I resented every person who fought me in war, I never could have done my job." She looked up again and fixed Edelgard with that gaze that seem to see past all artifice. "But most people who fought me don't throw themselves in front of the blade for me later."
"I am, as you said, your sword and your shield. You required a shield." There were other reasons, some she could say aloud and some not. "Surely you must have been hired as a bodyguard on occasion? Have you never taken a blow meant for someone else?"
Byleth went perfectly still, and her lips parted. Her breathing grew harsh, as if she were trapped by some memory. "Only once. But it wasn't for duty. I'm not a knight who will throw my life away on command. Only for something that matters to me." She shivered. "You aren't a knight either, so why put yourself in harm's way?"
Edelgard chose her words carefully. "All my hopes and dreams for Fódlan rest with you now. If you die, then the horror of the last six years will have been for nothing. And I have always, will always, consider my life nothing in comparison to the future."
Realization dawned on Byleth's face. "There's nothing you won't do for your better world. Sacrificing your life, working with Agartha, it's all one piece." Her lips curved slightly. "I take back what I said. You aren't confusing so much as you can't be put in a neat box."
"Whereas you are more confusing than ever, Your Majesty."
"Edelgard." Her voice was so soft that Edelgard strained forward to hear it despite the protest from her wounded body. "Why do you always refer to me with my style? You must know that the others don't. And I heard you speak to your subordinates often enough that I know you didn't insist on your title."
"To make it real. So that I never accidentally say something that would inspire others to rise up against you." If she didn't, she might slip into a dream world where her vision wasn't dependent on someone else and those who cared for her hadn't all died, and her teenage infatuation wasn't simultaneously as close as she had ever been and more unobtainable than ever. Or a world where she had steeled her heart so completely that none of those things mattered.
"Then," Byleth said slowly, "would you do me the honor of using my name, at least when we're alone or with my students?" She pressed a fresh cloth to the wound. "You've earned that much."
She ought to demur. The gulf between victor and vanquished was not so easily bridged. And yet she remembered Byleth's hands in her hair, tender as if that white was something other than a marker of all she had lost. She had said that the war hadn't burned away all the soft things. It wasn't true, but perhaps it would be all right to play pretend for a little while just as she had played with the stuffed bear that she was far too old for.
"Byleth."