#ferdigard

When Edelgard hesitated, her stubborn pride rearing up as usual, he gently added, “The war is over. Surely, we have time for a small break.”

“That does not make our task any less urgent,” Edelgard replied bluntly, but her shoulders relaxed nonetheless.

Half-filled inkwells, towering stacks of proposals, and scattered pens crowded the large oak table, leaving barely any room for him to set down the tray. “No, I suppose not, but we do have time to think about it.”

“Thinking without action is pointless.” Edelgard picked up a small soldier off the map, rolling it on her palm. “I doubt we will run into any major problems reforming Faerghus. The Kingdom is similar enough to our empire—full of stubborn old fools clinging to power and misguided values—that we can just replicate our efforts here. No, the issue is the Leicester Alliance.”

Ferdinand paused, smiling wryly as he remembered his old classmates. “They are a very free people.”

“Same pride as our own, but less rigidity in their rules.” Edelgard set down the piece, turning to him. Her robe brushed his arm, and it was funny how natural it felt to be this close to her. Close enough he could see the bags under her eyes, the tight line of her jaw, the small scar on her neck from a nearly fatal fight.

She looked up, her eyes boring into his as she asked, “What do you think, Ferdinand?”

It was a simple question. He had heard it many times before: in the middle of a classroom, at the start of training exercise, across the table as he struggled to find a tactic that would save the most people with the least casualties. The words never failed to stir up a sense of competitiveness—he had chased Edelgard’s shadow for years, and even now he found himself automatically turning toward her, watching for her reaction.

Only, he wasn’t seeing her from the back.

They stood side by side. Equals. Her eyes on him instead of an invisible goal.

Standing a little straighter, Ferdinand studied the model of Fódlan. During the war, their units had covered the map, entire armies positioned as they predicted their enemies’ moves. Now emptier, the map was mainly filled with pieces marking nobles as Edelgard moved them around. It was like the final stages of chess, the cleaning sweep before a checkmate.

And one piece still in the way was Gloucester.

Once upon a time, back when there were no differences nor borders of country or house alike to compare so drastically as now, two men—students, really, for they were hardly grown into their armour back then—shared a simple moment of respite among the gardens of a now crumpled school. Ferdinand lowered his eyes. It was not something they could do again. Yet, he had learned enough through their chats to know the way forward.

“We should talk to them,” Ferdinand finally said, turning to Edelgard now. “Not just to the remaining nobles, but to the local leaders. They value their freedom and ability to choose. If we present them with options, even ask for their ideas, they will find the right path.”

Edelgard said nothing, her gaze returning to the map. A silence fell over them. Ferdinand shifted his feet. Had he suggested the wrong thing? He peeked at the map, taking in the pieces once more. Short of tyranny, there weren’t many options available.

Just when he couldn’t take it any longer, her lips curled into a half-smile and she nodded. “That is a viable solution.”

A sense of pride filled him. “The best solution,” he added, unable to help himself.

“I would not go that far,” Edelgard replied wryly, though her smile remained. She picked up the teacup, taking a deep breath. “Would you mind going?”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “To Leicester?”

“It was your idea.” Edelgard took a delicate sip of her tea. “Quite honestly, there is no one else I would rather entrust this to.” She looked at him over her cup. “Negotiation is your strength.”

It was an acknowledgment. Far different than the ones he had aimed for as a child, trying to better her—no, this was worth far more than those worthless praises he wanted. Ferdinand smiled. “Then I will take that duty proudly.”

“I am sure you will.” Edelgard chuckled lightly, finally relaxing now that they had a plan. “I suppose the meetings around here will go smoother without your arguments.”

It was as close to teasing as Edelgard ever got and Ferdinand laughed. “Your ideas will be weaker without me to fix them.”

Edelgard looked at him seriously and he flushed. “They certainly will.” She took another sip and closed her eyes. “I am not sure what I will miss more, this tea or our small chats.”

Ferdinand didn’t reply, not sure how to take her words. His almost confession, months ago, echoed in his mind, and he wondered if that meant the time was now. If that meant, she might be looking at him the way he had looked at her.

"That depends on the question." Edelgard's voice came out strained, she knew. Injuries and lack of a conversation partner had dulled her throat somewhat.

"I was in the room when Manuela gave the Professor a report about your physical examination." Edelgard frowned but did not interrupt. "She mentioned some old scars. Across your chest, arms, even your back."

"I am aware."

Ferdinand tensed. "Who did that to you?"

Edelgard looked away, taking the bite out of her reply. "Why the concern? Are you worried your father has more sins on his hands?"

"I am not thinking of him, I am thinking of you."

"Why is that?"

"Because Manuela says the scars are too uniform to be from an accident." Footsteps on hardwood as Ferdinand had moved closer. "She said they looked methodical. Almost as if..."

"As if I had been experimented on?" Edelgard looked up at Ferdinand. Upon reading his expression, however, she wished she hadn't. "Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want pity."

Ferdinand ignored this and sat at the edge of her bed, eyes narrowed as if trying to see the scars himself through her clothes. How long his hair had grown. It fell in waves to the middle of his back, looking slightly less kempt than his shorter hair back at school. She briefly wondered if this was just another way Ferdinand was trying to prove his superiority-- grow his longer hair than Edelgard's. The absurdity nearly sparked a smile across her face.

"Who did this to you?" He asked softly.

Edelgard lifted her chin, levity forgotten. "What does it matter? You must have read Hubert's letter. The Church has more important things to worry about than my childhood."

"I am not thinking of the Church," Ferdinand tone was firm. "I am thinking of you."

This time, the statement robbed Edelgard of any retort. She simply stared at this new Ferdinand. In school, and during their short acquaintance before, Edelgard would never have dreamed of having this conversation. Ferdinand was an annoyance at best and a roadblock for her plans at worst. Now here he sat, pity gone, replaced with the air of a man determined to solve a problem.

Edelgard had only explained this once, many years ago. There had been no need to tell anyone but Hubert about what Slither had done. Even Volkhard had been the one to tell her father after Edelgard had been deemed a success.

Squaring her shoulders, Edelgard spoke. "It is a long story." Ferdinand nodded. He held out his hand, palm up. Edelgard took it, trying to draw courage from his resolve to listen.