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"Dear Goddess," She starts, eyelashes wet. She fights to keep the tears from falling down her face, lip bitten and eyebrows furrowed; she finds she is fighting a losing battle.
Phantom touches linger across her shoulders, her waist, the base of her spine- then back to her shoulders. She hastily tightens the grip of her intertwined fingers, almost with the intention to draw blood.
A whisper in the wind. A gust of cold air. The construction site of a church seems to crumble before her eyes. Falling to her knees, she clings to the pews behind her.
"Marianne."
Her name finds itself in the mouth of some unknown entity, one that has been trailing her for a while now.
Perhaps it is the guilt weighing her down from the war, a bloody and gruesome victory. Albeit there are no true victors in war, she believes. "Please save me." She utters, breathing slow in an attempt to regain the control she had over herself a moment ago.
She attempts to focus on the task at hand. Acting as if she is only lost in prayer and revering the progenitor god with all her might. "Beloved." A calm and collected voice cuts through the previous silence.
Perhaps, if she closes her eyes and wishes herself out of existence as she always has, then everything will be okay.
"Edel..." Is all Marianne manages to let out before she feels a sharp pain in her chest. She peeks and to her horror, sees an arm has plunged itself into her torso.
Frozen, all she can do is wonder if this was all worth it. The survivors guilt, the evil lurking within her memories. Is this how she will meet her timely end? Just as she plunged blutgang into the bodies of nameless people, friends and foes, the arm in her torso stills for a moment.
"Marianne," The disembodied voice moans in her ear. It is gravelly, as if the entity had not spoken in some time. "I loved you." It continues, crying out in agony.
The arm retracts and she sees a glimmer of crimson.
"Edelgard." She whispers, as if raising her volume would drive her lover away. She turns herself towards the Flame Emperor and lets her face be cradled in hands that seem to flicker out of existence.
Marianne lets her eyes fall to 'Edelgard's' torso, staying there as she notices a perfect phantom replica of the sword of creator sits snuggly in her ribcage.
Despite having waged a war on the Church all thos years ago, her beloved looks fragile and weak. Almost like if she were to reach out and touch her, she would dissapear.
"Why must I suffer like this? To have my life taken by someone so insignificant?" Her words were soft, dissapating almost as if she had never spoken at all.
'Edelgard' parts her lips once more, and what seems to be blood trickles from her chin and lands on the timid girl's baby blue blouse, a perfect foil to the red that stained her lover and every place she had wreaked havoc upon.
She deemed her silence as a cue to continue speaking. "How cruel, how laughable." But she does not laugh. Her lips are pulled into a taut line.
"What meaning is there in such a pointless existence, my love? How could you fix a system set in stone? Continuing to pray to a goddess that shall never hear your pleas, how utterly useless!" In a single swift motion, her fist slams onto the seat behind Marianne. It is almost as if her anger made her corporeal for a split second.
Wide eyed, she watches as the woman she once held in such a high regard puts a hand to her chest, yanking the sword that once pierced her heart out.
"I would have given you everything." 'Edelgard' cries out, sorrowful instead of manic. Flickering in and out of the plane of the living, she nestles her head into Marianne's neck.
A wave of acceptance seems to wash over her.
"Though I suppose you would have rejected it. Ever so kind and thoughtful. Ever so pessimistic." She reaches out to intertwine her free hand with Marianne's. "Tell me, my dear." she presses a soft, heartbreaking kiss to her beloved's knuckles. "Could there ever be a world where I could have loved you? A reality where my heart was whole and unadulterated?"
Marianne decides to go with her line of thought. The Edelgard she knew and loved was undeniably dead, despite the remnants of what she used to be trapped in her mind. "Perhaps in another life." she offers.
She does not elaborate. What is done is done. The blood that has stained their hands cannot be washed away.
So when 'Edelgard' reaches for her throat, she does not resist. When she puts her lips to hers, she reciprocates. When she feels the sweet embrace of death, she closes her eyes and leans into its arms.