Chapter Text
“Okay, Edie, how do I look?”
Edelgard regarded her friend fondly, the way her sweeping red dress flowed over her body. Were it white, one would think it might be for a wedding. A chuckle breezed past Edelgard’s lips. With this gesture Dorothea was pulling off, it might as well have been.
“You look stunning, Dorothea. More so than usual.”
Dorothea’s hand came up to her mouth in a giggle.
“Thank you. Oh, I’m so nervous.” Her thumb disappeared behind her teeth. “What if she sees me and she changes her mind? Or she doesn’t feel the same—“
“My friend.” Edelgard cut in sharply, taking her hand from her mouth and squeezing it reassuringly. “I won’t have you entertain such thoughts.”
“But-!”
“Don’t ‘but’ the Emperor.” Edelgard was thankful she couldn’t see her wink, she’d never be able to live it down. “Now, allow me.”
“Oh… Okay, Edie.” Dorothea’s hand trembled slightly in hers but she smiled all the same as she was guided into the carriage.
~*~
“I hate to leave you, Daid.” Petra leaned into the hand of her grandfather, his large hand framing her cheek, frial thumb wiping a tear from her eye.
“I hate to see you go.” He said, melancholy aching in his voice but still, he smiled, tattoos curving around his features. “But you must. You will fight, and Flame Spirit be with you, Little Arrow, you will prevail.”
Petra embraced the old man tightly as he returned the gesture just as fiercely.
At least leaving was easier this time. She was not being dragged by her arms- the bruises of which did not fade for weeks- and being forced to bow before an unknown power. No, this time she was returning to a land that she will force to look upon Brigid as it’s equal.
“I will, Daid.” The pain of leaving still stung however. She cleared her throat, leaning back from the embrace to look him in the eye. “I will return home to you once more, I will show you I am worthy of being Queen.”
“My girl,” King Macneary sighed with all the patience of a man too world-weary. “Prove it to the world.”
Petra looked to the horizon, where that world awaited her.
“Yes.” She nodded, her hand gripped the new tattoo over her arm.. “The Earth Spirits will be calling me back home when I have done so. I will honour them and us.”
He smiled knowingly. “The Earth Spirits won’t just be calling to you alone.”
Petra blushed deeply, she had never hid from her Daid but still it was a little embarrassing that she couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips.
“You believe it so?” Nor could she stop the unbidden urge to talk about her. “Oh, Daid, I have missed her greatly…”
“I know, Little Arrow.”
“I have missed her sweet voice, she is like a songbird and has a soul as gentle as an evening tide.”
“You have said as much.”
“Do you not think it is funny that this connection never felt truly real until after we parted ways?”
“‘Absence make-‘“
“‘Makes the heart grow fonder.’ I am aware of the saying, Daid!”
“Go then!” He laughed jovially, practically shoving her towards the boat. “Go to her!”
To be pushed to Fódlan rather than being pulled to it was a much more pleasant experience.
~*~
Dorothea could hardly contain her own heart. Its adorations, its anxieties, manifesting in fidgety hands and the occasional rickety sigh. She could hear the waves of the ocean, they sounded… soft. She tried to sync her breathing to the crescendos. In… Out… In… Out-!
A seagull cawed overhead, making her yelp. Her worries came back full force and she felt like she could honestly cry.
Petra! Her Petra was coming back!
But what if she didn’t feel the same…
Taking another deep breath- oh, the air was salty- she recited her lines. Another seagull belted out but she paid it no mind, murmuring to herself what she would say, how she would say it. Only she was privy to her whispers but soon, Petra would be too.
Every odd little noise threatened to break her concentration. The wind rustled her dress, was it a sail? The pier groaned, was it Petra’s footsteps?
Steady, Dorothea, steady.
~*~
The wind was swift, guiding Petra’s boat with great power behind it. The sea lapped up the sides, occasionally tickling her ankles as if to reassure her. Petra adjusted the sail and she was thrust forward faster. Her hair whipped around her as she looked up to the sky. It would be evening by the time she got to Fódlan, given the suns position.
Would Dorothea be waiting for her?
Petra chose to hope so- ever a woman of instinct that she was. Dorothea was waiting for her. They would be reunited and...
She stumbled a tad as the boat jerked from a sudden clash of tides.
What was she going to say? She hadn’t really thought about it. She couldn’t hope to replicate her ‘silver-tongue’ that she possessed in her writing. But then again, Dorothea had said that her way of speaking Fódlan was endearing, perhaps she shouldn’t worry so much. Oh, but Dorothea deserved the romanticism she craved, Petra should be able to provide. She would recite her poem as promised.
With a reignited determination in her eyes, she could see the faint mass of land taking shape and waited and waited until it would give way to the woman she adored.
~*~
All the practice in the world wouldn’t have prepared Dorothea for her arrival. The moment she heard those sure-footed steps, her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t want to presume, she couldn’t see after all but she couldn’t help the whisper coaxed forth from her longing.
“Petra?”
She was also vastly unprepared for the depth of her voice, how her own name sounded on her lips.
“Dorothea.” Petra said with no small amount of wonder. She could hear her smile and all other sounds faded into the hazy background. She felt her step closer and suppressed all impulses to just leap into her arms. “What is that you are wearing?” The amusement in her voice was nearly too much for Dorothea.
She felt a blush simmer under her skin, she must have looked quite silly. She gestured dramatically regardless, eager to keep the situation light. Had she for a moment sobered, she would have no doubt burst into giddy tears.
Petra, Petra, Petra!
“The blindfold? Well you did say you wanted to ‘see me see the sea,’ remember?” She giggled, remembering quite how seriously she meant she would do this. “I had Bernie make it for me. It’s lace.”
Laughter graced her ears and then, a touch to her cheek made her all but melt. Her hands were rough yet delicate, warming her skin like a remedy. They had touched before yes but this intimacy was new, was wonderful. Her fingertips eased under the blindfold but Dorothea grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” She pulled her close and spun them around so her back was to the ocean. “I want you first.”
Petra held fast, arms tight around her waist like she was ivy. “Of course.” She said after a long moment in which Dorothea almost wished she could read minds. “Of course, Dorothea. Allow me.”
Before her hand came back up to her eyes, her fingertips tasted the skin of her back, up her shoulder and traced her jaw. Dorothea stilled, Petra sighed heavenly. “I have been waiting for this for so long. I have been missing you too badly.” Her thumb dared to covet her bottom lip and Dorothea’s breath hitched.
“Please, Petra, I’m going to combust. Let me see you.”
Petra could not resist such a plea. With one gentle brush of her hand, the blindfold was carressed away from her closed eyes. They opened slowly and Petra knew that nothing could be more perfect than the vision before her.
Dorothea’s beautiful green-blessed eyes looked at her, utterly besotted. A glassy sheen clung to them, she could almost see herself reflected. The waning sun framed her face and Petra couldn’t help but gasp at the hues enveloping her like a warm halo.
“Beautiful.” She said, cupping her cheek, ready to wipe any yet unshed tears. “Dorothea, you are most… the most beautiful woman I have ever been laying my eyes on.”
Dorothea took hold of the hand that held her cheek and leaned into it. The wind swayed her hair, as if in approval of the gesture.
“I… Oh, Petra, I had practiced what I was going to say I swear.” Her voice was high with joy, her underlying frustration hardly tempered it. She took the blindfold off completely and nuzzled her face into Petra’s palm. Petra could feel her lips brush against her skin and she realised how desperately she wanted them on her own. “I was supposed to compliment you first...” Her voice wobbled a tad.
“You may do so later.” Petra quipped and the songstress giggled in response.
“Your scar makes you look very handsome, you know.” Her thumb ran over the little white lightening mark that split her brow in two.
“Y-you have my gratitude.” Petra stammered, blushing deep. She’d never been called ‘handsome’ before. Dorothea’s letters aside of course, but to hear the compliment out loud made a warm feeling pool in her veins. She regained her composure with an abrupt clearing of her throat. “I am proud of it.”
“I know.” Dorothea said, leaning down and bringing Petra in for a hug. Petra buried her face in her neck and took in her scent. Rose perfume as always but underneath was the familiar smell of her room. “Your hair’s grown.” Dorothea commented affectionately as her hands glided through her burgundy locks.
“Yours has as well.” Petra eagerly returned the gesture, pulling back from the embrace to let the strands of Dorothea’s hair slip through her fingers. It had lost its curls over the years but wartime left little room for pampering. “We are growing with each other.”
Dorothea’s expression suddenly softened into melancholy and Petra’s heart ached at the sight. “I don’t feel like I’ve grown much. More tired, maybe.”
Once again, the wind lifted her hair. Petra’s eye was drawn to her shoulder. The scar ruptured her pale skin like a burst star. She reached for it, hesitating for a second to seek approval in her gaze first. Dorothea nodded faintly. She touched it, as feather light as she could manage. Honestly, it was gorgeous. A true mark of valour and above all- kindness. But Dorothea was looking away, one finger anxiously twirling her hair.
“Is it hurting?” Petra asked quietly.
“Not much, not anymore.”
Petra’s finger dipped into the middle, where the spear point had pierced. “You are very brave, Dorothea. It is taking a lot of courage to be moving into the line of… erm...” Her brows knitted, struggling to find the phrase. When it didn’t come she shook her head and tried again. “It is brave of you to be taking a hit for another. You are a protector at heart.”
Dorothea scoffed. “I may not be terribly fond of Ferdie but I couldn’t just let him… die.”
“I am knowing.” Petra reassured but not willing to let the singer shove her words to the side so easily. “But it is showing your goodness of heart, Dorothea. And I was right, this scar is quite as precious as the rest of you.” Did that sound like good Fodlan? Months of talking in her home language had perhaps made her rustier than she thought. “Your markings of war can be handsome too.”
“Petra that’s...” Dorothea shifted a little, cheeks deeper in colour and a smile cracking through her features as if she were trying to suppress a laugh. “If you say so.” It was then that Petra saw the darkness under her eyes, the slight rough edge to her lips, the flatness of her once bouncy hair. It did not detract from her beauty, of course, but Petra was reminded all too cruely of how this war was affecting her. Edelgard’s words played out in her mind.
“I do say so. Now come, look.” Petra took her hands and nodded behind the other woman. “We shall be spinning around so you can be seeing the ocean. Y Mor .”
Dorothea’s face lit up, excitement bearing her grin. Petra was going to fight for the rest of her life to keep her smiling like that.
“Okay!” She nodded.
Petra walked to her left, their eyes not looking away from each other. When they turned fully, Dorothea broke contact and Petra watched in joyful awe as the light sparkled in her eyes.
“Wow.” Dorothea gaped.
The sea was so… big! It yawned off into the horizon, coloured a delicate orange in the setting sunlight. The waves washed up to the sands, white foam decorating it like icing. Seagulls flew overhead, their cries now pleasantly distant. Light sparkled across the surface, winking as if to invite her in. While she adored Petra’s painting, to see the swaying of tides in motion seemed to tug a feeling deep inside Dorothea. A yearning she had always felt but now brought forth with the beckoning of water. It was unlike anything she had ever seen.
Petra spoke in a tongue she didn’t understand, her words so hushed she thought she might have imagined them. She tore her eyes away to look at her, finding that incredible yearning feeling threatening to spill forth uncontrollably. She dared not speak.
“Dorothea.” Petra said, determination ignited in her eyes. “May I be taking you into the water?”
Dorothea nodded wordlessly, too happily dazed when Petra started to pull her along to the shore. She froze at the bank. She had no idea what sand felt like, it looked as if she would fall through the moment she took a step. “Do not be worried.” Petra reassured, squeezing her hand. “Take your footwear off. It is feeling very pleasant, I am promising you.”
Dorothea looked down at her heels and then, bursting into laughter, she kicked them off. They flung into the air and landed with a sound so harsh, she knew they had broken. But she cared not, not when Petra was here.
“They weren’t that comfortable anyway.”
“I am seeing.” Petra smiled, pulling her close once more.
Dorothea’s toes disappeared under the strangely coarse yet soft sands, she took another step, then another, finding it a little difficult for her foot to rise from it. Petra was right though, it was pleasant, very warm.
“It’s nice.” Dorothea smiled her way, shaking her feet in the sand and feeling the gentleness tickle her.
“Yes, I would be liking to feel it too.” Petra let go of her to take off her own boots and as she did so, Dorothea really took in her outfit. She looked like a true warrior princess. Decked out in bright earthy tones, her skirt and sashes comfortably hugging her body. All those tassels and necklaces looked wonderful on her as well. Dorothea was so glad she had the chance to go back to Brigid. Boots dropped to the side and Petra took her hand once again and led her further and further out to sea.
“Fodlan waters are not as warm as they are in Brigid but it is not so bad here.” She commented.. “We are closer to Brigid sea in the west, that is why.” She waited patiently for the songstress, who had once again paused.
Dorothea nearly recoiled when the water lapped up to her toes. She felt Petra’s reassuring hand in her own and steeled herself, taking one more step. The sand was immediately sturdier and it filled Dorothea with a bit more confidence. Petra was watching her intently as she wade her way in to join her, dress be damned. It shouldn’t have flustered her so, to be ruining her outfit like this but Petra’s gaze was intense in the most charming way possible. Dorothea felt her heart quicken at the thrill of the water rising to her knees and those impossibly darling eyes staring at her.
“You know I-” Her footing failed her and she tumbled forward with a yelp, only to be caught in Petra’s waiting arms. Her breath caught in her throat from the shock and… for another very close reason.
“ I have you.” Petra pulled her up and Dorothea seemed to float into her due to the weightlessness of the water that now embraced her waist. Petra ran her fingers through her hair. “What was I knowing?” She asked with a dashing grin. Goddess, Dorothea was head over heels.
“O-oh.” She couldn’t help herself, she actually swooned like a fool. She wanted to straighten up, as if reaffirming her taller height was going to help her regain her composure. Instead she moved closer, encircling her arms around Petra’s shoulders and lifting one foot off the seabed. It was all so very self-indulgent but she didn’t care. “I can’t quite remember but I suppose it doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes moved to Petra’s lips and the huntress, as keen-eyed as she was, no doubt spotted the lingering gaze. Sensing the moment, the two moved closer still, foreheads touching, breath entwining.
“Dorothea…” Petra whispered. “Allow me to speak my truth first…”
“Your truth?” Dorothea’s eyes widened, a thick teardrop plummeting down her cheek. When had she started crying? Petra wiped the moisture left in its wake.
“Yes. My truth.” Reluctantly, Petra pulled back and stepped away from her. The songstress looked at her, expression curious, if somewhat pained to have been moved away from. “I will be singing for you my um, poem, now. Will you be listening?”
“Oh, Petra.” Dorothea breathed. “How could I not?”
“Much excellence.” She steadied herself and bowed her head, hand on her heart. The heart she was about to gift to her Dorothea. She was nervous, sure, but she had a feeling that the gift would be accepted and better yet, reciprocated. She wouldn’t have fallen for her so strongly otherwise. She cleared her throat and began.
“Glae’n di’yn hy srech,
Mer caru-por mirr,
Kynn irryn,
Bol aun trisst.
Her voice was not high and full like Dorothea’s, certainly not operatic, no. Brigid singing was quiet yet proud, more focused on the impact of each word rather than the melody. She thought to run her hands through the water, for dramatic emphasis.
“Gorain llo ka Fellnaran bollyddn,
Tiar uyna clioc fhyffn,
Bren perkyn,
Ywyn fynll hoberr.
She nearly wavered when she saw Dorothea’s grin, her eyes were crinkling, showing off the expression’s authenticity. She couldn’t help but smile back and sing the final verse a little bit louder, arms outstretched.
“Ywyn glae’n hyn hefoed,
Ha tiar dydff,
Kip linarr fhyffn,
Laa’n mer pehn.”
She finished, closing her eyes and breathing heavy. She heard Dorothea clapping, punctuated by her sniffling. Petra shot her eyes open, thinking for a second she had made a most dreadful mistake but Dorothea was beckoning her over sweetly. “Petra Macneary.” She said, voice wavering. “Get over here, right now.”
Petra obliged, laughing, wading through to meet her half way as Dorothea opened her arms wide to greet her. They embraced as if nothing else in the world mattered. Dorothea held the back of her head, openly crying.
“Were you liking my truth?” Petra asked tentatively, stroking her hair.
“Oh, more than anything.” Dorothea held tighter still. “I relished your poem when you sent it to me and to hear it in your language was just- Well, it was wonderful but… Are you sure?”
“Am I being sure about what?” Petra cupped both of her cheeks in her hands, dutifully wiping tears away. Her eye scrunched up adorably as Petra’s thumb pushed up her cheek.
“About everything you said in your letters.” Dorothea worried her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly torn about her choice of words. “Do you really… I mean, will you really protect me?”
“With all that I have.” Petra replied easily. She drew their faces closer together, one hand framing the side of her neck. “Dorothea, you have always filled my heart with joy, I have such gratitude for that. I would not be worthy of being yours if I would not be protecting you.”
Dorothea laughed, high and nervous. “You’re mine, huh?” Her smiling face, framed by the setting sun, verdant eyes aglow, was heart-rendering.
“Would you like to have me?” Petra whispered, moving closer to those lips she so desired. She felt Dorothea gasp quietly.
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I… I’ll never have you.”
That was not a threat to be taken lightly. “Dorothea…” She leaned forward, eyes closed and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips first. She wondered if the older woman could sense that she had not had much experience in this, or any for that matter. Her heart fluttered incredibly, she wanted this to be right.
Dorothea’s head tilted, angling so their lips brushed together in a not-quite kiss. Petra nearly stopped breathing at the sensation when Dorothea’s hand cradled the back of her head, the other snaking around her waist. Reminding herself to be calm, Petra took the initiative and pressed their lips together softly.
Dorothea made a relieved sound not unlike a whimper and Petra moved closer in response, eager to hear it again. Though she wasn’t quite sure what to do, her heart was fit to burst. “I…” She tried to speak but the friction between their lips stilled her..
“Sshh...” Dorothea hushed her gently. “Like this.” She captured Petra’s bottom lip between hers and sucked gently, eliciting an appreciative groan from the princess. She attempted to return the gesture, caressing her cheek free of tears as she went. Dorothea’s pleased hum indicated she was doing all the right things. The world faded around them as they exchanged pleasant kisses and every anxiety and worry between them vanished. Petra was elated and judging by the way Dorothea’s lips curved into a smile against hers, she was too.
They pulled away to breathe, content to simply stare at one another. Petra had barely registered her own tears. “Will you be having me now?” She asked, the husk in her voice surprising her.
“Yes.” Dorothea breathed, pressing her forehead to Petra’s. “Only if you’ll have me too.”
“I would have been thinking that I did not to stay it?” Petra giggled, laying her hand on her heart. A show of sincerity and promise. “But I will be saying it for you. Dorothea, I would be loving to have you in my life but more than that. I would love for you to be by my side always. Are you being mine?”
“Goddess, yes, Petra.” Dorothea’s voice went high as she shook with emotion. “I love and adore you more than anything. I’ll protect you too, okay? A-and I know I can’t cook but I’ll sing you a lullaby every night! I’ll make sure you rest and… and...”
Petra wrapped her arms around her waist and picked her up, making her squeal with delight. It was a delightful sound. “You do enough for me, blodyddyn.”
“I’m not sure what that word means.” Dorothea flipped her hair over her shoulder when she recovered from laughter. “But I like the sound of it.”
“‘Beloved’ or… ‘dear,’ I am thinking is another translation. I wish to call you many more things in my language.”
“Oh my.” Dorothea flushed. “What else would you like to do?”
Petra didn’t even need to think it over. “When this war is over, I will be taking you back to Brigid. I believe we are fated and that the Spirits will be guiding us to my home, where it can be your home also.”
“Home?” Dorothea stiffened in her arms, eyes wide. “Promise me, I can go home with you?”
“I am promising.” Petra said. “With all of my heart.”
“Oh, thank you, Petra. Thank you.” Dorothea leaned down for another kiss, Petra rising to meet it. “You’ve no idea what this means to me.”
“And it, to me, as well.” Petra set her down and brushed her hair from her eyes. “I should be the one that is thanking you.”
Dorothea giggled again and then her eyes seemed to snap open wider. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Edie is waiting for us, you know, in her expensive carriage that we’re going to climb into.” She looked down on herself and lifted her part of her dress out of the water.. “Soaking wet.”
“She will have to be dealing with it.” Petra shrugged as she pecked a kiss on her cheek. “Nothing will be ruining this.”
“I suppose she’ll have to, my Petra.” Dorothea sighed, flinging her arms around Petra’s neck. “Now, whisk me away, please.”
“I will be doing so.” Petra reached down and lifted up her legs to carry her bridal-style. They made their way back to land, laughing with all the joy they deserved.