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"How high can you sing?"
The question caught him completely off guard. Carefully, Ferdinand put down the report he was reading over so his visitor could have his full attention.
As soon as she caught his eye, Dorothea spoke.
"How high can you sing? It's important."
As important as the agriculture report he needed to present to Edelgard in the morning? Unlikely. But Dorothea didn't ask for unnecessary favors, and, truly, he did not wish to read over the report for the seventh time for errors.
And Dorothea had that pinched look of long built frustration she only got after hours of unsuccessful attempts to solve her issues. Ferdinand would never call her anything short of beautiful, but he could admit that her beauty shone through far better when she was pleased and smiling. And if he took pride, and a bit of illicit joy, in being the one to provide whatever she needed to be happy? Well. No one had to know except for him and his bleeding heart. Goddess knew he wouldn't be yet another unwanted blathermouth at her feet begging for attention she did not want to give. They were friends, and that was enough for him.
But how to describe how high he could sing? He'd not tested his range since Garreg Mach, where the Choir Coordinator held weekly practice. His voice never reached the same rumbling depths some of their classmates had, instead prone to lilting higher. He hadn't sung with many of the girls to compare how high he could go with them. Though, now that he thought of it, there was one woman that he could match relatively well. Her voice was lower than expected, and they could more or less share notes.
"If I remember correctly, my range roughly paired with the professor's." The words were half hummed, thoughtful as he was still caught in memories of long past lessons.
"Ah, perfect!" Dorothea bounced slightly, clapping her hands in excitement. "I have a duet I need to check to see if it sounds right, but the girl who would play the professor has a sore throat."
As she spoke, presumably about details of the play that Ferdinand let flow over him, the sunlight through his office window caught strands of her hair and bits of her jewelry, sending warm glances of color around the room. The way her hands danced through it all was mesmerizing. She was so expressive, all the time. It was no small part of why he was so fond of her.
"...And so I need you to come down to the theater and practice the duet with me. Tonight, preferably."
Suddenly, she was watching him expectantly, and he had no idea what, exactly, he was agreeing to. But there was no doubt that he would agree.
"Of course. Let me just collect my cloak and we can be on our way."
The heavy cloak was just by the door. A smooth gesture had it settled across his shoulders, and a quick step forwards had the door open.
"After you, my lady." He could only hope his sweeping half bow hid his blush at the words. His lady. If only she was.
Giggling, Dorothea dipped a quick curtsy with a murmur of thanks. She stepped into the castle hallway just far enough that he didn't bump into her as he followed her out.
Ferdinand offered her his elbow with what he hoped was his brightest grin. "To the theater?"
Dorothea wrapped her hand around his elbow with a smile magnificent enough to force his breath to catch. "To the theater."
The theater, as it was, was truthfully more of a series of efforts to make something resembling a stage in one of the surrounding buildings. It was once a laboratory, Ferdinand believed, but Hubert had long gutted it and deemed it unnecessary. Now, it was a place to practice the arts as the Mittelfrank Opera House was being rebuilt.
Homely as it was, it was still bustling with people practicing dances and lines, running props, and sewing costumes. As soon as Dorothea walked in, people swarmed her, asking for her opinion on this intonation or that, on which prop to use, on whether silk was needed or if cotton could be used. Head high, she directed each and every one of them, sending them off to their duties with an air of relief and excitement around them. Suddenly, she started, and turned to face him with an embarrassed smile.
She was going to apologize, Ferdinand realized, and cut her off before she could. He didn't need an apology from her, not when she was just doing her job. "You call me a bee, but look at how busy your hive is! You're a queen bee yourself."
His laughter pulled a giggle from her, and he couldn't help but love the way she always curled a hand over her mouth when she laughed.
"Yes, well," Dorothea managed through the giggles, "you're still my favorite little bee, so don't worry."
Her favorite. He was her favorite. Warmth barreled through his chest, following the wings of his crush. It was a good thing she seemed not to expect a response, for his tongue was tangled with three words he wouldn't let himself say.
"Now where did I put them?" Dorothea moved to a table by the wall. Ferdinand followed in her wake. "Ah, here they are. Now, I said this was a duet, yes? It's for the play I'm writing about Edel and the professor. Edel confided to me that she'd had a crush on her since the professor rescued her from bandits before coming to Garreg Mach. And we all could see how the professor favored Edel, yes?" Dorothea shuffled the papers in her hands, checking that they were in the proper order. "So a duet where they confess their love at first sight? Perfect, if I say so myself."
Ferdinand's heart skipped a beat. Anxiety and desire fought for his breath. Dorothea wanted to sing a love duet with him. With him! She had come specifically to ask him!
Or, no, Ferdinand mentally shook himself. She had come to him to ask a friend for a favor. Not as the sign he'd been near praying for that she loved him back. And he'd agreed, so sing he would.
He took the pages when she held them out, scanning over the lines and humming out a few bars. He could hit the notes easily enough. The better question was if he could sing them to Dorothea.
On second thought, the better question would be if he could only sing them to Dorothea.
"Now, they are supposed to start dancing partway through the song, but we can skip that for now."
"No," Ferdinand found himself saying, "I believe I can do both. This seems like it should be a waltz? I know the steps well enough to sleep and do them; I should be able to sing well enough."
Humming, Dorothea considered him a moment. Under her steady gaze, he stood tall but relaxed, ready and willing her to believe him.
"If you say so." Leaning in, she pointed to a section nearly two thirds through the song. "See where you say 'just take my hand'?" At his nod, she continued. "Hold your hand out just before it, and I'll take it during that line. The next part is where we start dancing. It comes fast, so you better be ready. The rest of the song is danced, but I haven't set the steps yet. I'm sure you can figure something out."
"You can trust in me, Dorothea." Casting one more glance over the song, Ferdinand placed the papers on the table. "To the stage?"
Dorothea grinned, eyes catching the sun and glittering. "After you."
Together, they stepped into the cleared area marked as the stage. Ferdinand let her position him as she wanted, then waited as she organized a group of musicians. Dorothea swept to her own position, nodded to the musicians, and started singing.
"A dangerous plan, just this time. A stranger's hand clutched in mine. I'll take this chance, so call me blind. I've been waiting all my life." Her voice was soft and resonant, the nymph of his childhood brought to resplendent life. "Please don't scar this young heart, just take my hand."
Smiling, taking a slow step forward, he let his voice support hers. "I was made for loving you. Even though we may be hopeless hearts just passing through. Every bone screaming, 'I don't know what we should do.' All I know is, darling, I was made for loving you."
He was dreaming, Ferdinand was sure. The way sunlight danced between them, the way Dorothea looked at him like he was everything to her, they were things he could only think of surrounded by the softness of sleep. He took another step closer, close enough Dorothea needed to look up to meet his eyes, as he took the melody. "Hold me close through the night. Don't let me go; we'll be alright. Touch my soul and hold it tight. I've been waiting all my life." Close enough that he could see golden sparks swimming in Dorothea's jewel-green eyes, he barely needed to raise his hand to offer it to her. He prayed that his softly sung promise didn't sound as true as he meant it. "I won't scar your young heart, just take my hand."
Her hand in his, Ferdinand pulled her into the smooth steps of the fast waltz. He couldn't help the overjoyed grin, couldn't help how fast his own hopeless heart was beating as they spun and sang together. This was better than any of his dreams. Dorothea matched his every step, spun away from him then back into his arms like she was made for it.
"Please don't go, I've been waiting so long," they sang, perfectly in sync. Ferdinand lifted her as she sang, "Oh, you don't even know me at all, but I was made for loving you."
Slowly, Ferdinand brought her down. They could have kept dancing, but he needed to sing this to her with his full focus. Even if she didn't know how much he meant the words he was singing. Maybe especially then. "I was made for loving you. Even though we may be hopeless hearts just passing through. Every bone screaming, 'I don't know what we should do.'" He could feel her breath against his lips, her hand curled at the nape of his neck and both his own cradling her close. One rose to cradle her face as they sang the final line, "All I know is, darling, I was made for loving you."
The last notes trembled around them, and Ferdinand closed the distance between them before he could think better of it.
Dorothea's lips were soft, warm and a little chapped and softer than rose petals.
And absolutely not something that he should have taken without her desire. She had even frozen under him! But no faster had his sense returned than she pulled him closer. Closer! He could scarcely believe it, and a surprised noise squeaked out of him.
Dorothea's smile and laughter broke their kiss. "Ferdie, you silly man, why didn't you say something earlier?"
Stammering, Ferdinand could barely think of a response. "I - earlier? But, I mean, we were friends! You had finally just admitted that I, perhaps, wasn't as terrible as all those noble men that chased you just for your face and voice!"
"Aw, and so you were being all gentlemanly and respectful of that, weren't you?"
He stood straight, hand falling to the curve of her neck, frowning at how it made her laugh. "Yes! I was not going to push my infatuation on you when you had made no indication of desiring me to do so!"
Still laughing, Dorothea pulled him down to press a quick kiss to his pout, then held him close, one hand on his cheek in a mirror of how he'd held her. "And all those times we took tea? All the gossip we shared? When I asked you to do my hair for Edel's coronation? What did you think those meant?"
"I, well, I thought it meant we were finally friends!" He couldn't meet her eyes, knowing how childish he sounded.
"My silly bee, such a good man that he worried about flirting with a girl trying to get him to." Her hand gently pulled him to look at her. "Ferdinand von Aegir, Prime Minister of the Adrestian Empire, I love you. I've half loved you since you made me pastries all those years ago, and you've only proved yourself worth loving with every word and gesture since we talked of the fountain in our youths. If you would be mine, I would gladly be yours."
Faint, all Ferdinand could do was blink at her. Seconds passed in stunned silence before she tapped him on the cheek with a soft, "Well?"
He opened his mouth, and immediately regretted doing so when all that came out was a strangled, "I think I'm dreaming…" Furiously flushing, he shook his head as Dorothea laughed. "I mean, yes! I love you too! I have for longer than I knew, from the first time I saw you singing in that fountain to when you smiled at me and called me a bee. Dorothea Arnault, nothing would make me happier than to be yours, and for you to be mine."
"Well then," she said, "I think we shall be."
At those words, thunderous applause surrounded them. Startled, they spun to face the crowd that had gathered. Everyone in the theater had stopped their preparations and practices to watch the show they'd put on. Blushing, they met each other's eyes. Perhaps it was more public than Ferdinand had ever thought he'd confess his love, but somehow it was still perfect. He pulled Dorothea close and kissed her, heart jumping as she kissed him back. Yes, this was perfect indeed.