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“Yes, this is cheap… but the other shop is… having cheaper?” Petra says, uncertainty clear in her voice. “Yes, that is why it should be 90% off.”
“90%? Go to the other shop then,” Anna scoffs.
Petra lowers her shopping list in defeat. She’s hopeless. That boy Ashe, from the Blue Lions, knew haggling as well as she knew hunting. Yet even after he explained it to her, she handled it with as much grace as if she tried to grapple a charging bull with her bare hands.
Haggling doesn’t exist in Brigid. When she told that to Ashe, he had been a bit confused. “What if you can’t afford it? We commoners haggle because we need to be careful with our money.”
“In Brigid, we hunt our own game and knit our own cloth,” Petra had said, “but no family goes hungry. If you would be finding yourself lacking, other families would give you the clothing off their backs.”
Ashe had listened with genuine interest. Explaining the customs of Brigid was great fun, but it left a pit in her stomach. Navigating life in Fódlan is as easy as swimming in the ocean during a storm. Just when she thinks she understands it, another wave knocks her down.
Homesick. That’s what Edelgard had told her the word is in this language.
“I will be back. That time, you will face the defeat, Anna,” Petra says. She makes her way to another store to buy the stock of Vulnearies for the class.
When she walks over, though, her heart jumps. A familiar grey mop of hair pokes out in the crowd. Her stride picks up. “Ashe!” she calls out, waving.
Both Ashe and another boy turn. She stops in her tracks. Ashe is walking alongside Prince Dimitri! She feels as if she’s made another blunder already. “Ah, I did not mean to interrupt you during your shopping. Please, do not worry about me.”
“Nonsense! You’re not interrupting anything at all,” Ashe says, smiling.
“Indeed.” Dimitri suddenly bows. “Princess Petra Macneary of Brigid, correct? We’ve had little time to talk outside of the battlefield.”
“It is an honor,” Petra says. Why does she feel so nervous? She talks to royalty, like Edelgard, all the time. “There is no need to speak to me in such a formal way, unless you would prefer it as such…”
“Let us speak informally, then, as friends.” Dimitri looks between Petra and Ashe, who are both shifting on their heels. “However, could you please pardon me? I’m afraid I’m about to be late for a seminar I plan to attend.”
“Oh, of course,” Ashe says. “Take care.”
“It was nice to be meeting you!” Petra says. She nearly smacks herself. It’s ‘nice to meet you,’ isn’t it? Damn.
She finally looks back up at Ashe. His natural friendly smile hasn’t faded. Once, Dorothea had told Petra that she admires how ‘intense’ she can look. Does she scare people away? Perhaps Dimitri felt intimidated and made an excuse. If only she could make people feel comfortable around her, like Ashe does.
“So… taking care of some shopping?” Ashe asks.
“Oh! I was attempting the maneuver you taught me.”
“Maneuver?” Ashe tilts his head.
“Yes! I asked Anna for ninety percent off, but she refused.”
For some reason, Ashe bursts out laughing. “Ninety percent? Well, of course she’d say no. She would probably be selling at a loss.”
Her cheeks burn. “But she could see that my House is in need of them,” Petra says, feeling like a petulant child. “I’m afraid that I shall never fit into Fódlan, Ashe.”
“That’s not true. I know you’ll make it just fine. It just takes practice, that’s all!” Ashe says. “The reason commoners like me are so good at haggling is because we usually have no choice. It’s a ‘sink or swim’ way of learning.”
“Sink or swim?”
“Oh, I mean, like… if you were thrown into the ocean when you didn’t know how to swim. You either sink and drown or learn how to swim, fast, to save your life.” Ashe chuckles awkwardly. “Maybe not the best analogy.”
“I can relate to it greatly! That is how I learned how to swim, after all,” Petra beams. “It would be preferable to not have been tossed, but sometimes you cannot control that.”
Like Brigid becoming a vassal state; like being sent to Garreg Mach Monastery as an exchange student. If she could have chosen, would she have fought? There had been no choice, so the point is moot.
“Yeah. I mean… I found haggling preferable to having to steal.” His voice grows quiet. “I didn’t want to! Just, when my parents passed, well… there wasn’t much else I could do.”
Petra frowns. “Ashe, I am sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t need to make this so awkwardly personal.” Ashe smiles again. “How about we get back in there and try haggling again?”
“You will still assist me?”
“Of course. Let’s learn how to ‘swim’ in this case together,” he says with a chuckle. “So the key is to let her know you can walk away without actually walking away. Claim that you found a better deal somewhere else and put her on the defensive…”
As the weeks go by, Petra volunteers for the shopping duty regularly. It becomes akin to hunting to her. Engaging merchants in a battle of wits isn’t unlike wrestling with prey for dominance.
“Ugh… fine! 20% off, but that’s final!” Anna huffs.
“25% or I am taking my House’s business to the shop down the street,” Petra says, firmly.
“25%, you have a deal.”
Petra and Anna shake hands and exchange gold coins. Petra lifts up two heavy crates full of supplies and begins to return to her classroom.
“Do you need some help carrying all that?” Ashe asks. He had been nearby to ensure things went smoothly.
“No, Ashe, I will not be needing--” Upon seeing the crestfallen look on his face, she clears her throat. “Actually, are you seeing the steel axe atop my supplies? If you could carry that, it would be most helpful.”
Ashe picks up the axe and nearly drops it. He grunts as he lifts it up with his legs and manages to hold it up. Petra giggles.
“You’ve been haggling like a pro lately,” Ashe says. “You might not need my help anymore.”
“Nonsense!” Petra says, quickly. “I mean--” Oh, she sounded too eager, didn’t she? “I still have not repaid you for teaching me Fódlan customs. There must be some way.”
“You don’t need to pay me back. I’m just helping out a friend.”
Friend.
Friend.
Friend?
She’s so distracted that she trips on a staircase and drops both crates on the ground. The contents rattle; one bottle falls out and shatters on the ground.
“Thae mi co cleobalta!” Petra hisses. She lifts up both boxes again, her biceps tensing. “Daingeid...”
“Are you okay?” Ashe asks.
Petra takes a breath. Right. Fódlanese. “I am fine. I am sorry for my outburst,” she says.
They walk together in silence for a time. Ashe says something that almost makes her drop the crates again. “I have an idea for how you could pay me back. Could you help me learn Brigidese?”
“What?” Petra asks. “I must not be understanding. You want to learn my language? For what reason?”
“I want to be able to communicate with you better,” Ashe says, wholeheartedly. His eyes glimmer with the prospect of a new goal to throw himself into. “It feels unfair that you’re the only one who’s trying to learn a new language here. Plus, I’ve taught you some Fódlan customs, so you can teach me about Brigid. It’s a perfect trade.”
“Are you certain?” Petra asks. “If… if it would be to please you, then I accept. Let us meet in the library tomorrow, I believe there are some texts that could be of help.”
“Tomorrow. I’ll look forward to it.” Ashe smiles again.
Moving these supplies really isn’t much physical exertion for someone like Petra. She’s hardly broken a sweat.
So why is her heart racing?
“Hallo?”
“Hallò,” Petra corrects. “The emphasis is being placed on the ò.”
“Ah, I see. Let me try again. Hallò.”
“That is perfect, Ashe!” Petra cheers. “You are learning this with more more speed than I had anticipated!”
He waves. “They’re just some basic words.”
“Basic words are more than many here can speak of Brigidese. That is something to be proud of.”
Petra stretches out. They’ve been in the library together for a while now, several tomes open on the table between them. Petra had started by explaining the differences between the Fódlanese and Brigidese alphabets, then got into basic phrases.
A part of her had wondered if Ashe would actually show up. Even as she got used to Fódlanese, something she didn’t understand was how people- often nobles- would say one thing and mean another. For example, a noble could say “it was a pleasure to meet you” and then later tell their trusted friends that they hated you. It leaves Petra feeling paranoid, as if she has to question everything she’s told.
And then to her surprise, Ashe had shown up early, nothing but eager to start learning her language. Some nobles would have gone along with this plan for their own personal gain. Perhaps an enterprising noble would learn Brigidese to better negotiate with people from Brigid-- although few bothered; now that Brigid is a vassal state, people expected Fódlanese culture to replace the ‘inferior’ culture.
Petra detects no ulterior motives with Ashe. He had said he wants to learn her language in order to better communicate with her. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like finding a safe island to take refuge in when stranded at sea during a storm.
“Learning about Brigid makes me wonder what it’s like to visit,” Ashe says, offhandedly. He flips a page in one of the books.
“One day, you could come.”
“My studies take priority now, I’m afraid. I can’t let down Lord Lonato,” Ashe says, smiling as he mentions the name. “In the future, however, I’d like to. I could put my language to the test. Also, it’s a bit silly, but... I’ve never swam in the ocean.”
“It would be an honor upon Brigid to have you! But, Ashe, you truly haven’t been to the ocean?”
“There weren’t many chances. Until Lord Lonato took me in, I was just trying to get by.” He scratches his head awkwardly. “What’s the ocean like?”
She considers talking about it as a spirit, but hesitates. There are priests to the goddess nearby. She doubts they would like to hear her spreading ‘propaganda’ against the goddess' name.
“To hear the waves and smell the salt in the air… it feels like home.” Petra closes her eyes, picturing it. “When I swim in the ocean, I’m always awed by its power. It can be clear and bright, or deep and dark. It’s home to creatures great and gorgeous. When I stand on the shore and feel waves lap at my feet, they’re like affectionate kisses from a puppy… but one should never forget that the ocean could pass judgement across all of us and destroy us with a typhoon. It’s awe-inspiring and humbling.”
“It definitely sounds like it means a lot to you.”
“Definitely so. When I dive beneath the surface and look up at the sky, the sunlight shines through the blue water and makes it sparkle like gems. Truthfully, when I am in battle and feel as if I am unable to push on, I think of that. To remember home and what I am fighting for gives me the strength to continue on.”
When she opens her eyes, Ashe is resting his chin in his hands. Petra’s eyes widen. “I am-- I am apologizing! I have spoken at such length about things.”
“No, it’s okay! I like hearing you talk.” Ashe grins again.
When he smiles, he gets dimples. His face is spattered with freckles like kisses from the sun. Petra wonders how many there are.
“Could you tell me more stories from your home?” he asks.
Petra remembers herself. “If you would be liking that, then… I have plenty more to share.”
Their language lessons become intertwined with sharing stories. Petra looks forward to them every week. Not only does she teach Ashe the language of Brigid, but he’s begun helping correct her Fódlanese when she asks.
She had begun to feel as if it’s something else to repay him for, but- as gracious as ever- he said it’s not necessary. “I’ll be glad to help if you ask. I don’t want to be a bother about it. I just don’t want you to struggle,” he had said.
Now, Edelgard has taken notice. “If I might comment on it, Petra, your language skills have sharply improved over the past few weeks.”
“Thank you, Edelgard,” Petra says.
A part of it is that she spends so long trying to tell stories to Ashe that she has no choice but to improve. Combining that with haggling, she’s learned a lot about how to speak Fódlanese the way people actually speak it. Her previous teachers had taught her how to speak stiffly from language textbooks, ignoring idioms and slang. When she found herself in an academy full of people her age, she realized language is a lot more difficult than written exams.
“It seems you’ve been studying it diligently in the library.”
Like now, for instance. Edelgard’s probing tone and slightly arched brow-- she’s not just stating a fact, she’s saying one thing and meaning another. She must know about Ashe. Petra wouldn’t want him to get in trouble.
She takes a defensive approach. “I promise you that nothing that would compromise our House has been shared.”
“I would expect as such. It is not forbidden to form bonds with others between Houses, of course. I simply wouldn’t want it to interfere with official matters, such as if you had to meet your friend in battle for a training exercise.”
“My loyalty lies with you.”
That response satisfies her. Edelgard quickly ends the conversation and goes to speak with the Professor. Petra collects her materials from class and walks to the library as fast as she can without outright running.
Ashe is already seated at the desk in the library, reading a language book. He looks so cute and peaceful. It’s difficult to reconcile that figure with the one she met during the mock battle. Ashe’s arrows struck true against Edelgard and Hubert; he was only defeated when Ferdinand got into close quarters. If it were a real battle, he would be a formidable foe.
He could hit center of mass on a moving target from atop a tree branch during a breeze. He had some experience firing a bow. Some of the other students hadn’t ever fought before, Petra took it.
Of course, he was untrained when it came to the actual battlefield. A war is different than a skirmish. Soldiers from Fódlan could be deadly. Caspar had reconciled that his father had killed hers on the battlefield. Men from Fódlan had forced mighty Brigid into a vassal state.
If Ashe had been older, would he have been sniping down her countrymen? He had mentioned wanting to be a Knight, but at what point did ‘protect the people’ exclude some people for the sake of others?
She’s spent so long thinking that Ashe notices her standing there. “Hallò!”
“Ah, hallò, Ashe. Siamar a thu?”
“Tha mie… uh…” Ashe checks his notes. “Mie… demanh circ?”
“Ashe, you just stated that you are a chicken.”
Ashe’s face goes red. Petra giggles. “I’ll get it right next time,” he says.
“It’s tha mie demanh a chea cu.”
He repeats it. Petra empties her mind of her earlier thoughts and the two launch into their language lesson from there. She doesn’t blame him for struggling with some phrases like that; he’s trying to relearn the alphabet entirely.
Although she tries to continue the lesson, she realizes halfway through that his heart isn’t in it. “Ashe, is something the matter?”
“Sorry, it’s… Lord Lonato. He’s the one who took me in as a child.” He stares down at the table. “He, with the Western Church, raising a rebellion against the Central Church. I’ve been praying nonstop that this will end peacefully, but I fear that… an example will be made of him.”
“I am sorry, Ashe.”
Lord Lonato is the same kind man that Ashe spoke fondly of when it was his turn to share stories. Someone with such a pure heart that he found a thief and gave him love and shelter rather than harming him. A person like that would turn against the Church of Seiros…
Her mind flashes to her Grandfather, and then- for some reason- to Edelgard. She shakes her head and focuses on the boy in front of her.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “I… didn’t want to take advantage of this, but I need to know why. I won’t just accept that he would do this. Your House is tasked with going on this mission. Please, let me come along.”
“You may have to come across Lord Lonato as an opponent on the field of battle, Ashe.”
“If that happens, I’m prepared to talk him down.” Ashe’s hands ball into fists. “He’s resented the Central Church ever since they took the life of his son… someone I considered my brother. But Christophe wouldn’t want this.”
Her hand moves without thinking, encompassing his. He looks up and meets her stare.
“I will speak with both Edelgard and the Professor personally. There is a program in place for this. It is called ‘mission assistance’. If your heart is prepared, then allow me to fight by your side.”
After a moment, he unclenches his fist. He holds her hand gently.
“Thank you, Petra.”
Ashe had been formidable during the mock battle, but this time he truly is like a lion, emblematic of his House. He readies his bow and strikes down targets with perfect precision, lights a torch, and charges through the fog.
When an enemy readies their sword to puncture through Ashe’s heart, he draws his lance and runs it through the enemy’s midsection. They collapse to the grass wounded but not killed. He retracts the weapon and continues on his charge.
He even outpaces Catherine. Petra realizes that’s his goal.
She sprints to keep up with him, cutting down enemies in their path as if they were two halves of one whole. It’s not long before the mage who had created the fog surrenders. It clears and they reach Lonato himself.
Lonato’s eyes widen as he sees Ashe with a lance raised against him-- then they settle on Catherine as she slices down two armored men.
“Thunderstrike Cassandra! It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!”
In the face of his indignation, she laughs. “The only name I answer to is Catherine.” She raises her sword. “Prepare to face the blade of one who serves the goddess! Now you face a Knight of Seiros!”
Lonato orders his guard before him. “The fog has cleared,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “There’s nothing left to hide you or the filthy Central Church from the judgement of the goddess.”
The battle resumes around them. Catherine raises her relic and cuts down three townspeople in makeshift armor. They collapse onto each other, having breathed their last.
Ashe is gasping from the exertion but he doesn’t stop. The other Black Eagles back them up as they cut through Lonato’s guard and approach the man himself.
“Lord Lonato!” Ashe calls out.
Lord Lonato lowers his head in shame. “Stand down, Ashe,” he says. He hesitates. His weapon isn’t drawn. “I must destroy these evil-doers by any means necessary.”
“Please surrender, Lonato! Whatever your reason for doing this, we can talk it out!” he pleads. The way he cranes his neck up to look at Lonato on horseback, it’s as if he’s a small child begging his father for forgiveness.
His words, however, only seem to anger Lonato further. “Rhea is an infidel who who has deceived the people and desecrated the goddess! We have virtue and the goddess herself on our side!”
Ashe looks between Byleth and the other Black Eagles at the ready, then at Petra, then at Lonato. Petra swallows a knot in her throat.
He had said he would be ready to face Lonato if he had to. But could the same be said of Lonato? Would he try to kill his adopted son? Would Ashe stop him?
It wouldn’t be too late for Ashe to betray the Black Eagles and die by Lonato’s side. What would Petra do then? Would she fight to stop Ashe? Would she turn on the others as well?
Catherine cuts through another makeshift militiaman, sprinting now toward Lonato. Petra doesn’t have time to ponder on those questions as everything happens at once.
“Even if all that's true, dragging the townsfolk into it like this isn't right!”
Lonato raises his lance. “Enough. If that is how you feel, prepare yourself! I'm putting an end to this!”
Ashe readies his lance as well. Lonato’s steed rears its head and charges forward. Ashe manages to dodge Lonato’s strike and pointedly jabs his lance toward the war horse rather than Lonato himself. The blow isn’t enough to stop the war horse’s stride. Lonato turns, readying his javelin.
Petra charges into the fray with her shield to protect Ashe from the impending throw. If Ashe can kill Lonato’s steed, he’ll find himself thrust into close-quarters combat with a fully armored Paladin. She’ll ready her axe with her helm splitter technique. Together, they can subdue him and force him to surrender.
In her haunted dreams for years to come, she’ll imagine that exact scenario taking place. Ashe and Lonato will reconcile. They’ll return to the Church with minimal bloodshed.
Instead, as Lonato prepares to throw his javelin, Catherine stabs Thunderbrand clean through his chest. It emerges stained red from the other side. She retracts the relic and he collapses onto the ground.
“That… vile woman… Christophe…” He reaches toward the sky, as if seeing something that the others could not.
Ashe’s lance falls to the ground. Petra stands frozen in time.
“I’ve been praying nonstop that this will end peacefully, but I fear that… an example will be made of him.”
The townspeople who fought by Lonato’s side quickly surrender, dropping their weapons and allowing themselves to be taken into arrest by the knights. Catherine has turned to update the Professor about the status of the mission. Lindhardt is healing the students and knights who were harmed.
Ashe walks on trembling legs to Lonato. He squats down to his knees. Lonato stares up at the sky with dead eyes.
As he begins to weep, he closes Lonato’s eyes. Petra kneels next to Ashe and wraps an arm around his shoulders.
Petra waits in the library. After an hour, she gathers her materials and walks toward the exit.
She passes Manuela on her way out. She waves to get Petra’s attention. “Excuse me, could I ask you for a favor?”
Petra looks over at the professor. Manuela’s holding a stack of papers.
“Could you be a dear and take this to Ashe? I know you’re not in the Blue Lions, but I’ve seen you studying with him,” Manuela asks. “He didn’t show up to class, so I thought if someone could be a dear and bring notes to him…”
“Consider it done.”
Petra takes the notes and makes her way to the dorms. When she reaches Ashe’s, she knocks.
A haggard, exhausted boy opens the door after several minutes. His eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath them.
He blinks at the sunlight flitting into the dark room. “Oh… I missed our lesson, didn’t I?” he says. “I’m sorry, Petra.”
“There is no need for apologies.” Petra holds out the notes. “I was asked by your professor to bring these.”
“Thank you.”
He takes them, barely glancing them over. Silence falls between them.
“Ashe, when is the last time you ate?”
“Probably not too long ago.”
“‘Probably?’”
He doesn’t have an excuse. He sets down the notes nearby, turning away.
“Ashe, I am worried about you. Please, come and share a meal with me.”
She reaches out her hand. She’s honestly not sure what he’ll say. Finally, he reaches out and accepts it.
They eat in silence, listening to the students around them. When they’re finished, Petra musters the courage to speak again.
“You need sunlight, too.”
“I’m fine, Petra.”
“You are most clearly not fine!” Petra says. “If you have been missing class, your training must not be up to standard. Let us train together.” She quiets her voice. “It helps me to get out my feelings.”
“Should I even keep training? My skills weren’t good enough. They still aren’t.”
“They’ll never improve if you quit.”
“But what am I going to do? Keep fighting and become a Knight? What does that even mean to me?” he asks. “I was so foolish. I believed in stories of chivalry, of heroes in shining armor who can do no wrong.”
“If there is no clear path before you, Ashe, then you must make your own.” Petra stares into his eyes intensely. “Let me help you make that path, Ashe. You didn’t come here just on a childlike dream. You want to protect people. You might wish to become a Knight, but you don’t have bloodthirst. You wish to fight with honor. I will help you if you’ll let me.”
Ashe closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. Petra holds firm. Finally, he speaks.
“Thae. Yes. I’ll… believe in you, Petra. That there’s a way out of this.” Ashe rises. “Let’s train together.”
“You have a true knight’s heart, Ashe.” Petra rises with him. “In Brigid, a warrior is one for whom violence is the last resort. We will protect our homeland fiercely if we must, but other avenues must be taken first. I believe you are someone who understands that principle.”
“I’ll try to believe that you’re speaking the truth and not just trying to make me feel better.”
“I never say something I do not mean.”
A small smile returns to Ashe’s face. They begin walking toward the training hall.
“Will you tell me more of Brigid?”
“So long as you wish to hear it, Ashe.”
They wind up training through the afternoon clear into evening. Exhausted, they sit on a hill and watch the sun bleed hues of pink and gold into the sky.
“... and that is why I mentioned my potential ability to teach curses,” Petra says. “We’ve many methods at our disposal, some much preferable to others.”
“I think I’ll hold back on curses for now,” Ashe laughs lightly. Although he’s become more lively as he took out his emotions in training, there’s still a darkness hanging over him.
His hands rest on either side of him as he leans back to get a better look at the sky. His hand is close. When Petra held it before, his hand had been soft. His fingers had begun to form slight callouses from working with a bow. She wondered if it would collect scars as he battled. She would take scars for him.
Petra doesn’t hold his hand. They watch the sunset together. Butterflies soar overhead in the breeze.
“Petra,” he finally says. “You mentioned that you could teach me to speak with spirits, correct?”
She nods hesitantly. “It is not an easy ability to learn.”
“In truth… Even putting aside that I’m afraid of spirits, I… I don’t know if I want to. If I could speak to Lonato or Christophe now, I wouldn’t be afraid that they’re ethereal, I would be afraid to face their judgement. I don’t know what I would say. I just know I would definitely apologize for having failed them.”
“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I do not believe they would want your apology, Ashe.” Petra turns to look at him. “I am believing that they would want for you to live your life rather than be consumed by guilt.”
“Am I just supposed to let them go?” Ashe asks. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”
He glances away, clearly ashamed for raising his voice. Petra considers her words.
“Cimhci an ria bhraim.”
Ashe furrows his brow as he mentally translates. “Remember… the…”
“Remember the dead. In Brigid, it is an incomplete saying. The full meaning of it is this: one must remember those who have fallen, but also continue to live and honor their memory.
“In Brigid, we do not have the goddess, as I have mentioned. When a person of Brigid dies, we return their bodies to the planet that gave them life. Their spirit moves on to live with the gods. If their spirit must return, the planet will give them life anew. All our spirits will go through multiple cycles of reincarnation, but we will be together in the end.”
A butterfly lands on Ashe’s head.
“Christophe and Lonato may be gone, but you are not truly without them. That is what I mean by cimhci an ria bhraim. Reflect on that, Ashe. If you give up and live your life consumed by grief, you will not properly remember them. However, if you live for vengeance, your heart will warp their memory until they’re unrecognizable.”
“Then…” Ashe seems lost.
“Then live for justice, Ashe. Although we of Brigid know that our loved ones may be born anew, it doesn’t hurt less to lose them. If they were taken from us, we will hold them dear in our hearts as we seek justice.”
“Justice,” Ashe echoes. “That’s what appealed to me about knights.”
The wind blows again. The butterfly flutters away.
“When I had no choice but to steal in order to survive, I felt like there was no justice in the world. If I had been born into a noble family, I could have lived easy. I often watched noble families through their windows, being served grand feasts while I dug through their garbage for scraps.”
Petra listens quietly as Ashe continues his story. “If I acted justly, my siblings and I would have starved to death, and the nobility would be no worse for it. When I stole from the nobles, I thought maybe I was acting unjust. I thought they had earned those things, but I simply had no choice.”
He shakes his head. “What makes it so that one person’s life is worth more than another? How did those nobles earn those luxuries simply by virtue of having been born?”
“The more I have learned about the customs of commoners from you, Ashe, the more I have realized how stark is the difference between commoners and the nobility in Fódlan.”
“I don’t wish harm against the nobles, necessarily. That would simply be blind vengeance. After all, Lonato took me in out of pure kindness.” Ashe pauses. “I just wish for… a better world. None of us have the choice of how we’re born.”
Petra smiles. “You will make a truly excellent knight, Ashe.”
“Thank you, Petra.” He turns to his side, facing her. “I couldn’t have come this far without you.”
“I would never dream of letting you suffer alone. So long as you seek a virtuous path, I will be by your side.”
Seteth raises his eyebrow as he looks over the paperwork.
“Yes, this is all in order,” he says, finally. He looks up at Ashe with his usual stern expression. “I simply want to know why it is that you want to desire to transfer Houses.”
“There’s nothing unsatisfactory about the Blue Lions; let me make that clear. However, I’m positive my talents could excel alongside the Black Eagles. I’ve already been training closely with students from that house.”
It isn’t entirely a lie. Since becoming closer to Petra, he’s become friends with Dorothea by association. He wouldn’t claim he’s been training ‘closely’ with Bernadetta, but sometimes he happens to see her firing arrows at a target because she’s been dragged out of her room to train.
Seteth files the paperwork away. “Very well. However, you’ll need the approval of the appropriate professor. In this case, that would be… Byleth.”
“I’ll go ask her right now!”
“You are dismissed.”
“Thank you.” Ashe bows before walking out of the room.
When he does find Byleth, he’s intimidated to ask. As usual, her expression is unreadable. After he makes his pitch for why he’d be a good fit for the Black Eagles, she just responds with a nod.
“Welcome to my class.”
He grins widely. “Thank you! You won’t regret it!”
Byleth isn’t done with that, however. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up in class, Ashe? I only ask because, after the incident with Lord Lonato…”
Ashe looks back on that now with mixed feelings. He regretted having fallen into such depths of despair that he worried others. His pain hadn’t subsided, but he had begun to learn how to manage it. Meeting Petra gave him something to look forward to.
“I’ll not only keep up, I’ll excel,” Ashe says. “I feel like I have a goal to work towards now.”
As promised, Ashe showed up to Byleth’s next lecture carrying stacks of books and parchments for notes. Whenever Byleth asks a question of the class, his hand is first to shoot into the air so he can answer.
The other Black Eagles take well to the addition to the class. Edelgard herself can be intimidating, but he senses a kindness behind her firm demeanor. The scariest person in class is probably Hubert, who stares at him from every angle to ‘assess’ his ‘threat level to Lady Edelgard’. After declaring the threat level minimal, he returns to Edelgard’s shadow.
Ashe isn’t sure if he should be offended by that or not. Petra laughs when he tells her about the incident. “Apparently, my threat level is minimal as well,” she says. “I am thinking his main concern is the Professor.”
Byleth is an extraordinary teacher. Within a manner of weeks, he excels at lances. Byleth assigns him to work the stables with Bernadetta. She spends most of her time hiding on the other side of the horses that he’s grooming, but through that barrier, they manage to trade archery tips and anecdotes about cooking.
Sometimes, Petra catches him staring during class. He looks away, embarrassed that he got caught. That’s the only thing distracting his focus during Byleth’s classes-- instead, he finds his quill moving while idle, adorning the corners of his notes with drawings of her.
Even after years of being off the streets, stealing as a desperate need, Ashe's hands play the lock like a musical instrument. One satisfying 'click' later and he opens the chest and claims its contents.
Behind him, another click. Petra, newly certified as a Thief, grins as she steps back. She stores her lockpick as the door swings open. "You have taught me well, Ashe."
"I'm just happy to be using my skills for good," Ashe says.
From the rest of the underground chamber, the roar of battle rages on. They both meet each others stare and nod. There's no time to chat; they need to find Flayn and reunite with the other Black Eagles.
Petra gets the drop on one archer and silences him with a well-placed lunge from a shortsword. The other enemy archer leaps into action and fires a shot into Petra's side. She grimaces and pulls the arrow free, ducking into hiding. The archer advances only for an arrow to fly from the shadows and bury itself into his neck. He crumples to the ground.
A thundering voice echoes in the underground. "I have no need of you!"
When Petra and Ashe rejoin their classmates, hell has broken loose. The Death Knight, lured away from his chamber, cuts through students with his scythe. Byleth parries the unholy weapon with the Sword of the Creator, but he fires magic from his free hand that shoves her several yards back. Battalions' formations have broken. Byleth shouts orders only to be intercepted by the Death Knight again and again; the Death Knight understands her too clearly. Ashe spies cracks in the black armor, but it would take a hell of a lot more to stop him.
"Faegh aer a chùlaebh!" Petra commands. Ashe nods and disappears into the shadows.
She draws her axe and leaps into the fray. A remaining enemy mage readies a spell while the Death Knight commands the students' full attention. Petra cuts him down without losing her momentum. Whispering a prayer to the flame spirit, she catapults herself over the Death Knight's mount and slams her axe into his armor. It's as effective as trying to cut steel with her fingernails. A counterattack that would have eviscerated her instead strikes a pillar, reducing it to rubble.
"You fool... what did you expect with such a maneuver?"
"Gius aire a therraing ort!"
The Death Knight pauses as he tries to comprehend her words. She holds up the Dark Seal she snatched from him and winks.
"It is no matter," he says, raising his scythe. Petra glances around-- nowhere to hide.
"A-nis!" Petra commands.
Two arrows fly in quick succession. The first strikes a crack in the Death Knight's armor and causes him to grunt. As he turns to massacre the archer responsible, the second shot strikes critical; it flies into the eye in his helm and into his skull.
His back turned to Byleth, she seizes the opportunity to strike with the Sword of the Creator. As the Death Knight falls hard to the ground, he laughs.
"So... that was your aim all along."
Ashe emerges from the shadows behind the Death Knight, nocking another arrow. He readies himself for the Death Knight to resume his onslaught, but a figure calling themselves the Flame Emperor calls him off. The silence is deafening as they're alone in the underground chamber with Flayn and another presumably abducted student.
"Ashe. Petra." Byleth leans on the Sword of the Creator for support. Petra winces as she glances around her; several students had been hurt badly in the confrontation.
"I am sorry for having separated from the group," Petra says.
Ashe steps forward. "No, the fault is all mine. Petra didn't do anything wrong."
Byleth's expression, as usual, is unreadable. Then, in an odd display, she smiles.
"Well done, both of you. Your tactical thinking and use of language saved us."
She can't stay long to continue the praise, as they need to bring Flayn and the other student out of the chamber and heal the wounded. Petra turns over the Dark Seal to the Professor as well. Still, pride flows through Petra's veins-- doubly so, as she overhears Ashe thanking the spirits as he stores his arrows again.
After that incident, life (somewhat) begins to return to normal. Preparation begins for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. Ashe has faced the fact that he'll compete against his former classmates in the Blue Lions house, but he won't let it stop him. He's become at home in the Black Eagles-- after his and Petra's display in the battle against the Death Knight, they've become valued members of any battle.
During one lunch period, Byleth pulls Ashe aside to talk with his education goals over tea. Petra is disappointed that he won’t be able to make it but otherwise understands completely. “It is being likely that other students will feel envy. The Professor makes wonderful tea,” she says.
Just as soon as Petra resigned herself to eating alone, someone sets down a tray next to her. “Is this seat taken?” Dorothea asks, while already sitting down.
“It was not,” Petra answers anyway.
“Good! You know, I feel like we don’t get enough chances to talk as girls.”
Petra raises a brow. “How else would we be talking? As boys?”
For some reason, Dorothea giggles. “No, it’s-- nevermind.”
They eat in silence for a while, at least, until Dorothea says something that makes Petra choke.
“Ashe is pretty cute, isn’t he?”
Petra coughs hard into a napkin. Dorothea’s smiling like a cat with a mouse under its paw. “Wh-what are you meaning, Dorothea?”
“You know. He’s got that dorky, honest kind of charm to him.” She shrugs innocently. “With all those freckles, you kind of just want to kiss each one. It makes you wonder how far down his body they go--”
“Enough, Dorothea,” Petra says, unintentionally raising her voice. Her face feels like it’s burning. “What is making you say these things?”
“You know, girl talk.”
“I am not understanding.”
Dorothea changes her approach. “You two have been spending a lot of time together. Do you think you like him?”
“I am liking Ashe very much. He is a capable ally and a great student.”
“He’s nothing more than that to you?”
“More?” Petra tilts her head.
“Look, I’m going to lay my cards on the table.” Dorothea continues before Petra can comment that she doesn’t have any cards. “I can see the way you two look at each other. It’s sweet, truly, but you need to make a move. He’s way too shy to approach you first.”
When she was six, Petra fought a wild boar and won.
When she was ten, Petra swam against the tide in a storm and returned to shore.
When she was thirteen, Petra could defeat a grown man in one-on-one combat while sparring.
Yet none of the challenges she’s faced so far have prepared her for this moment, sitting next to a friend, talking about boys.
She finds herself with her hands in her face while Dorothea rubs circles on her back, babbling about Ashe until she winds up reverting to Brigidese.
One thing that kept coming up is his charm and his sense of honor. He doesn’t fight for the sake of glory or money, but to create a better world. At the same time, he’s the most gentle boy she’s ever known. He found her lost and confused and helped her feel like she’s at home. He’s the guiding star that helps her navigate while lost in foreign seas.
“There, there. I understand. You’ve come to the right girl,” Dorothea says. Petra is too embarrassed to comment that Dorothea came to her, actually.
“What am I supposed to do? I am the Princess of Brigid. I am not in a position to be having such feelings,” Petra bemoans. “If my grandfather were to hear that my heart is belonging to a boy of Fódlan, he would be very angry.”
“Well, that’s a shame. Keep in mind, however, that you are the Princess. If I may be so bold, you’re going to have to make difficult decisions about what you want your role to be. This could be a sign of… peace, you know? A love between Brigid and Fódlan.”
That only makes Petra more embarrassed. “I am a fool. There is no chance that he would be having interest in a woman of Brigid.”
“That’s almost certainly wrong. Who wouldn’t be in love with you? You have it all, Petra. You’re gorgeous, you’re strong, you’re dedicated…” She sighs. “You’ve got to tell Ashe.”
All of a sudden, they hear a voice from behind them. “Tell me what?”
Battlefield instincts kick in. Her plate flipped from the motion, she grabs her knife and tackles whoever would dare sneak up on a Brigidese warrior. With her knee on his chest and the blade poised above his throat, Petra snarls down at the face of--
Ashe?
Petra drops the knife onto the ground. She covers her mouth with her hands. “Irrci!! Ashe! I am so sorry, I-- I was startled, and I--”
“That’s one way to get him, I suppose,” Dorothea sighs.
Petra picks up Ashe, situates him back on his feet, bows at a perfect 90 degree angle as she mutters more apologies, and nearly runs out of the dining hall.
All eyes are on Ashe. He brushes himself off, unsure why he’s blushing.
“Sit down,” Dorothea rubs her temples. “Let’s have a talk about something important, apparently, to everyone’s health.”
Knocking.
“Petra?” Ashe asks. The dorm room door doesn’t respond. “Petra, I called off Seteth. It’s okay. I’m not mad. Can I please come in?”
Even Bernadetta at least replies when she’s being a hermit. He knocks again, but finds that the door isn’t locked.
“I’m going to come in, okay? Please say something if you don’t want me to.”
No response. That might be a good sign. Or not. He opens the door.
He finds a lump under a pile of blankets on the bed. Ashe takes a moment to look over the dorm’s spartan decoration otherwise. Spare weapons and the means to maintain them are stored away in here, along with dozens of books related to Fódlan’s language and culture.
Ashe pulls out the desk chair and sits next to the bed. “Are you awake?”
“Fha mie leame fin,” Petra mumbles. ‘Leave me alone’, Ashe mentally translates.
“Chann aile.” Ashe shakes his head, even though she can’t see it. “I’m not upset. I sneaked up on you by accident. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“I have harmed you, Ashe. I could have hurt you much worse.”
“I’m not hurt. Maybe you could have hurt me, but you didn’t. It happens. We’re all trained to be jumpy; it could save our lives on the battlefield.”
She still doesn’t respond. Is this really a big deal to her? Ashe doesn’t understand what the problem is. Nobody had actually been harmed. It feels like a distance between them has grown.
Dorothea had emphasized that Petra really cares about him. He knows that! That’s why they’re friends, and that’s why he cut the conversation short to go after her.
A proper knight should consider a greater perspective. Her stories about Brigid had opened his eyes to how small his world had been and how narrow his views were. During the battle against Lonato’s forces, she had backed him up as if they were two ends of one weapon.
After… after it happened, nobody was sure how to act around Ashe. Letters and flowers remained unread and unseen in a pile in his dorm. Petra had been the one to drag him out of it. He couldn’t think of the sunset now without thinking of her smile, sitting together on that hill side-by-side.
“Petra… you mean a lot to me.”
He can tell that Petra’s head has turned under the blanket. He grins. “I feel like I’m not able to put it all into words. I’m so grateful for you, and every week, I look forward to getting to learn Brigidese with you. Being able to see you in class every day and train by your side is like a dream.”
“Ashe…”
Petra pulls off the blanket and sits up. Her braid is intact, but the rest of her hair has gone crazy. He brushes stray hairs behind her ear. She makes a light gasp.
“Ah-- sorry if that was strange.” He pulls his hands back as if he touched a hot stove. “My sister, Monica, is fussy about her hair.”
“I did not minding-- I did not mind.”
“Okay, good.”
They both stare down at their respective hands.
It’s begun to get warm in Fódlan. With the windows and door closed, the room is stuffy. Ashe tugs at his collar. He wonders if the heat is nostalgic for Petra. There’s so much more to know about her.
“She like, likes you,” Dorothea had said. “Really likes you.”
Sure. Good old Ashe Ubert. He’ll teach you how to haggle and shoot an apple off someone’s head, but at the end of the day, he’s a commoner. Did he really just have the nerve to barge into a Princess’s room and talk about feelings?
It was as if Dorothea had been trying to insinuate that Petra had romantic feelings for him. As if that could be true. Dorothea just wanted to make him feel better.
He pictures, briefly, the future. He’s a Knight of Faerghus in service to King Dimitri. Petra has returned to Brigid to serve as Queen. They’re countries apart, even further in social status.
Yet now they’re two students inches apart in a Summer haze.
“I am grateful for you as well, Ashe,” Petra finally says. It must be warmer in the room than Ashe thought; her face is flushed. “Thank you for caring about a person like myself and not minding my origin.”
“I am truly glad that we’re friends.”
Petra smiles, her lips tight. “I am as well.”
“Aemàeriach?” Ashe asks. It means ‘tomorrow’. It had become their own little promise.
“Aemàeriach,” she confirms.
Aone
Petra charges a bandit with her axe. He parries and shoves Petra back hard. She skids back into the dirt and looks up in time to see the bandit raising his own axe high to bring it down onto her head.
His eyes go wide. Still with his arms up, he falls to the side like a felled tree. Ashe stands several paces behind him with his bow drawn. The arrow had struck the perfect spot of soft neck between the bandit’s leather armor and his helm.
Petra smiles wide, gathering her breath. Ashe winks.
Once the enemy has been routed, the Professor surveys the battlefield. Her students have suffered minimal injuries. “I’d like to award extra marks to Petra and Ashe for having felled half of the bandits on their own,” she says, marking something on a parchment. “Fantastic job.”
Petra picks up Ashe and spins him around. He laughs freely, happily.
-
Dhài
The Church didn’t condone ‘looting’ outright, but if a student’s axe broke and a felled enemy happened to have a replacement, better to take it and win the battle than to leave it and suffer for it.
After battles were won and the area was secured, the Church typically sent a lesser group on ‘cleanup duty’; it wouldn’t be fitting for believers in the goddess to leave her children rotting, no matter how misguided they had been. Petra knew all too well that the ‘cleaning crews’ had fewer standards than the Knights or the students and tended to strip the bodies of everything before putting them in their mass grave.
Professor Byleth had finished healing the students’ wounds and was ready to depart, but Ashe still squats by several of the bandits. Petra wanders over, fear rising in her that she’ll find him picking their pockets for spare coins, but instead notices him closing their eyes.
“Do you feel sorry for them?”
He doesn’t seem surprised that she sought him out. “Some of them might have had no choice but to turn to this life.”
Ashe had argued on one occasion that it would be enough to subdue the bandits or force them to flee, rather than sentence them to death. It couldn’t always be that easy; often, the battlefield meant killing lest you be killed. Still, Petra too had witnessed Knights of Seiros sniping down men and women fleeing for their lives.
On that occasion, Alois hadn’t looked proud to answer that sometimes, it’s better to ‘stop’ all of them rather than let them regroup with a vengeance. Kostas and his bandits had supposedly targeted the House leaders from the Officer’s Academy due to vengeance.
Petra had been tasked with killing Kostas’s clan. She couldn’t be so certain.
Once Ashe is done, he dusts himself off and stumbles. Lindhardt and the Professor had missed healing his ankle because he had separated from the group.
“Here,” Petra says. He leans on her shoulder as they return to the class.
Even after it’s healed, Petra doesn’t let him go, just in case.
-
Trì
Ashe fires his bow. The arrow hits the bullseye exactly.
“Your turn,” he says, a wide grin on his face.
Petra readies her bow. She aims carefully and fires. The arrow pierces Ashe’s arrow in the bullseye.
On the sidelines, Dorothea pumps her fist. Ingrid rolls her eyes and hands over a few coins to Dorothea.
“I’ll do you one better,” Ashe says.
“I would be liking to see that, Ashe Ubert.”
Ashe heads back several paces, then even further. He licks his finger and holds it into the air. The breeze tousles his grey locks of hair.
“Double or nothing,” Ingrid says.
“Done,” Dorothea replies.
Then, Ashe pulls out a cloth and blindfolds himself. Petra’s eyes widen.
He nocks an arrow and listens again for the wind. Inhale, hold the breath, exhale. He releases the arrow.
The cheers tip him off. He pulls off the blindfold and nearly jumps for joy; his arrow hit the bullseye right next to Petra’s.
Ingrid holds out her hand triumphantly. Dorothea pouts and hands coins back to her.
“Ashe, you have done it!” Petra says, running up to him. “You are bound to ace your sniper certification for sure!”
“I couldn’t have done it without your advice-- don’t just rely on your eyes. Let all the spirits speak to you,” Ashe says.
Petra’s lips tingle. She could easily close the gap between them and kiss him right now. It feels like she’s drawn to him. Her ears are burning as she turns away. She catches Dorothea’s stare, who wiggles her brows.
“Petra? Is everything okay?” Ashe asks.
“Yes!” Petra replies, too loudly. She places her hand on her chest. Her heart sounds like a stampede.
Oh no. Oh no.
“It’s late. I should get back to my dorm.”
Petra rises from the library desk too quickly. “I shall walk with you!”
“Are you sure?”
“I never say something I do not mean.” With all the troubling missions involving the Church’s enemies lately, even involving their members infiltrating the monastery, one could never be too safe.
The full moon shimmers above them. Their hands brush as they walk. Ashe holds his book closer to his chest, then. Is it Petra’s imagination, or are his ears pink?
Soon, they arrive at his dorm without incident. They both linger.
“Petra, how do you say ‘goodnight’ in Brigidese?” Ashe asks, suddenly.
Petra pauses. She looks up at the moon, as if for guidance.
“Thae gael agum ort,” Petra says, her face perfectly steady. “It means ‘may the night be good to you’.”
“Huh, I see. Well, Petra, thae gael agum ort.”
She swallows the knot in her throat. “Y-yes, Ashe. Thae gael agum ort.”
With that, he enters his dorm and closes the door. Once she’s alone, Petra drops to her knees, buries her face in her hands, and lets out a silent scream.
It’s the first time a boy has ever told her I love you. It had been a trick. But the Professor had taught them that sometimes tricks are necessary in war, right? And Dorothea had said ‘all is fair in love and war’. They’re practically the same thing.
So it’s fine, right?
Nobody answers her, but even as a cold breeze whips up, she still feels perfectly warm.
Thae gael agum ort.
“Surprise!”
“Ashe?” Petra gasps. The boy stands before one of the cafeteria tables. It’s spread out with a traditional Brigidese feast. “Did you make all of this yourself?”
“I had a little help,” Ashe says, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Happy birthday. I wanted to bring you a little piece of home.”
Petra sets down the bouquet that the Professor bought for her. Oh, and the other students had been just as kind- a brand-new forged axe, a new whetstone, a new shield- but this… this…
“Hey,” Ashe gasps. “Are you crying?”
“No,” says Petra, who’s crying. “I have not experienced such an act of kindness since I came here, Ashe. I- I do not have the words. Thank you so sincerely.”
“It’s worth it to see you so happy,” Ashe says. “Let’s not let this go to waste.”
-
Thae gael agum ort.
“Can I undo the blindfold yet?” Ashe asks.
“A little further-- okay, Ashe. Now you may be removing the blindfold.”
Ashe does, and his jaw drops.
“This, Ashe Ubert, is the ocean.”
Petra stands barefoot in the sand, which radiates like millions of little crystals in the sunlight. The waves lap at the shore, a gentle motion from a vast behemoth of blue.
“Petra, it’s--” His eyes settle on her, bathed in sunlight. “Beautiful.” He speaks again, a little too quickly. “Is it alright for us to be out here?”
“It has all been arranged. We are in Empire territory. The same royal carriage that brought us here with such haste can return us to the monastery when we have finished,” Petra says.
Ashe balks. Slowly, he slips off his shoes. His feet sink into the sand.
“Happy birthday, Ashe,” Petra says. She takes his hand. “Come. Let us walk on the shore together.”
Petra has never seen so much gold, so many roses, all in one place. She watches as the nobles dance in neat little circles. Edelgard politely dances with several, and Dorothea does as well-- as the Black Eagles representative in the White Heron Cup and the winner of said event, she’s quite popular.
A few boys look her way, but quickly look over her. It’s likely for the better. She isn’t one to dance.
As soon as she has the opportunity, she slips outside. She had been glad to be invited to the ball, certainly, but she couldn’t help but feel like a fish out of water. She drinks in the moonlight, the fresh air, the absence of decorations.
“Petra?”
She turns, but doesn’t pounce like all those months ago in the dining hall. She’s become quite accustomed to the sound of Ashe’s voice. “Did you need a break as well?”
“I did. I’ve been a bit worn out. Everyone else seems used to this kind of thing, but I’ve never been.”
Petra nods. “Formal events in Brigid are not quite the same. There are many rules here I am not accustomed to.”
“Right? Dorothea insisted on trying to help teach me how to dance for some reason, but I’m still stepping all over my partners’ feet,” Ashe chuckles. “I wonder if it’s okay for me to even be here.”
Something stings Petra’s heart like a wasp. A heavy feeling settles in her stomach. So he had been trying to dance, but he hadn’t invited her.
Well, of course, she realizes. They’re not actually special to one another. They’re study partners that she lied to. There’s nothing more to it.
“I am told that nobles here are taught in the art of dancing since youth,” Petra replies, instead of voicing her thoughts. “There are many beautiful girls here.”
Say it, Ashe Ubert. Say you danced with some beautiful girl who has stolen your heart. Just get it over with.
“You look beautiful tonight.”
She hadn’t been expecting that. Petra puts a hand to her chest. “Myself?”
Whenever Ashe would say something even close to approaching flirtatious, he would turn away with his cheeks burning. This time, he maintains his confidence as he looks at her.
The moon has cast a halo around her head. They may just be in their uniforms, but she’s put on a slight floral perfume. Ashe had followed the sweet scent here.
“You do.”
Petra wrings her hands. It’s what she wanted, but guilt begins to tear at her. “Ashe, I have something that I must tell you.”
“So do I.”
“You may speak first.” After all, whatever he has to say will be lost when she tells him how she lied about the meaning of Thae gael agum ort.
“Well…” Ashe looks around them. “It’s said that when a man and a woman make a wish here at the goddess tower, it will come true.”
Petra looks around as if realizing where they are for the first time. “Is that so?”
“Yes. So it’s said, at least.”
“What is it you would wish for, Ashe?”
He pauses for a long time. He’s finally looked away from her.
“I would wish… for my brother and sister back home to live in peace.” The way his voice drops in pitch at the end makes her feel as if there’s something else he wanted to say. Or perhaps she’s just projecting.
“That is a good wish, Ashe. It will certainly be coming true.”
“Do you think so?”
“If the world will not be a kind place for them, then we will have no choice but to make it so.”
“Make our own luck, huh?” Ashe chuckles. “I love that about you.”
Moments later, Ashe is saying something again, but it’s drowned out by the last words he uttered echoing in her mind.
Finally, she hears: “... you had something to tell me, though?”
“Y-yes! Ashe, let us dance!”
“What? Right here?”
“I do not want to be looked at by those nobles as an attraction who is just attempting to fit their mold,” Petra says. “I want to dance with you. I have been wanting. Yet, I want to dance however we see fit, together.”
“O-oh.” Ashe shifts on his feet. “I… wanted to dance with you too, but I wasn’t sure if you would want to.”
“Come, Ashe.”
She takes his hand. His other goes to her waist. Their movements aren’t the most coordinated at first, but they settle into a rhythm. Their bodies move in harmony as they do on the battlefield.
The music from the ballroom is distant. Even still, they don’t dance in time to it. They dance to their own melody that only they can hear.
“Petra?”
“Ashe.”
Their faces are close. She can feel the heat of his breath.
“You didn’t make your own wish.”
Petra just giggles.
“I am thinking mine has already come true.”
.
.
.
Àis deiddh / After
The waters are calm as their ship sails to Brigid. After many years, Petra can return home.
Over five years ago, she had made this voyage in reverse. She had been afraid and alone. She’s neither of those things anymore.
<Darling, are you feeling well?> Ashe asks, in Brigidese.
Petra leans against the railing, breathing in the salty air. Her hair blows behind her in the wind.
<I am fine.>
Although Ashe has made strides in learning the language, war has left little time for nonessential pursuits. She switches back to Fódlanese. “I’m having mixed feelings. I’m overjoyed to be returning home, but it’s been so long since I’ve seen it.”
“I’m here with you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”
Ashe puts a hand atop hers. “I’ve never been more certain.”
She’s not sure who leaned in first, but their lips find their way to each other. Petra wraps an arm around her lover and pulls him in closer.
Their path had been long already, and there’s still more to go. She’s not sure how her grandfather will react to her loving a man from Fódlan. The world still is healing after years of war. She has negotiations to make with Emperor Edelgard.
So long as Ashe is by her side, though, she’ll more than happily continue treading this path.
As they part, they rest their foreheads against one another. “Thae gael agum ort,” Petra whispers.
“Is that so? You’re going to bed already?”
Petra chokes on her laugh. “Don’t you tease me about that now, Ashe.”
Ashe is laughing, too, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. “Thae gael agum ort.”