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Leonie likes to think of herself as a pretty reasonable gal. She’s got a temper, sure. She’s a bit blunt, sure. But she prides herself in being sensible and trying her best to give others the benefit of the doubt.
Dorothea Arnault is quite a different case. She hasn’t even shown her face today and Leonie’s already irritated.
Sometimes the newest addition to the Golden Deer just seems to be hell-bent on driving her to her wit's end. They’ve barely talked at all since she transferred, mostly due to the fact that she’s instead usually chatting away to some well-to-do duke or a prominent merchant’s son while they work. This is the third time this week she’s shown up late for the evening feed. It’s the first time they’re actually alone together, without the gaggle of nobles that usually tails Dorothea taking up all the space in the stables. Today, she leaves them at the door, all smiles and giggles and acting like nothing’s out of place. One of them, a student from the Blue Lions that Leonie can’t quite recognize, even pulls her close for a kiss on the cheek and a whisper in her ear.
Leonie could gag, honestly.
She doesn’t, though. Disciplined as she is, she only rolls her eyes and keeps divvying up the sweet feed in front of her. She serves a quick glance over her shoulder every once in a while to shoot daggers at the songstress, and nothing more.
Dorothea says nothing, at first. Her eyes stay locked on a bridle in the corner of the room, and she chews on the nail of her thumb in what seems like deep thought. She doesn’t start helping, she doesn’t apologize, and she doesn’t even bother to say “hello”. She just stands there, thinking.
Leonie’s irritated enough to be the one to break the silence. “You’re late.”
Dorothea finally looks up at her, matching the hunter’s sass in full. “I’m aware.”
Leonie steals another few glances, nose wrinkling in a scowl as she continues to scoop out feed. She’s not fond of the immediate attitude, especially when she’s the one that ended up mucking the stalls when Dorothea was out having fun with friends. “If you’re aware, maybe you could make more of an effort to be on time for once.”
Dorothea pinches at the bridge of her nose in frustration. She mutters something under her breath, vaguely sounding like a string of curses. The songstress apparently decides to censor herself before speaking again. “Look, I didn’t volunteer for this duty. I’m not a horse person. I’m really not even sure why Professor Eisner wants me to do it, because I’d much rather be learning spells in the classroom or something.” She’s kicking at the hay beneath her feet distractedly as she speaks, still not bothering to join in on their chores. “Anywhere but here.”
Leonie’s anger flares suddenly, and before she can stop herself she’s standing up and facing the songstress with shoulders tensed. “What, you’re too good for stable duty or something?”
Dorothea glares right back at her. “I can’t say I’m the biggest fan of it, no.”
“If you’d rather go have a fun little dinner with those guys, go on. I can handle this myself.”
Dorothea stiffens at the remark, and Leonie instantly knows she’s hit a nerve. She seems to consider her next few words carefully, and the way she restrains herself only serves to make Leonie angrier. “As a matter of fact, I would love to be at dinner right now. At least there I’d be appreciated.”
Leonie scoffs, chucking the scoop back into the bucket with more force than she originally intended. Feed sprays in the air as she crosses her arms, irate. “Goddess, you’re spoiled.”
“Spoiled?” Dorothea nearly bristles at the word, and all at once she’s marching up to the hunter like she’s ready to strike. She pulls her hat from her head and slings it onto the bale of hay at Leonie’s side, a near miss that’s a little too close for comfort.
They’re nose to nose for what seems like ages, Leonie squaring her stance and ready for anything. She hardly thinks she’d lose to Dorothea in a fight. That doesn’t mean the way the songstress balls her fist, thumb curled around the outside of her fingers like this certainly isn’t the first time she’s thrown a punch, makes her any less wary.
Oddly enough, Dorothea is the first to back down. She turns on her heel and puts ample space between them, mumbling again under her breath in words that Leonie can’t quite make out. She’s fidgeting a little, hands running through her hair and twisting the expensive-looking bangles on her wrists for a good minute or two. Finally, when she’s had her fill, her shoulders heave in a deep sigh and her hands go to her hips decisively. She doesn’t even bother to face Leonie anymore.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
They ignore each other every time they meet after that. They try to, at least. Professor Eisner, for all their mercenary wit and mettle, never quite picks up on the fact that their stable duties are always one step away from brawling practice. They keep up their partnership, though neither is particularly thrilled about it.
They suck it up, and push through nonetheless.
As easy as it would be to hate her, Leonie finds that she just can’t. She certainly doesn’t like her, though. Leonie finds herself more confused than anything. There’s something about Dorothea that always feels off every time they’re together, and it’s something that simmers just underneath the tension crackling between them. To make things even more confusing after their little spat, Dorothea’s been on time to their duties every day without fail. It’s baffling, really.
Leonie’s obviously not ungrateful. As frustrating as it may be to work in silence and give the most awkward looks when they do have to trade words, having a disgruntled partner is absolutely preferable to struggling through it all alone. On days like these, it’s especially important. There should be about five new steeds in the stable, and Professor Eisner has already told her it’s top priority to make sure they’re groomed and fed and properly inspected. Leonie expects a long day ahead of them.
She doesn’t expect to see Dorothea there early, and she certainly doesn’t expect to see her pressed against the tack room door by the student from the other day.
The moment Leonie sees their lips locked together, she feels the embarrassment set in. The hunter immediately backtracks, diving behind the sliding stable door and praying to the Goddess that her awkward intrusion has gone unnoticed. Her cheeks burn much too hot, and she’s just about to take off entirely when Dorothea’s voice meets her ears.
“Look, I’m not...I’m not feeling too well today. Let’s go ahead and save some of this for later, yeah?”
Leonie hears their classmate huff in frustration, and the sound of his boots scraping against the floor tells her that the songstress has put space between them. “That’s what you’ve said the last three times, Dorothea. I’ve got a whole thirty minutes before my next class. We don’t even have to rush.”
“No. I mean it.”
“C’mon. We’ve been doing this over and over for a whole month, now. Am I not good enough or something?”
“I said no, Oscar.”
There’s a pause, then a scoff. “Should’ve known everybody was right about you.”
The silence between them is rattling. Leonie thinks of her confrontation with the songstress from the week before, and can picture the way the curve of Dorothea’s jaw is probably tightening. “Excuse me?”
“I said I should’ve listened to my friends when they told me you were nothing but a damn tease looking to take my money. Even Mittelfrank couldn’t get rid of all your street habits. After all, what else can you expect from a greedy opera whore—”
“Piss off,” Dorothea snaps, a bite to her voice that Leonie’s sure she’s never heard before. The songstress must notice it, too, because her words are much more level when she continues, “I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but insults aren’t doing you any favors.”
“Watch your tone with me. My father could have you in a jail cell by morning if he heard how you’re talking to his heir.”
Leonie feels her own shoulders tighten at the threat. She knows this isn’t her fight. She knows Dorothea wouldn’t want her help, and could likely solve it all on her own. She knows getting involved could very easily put her in trouble in a number of ways as a common student facing a noble.
She also knows that his threat makes her own blood boil, and so she finally steps into the doorway to watch.
Dorothea isn’t particularly doing anything to deescalate the situation. She stands across from him in a stance desperately trying her best to hide her anger, and her best is quite a poor effort. Her arms are crossed over her chest, fingers gripping each bicep so hard that her knuckles have turned entirely white. “How remarkably brave of you, threatening a little girl with your daddy’s titles. Very original.”
The noble’s furious, at this point. If Leonie weren’t afraid that he’d strike at any minute, she’d find the way his face has turned all red and puffy quite funny. “Goddess, you’re so spoiled. Mittelfrank really made you think you’re something, huh?”
“You think I’m spoiled?” Dorothea seethes, and the anger and frustration she radiates is almost frightening. The restraint she knew the other day is gone. The words now tumble out of her mouth in a strained shout. “Like I didn’t spend half my life drinking out of a damn gutter!”
“Hey.”
Both Dorothea and the noble glance up from their spat, wide-eyed at the interruption. Leonie crosses her arms, and though she initially flexes them to strike fear into the young noble she very quickly realizes that her whole body is tense with anger, too. “It’s time to groom the horses. If you’re not here for that purpose and that purpose only, I suggest you leave.”
The noble wrinkles his nose at her, and for a moment it looks like he might just turn his scorn from one commoner to another. He steps away from Dorothea, looking Leonie up and down like he’s sizing her up in a number of different ways. She glowers in return, and the tone of her voice drops dangerously as she offers, “Unless you’d like me to escort you?”
The student looks like he’s on the brink of arguing, but ultimately shrinks under the way Leonie looks at him. He huffs, brushing himself off like just being in the stable has left him filthy, and starts towards the door. “Don’t try to talk to me again,” he calls over his shoulder. He doesn’t even bother to give Dorothea a second look as he disappears into the courtyard. “This is over.”
Leonie lets out a sigh of relief as soon as he’s out of earshot. Though she would’ve loved to have an excuse to rearrange some noble teeth, she also knows said excuse would never hold up against an angry Seteth looking to dole out punishment. She makes her way into the stable at last, making sure to give as best a smile she can as Dorothea finally wrenches her gaze from the floor below.
Oh. She’s crying. The shock on Leonie’s face must register quickly with the songstress, too, because she immediately looks away once more and starts to make a break for the exit.
“Hey, wait—” Leonie grabs her by the arm and feels her heart sink at the way Dorothea flinches in response, a hand raised to shield her face. She lets her go immediately, stepping away before she tries again, softer. “Wait.”
Dorothea refuses to look at her, but the way her cheeks glisten in the dim lighting of the stable still give her away. She wipes at her eyes and nose with the back of her arm a few times, her free hand balled into a fist and still shaking from the encounter. She doesn’t leave, though. She doesn’t ignore Leonie anymore, either. “I didn’t need your help. He wouldn’t have been able to hurt me.”
Leone rubs at the back of her neck, awkward now that they’re finally speaking again after days and days of petty silence. “I’m sure you could handle him. I just didn’t want you two scaring the horses,” she says, the excuse flimsy even to her own ears.
“Sure,” Dorothea mutters, and silence falls over them yet again.
Leonie knows they’re not on good terms. She knows Dorothea doesn’t want her pity, or perhaps even her attention at all. But she also knows that Dorothea is not a weak person, and seeing her shaken to the core over a nobleman’s words puts a pang of sympathy in Leonie’s chest. “I know we’re not exactly the closest of friends,” she says at last, shifting from foot to foot as she struggles to find the right words. “But nobody deserves to be treated like that. And no ass of a noble should be able to get away with it, either.”
The songstress turns her head ever so slightly, emerald eyes glancing over her shoulder to look at her partner. Leonie tries her best to radiate sincerity, hoping to the Goddess her soft grin isn’t mistaken as a grimace. Dorothea’s posture relaxes slightly, and she takes the hat from her head to wring in her hands as she admits, “I knew people would figure out I was an orphan while I was here, I just didn’t think it’d happen so quickly . Stupid rumor spread like wildfire.”
An orphan. Leonie does everything in her power to not look as surprised as she feels. “Ah, so that’s what he meant,” she murmurs, scratching her head and feeling like a bit of an ass for their entire week of petty antics now that more of the truth is coming out.
Dorothea nods, mute.
“Do you want to talk about it, maybe?” Leonie offers, flopping down onto the hay bale behind them. Dorothea gives her a baffled look, as if that’s the first time anyone has asked as much, and Leonie eagerly pats the spot beside her. “Not the best at dealing out advice, but I am a pretty good listener. I think.”
For a moment, Leonie’s convinced the songstress is going to laugh, throw an insult her way, and leave her to do all the grooming for the rest of their stable duty. That’s certainly what she’d expect from the diva she had first been paired up with. The girl before her now, though, is almost an entirely different person. She’s vulnerable, she’s open, she’s bare, and Leonie’s slowly realizing that there’s quite a bit more to her than meets the eye.
“Yeah, actually,” Dorothea says, wiping at her eyes again. She finally sits down, though, and there’s a bit of a sad smile on her face when she begins, “Would you believe me if I told you Mittelfrank was my fourth home as a kid?”
Leonie’s almost always up before the sun breaks over the horizon. It’s a holdover from her time in Sauin, when her father would take her into the woods in the early hours of the morning to roam their hunting grounds. At Garreg Mach, she tries to make good use of the old habit she can’t quite quit. She has a solid routine that she carries out this morning: strength drills in the training yard, a run around the monastery, a quick rinse before she heads for the morning feed, and…
...thinking about Dorothea?
Though it’s definitely not part of the usual morning plan, she’s found herself thinking about Dorothea’s story nearly every time they’re together. She’s imagined the pains of hunger Dorothea felt on the street, and the frustration of seeing a noble look down their nose at her in the opera. They're easy to picture because she’s felt them, too. Perhaps not on the scale of the grand Adrestian capital, but even a tiny little hunting village like Sauin couldn’t escape the clutches of classism and noble politics.
Perhaps they come from very different lifestyles, but Leonie can’t deny that she’s grown closer and closer to Dorothea after their talk. She feels for Dorothea in a number of different ways, some clear and some still a bit muddled. Their conversations have become open and honest, in a way Leonie never expected to find at Garreg Mach. It’s something she treasures, and stable duty days like today have become something that she looks forward to. Time with Dorothea has become something to look forward to, to be more exact.
When she pushes through the open stable door, she’s surprised yet again. Dorothea’s already there, this time standing in the stall with one of the geldings that arrived at Garreg Mach earlier in the week. Leonie clears her throat to make her presence known, offering a quick wave when Dorothea whirls around in surprise. “Oh! It’s you.”
“Yep, just me,” Leonie says with a nod, dropping her satchel off on the nearest hay bale and making a smooth little vault over the stall door that she’s quite proud of. “What are you doing here so early? They don’t need to be fed for another few hours.”
“I was—” Dorothea pauses, turning to face her work. She purses her lips, and for a moment Leonie thinks she might try and deflect the topic entirely. But the air has changed between them, and for once she’s just plain honest. “I was trying to figure out how to put a saddle on.”
“For Roz’s sake,” Leonie says, gesturing to the steed between them, “I think you might want some help with that.”
“Yeah,” Dorothea admits, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“What’s with the sudden curiosity?” Leonie shifts the saddle further up onto the gelding’s back, making sure the pad underneath is secure before she works on tightening the girth. Dorothea crosses under Roz’s neck, studying her partner’s every move. Leonie can’t imagine not knowing how to saddle a horse. It seems relatively simple, but the weight of Dorothea’s emerald gaze slows her down just enough so the songstress can keep up.
“Professor Byleth told me they were thinking about having me on horseback for the next mission.” Dorothea strokes Roz's neck appreciatively, a bit of a pout on her face as she does so. “I don’t know how they think a mage on horseback is going to help, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Knowing how to ride is always a helpful skill. Back home, you couldn’t get to five years old without being in the saddle at least once.” Leonie does her best to be encouraging as she works, pulling the girth even tighter and patting Roz on the shoulder when he doesn’t bat an eye. “I think it’d be really good for you to learn. Maybe the Professor is thinking about making you into one of those big armored Dark Knights, or something. And it does beat marching all the time, of course.”
Dorothea snickers, quite obviously not too fond of their treks across the countryside for class missions. “Mm, now you’re talking. I thought my feet were gonna just fall off with my boots after the last march.”
Leonie feels the grin on her face widen, though she decides not to take the cheap shot at how she could tell as much from Dorothea’s complaining the whole way there. The hunter nudges the saddle back and forth to make sure it’s secure before she moves on to the bridle. “I could help you out, you know.”
“What?”
“With learning how to ride. I was mentored by the Blade Breaker, after all.”
“You don’t have to bother, really.”
Leonie can’t deny that she feels a bit hurt, at that. She shifts her weight onto one foot, then the other. It takes her a second to find her words, and then another to find the bridle hidden in the corner of the stall. “Look, Dorothea,” she says, grabbing up the tack and slinging the reins over Roz’s neck,“If you’re still uncomfortable around me, I get it—”
“I’m not,” the songstress blurts out quickly, her little facade cracking a bit with worry. She’s back to normal in an instant, though.
Leonie glances back as discreetly as possible, watching Dorothea out of the corner of her eye as she works. “Even if you were, my point is that the only other person who could give you riding lessons in the Golden Deer is our good ol’ friend Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.” Leonie pauses to puff her chest out as she says his name, imitating his voice as best she can and sticking her nose to the sky. She almost feels giddy when she hears Dorothea giggle in response.
Roz nudges Leonie hard enough to pull her attention back to the steed, though she’s very aware of the songstress’s gaze still fixed to her shoulder blades. Dorothea hums thoughtfully, considering. “What’s in it for you, then?”
“Getting to spend more time with you,” Leonie says, short and simple. Another quick glance over her shoulder and she finds the songstress speechless, looking back at her in utter confusion. It’s a cute expression on her, Leonie thinks. Leonie also nearly loses a finger while putting the bit in Roz’s mouth because of the distraction.
“I like you, Dorothea,” she says again when she’s gotten all the buckles of the bridle fastened and finally turned to face her partner in full. “You’re fun to talk to, and you can’t stand nobles. Those two facts alone make me want to get to know you more.”
“Well,” Dorothea says, a bright and genuine glimmer in her eye that Leonie isn’t quite sure she’s seen from the songstress before, “when you put it that way, I suppose I can’t refuse.”
“Is this...right?” Dorothea mutters, mostly to herself. But Leonie’s ears are sharp, and the moment she overhears she’s back at the songstress’s side.
“Should be, but I can always double-check.” It’s their first riding lesson together since Dorothea’s ill-fated attempts at saddling Roz, and Leonie’s been all too eager to help out. It strikes Dorothea as odd, considering how they were at each other’s throat only a week before. But Leonie has lapsed into an easy familiarity with her, enough so that she even runs her hand along the songstress’s calf as she moves to adjust her stirrups. The hunter’s brow raises at the way Dorothea jumps in response. “Ticklish or something?”
“Not really,” Dorothea says quickly, unwilling to admit that the way Leonie touches her brings a flush to her cheeks. She decides instead to move the conversation along as best she can. “You really do know a lot about this, huh?”
“Well considering I had the best horseman in Sauin and the best mercenary in all Fódlan as my teachers, I would hope that I do.” Leonie slides the stirrup out to check where it’s set, and nods approvingly. She takes Dorothea by the leg again, squeezing for good measure as she slips her foot back in the stirrup. “Like I said, I’ve been riding a horse since I was five. It takes a bit of practice and a bit of muscle-building, but I think you can get there.”
“Muscle building?” Dorothea pouts. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the athletic type.”
“Well now’s the time to start, then!” Leonie pats the outside of her own thigh, for emphasis. “If I didn’t have these, I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to stay on my mare for more than a minute to properly train her.”
“That’s on an untrained horse, though. Roz wouldn’t buck me off, would he?”
Leonie laughs, running her hand up and down the black gelding’s neck affectionately. “Probably not, but there’s nothing to say that you won’t lose your balance going over a jump or making a sharp turn. Roz may not be a green horse, but you’re most definitely a green rider.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Dorothea sighs, trying her best to sit deeper in her saddle and taking the reins in a death grip. “I feel safer already.”
“Falling off won’t kill you, I promise.” Leonie lays one hand on her knee in reassurance, giving her a thumbs up with the other. “If you’re that worried, you could always build up some leg muscle on runs with me around the monastery.”
Dorothea scrunches her nose in distaste, despite the way her cheeks are reddening by the second. “Absolutely not. If the alternative is running at godawful hours of the morning, I think I’ll just take my chances with falling off.”
Their lessons yield results at a slow but steady rate. Dorothea is no natural at riding, that much is evident. She still works at it as best she can, and after a few times of losing her balance she caves to Leonie’s offers to help build stamina. Thankfully, it’s usually in the form of trail rides through the woods as opposed to runs around the monastery.
Their endurance rides are long, much longer than Dorothea would ever be willing to go on her own. But there’s something wonderful about watching the way Leonie’s suddenly at ease the second they set foot in the forest. Dorothea watches it every time, eyes glued to her partner’s back as her muscled shoulders lose a tension she never realized the hunter had been holding.
It’s encouraging. It’s reassuring.
It’s somewhat…alluring?
Dorothea tries not to dwell on the last sentiment too much, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t come to mind quite often lately. Leonie is no noble dressed in Enbarr finery, but the air she exudes is striking just the same. Where Dorothea had once thought her brash, she now sees unrivaled confidence. Where Dorothea had once thought her pushy, she now sees a work ethic for the ages.
Every time she looks up at Leonie, galloping ahead of her through the woods and yelling into the wind the faster they go, Dorothea feels something stir in her chest. Seeing her out in her element, free from the overbearing eyes of nobles and instructors and clergy, is breathtaking. Being able to talk with her, commoner-to-commoner and without need to mince words, is comforting. She feels at ease with Leonie, and she feels like she’s finally found someone who understands the weight she bears on her shoulders day after day.
So naturally, she beats back that feeling. Dorothea locks it away as best she can and spends her time away from the stables with her more well-to-do classmates. Oscar is out of the picture, but only because she swears Leonie has done something to scare him shitless in the meantime. She’s not sorry for the loss, but she does everything she can not to think about a certain orange-haired hunter while she’s with other nobles of his caliber. Dorothea tries even harder to ignore the feelings that burn in her during stable duty and riding lessons.
Now, though, she has plenty of time to reflect on those feelings. Leonie’s chest presses into Dorothea’s back as they ride double on Roz through the Garreg Mach forests. They’re farther in than they’ve ever gone before, and the songstress has had her fair share of time to think over the way she feels with Leonie’s arms wrapped around her waist.
They’re at a trot when her partner tells her to slow down for some more instruction. “You’ve gotta loosen up your reins. Let him have his face.” Leonie takes Dorothea’s hands in hers, breaking her grip and sliding the reins further and further down until she’s satisfied.
“Thanks,” Dorothea murmurs, glad that Leonie’s behind her if only so she doesn’t see the way the songstress’s face has been beet red the entire time. Time for a subject change, before her mind wanders any more than it already has been. “You know I’ve never really been around this part of the monastery? It’s gorgeous.”
“If you think this is pretty, you should visit Sauin sometime.” Now that they’re at a walk again, Leonie takes the opportunity to lean back and plant her hands on Roz’s hindquarters. She glances up at the balcony of trees above them, sunlight streaming through to litter the trail in specks. “It’s a bit of a tiny place, but it’s absolutely beautiful out there. There’s a valley just around the nearest mountain where the prettiest flowers grow.”
“You sound like you miss it.”
She sees Leonie shrug out of the corner of her eye. “I do and I don’t. I’m just glad I got the opportunity to leave on my own accord. It’s not a horrible village, but sometimes it can really trap you when the money gets tight. I’m lucky they came together to get me to Garreg Mach.” Leonie’s reminiscing has her silent for a few moments, and it gives Dorothea the opportunity to let her words sink in before she continues, “Maybe one day I can go back and help make it better. Give back what they invested in me, you know?”
“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Dorothea sighs as her mind wanders straight to the opera. Perhaps not a one-for-one comparison, but she certainly understands the difficulty of leaving a family that’s poured so much into you. “Seems like you had to work pretty hard to get here.”
“You say that like you didn’t.”
Dorothea gives a half-hearted laugh, thinking grimly of her fraternization with the noble who paid her way. It’s certainly not one of her best memories, and she would never, ever consider it something as diligent as “working hard”. Leonie’s never once shamed her for it, though, especially after the time Dorothea spilled her life story to her partner. The fact that she doesn’t do so now makes Dorothea guilty and happy all at once, so she just settles for another quick transition. “I suppose. Money really does make the world go ‘round, huh?”
“Yeah. It really sucks,” Leonie mutters under her breath, almost to the point where Dorothea can’t quite hear. She huffs loudly at the thought, all too aware of how true it is. “I just don’t think anyone should have to worry about whether they have the money to do what they love in life, y’know?
“If you keep up this talk, you’re going to make an absolutely horrible mercenary.”
Leonie laughs at the jab. “Maybe you’re right,” she admits, leaning forward again so that her breath unintentionally tickles Dorothea’s neck. “Well, a bit right and a bit wrong, I guess. I probably sound naive for saying this but… at the end of the day being a merc is about protecting people. Whether that’s nobles when they pay me to guard their estate, a family when they can only afford to give me a gold coin to keep their convoy safe, or the kids back in Sauin when I give them the money I’ve earned for school books, I’m happy.”
Dorothea chuckles, though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find the sentiment oddly romantic. “Sap.”
That jab earns a playful punch on the shoulder from her partner. “What, me being a dashing hero who takes from the rich and gives to the poor isn’t operatic enough for you?”
Dorothea dares to glance over her shoulder, smirking at the hunter. “Your show would last one night in Enbarr before the Prime Minister had it banned from the stage for violence against the nobility,” she asserts, feeling a tinge of pride when she sees pink dusting Leonie’s cheeks at how close they are. At least she’s not the only one that’s easily embarrassed.
“Sounds like a bunch of stiffs, to me,” Leonie snarks, crossing her arms over her chest.
Dorothea scoffs, turning back around to face the trail ahead of them. “Oh, you have no idea.”
They ride in silence for a little while after that, and Dorothea can’t tell if it’s because they’ve truly run the conversation out or because they’re both thoroughly red-faced from the proximity. The hunter is the first of the two to finally speak up again and move the lesson along. “Well, enough of that. Can’t go knocking nobles off their high horses when you can’t stay on your own, huh?” She can feel Leonie’s little chuckle on her neck, and the hunter carefully puts her hands back on Dorothea’s hips once more. “Let’s try a canter.”
The day she’s finally able to knock Leonie off her horse comes as a surprise to both of them.
Their training regimen starts early in the morning (much to Dorothea’s displeasure), and the dew covers their boots in sand as they lead their mounts across the training grounds. They’ve been doing this for a few months, now, and the process has become as familiar to Dorothea as opera practice had been. Gear up, mount up, and get to work.
It takes a warm-up laps around the ring before she feels Roz really start to relax against her legs. Dorothea gives him a pat for good measure, drawing the wooden practice sword from the belt on her waist and swinging it once or twice experimentally. She meets Leonie’s eyes from across the ring and immediately wishes she hadn’t.
The hunter is shooting her the most devilish grin she’s ever seen. Dorothea’s learned very quickly over their sessions together that her partner has a hell of a competitive streak, and she instantly knows she’s triggered it by drawing her weapon. “So that’s what you want to work on today, huh?”
“Not everything has to be a challenge, Leo.”
Leonie shrugs. “If you say so. I should’ve figured you’d be too scared after I knocked you off the other day.”
Dorothea knows it’s bait. She takes it nonetheless. “That was one time, and you cheated,” she points out, shifting in her stirrups at the painful memory. “You can’t expect me to stay on when you’ve loosened the girth on my saddle.”
“Situational awareness is a big deal, you know. Always double-check your tack before mounting up.” Leonie winks at her, a shit-eating grin in place that can’t be swayed.
“I’m sure you’d be singing a very different tune if you were the one lying flat on your back,” Dorothea calls to her as the hunter takes her steed to the other side of the training grounds.
“Then make me a songstress, why don’t you?” Leonie fires back over her shoulder.
Dorothea knows it’s probably a mistake to be a hothead, in this situation. She’s never been able to best Leonie in a fight so far, and there’s nothing to suggest she’d be able to do so now. That doesn’t change the way she feels her face heat in embarrassment at the banter. She locks eyes with Leonie from across the yard once again, feeling the oddest mix of frustration in her chest as the cocky little hunter keeps up her grin.
“Fine. You’re on, Leo.”
Leonie draws her own weapon in a flourish, and Dorothea rolls her eyes in response. The hunter urges her steed, a red roan mare named Roach, forward at a canter, and the space between them closes at a frightening pace. Dorothea grips her sword and turns Roz to face the pair, shoulders tight and form strong.
Normally, the first hit would be the one that would send Dorothea into a spiral she would never recover from. This time, she’s ready. Leonie’s swing holds nothing back, but the arc of her sword only meets air when Dorothea has Roz suddenly whirl in the other direction. The songstress keeps a firm pressure with her leg, and the next strike whistles dangerously close to Dorothea’s shoulder. The third is nowhere nearby, and Dorothea knows that Leonie’s given too much energy to her opening blows.
She feels a tinge of pride in her chest at being able to predict the situation at hand, and rounds Roz behind Leonie’s flank as quickly as possible. She tries a strike to the back, but Leonie isn’t helpless just yet. The hunter twists expertly to block, having Roach skitter to the side to put space between them both.
Dorothea knows if she lets her opponent slip away now, she’ll quickly become the one running out of energy. Leonie’s smart enough to shift to a strategy of dancing just out of reach, and Dorothea can’t afford to let the hunter wear her down in return. She uses her leg to turn Roz’s shoulder directly into Roach’s, and snags Leonie’s free hand in her own.
And then, she lets loose the spell.
Leonie yelps in surprise as the shock travels up her arm, and for a moment she’s left dazed as Dorothea releases her and turns Roz right back around. All it takes then is solid slap of the flat of Dorothea’s blade against her side and a heel to her shin to send her sprawling. Leonie tumbles to the ground in a spray of sand, the breath leaving her lungs as Roach takes off across the training grounds.
Dorothea’s chest heaves as she slides the sword back into its sheath on her hip. The grin that crosses her face is massive, and she leans forward to throw her arms around Roz’s neck in laughter. It’s only after she’s had a moment or two to celebrate with her mount that she finally decides to check on Leonie.
Despite her newfound prowess, Dorothea still dismounts with the slightest wobble. Her legs feel stiff from all the maneuvering, and she tries not to let her partner see the way she leans forward to get a stretch in her taut muscles. The victory won’t last long if Leonie starts laughing about how bow-legged she is at the moment.
Dorothea makes her way over to her groaning partner as best she can, crossing her arms in triumph. “Looks like you weren’t as sharp as you thought, huh?”
Leonie laughs when her breath finally comes back to her, propping herself up on her arms. “I guess not! Goddess, you really got me good,” she mutters as she feels around her side where the brunt of Dorothea’s blade had fallen.
“Luckily you’ve got an exam-certified mage at your service. If it really hurts that bad, a quick healing spell should fix you up in no time.” Dorothea leans downward, offering her friend an outstretched hand. “Here, let me help.”
“Well, if you insist,” Leonie sighs, reaching out to grab at the songstress’s forearm. It’s a bit harder than Dorothea would like to admit to haul her up, but she manages to do so nonetheless.
They pause there for a moment, staring at each other and both refusing to be the first to pull away. Dorothea doesn’t have very many chances to see Leonie up close, with all their training being done from horseback. She’s actually quite handsome, the songstress realizes. Good thing Dorothea’s become quite well-practiced in not blushing like a lovestruck fool. She simply just gapes like one.
It’s Leonie that finally drives the conversation forwards, switching their grip into a handshake in one smooth movement. “Good job. You’ve officially knocked the best horseman at Garreg Mach off her game.”
Dorothea hesitates for a moment, strangely enough. It’s not often that she finds herself at a loss for words, and especially at a loss for compliments. Normally, this would be the part where she offers a flirty remark or perhaps even an innuendo, if she’s feeling bold enough. It would be the hook, line, and sinker to getting a first date with any ordinary student; a time-honored formula for success.
Leonie’s no ordinary student, though. She’s not a noble, and she’s hardly even got any money to her name. She’s probably the furthest from a proper marriage prospect that Dorothea could get. Dorothea Arnault would be a fool to entertain anyone who’s not a proper suitor.
So why does she still swoon over Leonie anyways?
“I’m sure it’s a feat they’ll sing about for ages,” Dorothea manages with a good-natured roll of her eyes. Leonie grins back at her.
It’s the smile, Dorothea decides. Or maybe the way the muscles of the hunter’s arm flex against her sleeve with each eager handshake. Maybe it’s even the way Dorothea feels herself preening on the praise and attention Leonie gives her, specifically praise received without ever having to sing a sweet note or flash a sultry look. Alright, maybe it’s quite a bit more beyond all that, Dorothea realizes. But the way Leonie’s smiling at her is what really sends her heart beating like crazy in her chest. So forward, so genuine, so proud.
Dorothea leans down ever so slightly to bridge the space between them, her free hand sliding against one side of Leonie’s jaw and her lips planting a quick kiss on the other. She feels like she’s won in more ways than one today when she finds the hunter dumbfounded upon pulling away. “Thanks for being such a good teacher. Couldn’t have done it without you.” Dorothea can’t help but giggle at the way her friend’s eyebrows simply raise in response, bewildered. She winks to drive it all home. “Better go catch your horse, huh?”
For all her surprise, Leonie straightens immediately at the realization. A curse tumbles from her lips when a quick glance around the ring reveals Roach is nowhere to be found, and she sprints off quick as lightning. It’s funny, though; even her hurried exit can’t hide the way every piece of skin from her shoulders to her cheeks is now flushed deep, deep red.
“You were really something today,” Leonie says on their walk back to the stables. “Maybe you should start looking for money in mercenary work?”
Dorothea laughs aloud at the thought. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for the mercenary life, Leo,” she admits with a wave of her hand. “If it was with you, though, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”
Leonie gives a lopsided grin, turning her eyes back to the road ahead. “Come on, don’t get my hopes up. It’d be fun working with you.”
Dorothea chuckles again, but the thought most certainly sticks in her mind as they walk. It’s probably all just banter, but there’s something that stirs within her thinking about life on the road. She trades Roz’s reins to her other hand, stepping closer to nudge Leonie’s shoulder playfully. “Would you take me all across Fodlan?”
There’s no hesitation when Leonie answers, “If you wanted.”
Dorothea studies Leonie’s face carefully when she’s sure the hunter isn’t looking. She leans into her again, sighing dramatically and pushing it all further. “Take care of me ‘till I’m old and gray?”
“I guess I could, but I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Leonie finally glances over at her, raising an eyebrow at the songstress. She steps away, but only long enough to give her a soft punch on the arm in encouragement. “You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself, you know.”
Dorothea pauses, considering. It’s a sentiment she’s never heard from anyone before, and it’s something that makes her stop dead in her tracks. She’s always believed that her path at Garreg Mach has depended on her brushing elbows with all the right people at all the right times. She’s known that her life practically depends on finding that one young man who will sweep her off her feet and take care of her for the rest of her days.
And here Leonie is throwing that all into a spiral. Leonie, with the way her eyes crinkle at the side when she smiles. Leonie, with her bluntness and her bravery and her confidence. Leonie, with hands that will knock Dorothea off her horse just as quick as they’ll be there to help her back up.
Leonie, when she tells Dorothea she’s worth something. When she believes in her.
“Hey...Leonie?”
The hunter perks up at the sound of her full name, and stops walking to turn to her partner in full. “Yeah?”
Dorothea feels her breath catch in her throat when their eyes meet, and her mouth suddenly seems dry when she goes to speak. She’s fairly sure of how she feels, and all the while terrified to act on it. “Come here. I want to try something.”
Leonie steps closer, and Dorothea starts by laying a hand on her shoulder. The hunter cocks an eyebrow back at her, confused. It takes all the courage Dorothea can muster to put herself back into the position she found herself in only an hour ago, her hand trailing along Leonie’s jaw until her fingertips brush against the trimmed hair around her ears.
And then, Dorothea pulls her in for the kiss.
It’s a chaste thing, at first. Dorothea hardly ever finds herself being the instigator in things like this, and she’s certainly never found herself doing it with another girl. She pulls back once she’s had her fill, but Leonie’s already chasing. Dorothea meets her again, sliding her hand against the back of Leonie’s cropped hair and smiling into her eager kiss.
Leonie’s a bit awkward, but she certainly tries to be suave. The hunter’s hand fumbles about before she finally finds Dorothea’s hips, and even then her touch is light as a feather. The step forward she takes to keep closing the space between them is strangely hesitant for as confident as she usually is on horseback. Dorothea slides a hand over Leonie’s forearm, urging her closer and squeezing gently in reassurance. The hunter complies. Her arms fit snugly around Dorothea’s waist, fingertips pressed against the small of the songstress’s back to keep her steady as Leonie leans further and further into a third, fervent kiss.
She does break for air, eventually. Dorothea’s disappointed and relieved all at once because of it, but a quick glimpse of amber eyes staring back at her strikes down any negative feelings in an instant. Leonie’s dashing, even while breathing hard and rosy-cheeked. “Thoughts?” the songstress asks, already kicking herself for what seems like the sorriest post-kiss line she’s ever given.
Leonie laughs, shrill and breathy. “If this is the reward for giving you lessons, maybe we should tack up more often.” It’s the last thing she says for a while as they both lean in for more.