Chapter Text
Queen Petra of Brigid ruled with a wise mind, kind heart and an open hand. She was known through the land of Brigid and out to the neighbouring land of Fodlan to be kind, gracious and wise.
The Queen had grown up under the shadows of war, insurrection, the threat of invasion and assassination. These horrors did not harden her, but instead gave her the qualities of which she would be dearly remembered for.
She was also remembered as a woman who did not easily fall to the whims of a man. She had been courted by strong warriors, academics, foreign noblemen, and many people, but each suitor came a swift reply to their question. Some playfully regarded her as a woman of no loving heart, others remarked that her intelligence was not only battle-bound.
But alas, this story of her marriage, and it begins with a trip to the land of Fodlan. After her coronotation, Petra had vowed to keep a strong relationship with the Empire to ensure Brigid’s safety. She sailed for thirty days and thirty nights from her homeland to the nation of Adrestia, where she engaged the Emperor with political plans and forged a solid alliance.
The Emperor had given her a plush guest home, facing the sea. While Petra adored the view, it made her long for home. At night, when the manor had fallen asleep, she would gaze out the window in the nighttime heat and dream of home.
One night, amongst her dreaming and longing for Brigid, she noticed the bushes below her window bustle and move without the wind’s helping hand. She peered closer, honing her senses and using all her attention on the bush,
It brushed no more.
She tore her eyes from the plant, then looked up to the moon, returning to her longing of home. Then, as she turned from the window, the moon shaded and she turned back around. In the sill, green eyed wide and round was a thief.
Petra merely stared at him. She did not reach for a dagger, nor did she grope for something else. Her breath barely made a sound, her eyes focused on the man in the window. He quickly began to cast off, moving back down the side of the wall.
“Wait!” Petra called out in a hushed whisper.
“Wait?” The thief repeated back to her.
“What do you need?”
The thief had stopped, looked up at the queen and told the truth.
“I have a family to feed.” He confessed.
The queen raised a hand, her fingers adorned with Leicester jewels from suitors that she refused. She shucked off three and held out her hand to the thief.
“Take these, for your family.”
The thief eyed her hand. Then, swiftly, he swiped the rings from her palm.
“I’ll take my leave.”
The thief disappeared, quick as a shooting star down the side of the manor wall. Petra rushed to the window, looking on in wide-eyed wonder as the thief glanced back to her and deserted the property.
Now, typically, it is foolish to give a thief one’s goods. But Petra was wise of mind and steadfast in her heart. She knew that a good man would not steal unless he needed to. And she knew that the Empire and it’s ministers did not treat criminals kindly. But what the queen did not expect, was for the thief to return once more.
The following night, the thief scaled the walls of the manor again. He waited in the window as the queen held his gaze.
“Your eyes are that of a man lost,
Cold and hardened, like the winter frost.
Tell me, why do you steal?
Do you not have a master to which you kneel?”
The thief stared at the queen for a moment before sighing.
“It is not that I like to steal,
I do it with no zeal.
I take for the need of my sister and brother,
Though I wish I had a way, another.
Our parents are gone,
And leave me to this wretched con.”
Petra, heartened by his story, reached to her ears, plucking from them the expensive diamond earrings the local opera star had gifted her. She held them out to the thief.
“Take these, for your family.”
As he did before, the thief pocketed the earrings and nodded.
“I’ll take my leave.”
He slid out the window, and into the dark night, leaving the queen once more wide-eyed and breathless.
During the day, she pondered what Adrestia could do. When she spoke to the Emperor about such—disguising the thief as a beggar—she sympathized with the plight of the homeless and beggars in the street.
“But is there anything one can do?
The problems come in a slew.”
The queen sadly agreed. That night, Petra retired to her bed, later than normal. Slipping into her room, she realized she was not alone, and that the thief sat in her window. She met his green eyes, a sad smile cresting her face.
“You look sad my lady;
Why does that be?”
Petra, never one to shy from her feelings, told him:
“I am sad for you, thief.
I feel like I’m in a state of disbelief.
How can the Emperor not see
The struggling people before she?”
The thief sighed.
“Many look, but cannot see.” He explained.
Petra reached for his hand.
“Tell me what it is you need.”
The thief looked at her with wide eyes, and slowly let his hands curl around hers.
“Everything, I concede.
Money, food, goods and more,
And all that I once had before.”
Petra scoured her room for the wealthiest objects she could find. A tiara of class and crystal when she went to the Opera; shoes of the finest silks and tallest heel worn at a welcome ball; a fencing sword with a jewel-encrusted handle; and a white-lily brooch decorated with white-gold. She attempted to give these things to the thief, but he held up his hand.
“My lady, I can’t take these.
Not even if you beg and say please.”
“Please, please take them,
Please, thief, bend.”
The thief could not concede with her wish. The queen looked at him and then asked:
“Then let me take care of your troubles,
Before you let it double.
Take me as your wife,
And let me care for your life.”
The thief blushed a deep red.
“M-My lady, you don’t know me;
What if you don’t like what you see?”
“Ponder my question for a little longer,
And should it be yes, return from yonder.” Petra instructed him.
The thief could not say no. As he began to leave, Petra plucked a tiny violet from the array of wildflowers on her desk and knotted it into a ring. She reached for his hand, resting it in his palm. The thief turned bright red.
“Please, think of your family.” Petra begged of him.
The thief stared at her, pausing with a leg over the window sill, and met her gaze.
“I’ll take my leave.”
Petra spent the following days in restless agony. She looked for the green eyes of her thief in every man she passed. She fought the dummies in the garden below her chamber at dusk. She sat in her window, gazing at the moon and thinking of the thief who had stolen her heart. She slept in the day, in between political duties and noble chatter.
Days passed, turning into weeks and the queen began to lose hope. She wished to remain alone, to think and dream of her thief, her mind forming a whole story that brought him to this thievery life.
The Emperor noticed her despair, and prepared an audience with the local songstress, which had brightened Petra’s mood before. The ladies dressed in their finest clothes, boarded their carriage and proceeded to the Middlefrank Opera House.
The Queen and Emperor descended their carriage, upon a group of beggars at the door of the Opera House. The Marquis, the right hand to the Emperor began to have his guard dispose of the beggars and pedlars, but the Emperor waved him off. The Emperor, and the Queen, opened their coin purses to the needy, dropping gold and silver marks into their open palms.
Petra met the eyes of each person she paid, offering a small, comforting smile. As the doors to the Opera opened, she caught the green-eyed gaze of a little girl, so familiar yet she was sure she had never seen the girl before.
Then, a hand reached to pull the girl away and Petra met the eyes of her beloved thief. Her face burned bright red, as did his. He was quite a handsome fellow, without the mask and cloak, with silver-grey hair, a splash of freckles across his pink cheeks and those wide green eyes which belonged to her thief.
Neither said a word. But on his finger, she saw the violet she had turned into a ring, battered with work.
The Emperor touched her shoulder briefly. With only a wise glance, the Emperor nodded and slipped off into the Opera House. The thief and the queen stood quietly, not uttering a word, gazing at each other. The little girl glanced between them before Petra turned her attention to her.
“I see this is your sister,
Won’t you introduce me, mister?” She asked of the thief.
He introduced the two, then sent her off, fluttering away like a bird to a nearby fountain. The queen gazed at him.
“Sweet man, tell me your name.” She plead.
“It is my Ashe, my lady.” He confessed. They walked closer to the fountain, the water reflecting back the queen in purple satin and silk, and the thief in grey rags.
“What is your choice?
Tell me, with your sweet voice.” Petra whispered.
“My queen,
My living is lean.
I know not of nobility,
And I fear I lack the ability
To be amongst those above me.” He confessed, his face red.
Petra didn’t waver. “You have stolen the heart of a queen.
Your status does not matter,
And etiquette may only be a smatter.
Take me as your wife,
Otherwise, I see little point to life.”
The thief was heartened by her plea, and thus consented. Many objected to the marriage, finding it preposterous that a queen would marry a beggar. However, the Emperor praised the match, embracing the marriage of statuses. The people of Brigid welcomed Ashe as their new king, who was a just, noble and fair ruler. Their reign was marked with the bettering of quality of life for those less fortunate.