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Petra had found her way into one of the rooms at the Cession Marshal’s place, desperately needing to take a moment for herself before heading back to base. She let out a long shaky breath.
Goddess, this was torture.
She felt the ghost of Abigail’s arms from that goodbye hug and already wanted to run right back to her. If she had it her way she’d stay in that embrace forever. The fact that it was Yule made it all the more difficult to keep her emotions in check.
There were times before when Petra hadn’t seen Abigail during a holiday because of army business and the regret was settling in strong. She worked so hard to earn all these titles and loved her the only way she knew how; by raising her in a way she thought would make her the best soldier, but none of that mattered now.
Who is the daughter of the Mistress of Blasters to civilians who hate all of witchkind? She could pull strings to get her into war college, but this? This was out of her control. The only thing she could do was hold onto the idea that she wouldn’t have to wait much longer before she could bring Abigail home.
At least, that’s what she says to soothe herself. She doesn’t know for sure when it’ll finally be safe to do so.
Deciding it was useless to try and compose herself here when what she truly needed was some fresh air, she turned to leave only to be stopped by the sight of liquor on the wooden table near her. A bottle of half empty whiskey with two crystal tumbler glasses set beside it.
Alder. She’s back.
Those words sent a shock through her system that she could still feel. Abigail had mentioned her not wanting her position back but truth was that was the last thing going through Petra’s mind. She wasn’t lying to Anacostia when she said she missed Alder. To everyone else, they may have had a purely stormy relationship but it was far more complicated than that.
Like many witches, she grew up in awe of her. However, unlike many witches, she had a mother who was so close to Alder that the pedestal was gradually chipped at before she even answered the call. Still, Alder’s speech on the very first day left Petra so incredibly enamoured.
You are the daughters of ancient lines. You are called to greatness.
Alder had said this with such power she felt it in her core. It was exhilarating just being in her presence. She remembered the first time she met Anacostia, who hadn’t even reached her teens yet but was already itching to learn things far too advanced for her. Seeing the way Alder spoke to her, in such a tender tone, tugged at her heart in a way she didn’t understand at the time.
How could her mother possibly be right?
As Petra rose in rank, getting closer and closer to Alder, Minerva’s words would get louder and louder in her head. She’d seen the softness, the resilience but she’d also seen the arrogance, the kind that comes from someone whose centuries of experience shielded them from believing anyone else could conceivably know better.
The growing distrust between them had her feeling frustrated; the pressure from her mother wanting her to be at the top had her feeling suffocated. Fissures that barely held up that pedestal ripped through it entirely, and it crumbled in on itself.
She didn’t know when Alder stopped trusting her, or if she ever did to begin with. Maybe she always knew that Minerva had raised Petra as a weapon against her. When she caught wind about the Spree infiltrating the base, and how Alder was keeping her in the dark about it, she took the chance. And failed. But the transgressions just kept coming.
There’d been a picture forming in Petra’s mind. One that may or may not have been false: Alder disregarding rules so blatantly and puppetting the president; finding out she hid the identity of the leader of the Spree despite this war killing so many of both witches and civilians alike; Alder continuously asking them to stand down as Abigail was targeted over and over by the Camarilla. Each on its own could mean one thing or another but all of these pieces together felt like their security had been compromised in the worst way possible. It was even more necessary to usurp her position this time. It wasn’t just because it was what her mother expected her to do.
And yet, even then, she cared for her. She never hated her, just assumed she’d lost her way. And she never thought that she’d be taken away so violently and so soon.
As a soldier, she’s lost many people in her lifetime but this one… this loss tore open such an onslaught of emotions she wasn’t sure when she’d ever be done sifting through them.
Petra was pulled out of her reverie when she noticed through the corner of her eye shadows moving and moulding. She immediately went on high alert, tensing, and ready to use any Work if necessary.
But a familiar voice melted her defences completely.
“Hello, Petra.”
Across the room, as if her thoughts had conjured her up from thin air stood Sarah Alder in all her glory. She seemed calm in her demeanour but when they locked eyes, there was a flicker of something she couldn’t decipher.
Alder had traded in her blues for earthy tones in a set of shirt, pants and a lengthy coat. Her hair cascaded down past her chest, several strands with whitened tips that would’ve had Petra raising an eyebrow if she wasn’t so shocked to see her right then.
“Sarah,” she breathed out, taking a few steps towards her. “Abigail told me you were back.”
Alder shrugged and gave her an amused look. “I suppose it wasn’t my time, yet.”
Petra couldn’t stop staring, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d had butterflies like this. Nervous wasn’t something she ever thought she’d feel around Alder. She’d always been able to hold her own, especially in the later years. But maybe thinking someone’s left this plane of existence only for them to return can do that to a person. To still be in the thick of mourning only for them to reappear as if they never died.
There were so many things she wanted to ask; so many things she wanted to tell her. Why didn’t you trust me with the truth? How did you do this for all these years? I wish I knew how complicated things were for you. I wish we could’ve truly confided in each other more. I’ve missed strategizing with you, I’ve missed just being in the same room as you, I’ve. missed. you .
But there wasn’t time for any of that, Petra had to return to base before her absence was known.
“Sarah, I—Oh,” Petra froze.
“Oh?” Alder raised her eyebrows.
Petra cleared her throat and gave a pointed look above her head. Alder followed her gaze up to the mistletoe hanging with a pretty red bow. When their eyes met again, she could feel her heart thundering against her chest.
If it were anyone else under there, if it was someone who Petra didn’t share a complex history with and who didn’t evoke an array of feelings throughout the entirety of it…there was no doubt she would have planted a kiss without hesitation. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Alder, and with everything that’s happened, she couldn’t help the momentary reluctance.
“Petra…if you do not wish to kiss me, there’s no need. There’s no one here but us. Not a soul will even know you ignored such an important tradition as this,” Alder teased as she gestures to the offending plant. “Well, two souls would know.”
Seeing how smug she was at her hesitation had Petra huffing out a breath in annoyance. Even so… having not seen her in person for so long had her aching to just touch her again. The way her face softened after that playful jab made it all the more difficult to resist. She didn’t realize how much she missed the jousting they’d always found themselves in.
Truth was, though Petra genuinely believed she could ignore Alder’s gravitational pull, eventually she'd be at its mercy much like the planets are to the Sun’s.
And so she surged forward, closing the distance between them swiftly. The momentum caused Alder to take a step back but the initial shock dissipated in milliseconds; she responded in kind, her hand finding its way to Petra’s hair.
Alder’s lips were stirring a storm in her heart. She ran her other hand down Petra’s arm and even through the fabric her touch was lightning, igniting a spark within she’d never realized was there. It was all so disorienting and yet, Petra found clarity in the crevices of Alder’s mouth, their entire dichotomous relationship spread so clearly in front of her.
She cared for her. Alder smiled against her lips.
She missed her. Petra pulled her impossibly close.
She loved her. She deepened the kiss.
When they finally parted, Petra blinked her eyes open, brown meeting blue. Alder’s thumb caressed her jaw and she forgot the world for a few moments. Just a few, as she embraced her born-again hero…friend…rival… (almost lover).
When the haze lifted she remembered she had to return to Fort Salem. But for the third time that day, she didn’t want to let go.
Before Petra even realized it her vision was getting blurry. She felt Alder’s eyes studying her face for a few moments, eyes that had become just as teary as her own. When she spoke it was soft, with genuine curiosity: “How long have you wanted that?”
“Longer than I ever realized,” she brought a hand up to stroke Alders cheek, “you?”
“Hmm…me as well,” she replied with a tilt of her head, a smile playing on her lips, “longer than you ever realized.”
Petra's eyebrows rose, mouth opening slightly. Oh. Well that was not what she was expecting.
Alder let out a chuckle but then suddenly tensed. Petra mirrored her, quickly surveying the room from where they stood before bringing her attention back to Alder.
“What is it?” She asked.
“I have to go,” Alder said, her tone apologetic.
“Ah, yes. I must leave as well,” Petra sighed. “Fort Salem—there’s a lot that’s happened since...”
“I know but all will be well soon,” Alder said, “the world will heal and the war will be over before long.”
“I admire your optimism, Sarah.”
Alder took Petra’s face in her hands and leaned up to place a kiss on her forehead.
“We must trust the Mother,” she said as she pulled away. Petra tilted her head and narrowed her eyes a bit in confusion as Alder walked past her towards the door. She stood there for a moment trying to decipher what she meant but decided she wasn’t interested in the headache that would be brought on in the process.
When she turned around she found Alder had vanished just as quickly as she had appeared.