Chapter Text
The day Lysithea vanished, Dorothea woke up with a letter at her window.
She gets up and quickly dresses up, a simple white dress, seeing that it was quite early; the sun is barely rising in the horizon, but Dorothea figures out she won’t be able to go back to sleep again. Emotion and excitement make her fingers tickle as she puts the dress on, as she ties up her hair in a quickly crown braid. Then, once she is ready, she finally turns to pick the letter.
It must have arrived way earlier than by the time she woke up, which was certainly an achievement on its own, she had to recognize that. The letter still kept the perfume smell she had grown to recognize; instead of reading it, she just holds to it as she turns to leave her room.
The monastery halls have grown to be a place she knows by memory; though the emperor has made it a point to give her a comfortable room for herself in one of the towers, she is grateful her request to be kept close to the rest was heard. She likes walking around the library, seeing the workers organize papers and work through lost books of history. Oh, Seteth would hate seeing this!
“Good morning, miss Arnault!” She turns around, and to her surprise, Monica is coming out from one of the study spaces, a few documents in hand. “Isn’t a bit early? A few more hours of sleep couldn’t have hurt.” She tilts her head, frowning. “You look tired.”
“And I am,” she answers, chuckling. Monica’s earnest honesty is not unwelcome. “And that’s something coming from you.” Monica looks pale, and more tired than how Dorothea feels. Walking around still using the light armor the mages were given through the war probably doesn’t help. “Have you slept the last few hours?”
“… What day is it?”
“15th of the Ethereal Moon, my dear.”
“… Oh. Um, not since yesterday, then.” She raises her shoulders before Dorothea even takes breathe to say something. “We have been busy! As the new year approaches, the nobles have sent in a lot of their requests for the year. Lady Edelgard also has not taken rest at least since the start of yesterday.”
Dorothea spares a look inside the study room. To surprise of no one in the monastery, Linhardt is sleeping in one of the tables inside of it, a few documents scattered in front of him. To be fair to him this time, though, he is not the only one; a few students also sleep around the room, the few ones awake trying really hard to not imitate them. Lysithea is nowhere to be seen; probably sleeping herself.
“How are the preparations for the festival going?” Monica asks, calling her attention again.
“Wonderful, dear.” They are , but it doesn’t change how tired she is. Still, she spares another glance at Monica. “However, I feel like you might need help in this case. Go take a nap, my room is open if you prefer a bed. I’ll take those to Edie myself.”
“But-!”
“No buts. You have been working hard, so go take a good rest. If Edie asks I told you.”
Monica holds Dorothea’s gaze, like wanting to fight back, but it becomes increasingly obvious staying focused is using more energy than what she has. She blinks, slowly, and the desire to go sleep is certainly winning over. “You promise to get those to her?” Dorothea nods. “And that you will get her to take a rest?” She nods again. Then, Monica smiles. “Good. You’re the only one that would be able to convince her to.”
“I take my pride on that fact.”
Monica hands her the documents and turns to join the study room once more. She sits by with Linhardt and rests her cheek on his shoulder; he barely does more than a short grumble before snoring once more. Dorothea smiles at the sight; some things just don’t change at all.
She turns around and walks to the Cardinal’s Room. Though most of the Empire’s affair are taken to Enbarr ever since the war ended, the Emperor has made it a point to do most of her work from the Monastery; after all, most of the things were here already, and the central position it holds is really comfortable, or so did Hubert mention once or twice. The travel isn’t that far, anyways, should she be needed in the capital, and the provinces and lords of what used to be the kingdom and the alliance apparently like having her close.
Dorothea certainly likes it, at least. Having so much happening so close makes her feel part of it, and getting to see Edelgard constantly is certainly something she looks forward to.
She opens the door of the cardinal’s room.
“Ah, Monica, was wondering what happened to you,” the Emperor says, voice stern and collected, not looking up from her documents, not stopping the tapping of her fingers against the table, echoing in the empty room. “Please, tell me what you found.”
“She found the documents and me, if that helps.”
Then, Edelgard looks up to Dorothea.
Monica was right, she looks tired. She has the lightest start of bags under her eyes, and her moves are just a little slower than they tend to be, perhaps weighted down by her —now characteristic— white armor, but her clear purple eyes spark just the same as they always did, resolution and strength marked on them.
The brown hair suits her, too.
She smiles at her, and Dorothea immediately feels the need to smile back.
“Hello, Edie.”
“My Dorothea,” she answers, soft and calm, and the smile sounds in the kindness of her voice.
Edelgard gets up, dropping the documents on the table, and walks to her. Dorothea tries to hand her the documents, but to her surprise, Edelgard’s arms surround her in a hug.
She barely thinks before her body acts; she hugs her back, feeling the drum of her heart on her ears, and thinks to herself, I hadn’t seen her in a while . She indulges in the satisfaction dwelling on her chest for a moment. The Emperor is giving her a hug. When Edelgard rests her jaw on Dorothea’s shoulder, she presses her closer, arms resting comfortably on her strong, marked back.
“I missed you too,” she whispers, then.
Edelgard breathes in, and let’s go a long, tiring sigh. “Long time not seeing you. Here— let me— let me see you.” She moves away, just enough for Edelgard to raise her hands to Dorothea’s face. She keeps hers on her waist. “I’ve missed you.”
“You could’ve visited earlier!” she joked, raising a hand to her face, passing a finger through a long-faded scar on Edelgard’s check. “Garreg Mach was moving nowhere. I think even Linhardt missed you a little.”
“If memory serves right, miss Arnault also has a room all for herself back in Enbarr with me.” Edelgard clears her throat, and turns to the documents Dorothea left in the table. “If I knew those would be needed, I would’ve come to take you back there with me far sooner.”
“I love living here. Makes it easier for inspiration to hit when I want to write operas,” she says, knowing that it’s not exactly a lie, but it’s leaving a good part of her feelings out of the room. The letter on her hand, above the documents, suddenly feels like a extra weight on her shoulders, and something in her face must have shown because Edelgard frowns. Before she can comment on it, Dorothea leaves the documents on the room and hands her the letter: “Maybe you would like to read this.”
Raising a hand to pick it, she opens it, her free hand quickly going back to Dorothea’s waist. She doesn’t mind, not until she feels Edelgard’s fingers trembling, not when she sees her face contorted by rage, eyes sparking with a terrifyingly fury on them. “Who sent this?”
“You might have more luck guessing, not like I have for the last few weeks.”
She finds the irony at the very least interesting. It’s one thing getting the letters ever since she the last time Edelgard had been at Garreg Mach, but getting one exactly when Edelgard arrives, when the letters always mention her Emperor over and over again? That’s one very good coincidence. She hopes it is, at least.
“Has Lysithea checked them?”
“No magic on them, according to her. Always there at my window in the tower where I wake up, no pegasus sighting from the guards. Probably sent through a bird.” The truth is, Dorothea has to recognize the effort. No name on the letter, no recognizable magic, not a trace to follow and find how or where it was sent from. A simple work done extremely well.
Edelgard’s grip tightens, wrinkling the paper, but Dorothea doesn’t really care. There is something weirdly rewarding in seeing her this mad; she was almost starting to feel it wasn’t that bad. If this letter is half as daring as the others had been before, she is surprised Edelgard has not actually called Hubert and sent him to kill someone.
… Speaking of, where was Hub-?
“Whoever is doing this won’t go unpunished.”
“I can always just keep on burning the letters.”
“Thea, those letters are attacking you!” Edelgard throws the letter to the table, like it burns on her hands. “What’s this nonsense of you trying to use me? “As a commoner you hold no place on the throne”?!” Her voice gets rough and low, a stern threat on her words. “Who could be this coward? When we find him I’ll pass judgment myself-!”
“Edie.” Dorothea rests her hand on Edelgard’s, still on her wrist, and rest the other on her shoulder, fighting to get her full attention. “This could be someone trying to make you feel threatened. There is not a name to blame yet.”
“ Yet ,” she repeats, poison and rage still holding to her voice. Still, she closes her eyes, and takes a few breathes, her fingers intertwining with Dorothea’s. “But whoever it is, we will. I’ll make sure of it.” When she opens her eyes again, she is frowning, remorse clear on her eyes. “Is… this why you don’t find a home at Enbarr?”
Dorothea shakes her head. “You have enough in your plate right now. My presence there would not make the nobles you’re trying to control happy.”
“Am I supposed to care?” Edelgard asks, blinking in honest surprise. “You’re my beloved friend, my equal, my Dorothea. You have the place you have earned by my side.” Then, Edelgard clicks her tongue, tapping again in the table. “But you might be right. They could be trying to make us act harshly. This is dumb,” she adds, now tapping with her other hand on Dorothea’s skin. “We didn’t fight this war so they could choose who I have with me.”
Dorothea hums. There is something in the words Edelgard is using that distracts her, that bites at the corner of her mind and makes home there, but she decides to pay it no mind. Her Edie is with her and suddenly all things seem to be better. Instead, she looks at Edelgard’s face, the eyebags even more clear now, and she decides that matters more than all the letters put together.
“Let’s go out.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Dorothea grabs Edelgard’s hand and walks away.
“Not that I mind,” Edelgard comments, her stern steps resonating behind her. “But I’m sure Monica told you we are just a little behind in wor-“
“Not that I care!” Dorothea sings back, turning to look at Edelgard with a smile when they go out into the light of the sun. “You mean to say you are here to visit and you have not even dropped by to see the market? No, sir.” Dorothea continues walking forward, holding Edelgard’s hand. “You are going out with me, and we are gonna buy something, whatever. I won’t have you this close and not at least spend a day or two with you.”
She doesn’t turn again, and it is not necessary; it takes just a few times for Edelgard to grip her hand and walk faster to go by her side. When Dorothea looks at her, she is looking up to her with a soft smile. “If you want me to.”
Dorothea answers by raising her other hand to surround Edelgard’s arm in a hug. “Yes. I do.”
—✽—
The market around the monastery had certainly thrived without the church controlling it, Dorothea thinks. People seem to prefer Edelgard’s more lax permissions for anyone to sell what they want as long as they report it correctly. She recalls Lysithea a few times some of them liked bringing their kids for her —or Lindhart— to give them classes when they had the time.
“Isn’t that Waldemar?”
The tall man seems to hear Edelgard mentioning him, because he looks up from the merchant he is talking with, a gentle smile on his face as they walk closer. He has let his hair grow, and now had it tied in a low ponytail in a way that reminded Dorothea a lot to Linhardt. “Long time not seeing you.”
“Hello, my lady,” he answers, a little reverence to her. “Miss Arnault, my pleasure too.” To Dorothea, he nods kindly. She has to fight hard to not laugh at how similar the father is to his son. “A surprise seeing you walking those humble streets. The new hair color is an even greater surprise. I take it the healing process miss Ordelia has created works?”
“It does indeed,” Edelgard says, the sun shining on her brown hair. Dorothea likes it, though she surprisingly misses how her hair used to match with her armor. “Her investigation of the way Crests works has done wonders. Though maybe your son also deserves a fair share of credit.”
“I’m sure my son is extremely interested on being credited.” The sharp tone on his voice forces an honest laugh out of Dorothea’s chest, and she is almost sure she sees the shadow of a smile on his eyes when he spares her a glance. “Miss Arnault. Yours is certainly one name that has earned a good handle of fame back in the capital.”
“Oh?” This picks her attention. “If you may elaborate, my lord?”
He blinks surprised, though he quickly dissimulates it. Not fast enough for her to not see it, though. “Nothing you need to worry about, my lady.” He looks back to Edelgard, who has apparently taken a great interest in the shop of quills Count Hevring was looking at. Is Dorothea’s idea, or that on her checks is a light blush? “I believe you have heard the petitions of the noble houses?”
“Against my will, certainly.”
“Well, you can’t blame them. They feel their position threatened.” Count Hevring laughed to himself, finally paying to a pair of quills he had picked. “Mister Aegir’s education project might be the most interesting process the year has to offer, but letting commoners into it has not been heard of before.”
“That’s why we needed.”
“So you will answer his demands?”
“If I do, I’ll let you know first who you can lend your money to.”
Count Hevring smirks. Dorothea is paying close attention. Ferdinand had discussed the idea with her before and seeing him so open to his interest of Ferdinand’s request was a heartwarming thing to see. Hope burned on her chest. She did not know he had presented the project so fast. She makes it a mental note to ask her once they’re alone once more.
Lord Waldemar gives them their goodbyes with a final nod, before turning around to leave towards the monastery. Dorothea wishes Linhardt good luck if his father happens to find him before turning towards Edelgard: “Ferdie’s project? I had no idea he had presented it already.”
“Worth the headaches he has signified me.” Edelgard turns to walk down the main street, seeing all the stands without quite paying them attention. Dorothea follows her steps. “Presented it to me as soon as he had it ready. As I’ve heard, it was not made without your insight.”
“Suggested just a thing or two. Street knowledge if you may,” Dorothea answered, a light blush now burning on her own face. Though she wasn’t surprised, it did make for a fun surprise to know Ferdinand had put her name on the project. Is that what Count Hevring meant? “I thought he would keep my input a secret.”
“Your name has no reason to be kept a secret in my court.”
“You woke up romantic today, didn’t you?” Dorothea whispers, hitting her waist against Edelgard’s with a chuckle, a light feeling on her chest. “Next thing I’ll know I am on a date with you and I have yet to even realized.”
Edelgard doesn’t answer.
Dorothea leans closer to her, the smile failing to leave her lips.
“Are we on a date, Edie?”
“None that I know. What’s that?”
What a way to change the topic! Dorothea laughs to herself, though she allows it.
They have stopped in front of stand with only one object being sold; in Edelgard’s hands is a small bottle, one Dorothea has seen once or twice before.
“Partners wear those as collars," the merchant in charge answered, blinking in surprise as she recognized the woman who had asked. She nods in Dorothea’s direction, does a small reverence to Edelgard. “Connected through a small use of white magic, they spark when the other is close by. Courtesy of miss Lysithea for teaching a few of us the trick, of course.”
“Lysithea did this trick a few times in the war,” Dorothea comments, raising a hand to the small bottle on Edelgard’s hand, feeling the tickle of kind, white magic against her fingers. “She used to do it for soldiers before important battles. They would check on it once the battle was over.” She decided not to comment on the few times she had seen a soldier check their collar only to see a darkened, dead flower inside the bottle. Those times are over.
“Hm…,” Edelgard nods, raising another in her other hand. “How much for them? If you dare say free,” she adds, the moment the old woman takes air, “I will pay you five times its original price.”
“Your kindness knows no bounds, my lady.”
Dorothea laughs, sparing a smile to the people around her that is answered with a smile themselves.
When the transaction is over, Edelgard holds the two collars in her hands, eyes sparking with fascination. The magic of them is so clear Dorothea has the humble feeling they were done by the kids Lysithea taught; there is a taint in the magic of all the magicians that fought the war that she can’t sense on them. “Who do you intend to share it with?” She asks, trying to grip the soft, white light of magic that plays with her fingers. “Hubert, I suppose? That way he can’t scare you by appearing out of nowhere,” she jokes, giving her a smile.
To her surprise, however, Edelgard just stares up at her.
“What’s the matter?”
“Doroth-“
The words die on her lips with a scream behind her.
Dorothea turns around, the magic on her fingers burning now into a clearer spell; the entrance of the marketplace gathers a huge group of people that quickly starts running away. A man howls to the skies, but she fails to see him.
“Help! Here!”
Edelgard dashes in that direction, and Dorothea soon follows.
It’s a group of men, though two only walk, and one carries a third as far as he can before letting him fall to the ground. The metallic smell of blood hits her, and it brings back all the memories of the war like a switch is turned on in her mind; she passes by Edelgard’s side and hurries to the one in the ground, kneeling with him.
“Hello, dear.” She rests her hands on his stomach, where all the blood comes from. The wound is tremendous, and it sends a shiver through her back. “This is gonna hurt.”
The spell burns on her hands, and light magic dances through her fingers when she rests her hands on his wound. He howls in pain, but stays in place, one of his hands gripping Dorothea’s arms like she is the only thing keeping him conscious. Something tickles on her skin. “Stay with me,” she calls, trying to close the wound with her own spell. “Keep with me!”
The wound is not closing, and a nauseous feeling takes a grip of her heart when she recognizes the feeling of that which fights back, which doesn’t let her close the wound, the very origin of his bleeding in the first place. She knows this spell.
Dark magic.
Sothis, dear Sothis , she prays, preparing to fight once more. Behind her she barely shapes Edelgard shouting orders, and people run around her, but Dorothea doesn’t care as she settles her hands on his abdomen, holding the gaze of his terrified, crystalized eyes. Hear us, I beg of you!
“You have nothing to fear,” she whispers, scared that if she speaks louder, her fear will crack her voice. “You are going to be alright. What happened to you?”
“H-House Ordel-“ He is interrupted by a fit of coughs. Blood paints her dress and face. “Under attack. M-Miss Lysithea s-sent us-ARHG!” Dorothea’s magic fights back. She has found where the wound was done. It dawns on her the strength of the spell used when she realizes she can’t close it. “I… don’t want to die…”
“Now, don’t say that, you will be alright” she murmurs, she lies , trying to at least make the pain subdue. The wound won’t close, she won’t let it keep on opening at least. “My name is Dorothea, and I promise you will be OK.”
“Y-you are…? Miss Arnault…?” The man laughs, trembling. “You fought… with miss Edelgard…” When she nods, his grip on her arm grows stronger, like a final influx of power as he gives her a broken smile. “Thank you…, I liked your operas…!”
“We are doing another for the end of the year,” Dorothea answers, holding his gaze. “You’ll be there.”
“You… and miss Edelgard… saved us…” His smile breaks. “The common folk… we remember you…”
She tries again to heal, to fight.
She tries again.
And again and again and again and-
“My beloved.” A stern hand on her shoulder makes her snap out of her trance. She turns; Edelgard is knelt by her side, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”
Dorothea blinks and looks back to her patient. The smile still on his lips, the pain clear on his broken, lifeless eyes. She leans back, Edelgard’s strong arm around her back holding her as she gets up. Her dress is tainted red, and the man is dead right in front of her. On her hands, now painted with his blood, the ones that held his bleeding body, there is a wrinkled paper.
The sorrow takes shape on her chest, fighting against the shock to see which one is expressed first, but she doesn’t even get to scream out her frustration before a howl interrupts her.
“You!” She turns: one of the two soldiers that had arrived growls at Dorothea, and to her surprise, he is tied up in the ground, an imperial soldier standing guard in front of him, lance to his neck. “It was you! And you now dare kill one of us?!”
“What are you rambling about?” Edelgard asks, her arm still around her waist, protective.
The soldier roars. “I heard it! I know I did!” His voice grows in tone, and the pure hate on his eyes towards her makes Dorothea tremble on her place. “House Ordelia was attacked in today’s sunrise, and lady Lysithea was taken on the attack! She sent us here and told us exactly who to find!”
He spits in front of Dorothea, and adds, to the eyes of the whole of Garreg Mach’s marketplace:
“Dorothea Arnault! You are the one behind the attack on House Ordelia!”