1182
The warm winter day meant for good hunting, with the dripping water from icicles pitter pattering to the ground.
Dorothea pulled her cloak up to her neck tightly as she waited in the alley, looking as rugged as she had as a street urchin. The Dorothea of opera days would not have been caught dead looking anything like that, but as time went by Dorothea wondered if she had ever truly been that diva.
A spark of electricity traveled between her fingers as she waited, nerves inconveniently manifesting themselves. It wasn't the first time she'd done this and she doubted it'd be the last.
One of the last snowfalls of the year had graced the city the day before, painting Fhirdiad more pure than it had ever looked before. It was beautiful in the night, lit only by torchlight as the last vestiges of the blizzard fell.
In the hours before sunrise, the city was quiet. Wartime meant caution and denizens stayed indoors while guards were repurposed to the western front. The city was relatively defenseless, and to put it bluntly, better suited for her now.
Dorothea arched her neck as she heard voices. They were early.
Tucking her scarf over her mouth, she ducked back against the wall, pulling her cloak over her like a harmless beggar. People went out of their way not to notice the needy on the streets, her childhood had taught her. She sat in the cold snow, watching from the corner of her eye as the group entered the alley.
There were five of them, one leading the pack, all hooded in cloaks. Their voices had lowered out of her earshot, but with the buildings blocking the wind, theirs was the only noise.
What they said was of no concern to her; the fact that they were here was enough. Another spark jumped between her fingers. She bit her lip.
None of the five seemed to have noticed and Dorothea slowly released her breath. No matter how many times she did this, it didn't do away with the tension. Stage fright, she'd mockingly called it once.
The five were on the move again, heading deeper into the alley. The same one still led, not even casting her a glance as they passed. One of the trailing ones did, sparing her a brief nod.
The signal.
They continued walking, the one turning away as if nothing had happened.
She exhaled and watched them gain distance. Once they were a few dozen paces away, she slowly stood.
If Dorothea made any sound, they did not hear it. Her hand emerged from the folds of the cloak and pointed at one of the figures.
The sensation had always unnerved her, like her very blood sizzling as electricity flowed down her arm, condensing in her fingers for a brief moment before exploding into a bolt of lightning, screaming through the quiet city.
Golden energy smashed into one of the five, though not the one who had nodded. Said figure was flung off their feet as it collided, the smell of ozone filling the air as his skin was singed. The other three whirled around, two drawing swords and the mage among them already conjuring flame.
The last drew his sword and ran the mage through.
Dorothea didn't hear their gasps as she brought another hand out of the cloak, twisting her hand as electricity jumped between both her hands in a current. She thrust her hands forward, launching the magic out at her target.
The one she aimed for leapt to the ground to dodge. He was successful, though the last of the group drove a sword into his neck without hesitation. His hood finally fell back, hair back in a tight ponytail as rigid as the man himself.
Felix had a reputation for being so.
Steel met steel for a moment before he broke through the man's guard, knocking him off balance. His blade snuck under the shoulder, cutting through fabric, skin, bone, and eventually, the muscle of the heart.
It had taken all of ten seconds, if not less.
Dorothea walked to his side as he examined the bodies. "Anything?" she asked.
He scowled. "Nothing, again. They're getting suspicious though, same thing won't work again."
She huffed. "Like I said, I knew it wouldn't work forever."
"No," he mused, "but it does work well."
"Did they give you anything to go off of?"
Felix growled. "No, they were grunts. But they boasted about the murder of Margrave Gautier, claiming credit for it. Confirms Sylvain's suspicions."
Dorothea shivered. "If even grunts are making it this far north…"
"Then the Shrike is making a move and we have nothing to go off of," he finished. "Nobles are still disappearing. None like the Margrave, but I wouldn't be surprised if it picks up in pace."
"What will you do?"
"Get out of the city." He stood up and wiped the blood from his blade before sheathing it. "War's not going well in the west, House Rowe barely puts up a fight. That territory will be lost soon. They need command there with our allies being picked off like flies."
"Good luck, Felix," she said, giving him a look of sadness.
He nodded, the mask of intensity slipping for a moment to show the tired man beneath. "Get back to the church and stay there. The Shrike might see fit to deal with the scourge on their assassins themself."
She smirked, something she didn't have reason to do often anymore. "They can certainly try. Give my best to Sylvain, Ingrid, and the King."
"Stay safe," were the last words he said before trudging off into the snow. After gathering the wallets from the dead, she turned the opposite way and headed deeper into the city.
Dorothea closed the door quietly, sighing. Someone had been following her, but she'd lost them. A year within the city had taught her the alleys well and her childhood had taught her flight worked better than fight.
She should have killed them, lest they follow her here.
"Dorothea?"
"Oh, hello, Diana," Dorothea murmured. "Did I wake you?"
Mercedes' mother was much like her daughter with more wrinkles. But even those vanished away as she smiled and were it not for her shorter haircut, Dorothea might have mistook the two as twins.
"Oh, no," reassured Diana. "I just don't sleep as long as I used to." She gestured for Dorothea to sit.
She acquiesced, taking the spot across from the woman at the small table. When Dorothea had learned that Mercedes' mother had remarried to a merchant, she couldn't but help imagining some splendor. But that was not the case. Their house was but a single room with two adjoining rooms. According to Mercedes, it actually was quite a nice home for the area.
Dorothea's standards were still tinted with Enbarr wealth, where every man who tried to take her home for the evening had homes three or more times as large.
Though Mercedes had let slip that her mother's husband wasn't a very good merchant. And when she'd met the pompous, controlling man, she'd had a good laugh in private. The man was a fool, of that she had no doubt.
"Here," Dorothea said. She pulled a small sack of gold coins from her belt, fresh from the murdered corpses of the Shrike's men. "Sorry it took me longer."
"Oh, child," Diana murmured. "You don't owe us anything. You saved Mercedes' life, I'm the one who owes you." She did reach out and take the coins, as this was a tired debate the two of them had.
At least Diana had stopped asking where the money came from.
"It's the least I can do." Dorothea smiled.
The tea kettle whistled from the small stove. Dorothea made to stand, but Diana waved her down. With a mischievous grin, she said, "It's the least I can do."
Like mother, like daughter, Dorothea mused.
"I'm glad I caught you, though," Diana said as she prepared their tea. Dorothea rested her still cold fingers around the warm cup, sighing contently. Diana sat down again. "Mercedes speaks highly of you."
Dorothea blinked. "Well, you know her. She sees the best in everyone."
Diana nodded in agreement. "I won't deny that. I haven't an idea where she got that trait from. Certainly not me. Age begets cynicism, I'm afraid."
"Age begets experience, I think," Dorothea replied, taking a sip. She winced, too hot.
"Charmer," Diana accused with a light laugh. "What I mean is, I've never heard Mercedes speak of anyone like she does you. Not Annette, not this Byleth that I heard about in letters. You're different to her, Dorothea."
She shrugged, noncommittal.
"She loves that you pray with her, you know," Diana continued. "Goddess, I'd say you're the only thing that's managed to put a smile on her face in the past year."
"I've just tried to make her happy," Dorothea said.
Diana nodded. "I think you have, my dear. She loves how well you take to the children in the church's orphanage. And those kids sure love their Aunt Dorothea."
Dorothea blushed. "I'm sure anyone could do that."
"Perhaps." Diana's eyes narrowed. "But it's you whom my daughter is in love with, not anyone else."
Dorothea froze.
The woman across from her laughed, though her gaze didn't leave its mark. "Your expression is priceless, Dorothea. Do not be afraid, you'll leave this table unscathed, I think." Her expression turned serious again. "I just want to ask if what you leave during the night to do will put my daughter in danger."
Though many faults she had, inability to think on her feet wasn't one of Dorothea's. "Of course not, I would never put Mercie in danger. I—" Dorothea stopped herself. "She's important to me," she said instead.
Diana nodded. "For what it's worth, I believe you. I see the way you two act around each other when alone." Dorothea blushed. "But you can't fault a mother for worrying, can you?"
"Never," Dorothea said, quickly taking a sip of her tea to give her hands something to do besides tremble.
"I'm glad you make her happy," Diana said, smiling. "Just…be careful with her. If you leave one night and never come back, I don't know if even the Goddess could save her."
"I'll always be at her side," Dorothea vowed.
Diana nodded, approving. "Good, you've relieved some stress from this old mother."
They spoke for a few more minutes as they drank their tea. Then, Dorothea bid the woman good night and returned to her room.
Mercedes slept as soundly as she had when Dorothea had snuck away. She was relieved, the woman's good nights of sleep were far and few between.
Dorothea stripped to her underclothes and slinked back into the bed underneath the furs. A moment later, Mercedes had snuggled up to her.
Their bare skin touching should have been arousing, alluring, or something else sensual. But it wasn't. It was closeness, something deeper than friendship. It was comfort.
Mercedes slept softly, the occasional snore slipping through. Dorothea leaned her head into her fair hair.
She'd never been in love before, but by the Goddess did she love Mercedes. And she couldn't be more terrified by it. Where was someone like Hilda to help her, to listen to her blab about feelings? She'd know. Or even Claude! She'd even take Ferdie if it meant someone listening.
Dorothea pulled Mercedes against her tighter. If Hilda saw her now, she'd never hear the end of it. Sleeping with the woman she loved, wearing next to nothing? Yeah, Hilda'd have a day.
She didn't enjoy lying to Diana, but of course she knew Mercedes' feelings. It wasn't hard, not for an opera star who'd had men and women throw themselves at her feet. And Dorothea had sung songs about true loves destined to be, not loving a woman whose best friend and former lover were recently dead.
And what if Byleth wasn't dead? Mercedes would choose her over Dorothea any day, of that she had no doubt after seeing the two of them together. Dorothea refused to do that to her professor or her friend.
"Dorothea?" murmured Mercedes.
"Yeah?"
Mercedes turned over to look Dorothea in the eyes. She smiled that smile that made Dorothea fall in love all over again. "You're thinking too much." She drew Dorothea into an embrace and kissed her forehead.
Despite her confused heart, Dorothea soon found herself asleep.
"Hello, Annie," Mercedes murmured as she knelt in the snow. With a gloved hand, she brushed the snow from the stone.
ANNETTE FANTINE DOMINIC.
Dorothea had made it, carving the stone with lightning. She'd thought giving Mercedes a place to grieve would be good. She was right, as she usually was.
"I told the children at the orphanage about the time we stole bread from the kitchens at school," Mercedes said.
The songstress had offered to make one for Byleth too. Mercedes hadn't known how to respond to that. A grave felt final, like she was giving up on her teacher—no, her lover.
"One of them asked me if it was okay to steal bread from our kitchens—I think she'd be your favorite."
Byleth was…special to her. She loved Byleth. To put her in the ground like that…
"I told her no, of course. I must remember not to tell them stories they'll pick bad habits up from."
She'd set up a grave for Byleth by Jeralt's, someday, where she belonged. She'd make it back to Garreg Mach and give the woman a proper burial.
"They've asked me a few times if they can meet you, you know."
Dorothea would take her there if she asked, and part of Mercedes wanted to selfishly ask for the closure.
"I've told them you're traveling somewhere, somewhere better and safer than Fódlan."
Mercedes loved Dorothea. But she also still loved Byleth. At least she thought she did.
"I think they understood. They're smart kids."
Oh, she was a mess. Would that the Goddess had made love easy.
"One of them told me that they hoped I'd see you again someday. I almost cried, I'll admit."
She'd asked her mother about it all. Diana had asked her if she really loved Byleth. Mercedes thought she had.
"Today I'm going to teach them to sew. I want to have them make a blanket they can all share, I think it'll be fun."
Byleth made her feel needed, like she'd have broken apart if Mercedes were not there. Dorothea made her feel wanted, like every moment with her was well spent.
"Remember when we did that together, Annie?"
Mercedes knew which of those two she preferred, which she had grown to realize wasn't what she desired a year ago.
"I still have that blanket, you know. It's quite small now."
She felt safe around Dorothea. Comfortable.
"I wish we had had more time, Annie."
"You stopped going out at night," Mercedes observed.
Dorothea stopped brushing her hair and turned her head to meet her gaze. She sat on the bed, still dressed. "I didn't know you'd noticed I left."
Mercedes rolled her eyes. "We sleep in the same bed, Dorothea. I'm forgetful, not dumb."
"I never said you were." She set down the hairbrush and turned on the stool, facing her.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I haven't been good at things like this lately."
Dorothea stood up and sat down on the bed beside her. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Mercedes nodded and stayed silent. Dorothea waited patiently, content to pass the time with nothing exchanged between them.
"Are you happy here?" Mercedes finally asked.
She smiled. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
And she was happy. Happier than she'd been in a long time. Between Diana and Mercedes, it felt like she had a family and by the Goddess did that open her eyes. She'd dismissed having a family as something not worth her time, that all she should try for was money, power, and maybe love. She'd been wrong.
"I just don't want you to be somewhere you don't want to be," Mercedes murmured, looking down at her feet.
Dorothea wrapped an arm around Mercedes. "Hey. I'm here because I want to be. If I didn't, I would have left after I got you home. Claude offered me a place, I'm sure Sylvain would to. Anyone from the Deer would."
"Wouldn't you be happier there?" Mercedes asked.
She blinked. "Do you want me to go?" Dorothea removed her arm from the woman.
Mercedes shook her head. "No, I just don't understand what makes you want to stay. Why stay in our little hovel to look after a church when you could go anywhere and do anything?"
"Because those places don't have you," she answered. Dorothea felt a flicker of electricity pass between her fingers and she shook her hand, dispelling it.
"What do you mean?" The question was probing, like Mercedes was looking for an answer.
Dorothea thought about lying, but sighed instead. "Because you're important to me, because I've fallen for you. Because you matter to me more than anything."
Mercedes' eyes went wide. "Oh," her mouth forming the same shape.
"That doesn't mean I expect anything," Dorothea waved off, not looking at her. "I know you and Byleth…I know you were close. I don't want to infringe on that, I won't be a homewrecker. Perhaps I should have stayed quiet." She looked at Mercedes. "Mercie, I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't want things to change between us. I like—"
Her lips were on hers, a light pressure that spoke without words how unsure it was. Mercedes pulled back before Dorothea could think.
"Would…this be an okay change?" Mercedes asked, hesitant. She trembled slightly, Dorothea could feel it in the hand she'd rested onto the songstress' thigh that she most certainly hadn't noticed being there.
She reached a hand up to brush the older woman's cheek. Her fingers glided over the soft skin, sending shivers. "Mercie, are you sure?" she asked, her voice so quiet even the gentlest gust of wind could have blown it away.
"Yes," Mercedes said.
Dorothea pulled her in and kissed her. It was gentle but did nothing to diminish the longing she felt for Mercedes. Their bodies pressed up against each other, warm amidst the frigid Faerghus air.
Mercedes broke apart and smiled a smile Dorothea hadn't seen since their academy days. "I don't think you're the only one who has fallen, Dorothea."
Their kissing grew all the more ravenous begetting of desire as they fell back onto their bed, together.
Author Notes: Chapter was formerly titled 'My Brother's Keeper' and was gonna be about Mercedes' thoughts about Jeritza. But then that didn't happen oops cuz I wrote about lesbians not being honest with their feelings haha this totally isn't relatable content from my own life.
C'est la vie.
It only took me 33 chapters to make them kiss. I'm astounded with my patience.
I got the job! Woo! Lots of big shifts happening because of that, but I'm pleased. This change shouldn't really affect this fic. But the times at which I update will begin to differ as it's a normal day job instead of my night hours. So if you normally rely on my update times for checking this story out, sorry but they're probably going to radically shift.