A/N: Fic title taken from the Jon Hill Project song of the same name.
"So, how are you enjoying Brigid?"
If he looked hard enough and squinted, Ashe could almost imagine that he could still see the great castle Petra called home way off on the horizon.
They had left shore in the late morning, in a mid-sized sailboat with the name Iuchar painted in neat purple lettering on the hull, which Petra said had been built by her father many years ago, with his own two hands. She had laughed when he asked, only half-joking, whether it was still structurally sound, assuring him that it was and that she was an experienced enough sailor to overcome any imperfections that may have worked their way into the vessel over those long years. She had also added, with no small amount of pride in her voice, that it had been constructed with wood from strong Brigid trees, and that her father had been a respected craftsman who had known very well what he was doing.
He couldn't be sure how long it had been since they had shoved off, but based on the sun's changed position in the sky, he estimated at least a couple of hours. There was very little wind catching the sails that day, so they'd had to spend some time rowing, slowing their progress. He'd been surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have been, by how easy the task was for her. Really, he'd been surprised at how easy it was for him, as well. Maybe all the training during the war had granted him more muscle than he realized.
Petra had told him that they would sail until they could "barely" see that castle in the distance. As an archer, his eyesight was quite good, but as far as he could tell, that point of "barely visible" had just about been reached, and he had to remind himself that the eyes of a hunter, like those of his companion, were sometimes even better than his.
He was anxious. Irrationally worrying over every minor detail. He knew it. He was anxious about being out on the ocean all alone with her. Not because he didn't trust her - just the opposite. They'd been alone together before, of course, but always in an environment he was familiar with. Back alleys and merchant bazaars. Hole-in-the-wall eateries and antique bookstores. He was in control in those places, confident in the knowledge that he was sharing something he knew well with her. Any anxiety was quashed by that secure feeling of familiarity.
She had lamented that inequality, been saddened by the realization that, despite his protests otherwise, she hadn't shown him any of the wonderful things she knew of. That's what had led them to this situation in the first place. All it had taken was a big smile and an innocent offer. And now that they were here, with no familiar feeling for him to cling to, it was very apparent to him that he had no idea what he was doing.
Things were different now. At Garreg Mach, and especially during the war, he gave little thought to the fact that she was a princess after their initial acquaintanceship. Brigid seemed so far away that it may as well have been a mystical land in one of his favorite fantasy novels. She never acted as though she thought herself anyone's better, and while her homeland was a frequent topic of conversation, her royal lineage was not, beyond the usual stories of immediate family members of which most people there had some version or another. There was certainly no indication of it on the battlefield, where she took all orders given to her and fought on the frontlines like any other soldier.
It had been a strange whiplash to travel to Brigid and see everyone bow to her and treat her with such reverence. Strange and, admittedly, rather painful. At the monastery, there had been times when he could almost convince himself that she smiled at him just a little differently than she did at anyone else, or that she would come to him just a little too often to ask him about a point in one of the professor's lectures that he was pretty sure she shouldn't be having any difficulty with. It had at least been possible there, because there she was just Petra Macneary. Here in Brigid, she was "Your Highness," to everyone else if not to him, and it was no longer possible. Though he hadn't officially been knighted yet, and her not coronated, they would be soon, and then there would forever exist a distance between them. A knight may have been a few steps above a common thief, but a queen was a few steps further still.
She had returned to Brigid almost immediately after Edelgard's death and the proceeding laying down of arms, but he'd had to stay behind for a month or so to set his few affairs in order and explain the situation to Dimitri. He wished they'd been able to go together. By the time he stepped off the ship into the island nation, she was already well entrenched in her royal duties, and the time they had to spend together thus far had been limited. She'd made sure to surround him with people who spoke the Fodlan language fluently, and his grasp on the Brigid tongue was improving at a rapid pace considering the small amount of formal instruction he'd had, but no matter how welcoming everyone had been, a large part of him still felt like a total outsider. It was a lonely feeling.
So despite his misgivings and minor discomfort, this was a welcome distraction. Likely for both of them. He suspected, though he hadn't asked, that politics to her were an unpleasant but necessary evil. For as long as he had known her, her ultimate goal had been to raise Brigid's status in the world, that every other nation might one day see it as an equal. With Dimitri now recognized as the leader of a newly unified Fodlan, that dream was closer at hand than it had ever been before, but there was still substantial work to be done on official rulings. And the creased forehead, pursed lips, and occasionally sharp tone that he had recently observed in her dealings with ambassadors and dukes from all corners of the map led him to believe that she'd just as soon have left the gritty details and legwork of that dream to someone else were such an option viable. So it only surprised him a little when she'd ventured to his chambers the night before and told him that she'd planned this outing. She must have been getting a bit stir crazy. If anyone asked for him, she'd said, everyone in the castle had been instructed to say that he was on important and official business with the future queen and was unavailable for the day. Which, he realized, wasn't far from the truth.
And so it was that he found himself here, alone on the water with a beautiful princess, struggling for the first time since he'd met her to find the words to speak to her normally.
So in answer to her question, one that on reflection would likely have been asked many weeks ago if they ever had a spare moment to just chat like this, he settled on a very eloquent, "It's nice!"
There were a few moments of silence afterwards, with only the faint creaking of the Iuchar as it glided through the water to interrupt it, which was enough for him to get nervous again. So he continued. "I'm, uh, glad we're doing this, though. I feel like I spend so much time in the castle that I haven't gotten to see much of the nature here that you're always talking about. Er, not that I don't appreciate the work I've- um, we've been doing! Oh, and all the people have been great. I was surprised how easily they accepted me, actually."
"You are to be my guardian knight, Ashe." She looked up from whatever it was she had been doing, which he now could see was uncovering the anchor, and gave him a reassuring smile. "There is to be no mistake made about that by the people of Brigid."
Her voice was even, sure of herself, with none of the uneasiness that was coming through in his stammerings.
He smiled back, hoping he looked more confident than he felt, and gestured at the anchor. "Is this the spot, then?"
"Yes." She stooped and hefted the anchor up with a tiny grunt, waving him off with a shake of her head when he made a move in her direction to come and help.
Then, after easing it overboard into the water with a faint plop, she took one of the ropes they had loaded into the Iuchar before their departure earlier that day and set about tying it around one of three small wooden rings on the starboard side. "We will be tying the other end around ourselves after we undress, before diving," she explained, "to be certain that we cannot be washed away."
"Oh, okay," said Ashe, nodding his compliance. "Even on a day like this when the water is so calm?"
"What is the expression? Better to be being safe than sorry?" She paused to give the knot a big tug with another small hum of effort and then stepped back, apparently satisfied. "I said before that the ocean spirit is having… um, sorry, that is not right, is it? I said before that the ocean spirit has two faces, yes? One which bestows blessings and one which brings disaster." Here she paused again, kneeling down at the edge of the boat and dipping a hand into the water with a somewhat wistful expression on her face before standing back up. "The faces may turn without warning. I have seen peaceful waters become violent in minutes in the past."
Ashe nodded again. "Makes sense to me." He turned and located another line, mimicking Petra's knot on another one of the rings as best he could. With the skilled hands of an archer, it was a quick and easy task, but he made sure to concentrate in light of her warnings. "What did you say the ocean spirit's name was again?"
"We call it Lir."
"Lir. Right." He lifted a leg and steadied his foot on the edge to gain a bit of extra leverage for one last tightening pull, then took a moment to examine his handiwork and ensure that it was firmly secured before turning to look at her, intending to ask whether such precautions had ever actually been necessary to save someone in her experience. But the words died in his throat.
Ashe had seen his fair share of incredible things, as had everyone who fought in the war. Many times, he saw Byleth and Dimitri charge, just the two of them, into an entire battalion that outnumbered them by the dozen and somehow take them all down, with barely a scratch to speak of in return. He saw men on the brink of death, hardly a hint of light left in their eyes, brought back to life by the incomparable and tireless healing work of Mercedes and the other Priests. He saw human beings transform into terrible beasts, whether it was Sylvain's brother being consumed by the family Relic or Archbishop Rhea metamorphosing into a dragon during the Battle of Garreg Mach. But nothing he had witnessed had ever shocked him to the point of total paralysis until the sight of Petra Macneary, Crown Princess of Brigid, with her completely uncovered back turned to him, idly discarding the loose tunic she'd been wearing into the corner of the boat and tossing her long hair out with her hands as though it were the most natural and casual thing in the world.
Total paralysis. His eyes widened. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. His legs suddenly felt very unsteady and all of his thoughts had slowed to a crawl. The overpowering confusion he was now experiencing had rendered his entire being inert. He didn't snap out of the reverie until he saw her, seemingly in slow motion, move her hands to either side of her tribal skirt and begin to bend slightly at the hips, at which point a whole new layer of shock overtook him and seemed to reactivate at least his voice, allowing him to let out a strangled sort of protest that ended up sounding like "Buhwuhwait!" She jumped slightly at the abrupt noise (maybe he'd been louder than he thought), and as she turned to face him, he was confronted by her now-bare chest, and whatever negligible mental faculties he had regained swiftly abandoned him again.
Ashe wasn't entirely ignorant of the female figure. When one read as many books as he did, one was bound to encounter an evocative painting or three, especially in those raunchier ones Hapi enjoyed. All depicted tastefully, of course - it wasn't as though he spent his late nights in the Garreg Mach library hunting for erotic fiction - but all the same, if he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was subject to the same desires as any young man his age, and that he probably spent a little more time studying those portraits than he was normally inclined to for the visual arts. He blamed Sylvain's bad influence.
But this was different. This was a real, flesh-and-blood girl - or rather, woman - standing before him, totally exposed from the waist up. And not just any woman. This was Petra. A trusted ally, a close friend, the woman he knew very well he loved. Perhaps more importantly, she was royalty, next in line to the throne of a respected and proud nation, and yet she seemed perfectly comfortable stripping naked in front of a foreign commoner boy.
He reminded himself to breathe, and as he did, he became aware that she was speaking to him. So at the very least, his ears hadn't shut down the way the rest of his body had.
"Is something wrong, Ashe?" It was clear from the look on her face and the tone of her voice that she genuinely had no idea what had prompted his startled reaction.
Wrong? That was one way to describe it. "Wildly inappropriate" might be more accurate. "Scandalous," perhaps?
What had she asked him? How long had he been trying to come up with an answer? Evidently too long, because she took a small step toward him, to which he responded instinctively with one of his own in the reverse direction.
Breathe in, breathe out. Say something.
But all he could apparently manage to do was point a finger at the now-discarded article of clothing and look at her - her face, Ashe, look at her face for Seiros's sake - with what he hoped was an identifiably baffled expression.
She followed his finger, glanced at the tunic, then returned her gaze to him, looking no less puzzled. "I am not understanding," she said. "We are ready to be swimming now, are we not?"
Somewhere far back in the reaches of his increasingly enfeebled mind, he recalled something. Maybe. Something he'd read? In a book? A book he'd read many years ago about all of the different cultures of the world and their various customs? The Brigid chapter… Yes. It was all coming back to him. The details of a passage in that book that he'd hurriedly flipped past and then never revisited once he'd realized it was evoking unbidden thoughts of… Exactly what was happening now, actually.
Come to think of it, she had said something about undressing a moment ago, hadn't she? So that had been literal.
"Do you… uh…" He cleared his throat, partly because his voice was still coming out in a sort of croak and partly just to stall. "That is, do people… swim naked in Brigid?"
She cocked her head to the side. "Well, yes. Is there another way of swimming?"
He gawked at her in disbelief. At least, he was pretty sure it was disbelief. But then, there were other compelling reasons that he knew he was having trouble looking away. Eventually, though, he managed, and as soon as he wasn't staring straight at her anymore, he was glad to find that his voice leveled off just a little. "Did you, er, never go swimming with anyone else while you were in Fodlan?"
She tilted her head further still, looking much more bewildered than he'd have imagined she could be by such a simple question. "Why are you asking that so suddenly?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her take another step forward, trying to get back into his eyesight. She still looked confused, and maybe now a little concerned. With considerable effort, he turned a bit further away. "Umm, well, I don't really know how to say this in a way that doesn't come out awkwardly, but… Well, the thing is, in Fodlan, we generally wear special clothing when we swim. Bathing suits. They're clothes that… Well, they're clothes."
"Bathing suits? Why not swimming suits? That does not make- oh!"
He half-saw, half-heard the effects of the epiphany she'd just reached. She threw an arm across her chest, trying her best to cover herself up. She wasn't particularly successful, but it was enough that he at least felt somewhat comfortable bringing his gaze back to her. Her other arm had been used to close her hand over her mouth, and though it was difficult to tell for sure with her skin tone, she looked to be blushing fairly fiercely, and her eyes were almost as wide as his. He shouldn't have risked that look. She somehow looked even more enticing like this, and now he was tongue-tied again.
Tongue.
He shook his head, swallowed, and tried to focus. On her face, he reminded himself again. But as he opened his mouth to speak, she beat him to it.
"I am truly sorry, Ashe."
"What? Oh, um, no, you don't have to be sorry, I just-"
"I do. No, wait, I mean, I am." She was the one not meeting his eyes now, staring pointedly down at the deck. "In Brigid, we are… Argh, what is the word… connected? We are connected to nature, yes? We do not like to be having barriers between us and the spirits. I never feel freedom like when I am swimming. I did not have an idea that it would be different elsewhere. I did not know it would offend you to see me like this." Her eyes shifted to the side, looking out at the water now.
That one arm really wasn't helping. He could still see… most of her.
"No, no, no! It doesn't offend me! I just… Don't you think it's a little, um, improper?" He had to look away again. Try as he might, he couldn't stop glancing slightly downward, and his face was starting to burn again. He swallowed. "I mean, you're going to be the queen soon. Is it really okay for you to just… be naked in front of someone like me?"
She didn't answer. Was she blushing even deeper now?
"Uh, Petra?"
"Have you never been seeing another person naked before?"
"What? Well, uh, not a girl. Er, that is, woman. I mean, back at the monastery bathhouse, it was kind of unavoidable to-"
"Do the people of Fodlan never swim naked, then?"
"I-I guess sometimes they do. I've heard of people doing it. But usually it's only with someone that you're, uh, really close to."
At this she finally looked up and frowned. "Are you and I not close?"
"No, no, that's not what I mean!" He said hurriedly, and was glad to see the obvious relief on her face. "When I say 'close,' I mean, er, romantically involved. Intimate."
"Oh. I am understanding now." Her reply came in a much smaller and flatter voice than usual, and for a moment he thought he caught a glimpse of an unreadable expression cross her face, but if he did (and he definitely couldn't be sure, what with how hard it was to focus on her face), it was gone just as quickly, and she gave him a sheepish smile. "Please take my apologies. I would certainly have alerted you before we were departing if I had known."
"Y-yeah, I know you would have. Really, you don't have to apologize."
She turned away from him slightly, and at a side profile that arm she had slung across her chest was now doing even less to hide her curves. He averted his gaze once again, trying desperately to quash the progressively vivid thoughts rolling around in his head. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do to combat simple biology, and certain parts of his body were starting to betray him. So he turned too, eyes darting around for anything he could use to distract himself. The lunch they had packed for themselves, the craftsmanship of the boat, anything at all. But it was obvious that the only thing about the vessel that was the least bit interesting just then was the half-nude princess standing inside it.
"I pray you do not feel too uncomfortable," he heard her say behind him. "Swimming in the ocean is a wondrous thing, and I am wanting you to enjoy your first time as much as you can. My feelings will not be hurting if you would prefer to use your, um, suit of bathing, or if you would rather not swim at all." She turned her head to look back at him, and he felt compelled to do the same and meet her eyes. "Whatever you decide, I hope you will not be bothered if I am swimming, at least for a while. The water and the sun are so beautiful today."
He didn't trust himself to speak again, so he just shook his head.
"Thank you. Ah…" There was that sorry smile again. "Then I will be taking off my skirt now. If you wish to close your eyes, I will not be feeling insulted."
"Oh! Uh, yeah, right…"
So he did. He wanted nothing more than to keep them open, but that wouldn't have been right. Right? He couldn't really just watch her, could he? Look at her? No. He was a knight. He was going to be her knight. Her knight.
But he had good hearing. He could still tell everything that was happening. He heard her undo some fastenings on her various lower body wear and, seconds later, those clothes being dropped onto the deck with the soft jingle-jangling of the bracelets and other jewelry she wore. And then he heard her dragging one of the ropes to her to secure herself to the safety hoop.
Goddess, what did she look like now? He had to know. What was he going to do, just keep his eyes closed until she finished swimming and got dressed again? That could be hours. She had told him it was okay. So maybe it was. Just a glance.
He opened his eyes, and immediately found that "just a glance" was a ludicrous idea. He wasn't sure he could ever look away again.
She had climbed up onto the edge of the boat and for a brief moment the sunlight caught her just right, encasing her in an almost ethereal glow. She was still sweating from all the work she'd been doing, and when the light hit the tiny beads of moisture it seemed to shimmer in a kaleidoscopic dance all around her. She looked radiant. And though he didn't intend to be overly opportunistic, he couldn't help but note that her trademark outfits all this time hadn't been deceptive - her curves extended to her hips and rear as well.
The muscles tightened in her slender legs as she clasped her hands together, and she leapt off into the water with all the practiced smoothness of someone who had done this hundreds of times. It was an almost soundless entry and left hardly a noticeable ripple, as though the ocean itself had parted for her, opening up to welcome and embrace her. And then, seconds later, her head came back above water, and in one fluid motion she tossed her hair to clear the wet strands from her face and look back at him, and when she saw that he'd opened his eyes and was watching her she gave him a smile. A friendly smile, encouraging and hopeful, much like the one she'd given him all those months ago in the Garreg Mach cathedral when she asked him to come to Brigid in the first place. That smile had given him the courage to step far outside of his comfort zone once already, and to make a decision of far greater magnitude than the one he was now facing. And though the smile was the same, when he looked into her brown eyes now, he could almost imagine that they held some expression that hadn't been there that day. One of mischief, or perhaps even daring. Altogether, that blend of trust and playfulness was the kind of look he recognized was shared only between two people with a deep bond, and maybe only in times like this, where the rest of the world ceased to matter and may as well not exist. But it was only there for a second before her eyes closed and, after a big gasp for air, she dipped back beneath the surface.
The boat rocked gently as a tiny wave reached it.
It was just the two of them out there. Just him and a woman who he cared deeply for, and whose hands he'd placed his life in as many times as she had his. And he thought back, as he often did, to something Byleth had told him once shortly after the incident with Lonato. Overwhelmed by that abrupt introduction to the callous reality of the world he now inhabited, he'd found in the midst of a routine bandit skirmish that he was struggling to draw his bow correctly. The professor had noticed, of course, and was naturally gracious when Ashe worked up the courage to come in after class hours to talk about it a few days later, offering him the option of sitting out of battles for a while until he'd had more time to sort out his feelings about the whole situation. But when Ashe insisted that no, he wanted to work through his problems as quickly as possible, he was given a piece of advice that would follow him for the next half decade and through to the end of the war.
"Stop thinking so much," the professor had said. "You're a fine archer. One of the Academy's best. You've drawn your bow thousands of times and I hardly think you merely forgot how overnight. Close your eyes if you have to… at least, until it's time to aim." Here there was a pause, as Byleth took a sip of tea - it was a frequent topic of conversation among the students whether that was always done out of legitimate thirst or just for dramatic effect - before ending with a final statement in a fashion which made it clear that no further discussion would be required. "Let instinct take over. Do what feels right. It's served you well thus far."
Ashe was beginning to realize more and more that his teacher, whether by accident or design, had a way of imparting wisdom that carried far beyond whatever the issue at hand may have been. Thinking about it now, he knew it had been instinct, some deep and unyielding instinct, that day that he agreed to follow her here. It had certainly felt right.
So he closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried to let instinct take over again. And it barely even surprised him when he found himself rising and pulling his tunic off over his head, to be followed moments later by his pants and, after only a moment's hesitation that he quickly shook off to ensure that he was indeed not thinking too much, the bathing suit he had been wearing underneath. He reached for his rope and tied it hurriedly around his ankle, a much more difficult task than the initial tying had been with how much his hands were shaking now. He took a deep breath, then another, and then stepped up onto the boat's railing and dove.
Had it been a contest, Petra's entry into the ocean would have defeated his handily. His caused quite a splash, but all the same, it felt like the most incredible thing he'd done in his young life. The feel of the water was amazing enough on its own, and when combined with the pure spontaneity and boldness of what he was doing, it became a truly euphoric experience. How wonderful it was, he thought, to just let go now and again.
He surfaced with all the grace (or lack thereof) of his dive, wiping some excess water and shaggy hair out of his face. It didn't take him long to find his companion and lock eyes with her. She was positively beaming now, a smile from ear to ear. "I am so glad you decided to join me, Ashe!"
She was close. Much closer than she'd gotten while they were still onboard. But he found, with no small amount of surprise, that he didn't feel an urge to draw away this time. He just smiled back. "Yeah, me too."
"We have good fortunes today. The sun looks blue from underwater. Here, come under and look up with me."
And after another deep breath, she dipped back under the surface, and he followed only a second after.
Brigid's ocean held the clearest water he'd ever seen, and Petra, now with her long hair floating all around her and another, softer smile on her face, looked every bit as resplendent below the surface as she had above it. She could have easily passed for a mermaid in any grand sea fantasy story. With considerable effort, though, he managed to tear his eyes away from her and follow her gaze upward. If he hadn't been holding his breath, he was sure it would have caught in his lungs again. Her description of the sun from beneath the waves back at Garreg Mach, as poetic and wondrous as it had been, had not at all done it justice. That was no fault of her own, though. He could tell immediately that it was an experience words could never capture.
Part of him had almost thought it an exaggeration, but no. The sun truly did appear to shine with a deep cerulean hue under the water like that, shimmering with the light rolling of the waves. Perhaps he had never appreciated the sun enough, he thought. Or any of the nature around him. He'd always enjoyed swimming, but just as a lazy, fun pastime. How many times had he simply taken a moment to close his eyes and appreciate the feel of the cool water surrounding his being like this? Had he ever? Maybe it didn't really matter. His time in the lakes and rivers of Fodlan could never have compared to this. The sun never shone so magnificently there. It was the sort of thing that made one wonder how they had managed to live so long without witnessing it before, and it thrilled him to think about what other unimaginable discoveries his new country had in store for him.
What it must have been like to grow up around such majesty. And what it must have been like to be apart from it for so long. He had never taken lightly the idea that Petra missed her home dearly, but he knew he could never have understood how it must have felt. Now he did. And though he would never have thought it possible, he respected her that little bit more for it. The bravery it must have taken for her to navigate a foreign country and foreign tongue, especially in wartime, separated from this kind of beauty and everything she loved… Though at the same time, he also understood even better now why she was so singularly determined to fight for it all the way she had.
It was a testament to the indescribable sight before him that he had now gone so interminably long (almost a full ten seconds, maybe) without glancing at her. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind, though, than a jolt went through his body, and he became aware that she had grabbed his hand and tugged on it. He looked at her in surprise, fighting off another urge to gasp. She wasn't looking back at him, though. She was looking off to the side and gesturing excitedly, so he followed with his eyes once more to find a school of small, bright red fish gliding softly through the water mere feet from them, looking as though they couldn't possibly have been less bothered by the fact that their habitat was being disturbed by two giant intruders. Just another amazing treasure. It was little wonder that the people of Brigid cherished nature as much as they did.
Every day, something seemed to happen to Ashe that reminded him he had indeed made the right decision to come here. Today, those happenings were coming by the minute.
He made a mental note to ask about the name of the fish, but then Petra looked back at him with another one of her grins, and he forgot all about them. It was another different one - he felt like she hadn't given him two identical smiles all day - that seemed to convey something akin to deep serenity. He was sure she could tell from his face just how enraptured he was, although she likely didn't realize how much of that was due to her as much as it was the sun.
He had more or less exhausted the deep breath he'd taken by this point, so as much as he felt like he could remain just like that forever and be perfectly content, his lungs were telling him otherwise. His head broke the surface and he took a big gulp of fresh air, Petra following behind him shortly thereafter and doing the same after another toss of her hair. She looked at him expectantly, still beaming.
"Petra, that… was incredible," he said. "I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much for sharing it with me."
If it was possible, her smile widened even further. "Oh, Ashe, I am so glad. Please, there are no thanks needed. It fills me with happiness to know that I could finally show you something wonderful after all you have shown me. I only hope you will always be wanting to see more and more with me."
He suddenly realized that she hadn't let go of his hand. She seemed to have taken it without even thinking about it, like it was completely normal. She'd never done that before. Then again, she had never taken off all of her clothes in front of him before, either. At this point, he supposed nothing that happened today should surprise him.
But it never ceased to astound him how sure she was of herself at all times, how comfortable she was in any situation. Goddess, she was amazing.
"I just wish I had the words to describe it," he found himself saying, trying to pretend her touch wasn't making him feel like his brain was melting through his body. "I'd really love to write to everyone back in Fodlan about it."
"Oh! It is not the same thing, but you could tell them what we of Brigid say when speaking of such things. We have a, um…" She squinted slightly. "What is the word? A 'saying'"?
He nodded. "'Saying' sounds like what you mean, yeah."
She gave him a grateful look. "Yes. Good, then! When we want to speak about something that seems beyond words, we say, 'Cha bhith mi a-riamh nam aonar nam bheatha no nam bhàs, oir bidh an sealladh seo còmhla rium gu bràth.'"
Ashe had realized not long ago that he automatically closed his eyes anytime Petra spoke her native language, like he wanted to make sure that he couldn't be distracted by anything else while he listened. He did so here as well, but even as much as he'd been studying since he arrived in the country, he was only able to catch about half the words. He opened his eyes, taking a moment to marvel at the view that greeted him before he said, "Sounds really beautiful. What does it mean?"
The brow furrowed again. "I do not think there is a translation that is exact. But it is something close to, 'I will never be alone in life or death, for I will carry this sight with me always.'"
He gaped at her, then chuckled lightly. "Wow. I think even the quote itself might deserve a description like that!"
She smirked, and this time he was certain he saw a little glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, it is perhaps not as fun as some of your commoner sayings."
That got a full belly laugh out of him. Sometimes he forgot that she found the Fodlan language every bit as fascinating as he found Brigid's. The more the two had gotten to know each other back in their school days, the more she seemed to enjoy simply hearing stories from his life on the street and, especially, all the rough speech that came with them. He would always remember the time when she'd become fed up with a particularly seedy and pushy merchant that followed them around the market until she finally told him to kiss her ass (Ashe had thoroughly checked the library to make sure it was otherwise deserted before he taught her that one).
A few moments passed without either of them speaking further, after which she looked down at their still-joined hands as if noticing them for the first time. Then she said, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, "Ashe?"
"Hm?"
"Would you care for a competition?"
He blinked. "Competition?"
She met his gaze again, but not directly - it was more of a sideways look. She looked eager, though. "On days when my father and I were swimming here, we would always have a race… I have missed it. I wondered if you might be my opponent today instead."
She was so lovely. He nodded. "Of course I will! Sounds like a lot of fun."
It really did. More importantly, he would do anything if it would bring her even some small amount of joy.
"Thank you, Ashe." She did look straight at him now, appreciation evident in her expression. "Follow me, then."
She broke away and began to wade the short distance back toward the boat, and his hand suddenly felt very empty. He set himself back on balance as best he could and made his way back as well.
She was waiting for him, palm pressed against the hull. "The rules are simple. We start with one hand on the Iuchar, then swim away until we have played out all of the rope. Once we feel it is taut, we swim back. The first one to dive under the boat and come back up on the other side is the winner."
"Under the boat, you said?"
She nodded twice. "It is good luck."
"Oh, I see." He brought a hand up and mirrored her palm with his own. "Well, I don't think I have much of a chance against you, but I'll try my best! Ready when you are."
Petra shook her head, water droplets dripping from her long hair. "No need for being modest. But very well! Be on your mark… Oh! Wait! What are the stakes?"
He blinked in confusion for the second time in as many minutes. "The what?"
"A competition must have stakes. The loser between my father and I would always be responsible for cleaning the dinner dishes that night." She peered at him, deep in thought. "I believe if I win, you must be telling me the secret ingredient for your fish and turnip stew."
He grinned. "You always did love those, didn't you? Alright, you've got a deal! And what about if I win?"
"Oh, you will not be the victor."
"Hey! You just said-"
"I said you were being modest, not that you were being incorrect." She chuckled, that mischievous quirk of her mouth having returned. "But I suppose… If you win, I shall tell you a secret of my own. Are we agreed?"
A secret of Petra's? Well, that was intriguing. He nodded. "Sounds good to me. I feel pretty motivated now!"
"Best of luck, then, but your stew is a strong motivation for me as well. Be on your mark…"
He licked his lips and tensed his arms.
"Get set…"
Ashe would revisit the subsequent instant on a regular basis for the rest of his life, and never once did he come even close to figuring out what possessed him to do what he did then. It was bold and daring and absent any sort of logical rationale, and yet for all that it also managed to go against every chivalric ideal to which he had devoted his entire existence. If he'd given it the briefest thought, it would never have happened, but after everything that had transpired that day, his mind was working on an exclusively reactionary level. So when that "Get set" left her mouth and the devilish idea came to him, he didn't stop to analyze it. He just acted on it.
He splashed her with as much water as he could manage and took off.
That lack of analysis meant he'd had no time to consider how she might react to this wanton disregard for sporting guidelines, but even if he'd taken fifty guesses, he wouldn't have come up with the correct one. Petra actually squealed. It was such an unexpected noise from the unflappable princess that, along with the ensuing indignant shout of his name, it almost cost him the head start he had created for himself before he'd even picked up any speed. He forced himself to focus, difficult though it was to do in concert with the satisfied grin playing about his face.
He knew it was a futile effort, just as he had said. He was an average swimmer, and even with all of the extra athleticism he had gained since the days before Garreg Mach (and the liberties he had just taken), he was well aware that he was far outmatched against a child of nature like Petra. Despite her comparatively smooth and quiet strokes, he could already hear her approaching, and he resisted the temptation to glance behind him. He would see her soon enough.
And he did. No sooner did he feel the tug on his ankle signaling the end of his length than she appeared right at his side, raising herself up just past the surface of the water. He turned, managing to catch only a glimpse of her, of her toned body glimmering in the sunlight and, even more dazzling, of her face alight with mirth, before his vision became clouded. She had taken her revenge and splashed him back now, and she was already swimming back the other direction with a shameless giggle trailing behind her.
That spelled the end of the competition, but he still pursued with all the energy he had. He was prideful enough to want to keep it as close as he was able and, anyway, the nearer he was to her, the easier it was to watch her. Her swimming was as graceful and mesmerizing as anything else he'd seen her do.
She glided underneath the Iuchar upon reaching it as a dolphin might, Ashe managing to follow in her wake before she emerged on the other side. He popped up next to her a few moments later and, after clearing the water from his eyes, found her with her hands on her hips, looking like she was struggling not to break out in hysterics. He attempted to bite back a laugh of his own, with somewhat less success, which seemed to break her resolve even more.
"Ashe!" She said, achieving a respectable approximation of a stern tone in spite of herself. "I cannot believe you cheated!"
That brought another laugh out of him, and this one carried on for a while, because it was all so wonderfully ridiculous. He would be sworn to serve this woman soon, and yet here they were out on the ocean waves together, alone, naked from head to toe, still joking and laughing like they were back at the monastery and nothing at all had changed in the world. There were many tales of knights who fell in love with the queens they guarded, but he was pretty sure none of them included a chapter like this one.
He had never felt happier.
"Do not laugh! I am trying to admonish you! This sort-" She was forced to break off as a hint of a snicker escaped her as well, but she recovered. "I will not be tolerating this sort of rebellion from my loyal knight."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He finally found the breath to spit the words out as his laughter began to subside. "I couldn't resist. It won't happen again."
"Good," she said, no longer making any attempt to impede her teasing smirk. "Besides, I was still victorious, and now I will be having the secret to your stew, and you will not learn my secret. I am thinking that is a fitting punishment."
He let out one more chuckle. "Fair enough."
She tossed her head again, but her hair, heavy with the water, didn't fully cooperate this time, leaving a few stubborn strands to fall and dangle down past her cheek, lightly skimming the surface of the water in front of her breast. And whatever the source of courage was that had been guiding him all day seized him again, and without really thinking about what he was doing he gathered those strands up and lightly brushed them back with the backs of his fingers. He'd thought to merely move it back behind her shoulder, but then he just kept going, reaching up and tucking a few more loose locks behind her ear. Her expression flickered surprise, clearly not expecting his touch, but then she relaxed into it, and when he trailed a path with his fingertips down the side of her head to her neck she moved fractionally, leaning into his hand. Her smile had become a placid one, her eyes half-closed, and with the delicate rocking of the waves it could easily have appeared as though she was beginning to doze off. All at once, Ashe understood that she was telling him it was okay, that she'd probably been trying to tell him for a long time that it was all okay.
So he decided to forget, at least for today, all the reasons why it couldn't work that he'd told himself. Out there in the ocean, he was just Ashe, and she was just Petra, as they had always been. That day, the only thing separating them, their bodies, was a thin strip of water, and it took just a small movement for him to close that distance, to gently raise her chin with a thumb, and to kiss her.
He had moved almost on instinct, and there was a brief moment where a distant voice in the back of his head was screaming that he had badly misinterpreted the situation. That feeling was amplified when he felt Petra raise a hand of her own and press it to his chest, as if preparing to push him away. But there was no push. It was a guiding hand only, meant to steady herself as she instead shifted ever closer to him and her mouth moved in rhythm with his. It was hesitant and maybe a little awkward on both their parts, clumsy, but it wasn't for a lack of certainty - just of practice and skill. And before long, far too quickly, it was over. He felt himself instinctively tilt his head forward a minute amount, missing the feel of her lips the moment they left. He wasn't sure when he'd closed his eyes, but he didn't want to open them now. He feared what he might see on her face if he did. At best, sad resignation, acknowledgment that this wasn't something that could continue with her responsibilities to the throne. And at worst, simple regret. Maybe he'd find that she wasn't there at all and he'd dreamed the whole wonderful afternoon. It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Then he realized her hand still lay on his chest, and that he could still feel her hot, shallow breaths. She was there. She had drawn back, but only a bit.
He opened his eyes. Her face was indeed only inches from his, and it wore an expression unlike any he'd seen before. There had been times in the past when her eyes had been alight, fiery, always during a fierce battle where she'd seemed almost possessed by the determination to fight for the things she so strongly believed in. That fire was there now, but it was a different sort of blaze. It was simple passion. There was something akin to desperation in those eyes, and as he looked at her then, with her mouth parted just slightly from her uneven panting, somewhere in the far reaches of his mind it occurred to him that, coming from a culture like Brigid's that was so deeply attuned to nature, there might have been something vaguely animalistic lying dormant inside the woman he so adored. Something wild. Primal.
It was no sooner that he had made this realization than she moved again, crashing her lips back against his own. Her arms flew around his neck as she pressed herself against him with such ferocity that it felt as though she was trying to force their bodies together into one. There was no hesitance or awkwardness in this kiss. Just desire and urgency and hunger and need.
Whatever inhibitions had remained in him were gone now, and he responded with equal fervor. He wrapped his arms, strengthened by those many long years of training, around her to her lower back and raised her up, turning to the side and moving until she was pinned against the hull of the Iuchar. And then he let his hands wander and explore. He went slowly and made certain not to overstep his bounds, but when he brushed her hip she immediately raised her leg and wrapped it around him. Then, as if he still didn't feel close enough, she did the same with the other leg. Her soft chest was smashed against him, his lower body pressed against her stomach. A small wave caught them and shifted their position, grinding her against him, and the sudden friction made him open his mouth to let out a low growl. She seized on the opportunity, sliding her tongue inside, and he instinctively mirrored her actions, fought back, refusing to let her think that she had to take full control. He heard her moan softly, and felt it too, as the vibrations traveled through her lips and down her tongue.
He didn't know how long they stayed like that, locked together as the gentle waves rocked their naked bodies against one another, but eventually the kisses became less frantic and then they finally broke away, both panting lightly again.
Petra's arms slid out from across his shoulders and she moved her hands to either side of his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks. She looked at him with the softest expression he had ever seen, not just on her but on anyone. The intensity was still there - Petra never felt any emotion with less than her entire self, he knew - but all traces of wildness and ferocity had vanished for the moment. Only pure affection remained. And somehow he recognized that she was showing him how safe she felt in his presence, that she could just let her guard down and live in the moment for a while as long as he was around. Not because of any protection he could offer, but because he brought her a peaceful feeling that nothing else in the world did. It was so evident in her gaze that he wondered how it had taken him this long to notice it.
"My knight..." She hummed. "My brave and dashed knight."
He chuckled. "I, uh… I think you mean 'dashing.'"
"'Dashing'? That confuses me. You are not running or going anywhere." She tightened her legs around him a bit further as if to reinforce her point.
"No. No, I'm not. Not ever."
She leaned forward, just enough to press her forehead to his, and giggled. Ashe had already decided that was his favorite sound in the world.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to ask the question that still terrified him. "Petra… Is this really happening?"
"Hm?"
"This. Us, like this. You're going to be crowned soon, and then… What happens then?"
"Ashe." Her voice was serious. "Look at me."
He did. Despite the firmness creeping into her words, her face still showed nothing but warmth.
"Have you looked at my hip?" She asked.
He stared dumbly at her. Or, at least, he felt dumb - he didn't know if it was showing in the stare. "Uh…"
"My right hip. Have you seen the marking there?"
He must have, right? She had been naked for the last… However long they had been out there at this point, after all. But come to think of it, every time he had seen her from the side, it had been from the left, and anytime he had seen her from another angle… Well, he had been focused on other things. And it occurred to him that, though he'd never been conscious of it before, anytime she wore an outfit that showed her midriff, her bottoms always rose a bit higher on the right side than the left.
So he looked now, with Petra shifting in his arms to afford him better vantage, and through those crystal clear waters of Brigid's ocean he could see that she did indeed bear a fourth mark there, inked in magenta as the three that adorned the other parts of her body were. Three large circles, connected by lines drawn between their respective centers to form a triangle and also by one smaller circle etched inside that triangle.
"Oh, wow," he breathed. Automatically, he began to untangle a hand from behind her body, but then he hesitated, looking back up to meet her eyes. "Oh, uh, can I-?"
She giggled yet again. "I think we are past the stage of needing to ask permission, no?"
He returned the smile and then turned his attention back to his new discovery, tracing it meticulously with the tip of his finger. She shivered at his touch, and he was dimly aware of a feeling of excitement at that in the back of his mind, but he was too enthralled to pay it much heed just then. "What's the prayer in this one?"
"It is a sign of the union among all things in nature. The large circles are the spirits of Earth, Water, and Wind, who together create the world which brings life to us, the small circle. It is a prayer to help us join as one to… Ah… 'Forge,' yes? To help us join as one to forge something greater than what would be possible alone, just as the spirits do. Is that making sense? It is more complicated than the others, so I am unsure whether I am using the right words."
Her words brought a look of fondness to his face that he was sure must look quite similar to the one she had been giving him before. "No, I understand. Humans are always at their best when they all join together for a common goal, right? Like how the unified Fodlan we're all trying to build now is going to need contributions from a whole lot of people to work the way we hope."
"Mm, no." He saw her shaking her head in his peripheral vision. "See, I knew I was not explaining well - that is not exactly the meaning of this mark. It is not for all humans. It is for us. It is a prayer for the spirits to bless our union."
His eyes shot up once again. Had he just heard her right? "Our union? Wait, do you mean… What do you mean?"
She gave him another gentle smile. "Would you like to know the secret I wagered on our race, Ashe? Despite your trickery, I believe I should tell you now. You said that in Fodlan, swimming without one's suit for bathing is only for those with intimacy between them. In Brigid, it is the swimming itself that is intimate. Before today, I thought this was something that was known. Leaving behind all defenses and surrounding yourself in a spirit's domain... That is something we only share with our families and with… With the person we love."
"Petra…
A reddish hue had appeared in her complexion, but she gave his cheeks another light stroke, and there was no hint of shyness in her words. "It is the same with that mark. You are the only one who will ever see it, just as you are the only one I will ever want to be diving under the ocean with. This is the promise I made at Garreg Mach, but I was not sure if you understood it then, and I had… I was nervous. I did not know if all of the words I had to say would come out as I wanted."
Though everything she was telling him had seemed impossible little more than a few minutes ago, the fact that Petra could be nervous about anything might have been the most remarkable. Before his reeling mind could form any response, though, she went on. "But I have practiced them, and I hope you will hear them now."
Her arms wound back around his neck, the bracelets on her wrists feeling very cool with their seawater coating, as she moved forward to capture him in a brief kiss, and only then did it fully register to him that this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his days.
"You are my everything, Ashe." She was whispering, as if this was something even the spirits she spoke of weren't meant to hear. It was for him and him alone. "You bring me greater happiness each day than you could know. The kindness and bravery and generosity you carry in your soul have made you a more splendid knight than any ceremony or order at your command ever will, and I shall be a lucky ruler and even luckier woman to have your strength at my side for all time."
She had been moving her hands as she spoke, across his shoulders and down his arms until they reached his own, and their fingers entwined as she finished her speech. "I love you with all of my heart, Ashe, my knight."
His reply came with surprising ease considering how overwhelmed he was still feeling, but then again, he had been imagining this moment for some six years now, so maybe a large part of him had always been prepared for it. "Tha gaol agam ort, Petra."
She gasped, eyes absolutely shining now as she gave him a look of such unadulterated admiration that it almost embarrassed him. He closed the miniscule distance left between them and their lips met once more, no longer in the frenzied outpouring of feelings that had gone unexpressed for far too long but in the calm devotion of two people eager to discover all of the bliss that lay ahead for them now. She laid her head in the crook of his neck with a contented sigh when they separated this time, and he weaved a hand into her hair. Even with all of the beauty enclosing them out there on the water, it was impossible for him to look anywhere but at her anymore.
"I've been practicing too," he said. "Just in case."
The sun was setting when they made it back to dry land later, partly because they had swam for a while longer and partly because they had gotten distracted more than once during the actual return trip, and though Petra was more than nimble enough to hop straight up onto the Iuchar's dock upon their arrival, she still took Ashe's hand and used it for leverage anyway. He tossed the mooring line to her and turned to collect their few other supplies as she set about looping it through the cleat in an intricate knot, but he looked back in her direction when he heard her let out a laugh. "What's up?" He called.
"I was just remembering." She finished her work and gave it a test tug, then straightened and returned his gaze with a smile. "I told Claude once that I would be tying… That I would tie you up and drag you back to Brigid if you did not accept my offer and come willingly."
Not for the first time that day, he gaped at her. And then, of course, because it was such a wholly and unabashedly Petra thing to say, he laughed too. This incredible, wonderful woman who could have anyone she wanted in the world had really chosen him to be with forever. He wondered if he would ever quite get used to the idea. "You said that to Claude? I can't believe he didn't tease me about it."
"Oh, I did not call you by name to him. I knew that was a secret he would not keep to himself."
He gathered the remnants of their lunch along with a few other odds and ends and hefted them onto the dock, accepting the offer of her outstretched hand to pull himself up afterward. He kept hold of her hand with his, reaching up with the other one to brush a loose strand of her hair aside just as he had done a few hours ago before that first of many sweet kisses. "You really would have done it, too, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," she replied, stepping closer to him, the corners of her lips upturned in another of her teasing smirks. "But I knew I would not have to."
She brought her hands up to his face, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a peck on the forehead, then the cheek, and then finally a longer one on the mouth, and he felt the echo of her promises in all of them. Visions of his future, of their future, flashed through his head, and though they were the same as they had always been, they seemed so much better now that he knew they were all going to come true.
In the decades and centuries that followed Ashe and Petra's eventual wedding, historians would become famously frustrated with the seemingly hopeless task of assigning a timeline to their union. And after many long years of poring over journal entries and seeking out younger generations of Brigid nobility in hopes of learning the details of the love that blossomed between a former Faerghus street rat and a foreign princess, they were forced to acknowledge that no useful journal entries existed, and that even the direct descendants of the royal family never heard the full story. And so they collectively agreed to keep the language in their records as imprecise as possible. "Over years of work reforming diplomatic and military policy together," they said, "Petra and Ashe fell in love and eventually were married."
But this was not the case. Their love grew off of the Brigid coastlines, from swimming races with ill-defined and often-ignored rules of engagement, from tender kisses shared as tranquil waters rocked their bare bodies against the hull of their small sailboat, from the magical moments spent underneath the water holding hands as they looked up at the sun.
It had grown there, long before any policy reforms ever saw the light of day. But it had started even before then. Maybe it was during their time at the monastery, in the back alleys of the nearby town at whatever out-of-the-way restaurant he'd most recently discovered, on the battlefield where he had at some point realized he felt invincible so long as she was fighting beside him, or in their many late-night study sessions in the library where he often found himself focusing more on the way her brow furrowed when struggling to understand a new (usually math-related) concept than on the book in front of him. Really, who's to say that he didn't start falling in love with her the first time they ever really talked, on that day in the marketplace all those years ago?
It may be that the only one who knows for sure is the spirit of the sea. And it's not telling.
A/N: I feel like I stretched a premise with about three thousands words worth of entertainment value into almost four times that length here, but whatever - hopefully it's still cute enough to be fun.
If those couple of instances of the "Brigid language" are total disasters translation-wise, please direct all complaints to Google Translate. Scottish Gaelic wasn't one of the language courses offered at my college, unfortunately.
Thanks for reading!
P.S.: Big nerd points to anyone who knows the logo I took inspiration from (read: practically ripped off) to make Petra's fourth marking.