Chapter Summary: Enbarr is swept by the Mittelfrank Opera Company's gripping anti-war opera as Adrestian Empire nears five years of madness. When the curtain calls and the Mythical Songstress exits the stage, she is met by an old friend with an unexpected proposal.

In the stands of the ancient and magisterial opera house in the heart of Enbarr, a woman in a gorgeous red silk dress with black lace accents was giving the performance of her life. It was a beautiful piece that was said to have been written by herself of an ancient time of three warriors who came to love one another, before war separated them and the lead star's lovers were stricken down by a cruel queen and her endless armies of evil.

Most in attendance would agree afterwards the the Mythical Songstress' swan song was a show stopper as she cried over her lover's bodies, much of the main cast having been killed in the tragedy's story, the main character being the last woman standing in the ruins of her home.

The Divine Songstress stood and took her own performance to close out the night before the curtain call, taking on the role of the Goddess Sothis who called to all who listened to the piece to resist evil in their own lives, to do good, and to love each other with open hearts. At the very end, Sothis went to a long sleep, to await the return of goodness in Fodlan.

It was agreed by reviewers that it had been a fantastic piece that was the defining moment in this generation of the Mittelfrank's revival, and a glowing piece in Dorothea Aranault's catalogue. She had worked extensively, given many tours, interviews and signings, and half of Enbarr had been in attendance for this one-night showing.

There was a general agreement that, somewhat divisively, that the showing had been a rebellious piece about the war that gripped Fodlan. Indeed, the evil queen, her conniving adviser, and her black knight, all had a general resemblance to the Empress, who had been in attendance herself before being taken away by unnoted business halfway through, leaving in something of a black fury.

A few critics noted that the Songstress had been involved in some small rebellion years ago, but information about the Battle of Garreg Mach that hadn't been churned through an extensive propaganda machine for half a decade was scarce, and few in Enbarr knew the details.

But performance had been seen by someone else, someone that Dorothea hadn't expected to be in attendance. A tall warrior was found asking around the opera for Dorothea, not without hefty bribes to the guardsmen watching over the backstage, and eventually one strong man led her to the green room that the songstress kept for herself and knocked.

"Miss Arnault?" He called. "There's a woman here for you, big old Brigid woman, uh," He talked to someone on the other side. "She says she's from your Academy, old school friend."

Dorothea froze where she sat at her vanity where she had been removing her make up, looking back at the closed door, blinking without breathing. At last she found her voice enough to call, "Send her in."

In stepped Petra, aged five years and with exquisitely long braided hair, wearing a woolen two-breasted coat over her leathers, but her all the same.

"I-" The word caught in Dorothea's throat and it was Petra who spoke first as she rushed forward and hugged the songstress.

"My dearest friend!" Petra exclaimed. "Your performance tonight was beyond all the comparison. You did so wonderfully well."

"Petra, I…" She trailed off, hugging the woman back. "I had no idea you were watching! I had no idea you were even on the continent, I… shouldn't you be back at Brigid?"

Petra let go of her and smiled. "I came to watch my friend sing!" She boasted. "And sing she did! I did not catch all of the words in song, singing eludes me in Fodland tongue, like the choir time we had." She paused. "And… I have come to seek your help." Dorothea raised an eyebrow. "The Millennium Festival will be in mere days, and I intend to return to our school for some small celebration."

"The Millennium Festival?" Dorothea's jaw dropped a little, finding herself confused. "Petra, Garreg Mach was left in ruins! And Rhea, everyone… our professor…"

Petra bowed her head slightly. "I have written letters to Claude, and many others of our old House. He wishes to excise the bandits that call it home as well as host some celebration there, I believe he intends to use the promise of reunion we made all the years ago to honor our professor."

Dorothea thought a moment, looking up to see the determination on Petra's face. Byleth had not only been a great professor, but she had been an immense inspiration and idol of hers. And there had even been more, her memory coming back to her of seeing the blue-eyed woman in the goddess' tower, of dancing with her at the last festival… If they could honor her sacrifice with these deeds…

"Let's go." She nodded. "This was a one night show anyway, and to be honest, even as I hoped to spite Edelgard with the whole play, I may have gone too far." She smirked mischievously, remembering the moment at which the Empress had stormed out of her play.

"The wrath of an empress is not an easy thing to endure." Petra agreed, flexing. "I caught enough of your singing to understand that she would not be liking your play. Let us go and honor those you sang for."

Dorothea nodded. "I may have gone too far, but I had one chance to let my voice loose, and there was no one else I would want to sing for." She paused. "I may be better off waiting things out in the north, however, at least for a bit. Her wrath was why I thought it best to do one showing."

Petra smiled warmly at her. "Come with me, my friend." She took Dorothea's hand. "Let us go honor our clan and friends."

—

Dorothea pulled them off of the street and hurried away to find a small wooden building out of the way, her companion glancing behind into the alley they had just left.

"What is it?" Petra sounded nervous. "Were you spotting an enemy?"

"Just someone to say goodbye to." She assured Petra, stepping inside the small building, where they were greeted almost instantly by a kindly old woman who placed a finger on her lips, pointing to sleeping children who shared a large single-room home.

Why was this woman with many children special to Dorothea, Petra wondered.

"Good evening, Dora." The woman whispered to the songstress with a smile and motioned them to go back outside as to not disturb the children.

"I'm sorry for showing up so late." The singer smiled at her, taking the woman's hands.

"Oh, it's quite alright." She smiled back. "I'm sorry we couldn't make your show, but it sounds like you had quite the performance. We've heard people filing in and out of the street all night, we could hear the show from here."

"I did." She nodded. "I'm, er, going on tour shortly. We ran into some scheduling issues because of the war, and I'm headed off to go and figure them out tonight because of it. I don't know when I'll be back."

It was a lie, the pair knew, but Petra thought it was one to spare their feelings. These children must be very special to her indeed; was this Dorothea's mother?

"Oh." The woman seemed disappointed. "The children will miss your singing quite dearly, Dora, but you have quite the bright future ahead of you."

Dorothea smiled at her. "I know. Take good care of them, and take this." She reached into her purse and produced several hundred gold coins. "My last donation until I get back.

Don't breathe a word of this money to anyone, don't let them know you have this much out here but share what you can with the other orphanages, I don't have enough time to visit them all tonight myself."

Oh, Petra thought, these were children without a clan.

The woman's eyes widened. "Dora, I couldn't possibly-"

"I'm making up for the time I'll be gone." Dorothea cut her off politely. "Please, it'll hold you tight until I come back. Take care, Fran, and take care of the children." She hugged the woman, and the pair slipped off back into the alley, Dorothea wiping her eyes when they glistened.

Petra reached in and hugged her friend as she wiped her tears. "That was being generous of you, my friend." The woman looked up at her and smiled. "You are a mother for children who have no mother."

Dorothea nodded. "I try to take care of the orphanages in the area as best I can. I know fully well what it's like to be a street urchin with no family, no friends, no one. After Edelgard set all of Fódlan on fire, there's far more than ever. Come, we should get away from here"

The pair made their way to a stable beyond the edge of the city walls, Dorothea breaking out more of her coin to hand to a stableboy who went to bring them their horse while Petra headed to the back of the building to go dig through their bridles and saddles.

Dorothea turned to say something to her companion before she heard the stable doors open behind them and turned to face three large armored men at the doors dressed in Imperial red.

"Good evening!" The man called out with barely-concealed snideness in his voice. "My apologies, miss, we're simply supposed to catalog everyone going in and out of the city with the war on, and…" He feigned noticing who she was for the first time. "Why, if it isn't the Mythical Songstress. Didn't you just give a performance tonight?":

"Ah." Dorothea took a step back to lean against a stock's door. "You boys looking for autographs?" She played his sly voice back at him tenfold. "I'm afraid I have business one of the outlying towns tonight, you'll have to catch my next Opera."

"Mm. And what would your business be? Giving another show?" He narrowed his eyes. "See, word on the street is that Empress Edelgard didn't take too fondly about your show, something about lies told about dead men. And, more important, we're all kind of wondering if your next show is going to be, say, out with the rabble in Fhirdiad, or maybe out with Riegan's dogs."

Dorothea opened her mouth to speak, to try and buy them time, but it was at that moment that Petra came back holding her equipment and the man's attention shifted over to her.

"Doro!" She called. "I-" She was cut off when she saw the woman looking at her.

"And what," He said with a glare. "Is a Brigid woman doing out here with you?"

The game was over. While the man's attention was on Petra, fire leapt from Dorothea's fingers and envelop him, her hands going down to the dagger at her belt. The other two men leapt to attention and reached for their swords, but not before Petra threw a knife through the throat of one of them.

The final standing man rushed at Dorothea with his blade, the songstress ducking out of his way and casting more magic at him, nearly blinding the man with a flash of light before she moved in.

The two women flanked him, Dorothea's knife cutting through his hand while she controlled his sword hand, Petra darting in slit the man's throat.

It ended as quickly as it began. The stableboy was screaming as he ran off, and the two were left alone in the stable, standing there for a moment in shock before Petra rushed to go grab the gear and reign over the horse that the boy had brought, quickly setting it up.

"Goddess." Dorothea murmured, looking over the bloody scene. She swore, and then looked over at the Brigid woman who now sat atop her horse.

"Be coming on." Petra called to her, opening her hand to the songstress to pull her up onto her mount and rode as hard as she could through the stable's doors, vanishing into the night.

Dorothea looked back to see if they were being chased, finding that they were safe enough for now. Wondering to herself if the violence that had infested her life was going to be worthwhile in the end, she looked back on Enbarr one last time before she looked forward and onto the horizon.

Notes:

Read the Author's Commentary for this chapter here:

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