Chapter 2: Light at the Heart of the Storm
Summary: Petra and Dorothea come across a village that has suffered more than most in the war, and an unexpected companion. When the storm closes around them, they make discoveries about themselves and others.
The further north the pair rode, the worse Fodlan seemed to become. Edelgard's control over Enbarr was absolute, but her armies and allies did not an iron grasp over the countryside, which they found to be rife with banditry and famine.
The small village without a name that they were passing through, somewhere east of Garreg Mach and outside of anyone's control, had clearly suffered more than most, without cattle in the fields and with what remained of the cereal crop rotting in the fields where it had been destroyed by a bad storm.
"Goddess." Dorothea shook her head. She sat behind Petra on the same horse as she looked around. "The war has hit this place hard… does anyone still live here?"
Petra looked around their surroundings cautiously, a hand reaching down to grasp at her shortbow that was mounted around the saddle. "I do not know," She admitted. "But please be keeping your eyes out."
Dorothea looked back at their saddle bags that neared empty now. "I was hoping we could resupply here. Maybe we'll be able to catch a rabbit or something in the hills to the west if no one lives here."
Nothing in the village remained, no person stood among the ruins beside the two of them. Petra sighed softly and climbed off of their horse as she looked around before drawing the bow off of her horse.
"I shall be going and hunting for some food." She announced. "I shall be back before the evening sky."
"I should come with you." Dorothea climbed down from the horse as well.
Petra shook her head. "I am being counting on you to find us shelter and fire." She insisted. "I shall being back with food."
"Alright…" Her voice was uncertain. "If you're sure."
The Brigid woman flexed. "There is nothing to be being worried about, Dorothea. I have gone hunting many times and always return with catch."
Soon Dorothea was left alone in the ruined village, and she headed for what she figured was once a local bakery. Her stomach churned as she opened the door and went inside, finding the roof intact.
This had once been a happy home, she thought to herself as she saw sewn pieces on the walls and overturned furniture. She poked her head into another room and her heart broke as she saw a child's bed. This was what she had gone to Garreg Mach to learn how to do, to learn how to cause this kind of misery.
Is that what she sought to go back for?
It wasn't hard to return fire to the ovens with her magic, that was some relief. She hung up their rain-soaked cloaks from the bridle, and then went hunting for additional supplies, finding some bags of flour, salt, brewer's yeast… she could certainly make some food out of all of this.
There was noise behind her and she reached inward for her magical prowess at the same time she reached for her knife, intending to defend herself if someone had come for her, only to see a young face peeking around the corner.
"H-hello." She tried to put on a brave face as she released her knife back to where it laid. "Who are you?" The boy pulled away to around the frame of the door. "It's alright, I'm just passing through here. Is this your home?"
He nodded. "F-father went off to the war, left me to tend to the bakery. I don't know much about baking, though, and the rest of the village fled when bandits fell on us after the storm. I hid here, and…"
Her heart tore at that, realizing this boy wasn't older than ten. "It's alright." Dorothea knelt before him. "I'm not here to rob you, little one. I'm here with a friend, she and I were hoping to trade with this place before we realized how abandoned it is. We don't intend to hurt anyone."
He came closer to her. "I-I am sure you've seen the baking supplies." Dorothea nodded. "I haven't figured it out. Father was always too busy to teach me, mother taught me all about the crop harvest and that was supposed to be what I did in my life…"
He trailed off and she finished the sentence. "The storm came by?" He nodded solemnly. "Goddess. Well my friend is out hunting at the moment, she hopes to find an elk or other such game. If you'll let me use them, I can use some of the flour and the rest to cook us some food, hopefully she'll add some venison or something to the pile." The boy was trembling, and Dorothea took his hand, hugging him close. "What's your name?"
"M-maxwell." He shuddered. "I'm so sorry, missus, this is all… scary and new to me. Before we might have fled to Garreg Mach, but…"
Dorothea thought a moment, think that Claude would be there. If no one else in Fodlan could find a place for an orphan boy, it would be him.
"I'm actually headed there." She said, releasing the boy. "I'm meeting some friends there in a day or two."
Maxwell looked up at her curiously. "There's naught but ruins and bandits, missus. Unless you're a criminal, there's little there."
She shook her head. "We're headed there to celebrate a… a friend that we lost, have a small ceremony in her honor. She lived at the monastery and we miss her dearly."
"Oh." He mumbled. "I'm sorry, missus."
"It's alright, Max." She smiled warmly. "Let's see if we can't take you with us. We'll keep you safe, and I think one of our friends might be well-suited to finding you a place to stay.."
He nodded and the two began chatting as Dorothea began the process of cooking him dumplings in the fire before turning her attention to kneading enough dough to make them a few loaves of some basic travel breads.
She laid a cloth over the sourdough to let it rise, then spooned out some of the dumplings she had cooked with some of the bakery's herb jars, bringing them out onto small pewter plates.
"Here," She offered. "You must be starving. It's not quite high cuisine, but it will be good enough."
Max stared at her, still finding himself in a small disbelief and suspicion, but then grabbed a fork and began tearing through them as hunger overcame doubt.
Dorothea had noted that the shop had a jar of a dried mint blend, and began adding them into small cups to try and dress up the somewhat unpleasant smelling water she began boiling.
"You remind me of my mum." Max said as he looked over at her, having stuffed down six dumplings in rapid succession. "Are you someone else's mum?"
She blushed and shook her head. "No, Max, I've never had the opportunity. I volunteered at the orphanage in the capital many times, and there were a few younger classmates at my school that I was a little bit a proverbial mother to, but… I've never had the honor."
"You would be good at it." He told her bluntly. "You should try it."
Dorothea chuckled. "I don't think that's my path in life, little one." She pulled the pot of now-boiling water off of the fire, pouring it into the mint-filled cups. "Here, this should make the water taste better, give it a few minutes."
He accepted it and looked up at her again. "Why don't you think you'll ever be a mummy?""
She bit her lip and shook her head. "Maybe once that might have been my goal, but…" She looked at him and shook her head again. "The person I might have wanted to try with is… not coming back to me."
"Oh." He looked down at his tea. "I'm… dearly sorry to hear that, missus."
She smiled kindly at him, then focused her energy to making a pot of porridge from the chopped grain she had found in the room.
It wasn't long before the door opened and Petra entered the baker, bringing with her a rather-large sow with her.
"Found something, hm?" Dorothea asked her as she stirred the porridge. "This is Max, he's a local boy who survived what's gone on in this village. I said I would take him to Garreg Mach with us."
Petra laid the sow against a working table, then gave Dorothea a look. "Are you certain, Dorothea?" She raised a brow. "We have not enough space on our horse."
"I'm sending you with him, I will walk the few miles further to the monastery myself." Petra opened her mouth to argue, but Dorothea cut her off. "It will be fine. I'm not leaving him."
Petra nodded, and began butchering the pig, something that Dorothea found distasteful even as she recognized its necessity. She had a difficult time with butchery, blood, death. It was, perhaps, a bit of a rumination on how she had ever survived as a student of war when her stomach churned seeing the process of a dead pig.
Her stomach turned back when the smell of fresh pork was being fried above the fire, and felt relief when she saw the final meat that had been hastily salted, enough to keep them fed for a few days. They finally had enough food for the rest of the trip, something Dorothea found herself deeply grateful for.
"There is another storm coming from the western sky." Petra said after she had finished eating, looking at Dorothea. "It is not a large cloud, but it would be better than not to stay in this building."
Dorothea nodded. "I will load the remaining flour and other supplies onto the horse, then put her into that stable down the street and come back."
"I will be coming with you." Petra offered, standing up from her seat.
Dorothea smiled, grateful for the company. "Thank you." The two women worked quickly to gather all the necessary supplies, including the bread and porridge that had been cooking, and made their way to the stable.
The horse they had brought from Enbarr was surprisingly docile as they loaded her up with what they had, working the food into small pots lashed to the side, and the rest into their bags.
"So who is the boy?" Petra asked after they were done.
"He's just a local." She met the Brigid woman's gaze. "I know it's sudden, I just… can't stomach leaving him to die here without us. His father brought him up to just tend the fields, and I don't think anyone else is coming for him. We might find family up at the monastery's village, or else maybe Claude can find somewhere for him."
Petra thought, looking out towards the gathering clouds. "I am in understanding of that," Her voice was a little tepid. "I am just uncertain of leaving you to walk the road without companion."
"I will be fine." Dorothea smiled at her, swallowing her own uncertainty. "I handled myself without anyone for years, I can walk a few miles up a muddy road, and handle anyone else who comes to bother me."
"Are you certain?" Dorothea nodded at her, and Petra sighed softly. "I am in understanding. Please hurry along when we leave, and do not be troubled."
"I will be just fine." She giggled. "You're cute, being all worried about me."
"I am in worry!" Petra sounded slightly defensive, but saw her friend's smile. "I do not want my friend to be troubled on the road, I would be in worry the whole way until you arrived to me."
She giggled again. "I will be just fine, but I appreciate the concern."
It had begun raining outside, and the two hurried back to the bakery where Max was waiting for them, a look of worry on his face as he saw them return. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah." Dorothea smiled at him. "We're just getting everything ready to go for when the storm passes."
He nodded, and went to his bed in the other room, leaving the two women to find the only adult bed in the entire building was one double-wide bed.
"Ah," Petra rubbed her neck, looking a little sheepish. "I should go find another building in which to find my sleep."
Dorothea shook her head. "This whole area is sketchy, and it sounds like the bandits that drove off the rest of the town came during the last big storm. Stay here, I'm enough of a big girl to be able to share a bed with somebody like this."
"As you say." Petra moved the roughest parts of her clothes off and then laid across the thin mattress. Dorothea did the same and laid next to her.
It was, admittedly, awkward. She might be a big girl now, but she still felt uncertainty about sharing a bed with a woman she had found a strong romantic fixation on all those years ago. They had, after all, kissed each other that night of the ball, all those years ago…
"Are you warmed enough, Dorothea?" Petra offered.
"Oh, I'm fine." She smiled. "You should take as many blankets as you can, you're not from the north."
"It is cold here." She admitted. "But I will be alright."
A small pause came over then, Dorothea staring at the ceiling as she thought before speaking. "Petra?" The woman looked over at her. "Do you… you know, miss the professor?"
Petra thought a long moment. "I… am missing her every day." She nodded. "Our professor was a highly special woman who was incredibly close to my heart, she… she was gaving me hope and heart in some of the darkest times of our lives."
Dorothea thought on that. "Me too." She said after a moment. "She… I cared so much about her. I danced with her that night at the ball, and… and…" She paused. "Petra, I… I think I loved Byleth. I don't think I ever stopped grieving."
"I never did stop either." Petra nodded at her. "I dearly cared for her, and when we lost her, I… I had been spending much of my time on Brigid healing myself."
"I'm sorry." She murmured. "We shall honor her in all we do."
Petra looked intently at her, thinking. "There was more I had been losing." She admitted. "I had a many people who I was loving, and I… I am feeling having lost them all because of war."
Dorothea smiled and curled closer to her. "Yeah?" She murmured. "Got anyone in mind?"
"The woman who I had been kissing under trees." Petra teased. "My heart had been tearing itself up in longing, in wanting for some kind of…" She searched for the word in vain before letting out an exasperated, "Mòran Gràdh".
"What does that mean?" Dorothea rolled over onto her side to face Petra.
"It is the process where three or more men and women join their wrists in binding, in… binding their loves together like a bundle of twigs."
"Join their wrists?" She asked.
"I believe Fodlanders use rings." She explained. "Brigid has little gold or silver, we use things such as rope and twine for a binding ceremony."
Dorothea blushed at the implication. "Petra, did you just say you want to marry me?"
Her face turned red as well. "I-I… I had meant that there were many whom I had wished to spend life with, and the professor and… you, were… among those and I…" She trailed off.
Dorothea leaned in and kissed Petra's cheek gently. "First let's get to Garreg Mach, get this journey out of our way, and then we can talk about a couple things."
The two laid there next to one another as the storm closed in, lightning striking outside, keeping them in a kind of intimacy as there was nothing else in the world except them.
Notes:
Read the Author's Commentary here:
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