AUTHOR'S NOTES: There is a conversation with Petra in Three Hopes that references the scene that goes down in this chapter, and it's honestly one of the main reasons that I included the "pre-academy" years as part of this story arc to begin with. We also get the first look at Leopold von Bergliez, who is going to be a recurring character throughout this story—a villain of Petra's own making, primarily.
Happy Reading!

PART ONE: GREY SKIES

CHAPTER 004: PRINCESS TOPPLES DUKE

=Enbarr Royal Palace, Adrestia, 1st of Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1176…=

The founding day of the Adrestian Empire was naturally a monumental event at the Royal Palace of Enbarr, and even the lowly hostage of the Empire's newest vassal state was invited (and required) to attend. Petra had fortunately done research on this holiday beforehand, being able to read Fódlanese far better than she could speak it, and while her understanding wasn't perfect, the overall gist was that it was a holiday to celebrate the existence of Adrestia as a nation rather than celebrate her conquests. She held no love for Adrestia, but it certainly was much easier to simply celebrate its longevity than to celebrate its conquest over her homeland. She was unsure if she would have been able to stomach that.

Ultimately Petra found herself wondering why she was to attend this gala, especially since it did not seem like something that just anyone would be invited to—not the one at the palace at least. She might have been royalty, but she knew better than to think that she held any power here. She was essentially treated like a servant insomuch that she was fed, clothed, and sheltered, but otherwise left to her own devices apart from being regularly monitored when she left her room for any reason.

She was surprised that no one ever tried searching her. Was that simply not a thing they did in Fódlan, or was she downplaying and underestimating the amount of trust they were putting in her to cooperate with them? She did not intend to go on a murder spree. A girl of barely 11½ years armed with only her trusty hunting knife and the stuffy Adrestian gowns that restricted her movement just enough for her to notice stood no chance against dozens if not hundreds of armed and armored guards and sentries, to say nothing about the nobility themselves. If they were anything like the people of Brigid, then the 'ruling class' would be the strongest among them. Petra wondered if any would be worthy opponents when she was an adult. Did they train from childhood like she had? She wondered particularly about Count Bergliez. If he had been able to topple her father, he was clearly a strong man indeed, and so she imagined his social rank in Adrestia must have been extremely high.

She was snapped out of her analytical thoughts by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Petra spoke her native language out of habit, but to her surprise, the man who opened the door seemed to understand it. She looked him over and noticed something familiar about him—suddenly remembering that he was one of the dignitaries that had visited Brigid in person after the war had ended.

"Petra Macneary…" he spoke, much gentler now than he had been before, "you may not remember me, but—"

"I remember you well," Petra cut him off, "you were there promising that everything here would be okay for me. Well it is not okay! It has not been okay since I was taken from my home and I don't want to be here! This is all wrong, you know it's wrong, and the ones who put me here know it is wrong too!"

"I am not asking for your forgiveness or even your understanding, Petra Macneary." The man replied, "but since I am one of the few here that speaks the language of Brigid, I was assigned to retrieve you. You may call me Duke Gerth, by the way… or even just Gerth."

"What are you retrieving me for?" Petra was still not sure how she felt about hearing this man speak the language of her people, and she trusted next to no one here. No one trusted her, and so she returned the favor.

"The Founding Day of the Adrestian Empire is today, and this evening involves a celebration where everyone will be in attendance, as you may have already been informed by now." Duke Gerth explained, "I am not telling you this to try and encourage you to flee—there will still be guards from here to the docks and everywhere in between, and even if you were to make it that far, what would you do once you reached the harbor?"

Petra growled. Gerth had just called out the first thing on her mind. How did this man know her this well? She had barely met him, but his assumption on what she would do if there was a gala that held the attention of everyone important had been spot on. She would have to behave.

"What do I need to do?" She snarled, without making eye contact.

"You merely have to attend." Duke Gerth explained, "dress your best and be on your best behavior. I do not think you will be heavily monitored, but they will want you there."

"I understand." Petra nodded mechanically. "You will not need to worry about me."

The next couple of hours involved Petra getting dressed up and dolled up. The royal attendants that worked with her may not have been able to speak with her, but she understood their instructions more or less, and soon she looked presentable again. She mumbled a few things under her breath about how it would have been far preferable to don her native attire, but at the same time, she was still growing and it broke her little heart to think that there was going to inevitably come a day where it would no longer fit her.

She would have to ruminate on these things later, however. Shortly after she was deemed 'presentable' she actually was met up with Edelgard and Hubert to her slight surprise.

"Would that I could stay with you longer, Petra," Edelgard admitted, "but I will doubtless be pulled away to my usual… ah, forgive me. Far too often I forget the language barrier between the two of us, and I… well…" she trailed off, not figuring that Petra had any idea what she was saying. Her eyes widened, however, when Petra spoke.

"I am… getting… some of this… understanding!" Petra stammered slightly. She had made decent headway for a self-taught child of 11 years, even if she had a long way to go. No one else who she had tried to talk to had any patience for her, and some of the nobility had even had rather disparaging remarks for her that Petra was lucky she did not understand. Even then, however, a person's tone and expression could often say many things that words could not.

"You know what I'm saying?" Edelgard's eyes went as wide as dinner plates, and even Hubert raised an eyebrow even if he said nothing.

"I…am doing… learning!" Petra spoke cautiously so she didn't stumble over her own words, but even then, there was excitement on her face that had not appeared in a very long time.

"Good," Petra was fairly certain this was the first time she had ever seen Edelgard smile before, "keep learning. You are doing good."

"I am doing good!" Petra bobbed up and down. It suddenly didn't matter what the other nobles said. From what she knew of the Adrestian Hierarchy, Edelgard was higher up—and more important—than all of them save the Emperor himself. On top of that, she would one day succeed him, just as Petra would one day succeed her grandfather Ruadan.

To Petra's slight dismay, her time with Edelgard was not nearly as long as she wished it could be, and soon, she was left alone, surrounded by hundreds of people she did not know. This worked to her advantage insomuch that most of them also ignored her in return, and so she had a moment or two to herself to look around.

Despite the colors and music and lively activity of the people around her, it did not feel nearly as warm as the celebrations back in Brigid. The people of Enbarr seemed more pretentious; like decorating a sickly old tree to make it seem more lively than it actually was. For a mercy, the skies outside were mostly clear, with puffy white clouds visible from some of the windows, but as much as Petra longed to be out there right now, she was stuck in this grand hall instead.

The food and drink kept her occupied for a while, although Petra felt like it would be a long time before she got used to the unusual sweetness of things, and the lack of spices. The food wasn't bland, but the reactions some people had to what Petra perceived as very mild flavors made the youngster roll her eyes at their lack of tolerance.

With no one to talk to and her stomach now full, Petra went on the prowl. Clearly everyone who was anyone was here, which immediately put her on the hunt for any sign or sound of the name Bergliez. She was unarmed, and even now had no desire to pick a fight with this man, but she wanted to attach a face to the name. Who was this villain who had slain her father and crushed the Brigidi army and forced them—and her—into this vile servitude?

Despite the disparaging things said about her speech, she decided to ask around. What was the worst thing that could happen or that they could say to her that she had not already heard dozens of times before? These people already looked down on her for being a child and for being a foreigner, even if she was wise beyond her years. Some children were forced to grow up much sooner than others, and the more Petra thought about this, the more she realized that this was what she likely saw in Edelgard. Being able to communicate with her would be an enormous boon no matter how little time the two spent together.

She crossed paths with—or rather, nearly ran into—a rotund balding man whose ornate finery and golden adornments implied a high station, but with all the courage of an 11-year-old girl with nothing to lose, she walked right up to him.

"Hello…" she looked him right in the eyes. "Where… is… Count Bergliez?"

"Hmph!" the man scoffed, causing Petra to take half a step back, but she stood her ground, "as if the Minister of Military Affairs would have time for someone like you, much less I, Duke Aegir, nay, Prime Minister Ludwig von Aegir—a name you best not forget!"

"Huh?" Petra decided to play ignorant, knowing full well from this man's scathing expression that he was definitely not saying anything kind to her. She would remember his name though. Ludwig von Aegir—not a friendly man.

His next move caused her to gasp and take a real step back, however.

"You do not understand me?" he continued, "Do you understand me now?"

Ludwig had shifted to a much more familiar language, and Petra's insides squirmed in disgust, as if hearing this man speak her beloved language was tainting it somehow. Suddenly, listening to Duke Gerth speak Brigidi seemed much tamer and more natural.

"You are very hostile," Petra glared, her little fists clenching, "I was only asking a question."

"A question not even worth my time," Ludwig sneered, "certainly not worth the time of Count Bergliez, which means you're worth even less of my time, given my own status as Prime Minister. Get out of my sight, child. Run back home with your tail between your legs, just as your people did after we slaughtered that pathetic excuse of a prince. Did he really think he stood a chance against the might of Adrestia?"

"You were not there. You are not Leopold von Bergliez." Petra growled.

"Perhaps I'll go find him for you then, Princess of Brigid." Ludwig taunted, "let him finish the job he started with that pathetic prince and have him remove his sniveling daughter too—GAAAH!"

Ludwig bellowed out in shock as a surprisingly strong force struck him in the stomach. In that moment, little Petra had screamed and launched herself feet first at him and successfully knocked him off balance. As he staggered, she swung her foot again to knock him off his feet proper. Even in her little boots, she was not likely to have caused the man any lasting harm or injury except to his pride and ego, but suddenly all eyes in the vicinity were on them.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Ludwig roared, grunting as he pulled his rather large form back onto his feet, but before he could lay his hands on her, Petra scampered off so swiftly that no one had a chance to try and intercept her.

"I want her dead! I want her family dead! I want her home burned to the ground!" Ludwig was still ranting, mostly due to his injured pride. Fortunately, leveler heads prevailed, in the form of Count Waldemar von Hevring and the very same Count Leopold von Bergliez that Petra had been searching for only moments before.

"Do not think we did not overhear that conversation, Ludwig," Leopold spoke calmly, "she is a little girl who lashed out like a cornered beast."

"You can't seriously suggest letting her get away with this!" Ludwig composed himself as Waldemar calmed some of the onlookers and dissipated the crowds.

"Hardly," Leopold looked almost amused, "I'm the one she was looking for, and I know full well why she wanted to see me, but you know as well as we do why she is here, and while I would not be afraid to move west to defend our shores from another attack, I would rather not provoke the people of Brigid further if keeping their princess here keeps them in line."

"Come now, Leopold," Ludwig steepled his fingers as if in deep contemplation, "would you not jump at the thrill of battle and at cutting down these savages who defiled our lands?"

"By all means, I would defend Adrestia as I always have in her time of need, Ludwig." Leopold crossed his arms, "but just because I revel in the thrill of battle does not mean I relish the unnecessary shedding of blood or loss of lives. The men and women under my care are like brothers and sisters to me, and I would not so swiftly send them to their deaths against the warriors of Brigid by provoking them further."

"Firstly," Ludwig lowered his voice, "who would know? The brat can get a good thrashing and still be hearty and hale. Secondly, without their Dagdan allies, how far would the savages even get before being crushed by our might?"

"It doesn't matter," Leopold insisted, "I would rather not have to divert resources to skirmishes along the western coast when those resources would be better allocated elsewhere. Keep the people of Brigid placated; keep their princess alive and well, and we can still make sure she knows that what she did was out of line and not to do it again. There is middle ground, Prime Minister. You know this, despite your wounded pride."

"Hmph," Ludwig scoffed, "As long as she knows that a second offense would not be overlooked quite as swiftly as the first one then. Let it not be said that I am not a benevolent man."

"Hmph!" Leopold chuckled in dry amusement. "As you say. I'll pass the word around then, probably to Gerth. He's spoken with her a time or two, and could probably convey it best without taking sides."

"Between a foreign brat and the people who helped save his hide during the Insurrection of the Seven, you would think taking sides would be easy for him." Ludwig sneered. Leopopld decided not to engage, and instead Duke Gerth was called to the scene and given the rundown of what they wanted him to do.

"I cannot change her mind." he warned, "but I will talk to her, and ideally talk her out of ever considering doing something like this again."

"As you should." Ludwig nodded his approval, "She needs to know her place."

"Indeed, Prime Minister." Duke Gerth nodded politely. "I will ensure to the best of my ability that she understands what she did."

While it placated the Prime Minister, Duke Gerth's own opinions on the matter were much different. He did not dare tell them, but not only had he found the whole incident amusing to the point of comedy, but he wanted to see this cornered little girl blossom into the wise and clever woman that he knew she could one day become. She was already dangerously intelligent, and the fact that she had been teaching herself—without any assistance—how to speak the language of Fódlan was not lost on him even if he had very little time to interact with her anymore. He saw great potential in her. He just needed to convince her now that he was no longer her enemy. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he never had been.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Petra had barricaded herself in her room and refused to come out, and so that was the obstacle that Duke Gerth would have to face before speaking to her properly. She did not consider herself afraid, but she did not want to face the scrutinous eyes of the nobles she had just offended for any longer. To her relief, no one had come looking for her yet, and she was not about to let anyone see her in this vulnerable state. She muffled her own startled squeak as she heard a knock at the door, and uttered her time-honored mantra.

"For Brigid," Petra whispered with a slightly hurried breath, "I find strength to carry on."