Chapter Text
There was so many things Dorothea wanted to say, but not a single word came from her mouth. Throat closed, she tried to focus on her partner.
But Edelgard wasn’t saying anything either, and oh, Dorothea wished so much she did; she wanted her to scream at her, to be mad, to be fierce like she had always been on the battlefield, the unstoppable force that bared her fangs to the goddess as she brought Dorothea back, claiming her back to the empire’s army, a raging storm making her eyes spark, making the world and Dorothea follow her command.
All of that command and strength is gone now.
And she doesn’t know how to handle the silence.
… Where was she again?
She blinks, looks around: on the back of Ferdinand’s horse, yeah. Her hand surrounded Edelgard’s waist as she guided them back to the camp. Adrestia had won the battle —Edelgard probably had won the war already. Dorothea felt like the stakes of the conflict had been decided a long time ago—, but the person with her was not the commanding, terrifying Flame Emperor of Adrestia.
It was just Edelgard’s, her Edelgard.
And Dorothea’s heart could cry of joy if only her mind allowed her.
But she didn’t. She wasn’t coming back a a friend. Adrestia welcomed her back as a traitor, and now her life danced on Edelgard’s hands —as it always had done, if she dares think about it—. The love on the emperor’s gaze shouldn’t be directed at her —she was surely just imagining it.
What she was sure was real, though, was that she knew this path. They were straight towards Edelgard’s tenth, in the highest point of the camp, away from prying eyes. And she shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but when she tried to voice her thoughts, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a low groan of pain.
“Stay sharp,” Edelgard commands, one of her hands going down to cover Dorothea’s. Her fingers are rough with scars, and her gaze stays fixated forward, but nothing felt warmer. “We are almost here. I will take care of you.”
But you shouldn’t, cried everything on her heart. Her throat refused to voice her thoughts.
So she just rested her forehead on Edelgard’s sharp shoulders, breathing in her familiar bergamot essence, hugging her just a little tad closer, because she didn’t deserve a single thing going on, in the slightest, but she was too much of a coward to act about it. Edelgard was warm, and she was there, and her strenght was up for Dorothea to hold and embrace. Perhaps it always had been for he-
No, no. She wasn’t allowing her thoughts going there.
The rhythm of the horse lulled her as they moved. She was tired, so tired, but forcing her own lungs to match and follow Edelgard’s braeathing, hearing the strong heartbeat of Edelgard’s heart, proved as natural to her as thinking. Lulled into something akin to a nap, somewhere between this world and the one of dreams, time goes fast until they make it to Edelgard’s tent.
She barely realizes Edelgard supports her as they walk inside, almost carried by the emperor, and it’s not until she is sitting on Edelgard’s bed, and the strain of her injury brings her back when what’s happening downs on her.
Edelgard closes the carp, and Dorothea feels like she should be talking, but she seems to have forgotten how to talk. She stares at Edelgard turning around, dark purple eyes impossible to read, as she roams through her own place. She’s breathing deep, tired breaths, and the muscles all the way through her back and shoulders are tense, and she is mad. Dorothea is sure about it.
So her surprise is unmeasurable when Edelgard talks, and Dorothea finds herself thinking that her voice is as kind as the light of dawn: “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
The shadow of a smile burns in the corners of Edelgard’s mouth. Dorothea tries, but fails to reciprocate; she clears her throat. She finds a harshness on her words she doesn’t like hearing, but Dorothea doesn’t know how to make it leave.
“Shouldn’t you check that cut on your check first?”
This time she does earn a full smile. Edelgard’s blood is running down her throat now, and she barely seems to give a single damn on how it paints her silver armor, mixing itself with the dirt and blood of her enemies, of those who perished under the weight of her piercing determination.
She wonders who was the lucky one who managed to land a hit on the next ruler of the land; not like it mattered. All who opposed her would fall. And Dorothea should’ve shared Edelgard’s enemies’s destiny, if she dares think about it.
But she did not. She is alive, and Edelgard’s axe did not even come close to her for a single second, but she is bleeding, and there is a zum on her ears that won’t vanish and Dorothea can’t exactly put a finger on where did she get hurt. It burns.
Yet Edelgard is not coming a single step closer, even though she is on her bed, and that’s her room, and she’s actually THE Emperor of Adrestia. Dorothea suddenly understands that Edelgard won’t do anything unless Dorothea asks for it.
So she simply won’t. She won’t allow her heart to speak.
“It barely hurts.” Edelgard’s calm voice answers. “I’ve had it worse.”
“War isn’t kind, even to emperors, it seems.”
The dim light raising on Edelgard’s eyes is gone.
I betrayed you, Edie.
“You are hurt.” Her voice is low, haunting with regrets, and the blood on Edelgard’s chest is suddenly surrounding them. Dorothea isn’t sure what’s real or where she is anymore. “You are hurt, and it is my fault.”
I chose me instead of you.
Dorothea stares. Not a single word can take shape on her tongue, and the wave of hate for herself that runs through her body fails to even force a sob or something out of her mouth. What is she even doing there? She should be running. Begging. Doing anything instead of once more being nothing more than one useless, coward traitor to Edelgard-
The buzz on her ears go sharper when she tries to step up. Suddenly she is seeing stars, and then her gaze goes black-
Something holds her waist, and everything around her is turning, and she can’t breathe more than fire. Air refuses to go down her throat as she wonders, as soon as anything can take shape on her mind, is this where I’m going to die?
Dorothea blinks, and silhouettes of shadows dance around her as if in the middle of a stage. She is scared, and there is the sound of metal against metal and sword meeting shield, and her stomach hurts. Blood covers her eyes, and ground is gone under her, and what the fuck was going on-?!
Warmth holds her. And rough fingers are on the skin of her arms.
She tries again; when her eyes open this time, the shapes are clearer. Edelgard stares down at her, and Dorothea is sitted on her lap, both of them on the ground. One of Edelgard’s hands cover her abdomen, the place where it hurts, and seeing what seems to be her own blood on Edelgard’s hands makes her want to throw up. She goes dizzy again-
And next time, what brings her back is the sense of something wet falling on her ears. As she focus, blinking fast, she sees Edelgard crying.
If there is one thing Dorothea hates more than anything in that precise second, is the way her heart turns around on her chest at the sight; the quickness at which one of her hands goes up to hold Edelgard’s face. One of her fingers pass through Edelgard’s bleeding cut, and she absolutely despises the way her chest goes tightens when Edelgard leans on her touch. Her purple eyes spark, and- and-!
Dorothea takes her hand back, fire burning on her palm like a missplaced spell. Hate boils on her throat and she wonders if she can throw it all up, like poison consuming her. Her head pumps in pain, and she wants to run again-
But Edelgard holds her in place, and she finds herself incapable of moving under her desperate gaze.
“Don’t, Thea.” The emperor begged to a mere commoner. Dorothea hates being the reason of the pain in Edelgard’s voice. “Do not move. Let me heal you, please. I can’t lose you”
“No,” Dorothea murmurs, barely more than a whisper, because if she raises her voice just a little more, Edelgard will catch the sob on her words, she will realize she wants to live, wants to let her- “Let me bleed out. I betrayed you. Let me die a traitor.”
“Thea-“
“I wanted to save my life.” She laughed, because it was that or crying, and it was absolutely painful, even with Edelgard’s novetee magic sparking around her wound. She kept laughing. “Me. Who the hell cares about me?”
“I do.” Edelgard’s trembling voice didn’t fit the tearied spark of her eyes. “I care. I wanted you back. You were reported missing. I thought you were dead.”
“No, I was a fucking coward!” She rests her hands on Edelgard’s chest on a useless attempt to push her away. The hand on her back just holds her closer, and this time her laugh is absolutely mixed with a sob. “I thought my life mattered more than you. My death in battle could’ve helped you.”
“I prefer you alive.” Edelgard’s grip grows stronger. “I need you alive.”
Dorothea snorts, trembling. Her gaze is growing blurry again, and she can hear her heartbeat against her ears, but her body just won’t lose focus on Edelgard. She wonders if she ever could think about anything that didn’t came back to her. To how much she missed her. All the nights awake thinking she wanted to jump back onto her arms, like she was right now. To rest on Edelgard’s chest away from the war.
But she wasn’t allowed to accept it. The day she had lost to the kingdom, she left home like a warrior for the empire, and now she could never crawl home to Edelgard like the Dorothea that had left. For she left as a traitor.
And traitors only ever came back as a corpse.
… How was she alive? With such wound?
“Let me die.” She is not really sure if she actually spoke, but probably she did, because Edelgard looks terrified. Her next words come out trembling: “I fought them, and I lost. This is my reward. Why… don’t you take the reward of killing the traitor yourself…?” And she doesn’t know what happened, but she must have said something more, words she spoke yet failed to hear herself.
Because that’s where something on Edelgard’s gaze changes.
The light of white magic sparks again, and it iluminates Edelgard’s wounded cheek as she heals Dorothea’s stomach. It burns, like sun itself kissing her skin, but something on the deep of Edelgard’s eyes sparks stronger.
“Dorothea.” Edelgard holds her so she is resting her check on the emperor’s chest, and she is surprised by the desperation on her heartbeat, by the terror on her voice. “You do remember who did this wound, correct?”
She refuses to lie to her, so she doesn’t bother to try to answer. She has no idea; when Dorothea closes her eyes, only thing her memory offers is the clash of sword and axe, something akin the sound of unleashed blade. She thinks she can remember the spark of thunder on her fingers, the familiar of fire anima running down her arms, and then-
The Emperor is here!
“You-“ A growl of pain ran out of her mouth as Edelgard kept working., devotion as unstoppable as her will. “You are terrifying as an enemy.”
“Not everyone is called the Raging Storm, I think.” Edelgard flashes a smile when Dorothea looks up, her wound tense, and the mage has barely energies to do little more than stare to her sparking eyes. “Keep thinking, Thea.”
It’s not said as an order.
Dorothea decides to take it as one.
Closing her eyes again, she focus. There’s something covered in fog on her mind and she is failing to access it, so she recapitulates on her mind. Edie arrived at the battlefield and cleared the whole battalion herself. The heart of said force of destruction is beating right under her, and it’s a human heartbeat. Seteth commanded us to retreat…
And then…
Then she had seen her. Unstoppable. Untouchable.
“How…?” Edelgard frowns when Dorothea rises her hand to hold her wounded check. “Did you get this? No one got close enough. No one dared.”
“Few people can get close to me.” Edelgard turns her face to kiss Dorothea’s fingers, her hands still holding her, healing her. The burning warmth on her stomach has started to back down, replaced by the kiss of sunlight instead. “I know a exception or two, though. Getting right under my defenses.”
“Whoever did it,” Dorothea sobs, “may Sothis make them pay.”
“I think she has fully repaid her debt,” Edelgard offers, smiling.
She? The use of Edelgard’s words make some sort of memory inside of her mind bother her, buzz back on her ears. Dorothea closes her eyes again. She has to remember. How did she ended up there? What… happened after it all? After Edelgard von Hresvelg had arrived?
Who could’ve landed such wound, with the memory of her destroying the whole battalion herself without problem so clear within her mind? Dorothea doesn’t think she can trust her memory right now. Dorothea is also sure that is something that happened: Edelgard had found her battalion, and managed to send them all running back home without earning a single injury.
But someone attacked her, right? Who had been so stupid to stay?
… Other than…?
… No. No no no no nonono there was no way there was no- No, no, no!
“What…?” She trembled, and she was crying, she was sure of it, in the way she sobbed, in the way her voice cracked. Dorothea couldn’t recall a time she had been so scared before. “Edie,” she murmurs, her voice full of fear, “what have I done?”
Edelgard shakes her head. Dorothea catches the pain on her smile.
“I scared you.” You could never, Dorothea answers, apparently in her mind because Edelgard keeps talking: “I think you didn’t recognize me. You attacked me with the dagger I gave you, the morning you left to battle. I had no idea you kept it with you.”
“Always,” Dorothea cries, “is the only thing I had from you. I could’ve killed you!” She roars, and she is surprised by the rage on her voice, but nothing matters when her hand goes up to grab Edelgard’s collar. “Why?! Why you keep letting me get away with being a coward?! I BETRAYED YOU, EDIE. I WAS MEANT TO DIE TODAY-!”
The stars come back to her blurred gaze when she forces her body to raise, and all of her momentum is wasted in calming her exasperated breathing. She blinks, fighting to focus again, and realizes that her movement made she and Edelgard change position; straddling her lap, Dorothea’s forehead now rested on Edelgard’s shoulder, and the hands of her emperor rested calmly on her waist.
Her wound no longer burn in despair.
Her wound no longer was killing her.
And now, Dorothea had to explain. That she survived against the kingdom because there was but one thing she cared for more than the way she loved Edelgard, and that was her own life, that she didn’t want to die, that a life on misery had seemed better than a death in the name of war.
But then, the first night with the enemy arrived, and she realized she might never see Edelgard again. Where she understood that, if meeting again, the emperor would have the obligation to take her life.
… Ah, that must be it.
Dorothea leans back to cuddle Edelgard’s face between her hands, her clear amethyst eyes troubled with thoughts. All considered, Edelgard still seemed to have some mercy to spare for the coward that held her heart on her hands and decided to run away from it.
“Dying was my mercy.” Dorothea chuckles, though she feels no smile on her lips. “Thank you for sparing my life, and I forgive you. You’re not guilty of the attack.” The horror goes back to Edelgard’s eyes, and Dorothea shakes her head. “You said you would bring me back the Empire yourself, and you did. If you are gonna be the one to judge me then…, then…”
Make me pay by your hand goes unspoken.
She closes her eyes when Edelgard lifts a hand. Half of her is desperate to run; the other, the one crying out for Edelgard, has given up. She is right on her embrace. If she is to die, she will do it like this.
“Dorothea.”
Her name sounds like a pray on Edelgard’s low, strong voice. She fights back a tremble; the Emperor’s warmth covers her as she lift her other hand, holding her closer in what seems to be a hug, maybe preparing to-
“I did not make this wound.”
…
… What?
Dorothea opens her eyes just as Edelgard holds her face, rough fingers touching her skin with the kindness Mother Sothis is spoken of. The hand that healed her wound now holds her, as if afraid she will break apart.
“Dorothea.” She calls again, staring right into Dorothea’s gaze, her other hand covering her wound. Fear begs her to break eye contact. Desperation makes her now she’ll die if she looks away. “This is the wound of a dagger.”
And just like that, it hits.
I fought them, and I lost.
Then I will drag you back the Empire myself.
… Dorothea, please. Let’s go back home.
But she didn’t had a home. But she was the traitor, and she had to attack Edelgard, and she did, and there was blood on the air because she did, she hurt Edelgard, she attacked Edelgard, her Edie, the one person she never wanted to fight, her beloved, her hope, and she- and she-
And she had to die.
Because there was no way she could explain to Edelgard this. All this mess.
So there is this flash of a knife, even though Edelgard always favored axes, even though the cut on her check had been done with a dagger, and then Dorothea was bleeding, falling on Edelgard’s arms, and she… she…
She blinks. And the woman begging her to survive then is now holding her on her tent, eyes still begging, to the traitor, to the commoner, to hold to her life. Edelgard did not want her to die. Maybe she never did. Maybe she wanted to drag her back alive, to save her, and that’s exactly what she did.
Even if it meant saving her from herself.
“Dorothea,” she murmurs, a loving whisper, and that’s all Dorothea needs.
She leans to rest on Edelgard’s shoulder, and breaks down into sobs.
She’s alive.
She’s alive she’s alive she’s alive she’s- Edelgard is alive. Both of them are alive, as she sobs on her neck and breathes on her presence, listens to her ever strong heartbeat. She murmurs sorry, over and over again, and Edelgard keeps answering I know, I know, as if she had done a favor to her, as if her life is everything Edelgard could ask to the goddess she never prays to.
After endless nights surrounded by the enemy, Dorothea is there, in Edelgard’s strong arms, and she doesn’t know what’s real or what isn’t anymore, but when Edelgard talks, she thinks her voice sounds like truth.
“My love, my love,” Edelgard calls. It’s not until she gently pats on her back, gently, that she realizes it’s her who she is calling like that. “Please. Let me continue to heal your wound.”
Dorothea shakes her head, hugs closer, maybe even suffocating the emperor. She’ll die if she lets go. She’ll awake on her living nightmare from this dream if she ever has to spend another time away from Edelgard.
The emperor finally manages to lean back to look at her eyes… and Dorothea catches a tear or two crystalizing her amethyst eyes. Knowing she is the reason for that settles a void in the middle of her chest.
“I thought you were dead,” she offers as an explanation, silent tears threatening to go down her checks, to mix with blood. “And when I saw you, and the dagger, I… I thought-“
Dorothea leans to hug her, kissing her forehead. She’s trembling. Both are.
“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had died in my arms.”
“Keep moving,” Dorothea murmurs, concentrating for a second on the feeling of her own timid heartbeat against her ears. “Like you always do.”
“But I want to do it with you.” Edelgard shakes her head on Dorothea’s chest. “No story of me is complete without the character of Dorothea.”
Dorothea’s heart skips a painful beat. She wants to believe her words, to draw them within her very soul. Her hands tremble and she knows is out of the desire to hold Edelgard, to be with her, to kiss and kiss never let go. Years spent on fluttering feelings and catching glances between each other seem so far away, back in the monastery, back when they were but two girls, and now the months of war and the moons she spent in the kingdom feel like an eternity. So much and nothing has happened at the same time.
Is she still the Dorothea Edelgard loved one day?
Or is she now but a living corpse crawling warmth?
Edelgard leans back to look at her, as if being able to hear Dorothea’s deepest thoughts —she wouldn’t doubt she can do exactly that, her Edie never failed to surprise her—, and for a second, Dorothea only takes on the fact that she is there, that they’re close, and that they’re both alive.
Edelgard’s eyes spark, and she can’t quite figure out what they say, how could she, not understanding her own very thoughts? But she holds her gaze. And they are a few inches away, and Edelgard’s warmth is tempting, calling her to drown on her body and her presence, and she feels her body being pulled in, unable to control herself. She was so, so close-
She pulls back, as if burnt by the warmth.
The void on Dorothea’s chest just grows bigger as Edelgard’s eyes darken.
“I’m sorry,” Edelgard offers, as if she had done something bad, as if this whole mess was because she was the one who messed up, and not Dorothea, as if the one who had something wrong wasn’t her. “This is not the time.”
“I can’t,” Dorothea cries, and she wonders when will the tears stop burning on her eyes, “I can’t, I can’t, I-“ But she wants, like she has never wanted anything, but she just can’t move, and she is trembling again, and-
“It’s okay,” Edelgard smiles, and something within Dorothea breaks.
Nothing is okay.
She lets the whole of her weight fall on Edelgard to hide her face on the space between her shoulder and neck, to hide her cries there, as she feels the emperor moving he arms to completely hug her, holding her as she murmurs loving nonsense on her ears, as her fingers draw figures on her back, close to her now healed wound.
Dorothea closes her eyes, breaths in and out.
Welcome home, her almost lover whispers, kissing her check.
Maybe Edelgard can repeat it until Dorothea actually believes her.