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Dorothea stared at the rafters with a frown, illuminated only by the flickers of lightning outside.
Beside her, her professor was snoozing away after a passionate night with his student. He wore her mark just as much as she did, although hers were left in the form of scratches and bites around his neck. Her fingers traced down her bare stomach and over the patches of dried sin that he’d left behind. The taste of salt lingered on the back of her tongue.
Usually, she was already comatose after a late night ‘study’ session with her private tutor. She preferred that, since it gave her an excuse to fret about what happened next - how to slip away, how to hide the sin, and of course to redouble her efforts as a student to keep making her professor proud. Very rarely was she afforded time to think about her actions, her deeds.
She hated that.
Dorothea wasn’t a righteous woman, she knew that and accepted it. For all her glamor, all her confidence and poise as a proud songstress, she knew well where she was from. And she knew where she’d be if she couldn’t seize her own future. Her own happiness.What she had with Professor Byleth...was it really what she wanted? Perhaps it was what she needed now, a quick lay to keep her stress down. No strings attached, no need to even woo or flirt. If anything it was just for fun and practice.
At least that’s what she thought at first.
The songstress shifted up, hands wrapped around her knees as she peered into the corner of her professor’s room. Her ear twitched as he rolled on his side, still snoozing. She spared only a glance through her disheveled locks before she turned to the desk. The calendar on it showed the month of the Horsebow Moon. Though there was no mark in the box, her eyes gravitated to the 29th day. Today.
Her birthday.
At least, she was fairly certain it was, at least. Being an orphan left her with very few memories, none of them happy. The Opera Company had been the first happy birthday she’d ever had, especially thanks to her dear mentor Manuela. She still remembered the day that the legendary songstress had kindly asked a young, anxious Dorothea about it.
She knew not why she said this date, nor what significance it held. Mayhaps it was her true birthday, or perhaps it was merely a day that she held grasp upon. The day of her mother’s ousting from the noble house, the day her mother fell ill, or perhaps the day that… well, regardless of what it was to her, it stuck.
Still, she could at least pretend to be happy for all her friends. She could accept the well wishes, and the gifts from students and faculty alike. A small, innocent part of her wondered what kind of gifts she could get - perhaps a nice new stylish hair clip, or simply some gemstone beads. What she really wanted was a nice bound book of sheet music - preferably one that lacked in holy hymns or platitudes to the goddess. She only hoped it wouldn’t end up being any adornments of flowers.
“Well...maybe from you, professor,” she quietly chuckled to herself. The man’s breathing never changed, not as far as she heard over the storm. Still, there was a comfort to be found. A precious peace that felt more and more fragile as days grew long.
“Hmm?”
Dorothea’s eyes glanced down from the calendar and onto her Professor’s desk. Cluttered, messy, but with some strange semblance of order. What drew her eye however was a little box, wrapped in a bow.
Her body moaned in protest as she shifted off the bed. The songstress took the sheet with her, clutched around her bare bosom as she walked across the room to the desk. The patter of rain masked any creaks from the floor as she leaned down and gently picked up the parcel with her free hand. She made out the handwriting on a tag affixed to the bow. Her name.
Curiosity beheld her of what could be within. Should she sneak a peek while her Professor slumbered, then feign surprise when the time came proper? Or should she merely wait and see when that opportunity came, and what bounty would be brought alongside it. “Hmmm…”
There was never certainty in the future, not if you leave it to the hands of fate or the Goddess.
Slowly, she popped open the lid and peered inside. What she saw within made her gasp.
A music box - simple, quaint, yet clearly made by skilled hands. She wasn’t even sure where it could be from - not likely any of the territories of Fódlan. With trembling fingers she picked it up and held it in her palm. The lightning outside illuminated her gift to her unbelieving eyes.
It looked so...so simple, yet pure. Clean. Elegant. Beautiful. Even fragile.
It was like holding a mirror.
She couldn’t help herself. Like a child on Saint Cichol day she wound it up and let it play. The tune within was...short. Short, yet soft and melancholy. It was unlike any song she’d ever heard, yet she could simply feel the pain, the longing, that came with every soft pluck of the pins. Her mind drifted away, far to sea until the spray of the ocean struck her face.
For what else could be running down her cheeks.
Gently, she placed it back and affixed the lid. The tune played softly within, yet echoed in her head and heart. She slipped back to bed - her professor’s bed, and laid down beside him as the bedsheet draped over her body. His student pulled herself close until her barely-concealed breasts touched his bare back. She reached over and tepidly stroked his cheek until he shifted and cupped her palm.
Dorothea tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She heard the last notes play before the music box went silent and left them alone to the soft pelt of the storm outside. Alone save the sound of their breath. She listened to that breath, how it seemed to harmonize with the tune in her head, and made her decision. Her vow.
She shifted over Byleth and whispered in his ear.
“I love you.”
That wouldn’t be the last time she said that to him...though perhaps one day he would be able to respond in kind.