#muse: d.orothea

[serandipity]

11 - Felix and Dorothea || soul mate prompts || @agloryofuniicorns ||the one where soulmates share extreme physical sensation — if one gets hurt, the other gets hurt, and etc.

Opera's often spoke of the idea of a soul mate and how powerful that bond truly was. There were tales of men and women dying just a day after their fated one had passed, as if the pain of death was too great to bare. and perhaps it was true. Perhaps the magic that bound two souls together and interwove their pain and pleasure was far more tangible than anyone realized.

Or at least more than Dorothea had realized. Truthfully, she never thought she had a soulmate. She thought that there was some part of her that had been intrisincally broken somewhere and she just was doomed to flit from relationship to relationship, hoping and praying someone would love her for her and not what her voice offered.

That journey looked to be at an end though. She could feel the cool rain on her cheeks as Felix was frantically running her back from the front lines, bridal style. She'd never seen him look so... panicked? Maybe she should have been more worried then. Felix never panicked, but her body hurts so much it feels cold.

She had taken a rather nasty spell to her abdomen. She could taste and feel the metallic taste of blood, but it also equally wasn't registering. Felix also looked incredibly, pale like he was in a severe pain as well.

And for some reason she thought of that old legend again.

'The other half of your soul will feel your pain as if it was their own because you had once been one.'

Ah, it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe. For him to be her other half.

"F...elix..." Her voice sounded rasp.

He winced slightly as if her words personally pained him.

"Don't talk, idiot."

[serandipity]

Dorothea would have never thought she would have gone to bathing in fountains to being loveling dubbed the 'Flower of Enbarr'. It was bitter sweet in a way. The same nobles who spat on her and called her trash were all vying for her attention and showering her with praise. She knew how to play nice, but she could not say it didn't leave a horribly bitter taste in the back of her mouth.

Another night; another show. And with it came the flowers and sweets and demands for dinner and private time. All the offers she tactfully declined. She knew what it mean. There was always the push to get monetary sponsors for extra favors. Dorothea had managed to skirt by on sheer talent without needing to resort to such things. Yet.

Her body bristled as she thought yet another strange man was coming to solicit her for a private night out, but instead it was another young girl, she couldn't have been any older than her, and she was equally as beautiful. The sight had her visibly relaxing.

"I appreciate the compliment. Although, I think I owe more to the story of the opera itself rather than my own voice," She smiled tactfully trying to downplay her talent as she'd been taught to do.

People tended to get nasty when she wasn't humble, so it was almost instinctive at this point.

"The opera company as well as myself are always glad that the shows can inspire such emotion in people."

It was genuinely the only time Dorothea thought the noble class could feel any emotion for the lower class.

@serandipity liked x for a starter

Tonight was one of her more refined nights, thank the Gods. While Celaena Sardothien had never been opposed to getting her hands dirty (or blood on her blades), she would always prefer a night spent at the opera over stalking and hunting down her latest assignment.

Technically, that was still what she was doing — it was the reason she found herself in Enbarr in the first place. It was a fortunate turn of events that her target was a patron of the Mittelfrank Opera Company and regularly in attendance, which had allowed the assassin to attend not one but two shows since she’d arrived in Enbarr. After all, how else was she to learn the habits of her new target and how to next dispose of them?

Being able to indulge in the shows put on by the opera company was just an added perk of this particular assignment. Arobynn likely knew how much she would bask in this opportunity, but she was Adarlan’s Assassin — the best of the best. Had she not earned this slice of luxury?

The night of the first show, there had been a clear star that awed all in attendance. Everyone in the crowd was captivated and swooning at the voice of the lovely auburn brown haired female: Dorothea Arnault, Celaena had later learned. Dorothea was a pretty thing — young too. If Celaena had to guess, she’d wager that the Mystical Songstress was close in age to her.

Fortunately for the opera star, she was not Celaena’s prized target. And fortunately for Celaena, the songstress would serve as the perfect alibi to get close to her quarry without anyone batting an eye. After all, what was suspicious about a young and equally as lovely sixteen-year-old with long golden hair, turquoise eyes, and a lean frame singing her praises to a star she ‘idolized’? Celaena looked like a young aristocrat that belonged in the social scene of the well-to-do; no one would ever suspect that she was the youngest and best assassin of a faraway kingdom on another continent.

“Dorothea! Dorothea Arnault!” Celaena raised a hand in an attempt to snag the singer's attention and offered her most radiant smile when she noticed the performer exiting from the theater. “Riveting performance tonight!” she praised, though her compliment was genuine — the woman had a lovely voice that rivaled most of the more experienced woman that had joined her on stage tonight. “That final piece? I don’t think there was a dry eye in the theater by the time you finished!”

[serandipity]

Her body was heavy and her vision was darkening. Was this how it ended? In unceremonious silence? She always believed that her death would have been bright and dazzling. One befitting an opera star.

But maybe this was it. She was just going to be an unnamed casualty on the battlefield. At least she wasn't going to die alone-- at least it had been Felix to find her so nothing weird would be done to her body.

Her eyes slip shut for a moment, and in the blackness she could swear she sees a flash of a red thread. Memories of the fights and feuds with Felix come racing in, all the little moments shared from the meals and the drunken trysts. He had been so shy the first time, so unsure of himself....

She had to furiously claim she remembered nothing, but she remembered all of it. And it hadn't been just one time. She was a fool. Maybe she should have tried a little harder to understand him, she...

Dorothea inhales deeply as her eyes shoot open. Felix had collapsed into the mud. The wound on her stomach was all but healed, but the familiar stench of iron had Dorothea sitting up frantically and turning.

Something strange had happened, and somehow Felix had seemingly taken the wound meant to kill her onto himself. She's not quite sure how this happened, but she has no time to think about it.

"It's alright. Sh. Shh. I got you, Felix." She said softly, propping his nearly lifeless body onto his lap, willing healing magic into her finger tips. Even magic would struggle to heal a wound this deep. A less experienced healer would have struggled.

She was no Flayn or Mercedes, but she could heal. She was one of the army's strongest mages

Magic poured through her fingertips and flesh began to knit itself shut-- a positive sign considering Felix's organs had been threatening to spill out of his abdomen before.

"It's alright. I'm here, Felix. I'm not going to let you die."

There was nothing that could ever convince him that soulmates existed. It was preposterous; stories that women told while gossiping with one another over tea or... some other inane scenario. It wasn't real.

But in the moment it didn't matter. In the moment he wasn't thinking about that.

Dorothea was dying in his arms. Even healing magic would struggle with the wound across her belly, and their nearest healer was currently bleeding out in his arms. If she couldn't focus to heal herself then they'd have to find someone else; Linhardt, maybe? That fucking useless idiot, always gone whenever he was needed the most-

A sharp pain ripped across his stomach, and he stumbled before catching himself. Dorothea spoke up, and he snapped at her without much thought - both because she did need to save her strength, and because that sudden twist of hot pain was not normal.

Felix kept trying to carry her, but the pain was growing as he found himself becoming weak. He stumbled, collapsing while just barely managing to keep from dropping her. She couldn't move. Her stomach. Her--

One hand was pressed against her abdomen. Felix knew she had been torn open and bloodied just moments before, and now there wasn't even any scar left behind. What? And why... did he feel so... faint...?

"Thea..." He glanced down at himself, at the growing crimson stain across his belly.