her inquiry resonates a query that’s lain dormant for as long as she endured the years. a legacy of sorcery / a legacy of lies / a legacy she sought to transform through her own merits. perhaps, it is fear that drives her; perhaps, it is the lingering sense of disappointment – or perhaps it is the drive for a purpose to live because otherwise she fear that she would merely be a walking corpse from the wreckage that wrought upon her family.
“ my mother, my father, and my brother died for the sake of the emperor… and i am all that is left of my house. i must restore my house otherwise… otherwise i cannot face my ancestors or my parents who protected me with their lives. my house cannot end with me – i am all that is left. it is my responsibility to pass on their legacy.”
a weight on her shoulders, the tension is palpable. her mind trails to the last sight of her family before she disappeared into the white clouds. it weighs heavy on her and yet, it is precisely such weighty matters that reminds her that she must carry on.
“… and that is why i will show lady edelgard i am a valuable asset to have at her beck and call. i will make her ambitions into reality, ahaha…! ”
she quickly defers to levity and optimism, in fear of lingering on her feelings for too long.
a strange thing, legacy ––– how it’s an anchor for some, and wings for others. if only dorothea was the kind who could let the ghosts of the dead guide her, and not haunt her instead. but maybe that’s where it matters : dorothea’s ghosts have faces of her enemies, all screaming at her ; constance’s ghosts are her family members, and they are gentler. they are rooting for her.
or so dorothea likes to imagine, but what a lovely thought it is. ghosts as guidance. hands of those long gone still there, catching you when you fall, pushing you up if you find your own legs failing you. ( rise, they say. you must always rise again. )
dorothea smiles out of reflex ( for what else can she do when constance laughs, forced as it feels ) but it drops just as quickly. holding onto smiles is becoming more difficult, as days pass.
breathing in deeply, dorothea forces her breath to leave her in a slow exhale.
“ that, i can begin to understand. for you, it’s about survival, isn’t it ? you want your name to be in the history books to show you were there ––– that you, and your house, meant something. ”
oh, but she understands that perfectly. dorothea’s lips twist, neither smile nor grimace.
“ although, i have to say ... i know this is very bold of me, but i think your family would accept you, even if you didn’t accomplish those things, connie. i ––– i didn’t know them, of course. ”
she so rarely stumbles over her words but here she is, nerves squeezing at her lungs, tongue doing a dance all on their own. her cheeks burn, yet dorothea pushes onward, always.
“ ––– but if they were anything like you ... well. i think as you are is worth a lot. no house and all. ”
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