Work Text:
The first time Petra had offered to give Dorothea a ride on the back of a wyvern, there had been squeals and nervous laughter. Petra had felt a certain exhilaration at how Dorothea had clung to her waist, despite the saddle straps that kept them both securely tethered. It was the first time that Dorothea held her like she was the only thing in the world worth hanging onto.
"Goddess!" She'd shrieked as Pepper the wyvern folded his wings and dipped abruptly down into the valley below Garreg Mach, worrying Petra that this might be too much for the songstress, before the shriek dissolved into laughter. Her face emerged from where she'd buried it in the crook of Petra's neck, a smile in her voice as she shouted, "faster!"
"You must be holding on tighter," Petra lied. She so rarely lied, especially so brazenly.
Dorothea's laughter continued. "I fear if I squeeze you any tighter, I'll crush you like a ripe plum!"
"You cannot be crushing me," Petra said as she released the reins with one gloved hand to rest it over Dorothea's. The knuckles of Dorothea's hands were white as the fingers dug into the folds of Petra's leather tunic. "I am very strong."
Dorothea's hands relaxed beneath hers as she laughed. "You are strong, Petra. My very own knight of the skies."
Dorothea was far less prone to screaming on this journey, as Pepper settled into a smooth coast along the high winds. After countless wartime flights spent swooping over the heads of armies, veering around projectiles, bucking at the sudden air pressure changes caused by fiery explosions, a journey over farmland felt quite tranquil.
Hresvelg territory unfolded beneath them like a quilt, the summer greens of cropland turning golden as the sun dipped low on the horizon. It was too far to fly directly from Brigid to Enbarr, since the expanse of ocean would prevent Pepper from landing to rest each night. And so the poor wyvern had endured the indignity of a crate below deck as they'd sailed to the Empire's southernmost coast. A small honor guard of Brigid soldiers had accompanied them to port.
The rest of the journey, however, they'd wanted to spend in solitary flight. No officials. No guards. Just the Queen of Brigid and her closest confidante. And Pepper, who had not been allowed to gnaw on a single person in six months, and itched with boredom at the dreariness of peacetime.
They'd packed only the barest essentials, of course, to make the longer journey easier on Pepper. If the Emperor objected to them showing up in travel-worn clothes, then perhaps she should have been more specific in her invitation.
(Dorothea did not, in fact, expect Edelgard to be anything but jealous at their excursion.)
Their guards, of course, did not readily agree to allow their queen to simply fly away unaccompanied, even if their delegation would catch up to them in Enbarr within a few days. But Petra and Dorothea had not led armies for years only to balk at a two-day flight over the countryside.
Dorothea's breath tickled in Petra's ear as she softly sang, "Oh take to the sky my sweet songbird, on wings of glistening gold..."
Petra knew that if she wished, Dorothea could have belted the song out loud enough that all the world would hear her down below. She also knew well Dorothea's mixed feelings on that kind of performing, the things that it reminded her of. When she leaned in like this, to sing just barely loud enough for Petra to hear over the wind, she knew it meant something different. It was like Dorothea was sharing a little secret with her, offering a little piece of her heart, set aside only for Petra.
She dropped her hand to clasp Dorothea's, which was resting comfortably on Petra's thigh. "Am I being your songbird? I think you are doing the singing."
Dorothea rested her chin on Petra's shoulder. "It's actually a very sad song. It's just that the sunset on Pepper's scales made me think about golden wings."
Petra laughed. "Pepper is being a very good songbird."
Hearing his name, Pepper grunted in assent. He had the voice of a dying ox.
"Oh, I know you are Pepper," Dorothea said fondly. Pepper liked it when Dorothea sang to him in the stables while Petra trimmed his claws. Sometimes he liked to join in.
Dorothea's hand, still sandwiched between Petra's hand and her thigh, flipped around now to grip Petra's. "Are you ready for this? To be back in Fodlan society?"
Petra processed the question silently, enjoying the feeling of Dorothea's fingers entwined with hers. In the past, she would have answered "of course!" without hesitation. She had always cloaked herself in her positivity, in her determination to seem ready to rise to any occasion. But with Dorothea, she felt safe in her imperfection and doubts.
"I am ready to be seeing our friends," Petra concluded.
"Yeah," Dorothea agreed. "It'll be nice to see them again." After living side-by-side with their comrades for years, it felt strange to go a full six months without a little late night gossip with Edelgard or a sewing session with Bernadetta to patch their war-torn clothes. As much as Dorothea had hated the violence, a part of her longed for that strange, wonderful state of being at camp, surrounded by the people she'd fought beside day after day. The honor guard that would be joining them at the palace would be laden with plenty of gifts for their friends.
"And you?" Petra prompted. "Are you being ready?"
Dorothea sagged a little against her back, her face tilting to rest her cheek on Petra's shoulder. "I don't know. Sometimes I'm so excited to go home. And sometimes I wonder what they must think of me in Enbarr, the little songstress who played at war for a while. I've always had to fight to be seen as more than that. But in Brigid, nobody sees me that way. Maybe it's just because I'm with you, but… it's nice. Not to have people assume things like that about me."
Petra's fingers entwined with hers. As the sun continued its descent, the sky took on shades of pink and orange. "I am not thinking it is because of me. Many people of Brigid are liking you, Dorothea. You are enthusiastic to share in our customs and learn of our ways. And you bring with you much strength of your own. They are seeing your heart, as I am."
Dorothea wrapped both her arms around Petra now, squeezing her just for the pleasure of it. "You're always saying the sweetest things. You keep making me fall in love with you all over again, you know?"
Petra leaned into the embrace, resting her cheek against Dorothea's. "Then I will not be stopping this. But if you wish, when we arrive in Enbarr, we can be calling you something else."
"Hmm? What do you mean by that?" One thing that Petra always liked about Dorothea was that she always took the time to ask questions and allow Petra to clarify her words so that she completely understood her. Petra hoped to show her the same level of patience as Dorothea learned her language in turn.
"I am meaning that you could arrive in Enbarr as a representative of Brigid."
Dorothea sat up straight. "What, as like a diplomat? You don't think I'm cut out for something like that, do you? I don't have the kind of formal education a noble would, you know that."
Petra turned to smile over her shoulder. "I am knowing that you are better at speaking than many nobles, and you are also good at listening and respecting others. I have been thinking for a while that you should be taking this role, but I wanted you to set in – no. To settle in. You should be enjoying Brigid before I ask you to serve it. But I hope you will consider doing this."
Turned around as she was, Petra had opportunity to see the stricken look on Dorothea's face, the way the sunset glowed pink on her cheeks and lit up the tears that flooded forth. Her hair was intricately woven into Brigid-style braids, already making her look like she belonged there more than she ever had in Enbarr. "You're always believing in me," Dorothea choked a little on the words, and hastily moved to wipe the tears away with her sleeve. "Okay. I feel out of my depth, but… okay. For you. For you, I can try anything. I promise I won't let you down, my Queen."
Petra found her hands again, and tugged them until Dorothea's arms were once again around her, holding her tight. "I know you will not, my Dorothea."