Work Text:
“Dog's breath, girl, doesn't that hair get in your eyes all the time?"
Ena squirmed uncomfortably. Already small in stature compared to the tiger-branded woman, her cowering made her almost unnoticeable. Petrine really couldn't see what His Majesty was punishing her with babysitting this girl for.
“S-Sometimes..."
Petrine narrowed her eyes, irritated. “Then what are you waiting for? Hack it off!"
“Eh?" – It took Ena a moment to fully comprehend that – “But I- We don't- I- !"
“We don't have all day!" She stomped over to her desk, pulling out a ceremonial knife from its depths. “Stay there, I'll do it for you."
It was true the halls had been deserted that day, but General Petrine had never spoken to any of her men half as much. And now she was offering her, practically a new recruit, a haircut?
The implications of the act – to a dragon, at any rate – hit Ena, causing blood to rush to her cheeks, fortunately not as visible on her dark skin.
“Don't move, or you'll get your eye gouged out," Petrine warned, turning Ena's chair the other way with just one hand. She gathered the hair spilling over Ena's forehead in one hand, measuring out how much she needed to cut with the other. The knife lay between them, on Ena's lap, and the dragon thought; how easy it would be right now, to simply make one swift slash and end this farce right now. She bit her lip. The knife looked so tantalizing in that moment.
“I said you'll get your eye gouged out if you move," Petrine growled. “Sit still, girl."
It was like cutting grass, Ena thought to herself. The way the knife cut layer by layer through her hair; hair she'd last cut only when her parents had passed on. She could see each feature of Petrine's face so clearly, up close like this. Not that she wanted to, but the freckles littering the woman's neck stood out to her, the curve of her nose drew her attention.
Petrine drew back and inspected her work, grinning. Ena had seen her demonic grin many times on the battlefield, but now it seemed devoid of any devilish aspects. To think of a parentless in this way...
“That's much better." Petrine got up and returned the knife to her desk. She turned around to leave, saying something over her shoulder.
“Don't forget to sweep all that mess up..."
Little Rajaion giggled. “I like Petrine, she's so funny!"
Ena smiled at her child, perched on the windowsill. “You think so? She would scold you for that, you know..."
“That's okay! She won't scold me, because I'm the son of her bestest friend, right?"
“...Yes!"
The strong survive. The weak perish. Those were Ashnard's own rules for his army, and he liked to make it so that they were... carried out. By assigning his best ministers or subordinates to what were, for all intents and purposes, suicide missions.
Petrine was one such subordinate this time. Of course, she hadn't dared to show a trace of her anguish on her face as she had bowed and taken her leave. But now, in the dead of night, her fears surfaced, haunted her. Through the cloth of her tent she could see the glow of the campfire, and the light chatter of what she assumed were Shiharam's men on patrol. She did like to give all the gritty work to those foreigners.
Both of the men laughed, and they were in such a position that the campfire allowed Petrine to see their silhouettes as they leaned into each other. She scowled. Just like a fucking foreigner to slack off on the job.
She rubbed her eyes, and turned her head to the other side. Another glowing ball of light greeted her.
Eh?
Who had their lamps lit at this hour? If her men were having one of those midnight gatherings again she was so going to give them a taste of her lance and mind. She waited until the guards moved along, donned her cloak and slipped out, lance at the ready.
The tent was more brightly lit than it had appeared from within. Without ceremony she pulled aside the flap, ready to chew out whoever was inside.
Ena stared back at her, eyes wide like the way chickens got before having their necks slit. A small braid trailed down her back, and she had swapped out her usual attire for something more suitable to sleeping. Which, uh, Petrine should really have expected, but apparently she didn't even know where her own tactician's tent was located.
So many papers were piled on top of each other on what was supposed to be Ena's bedroll, and she herself sat on the ground, a quill and ink beside her.
“What... are you doing?" Petrine began. She had entered with the expectation of possibly cutting someone open. Talking was... hard when she was so bewildered. “...It is late."
“General! I..." Ena seemed just as at a loss as her commander. “I am making preparations for tomorrow."
Petrine hadn't even considered that there were preparations to make. She had assumed they were all most likely going to die tomorrow, since usually no one returned from Ashnard's suicide missions alive. She hadn't known that Ena needed to prepare either. Although she hadn't thought about it, she realized she expected Ena to just pop out with plans as and when needed. That was... what prodigies did, right?
“...What are the odds?" she asked quietly, letting the tent flap fall closed behind her. Ena scrambled to clear some papers to make room for her, but the general waved her off and sat on the ground opposite.
A flash of confusion darted through Ena's eyes. “Odds of... what, General?"
She scowled. “Is there any way we can return with our lives?"
Ena's hand darted out to pull at her – now non-existent – bangs, a nervous habit, Petrine had noticed.
“Of course. This mission may be slightly more demanding than we are used to, but we may emerge victorious without any casualties if we just plan carefully. That is... my job."
Petrine stared at her in disbelief. To clear one of Ashnard's suicide missions was victory in itself, and yet she aimed to do it with no lives lost? Slightly more demanding, she said!
“Are you quite sure of this? This is... it sounds impossible. You can't seriously expect to be tasked with eliminating an entire settlement of half-breeds and do it without casualties! It's just not realistic!"
Ena flinched. “On the contrary. I have studied everything pertaining to this area extensively. I am confident it is not too lofty a goal to aim for."
Petrine laughed. The whole thing was so absurd! This young girl, a child prodigy, trivializing a job hand-picked by their king. It was ridiculous!
“Alright," Petrine said, standing up. Ena mirrored her, brows knitted together. It was a comical look on her young face, at least to Petrine.
“I'll place my life in your hands."
“Mommy, you're so cool! You got Petrine to trust you!"
Again Ena laughed. “I don't know if I'd say that, really. She was just throwing away her life at that point. She thought she was definitely going to die, so she might as well trust me and see."
“Oh... that's still cool though! She still found you when you thought you were all alone!"
"About that... I think she just got lost on her way to her tent..."
"Eh?!"
Ena had cursed Ashnard several times over her life, but one in particular stood out to her. She remembered being assigned a distasteful job; the murder of some innocent laguz. She knew the king did it to torture her further, as if holding her fiance as his slave was not enough; but she couldn't let what was an insult aimed at her cost the lives of these humans, pawns as they were.
The mission itself had gone smoothly enough – her strategy had been flawless. However, something new had turned up – just as they had finished slaying – murdering – the last of them, the shriek of a feral raven had torn through the sky. Predictably, the raven had gone berserk – it pecked at the boulders of ice high atop their mountains and sent them tumbling with its' weak claws. One raven shouldn't have been much by itself, but as the lethal icebergs gained momentum, rolling down from the mountains, Petrine let loose a string of commands.
“Don't huddle together! Keep an eye out for the rocks and you won't die! Move to the exit, single file! Do not group up under any circumstances! Go, go, go!"
As usual in every battle she strategized for, Ena was right behind the general. As Petrine ordered her soldiers around, Ena turned her gaze to the feral. It had gotten significantly slower, as no doubt the effect of the drug wore off, and Ena closed her eyes in a silent moment of prayer for it.
Which was probably why she missed the large ball of ice that had suddenly changed its course and was hurtling toward them.
She remembered feeling like her arm was being ripped out of its socket, and then her memory failed.
When she awoke the first thing she felt was the smell of blood clinging to her. She was not as effected by it as she had been before she had left her country's boundaries, but in such close proximity it still made her want to regurgitate very badly.
But there was no actual pain. Which brought Ena's attention to the still-bleeding muscular arm draped over her. Petrine appeared to be unconscious, but stirred as Ena sat up.
“General, General – you're bleeding."
Petrine blinked in confusion. Ena quickly pulled out the strips of cloth she carried in her bag for situations like this, and tried her best to wrap one around, packing ice on top of it, and holding it in place with another cloth. It was the best first aid she could do.
“You're good at that," Petrine muttered. Ena was just grateful she was keeping still.
The general cradled her arm to her chest. Ena looked around to find that they were walled in. They'd been thrown just so that on two sides the remnants of houses blocked off their path, and at their backs were a large wall of what had presumably been logs chopped for firewood. Her back would definitely be feeling that later.
Her lip curled in disgust. There was no way they could climb the logs, not with the General's arm like that. In front of them, the boulder responsible sat as if taunting them. Ena knew exactly what was going on – what Ashnard had planned. He had forced them into a corner where she had only two choices – open a path or die trying. That ice was not going to melt naturally in this climate. Ashnard wanted her to transform. A dragon's breath could trivialize this situation – and put her at odds with potentially the entire division she was assigned to, if she was caught. And that was just the minimum.
“Hey, you're bleeding too."
Petrine called out, tracing just below the line of the wound on Ena's cheek with her finger. Ena raised her own hand, surprised to confirm the fact. It couldn't be very bad if she couldn't even feel it – a little ice and she would be fine, most likely. But more importantly...
“General...” Ena looked into Petrine's eyes. It was the second time they were this close, and it was frightening to think that Ena was getting used to it already. A parentless...
“Y'know, you act tough and all... but really you're quite pretty."
Ena placed her hands on both sides of Petrine's face, looking for the signs of a concussion.
Petrine scowled. “What are you looking at me like that for? It's the truth."
Ena smiled, still in the... compromising position. It caught Petrine off-guard, and she relaxed her posture for a moment – a small window of time where Ena brought their lips closer in a kiss. The general's shoulders stiffened, but she fell into Ena's waiting arms before she could push away. Ena spit the vial of sleeping liquid out, burying it in the snow and finally letting her dragon blood dominate.
With a single roar the offending ball of ice melted in front of them, and Ena counted her blessings. There were no soldiers around, luckily. Most likely they had grouped up at Petrine's earlier announced rendezvous point. Reverting back to her previous form, Ena walked back to where Petrine lay in the snow. One more kiss would have her awake and yelling in no time.
Little Rajaion's cheeks puffed out adorably. “And then?!"
Ena laughed. “Oh, little one, we went home to the king, with not a single soldier dead. Just like heroes."
The young dragon's eyes were as wide as plates. “Mommy! That's amazing!"
Ena chuckled.
“She must have been so happy to get a kiss from you, Mommy."
“Ah... well, I don't know, really. I never asked her." Ena pulled at the bangs on her forehead.
“That's okay! We can go and ask her now! On grandpa's ship!"
“..."
“General Petrine?"
The branded woman struggled to open her eyes, squinting against the harsh sun directly above her. Irritating bastard. Couldn't it let her die without blinding her first? Wasn't that Greil's son enough?
“Who the f-"
A sudden jolt of pain wracked her chest, cutting her off mid-sentence. A particularly large pebble dug into her back, and she tried to move her hand only to distantly remember how it had been cut off some... time ago. The figure above her, overshadowed by the sun, came into focus suddenly, along with the chilling realization that she was bleeding out, alone, after failing His Majesty.
But she'd recognize that shade of pink anywhere. And that horrible haircut.
“E..na...?"
Her left hand, at least, seemed fine. She shaded her eyes with it, taking a better look at her ex-subordinate.
“Yes, it's me. General, I-"
“Just make it quick-"
Ena's eyes looked as if they were glowing. It was a while before Petrine realized those were tears, those were Ena's tears falling on her face. So, the prodigal child really could cry.
“General! Had this been a different life, we may have been the best of friends... I want to thank you for the kindness you showed me in my time with you."
Petrine croaked a laugh. “Don't be stupid. I was never kind, to anyone."
Ena shook her head. “No, General, you were kind to me. And I... I liked you, General."
“Liar," Petrine mumbled. It was as if the earth was draining her of her very life force. “You can't like me. You don't even call my name."
“General!"
“I do, though. Only you. Ena... you're not so bad..."
“P... Petrine! You are a magnificent woman. I... I won't forget you!"
The tears ran freely from Ena's eyes, and even Petrine couldn't tell if her own eyes had shed some of those tears or not.
“It's... so strange. I always thought I would die alone... and here you are... crying for... me. What an... idiot..."
Ena grasped her good hand, clasped it so tightly, and the contact felt grounding. Like Ena was feeding her vitality.
“E...na... before I go... for the last time... will you... kiss me goodbye?”
Wordlessly, the dragon leaned down, and joined their lips together in a gentle farewell. Petrine's face was bathed in tears (whose?), and as life slipped progressively farther and farther away from her reach it was Ena who held her hand through it all.
Nasir ruffled her short hair, the strong sea breeze nearly overwhelming her.
“I see you've been telling Rajaion of your fighting days," he began. “He won't stop declaring General Petrine's role cooler than mine. A criminal offense."
Ena laughed. “He's got his mother's eye for coolness."
Nasir wrapped an arm around her. “That's fine and all, as long as he doesn't inherit his mother's eye for tragedies..."
Ena's eyes stung. She elbowed her grandfather' in the side.
"Where do you think I got it from?!"