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Flying is colder than Marisa anticipated. She can see her very breath freeze in white puffs of mist before her face. Fierce gusts of wind buffet them to and fro in the saddle, stinging her face and chapping her lips raw. Thankfully, the heavy Frelian greatcoat Tana gifted her before their shared pegasus flight is the warmest garment Marisa has ever worn.
Marisa's pulse quickens as she leans over Tana's back to peer at the dizzying drop below. The wintry countryside of Frelia is mainly composed of open, sweeping plains of snow, with a few densely forested areas concentrated around the base of a cloud-capped mountain range. Far in the distance is a dark smudge marking the northwestern coast, and beyond it, a seemingly endless stretch of grey sea. Her stomach lurches in protest at the unfamiliar bird's-eye view.
Tana raises her arm in signal to warn Marisa before beginning their sharp descent. The small clearing by the lake's edge is bordered on three sides by scrub pines, but rider and mount pinpoint a gap in the trees from above like threading a needle. Marisa tightens her grip around Tana's waist, just as Achaeus folds his great feathered wings close to his body and dives.
The wind roars in Marisa's ears as they plummet like stone towards the earth.
Achaeus flares his wings out like a ship's sails just before they land, slowing their momentum enough for his galloping hooves to gain traction on the frosty ground. The pegasus snorts a mighty cloud of steam and tosses his head as he slows to a trot, then a walk. To her credit, Marisa's face remains as stoic as ever, even when turbulence threatened to rattle her right out of her seat.
Tana expertly swings a leg over the saddle and hops off his back before Achaeus even halts.
“You did really well for a first timer! You didn't even scream,” Tana giggles. She catches Achaeus by the bridle and steers him toward the lake shore, with Marisa still sitting awkwardly on his back. “Do you feel airsick? Some trainees get queasy during takeoff and landing especially...”
Marisa shakes her head. She can handle it. Besides, the pegasus did all the work. His wings droop low now, and his sweaty flanks quiver from exertion. Flying with twice as much cargo as usual must be tiring for him.
“Achaeus is... strong,” Marisa says. Tentatively she pats him on the neck, the way she's seen Tana do before. “He is an impressive beast.”
Tana turns her beaming smile toward Marisa, obviously proud, and offers her a mittened hand. Marisa grasps Tana's hand and attempts to imitate Tana's effortless dismount, but finds her unsteady legs have gone entirely numb. She nearly topples face-first as she slips over the side of the saddle. Tana braces Marisa's weight until she regains the feeling in her wobbling knees.
Tana is more than happy to swoop in to the rescue, of course, but Marisa still flusters at her casual closeness. She's not used to this much physical contact.
“You're surprisingly clumsy when you're not on the battlefield,” Tana teases. Her nose and cheeks are tinged a rosy pink by the crisp air. “I'm not accustomed to seeing you be anything but graceful, o Crimson Flash.”
Marisa wants to protest – it is merely that this restrictive style of woolen coat could never be worn in the desert, and she has no prior experience with the complexities of horseback riding, let alone pegasi – but Tana looks so pleased with herself for having been useful that Marisa curbs her tongue in time. Slowly but surely, she is getting better at reading the cues in Tana's expressive face, the same way she learned to read subtle shifts in body language during a duel. When to verbally parry, when to advance, when to hold one's ground – it requires the same intensity of mental focus.
“I'm only good at swinging a sword,” Marisa hedges. It's true enough. “I was taught little else.”
“I see... In some ways, I think you're lucky to have been trained like a man, instead of all the endless tutoring they put noblewomen through,” Tana complains lightly. “To study only the blade and naught else sounds... simpler.”
“Mm,” Marisa grunts. “Perhaps it is. My father never drew any distinction between son or daughter. A mercenary is a mercenary.”
Once Achaeus drinks his fill of lake water, Tana safely secures his reins to a pine bough. Birdsong gradually filters through the muted snowscape as small creatures flit about the branches. As they quietly converse about lessons, Marisa and Tana set about gathering fallen tree limbs and stacking them in front of their hiding place, forming a makeshift blind. Pine needles crunch beneath their boots with every step.
This copse of conifers in particular – Walles Forest – is the place where herds of wild pegasi come down from the mountains and gather for foaling season, according to Tana. The native population is far more skittish around humans than a captive bred pegasus like Achaeus is, but even so, Tana swore she should be able to find at least a few mares using the lake as a watering hole no matter the time of year.
Marisa's heart flutters hopefully at the thought. She wants to see them.
“The difference is like night and day to the royal court,” Tana is cheerfully explaining to her as they work. “Innes received all the military education the kingdom could offer. I had to campaign for ages before Father let me study to be a pegasus knight, and even then, I had restrictions the other girls didn't. It's hardly fair that I had to practice my needlework, music, and etiquette, on top of learning to ride. And I still had to literally run away from home to follow Eirika! Are all mercenaries as... magnanimous... as your father? Were there no swordsmen who looked down upon you as the fairer sex?”
“There were,” Marisa replies matter-of-factly. There will always be fools who cannot see beyond appearance, and underestimate her skill as a result. “I was trained specifically in techniques to fight against taller, right-handed combatants. They were not trained how to defend against shorter, left-handed ones. They soon learned the cost of their ignorance.”
“Oh, I would pay dearly to see that comeuppance,” Tana exclaims, clapping her mittens together. “You're so amazing, Marisa! I deeply envy your competence and talent. Would that I could be so respected and powerful... No one could forbid me from doing anything! You could even put Innes in his place, I'd wager!”
Marisa shrugs. Perhaps in fencing, although she is ignorant to even the basics of archery, nor does she have any inclination to learn. For swordsmen, at least, the element of surprise gives her a tremendous advantage. The number of mercenaries who start cursing bloody murder when they realize Marisa can switch hands at will is almost comically high. It would prove nothing of worth for her to compete with Prince Innes when his specialty lies elsewhere, though.
“Ah. Movement. Over there.”
Marisa's voice drops into a low whisper as she jerks her chin in the direction of the disturbance. Tana sits beside her, one hand gripping Marisa's arm like a vice, as they peer together through a gap in the blind. The two women wait with bated breath as the snowy bushes on the far side of the lake rustle and part.
Slowly, cautiously, emerging from the safety of the trees... is a lone deer.
Tana sags in obvious disappointment. Marisa placidly watches the deer swivel its ears about, scanning for danger, then lower its head to the water. She knows little about animals, but it strikes Marisa that this ordinary sight, too, is meaningful in its own way. The War of the Stones unleashed hordes of monsters to ravage the continent, spreading corruption and despair everywhere they touched. The quiet peace of unspoiled wilderness is proof of their hard-won victory.
The deer startles when Achaeus stamps his hoof and whinnies. White tail raised like a flag of surrender, the deer bounds away and soon vanishes.
Tana clucks her tongue to scold him before turning back to Marisa.
“Frelia has other famous landmarks, too,” Tana blurts, almost apologetically. “The pegasi are truly lovely in the snow, but if they don't appear... I can fly you over the mountains! Or take you to the sea, should you desire. I really want to show you everything that makes this kingdom the magical place it is! I want you to love its splendor as much as I do.”
Marisa releases the tension in her posture to raise her arms above her head and stretch. Cold muscles are stiff and sluggish to respond. At least standing and moving about kept her blood circulating. Sitting still in this frigid air makes everything in her veins turn to ice.
“Why do you care if I like it here?” Marisa asks as an afterthought. “Does that matter?”
Tana blinks, startled.
“Well...! You mean a lot to me, and... It's been on my mind of late...” Tana pauses to fidget with the end of her braid, using the moment to regain her composure. “If I was ever to hire you, say, as one of my retainers... or as a knight of Frelia... If the pay was good enough, could you picture yourself putting down roots in a place like this?”
“No. I'm a mercenary, born and raised,” Marisa says bluntly. “I don't stay anywhere once the job's done.”
A foolish notion. To settle anywhere permanently would be to abandon her found family and their transient way of life – not to mention abandoning her personal goal of mastering the blade and surpassing the man who taught her. Gerik's Mercenaries belong to no one. She cannot picture any other way.
It's only at Tana's crestfallen expression that Marisa realizes she misstepped somewhere. She remains a poor conversationalist despite her best efforts.
“Jehanna is... harsh, but those who grow up steeped in desert sands are the strongest in the land.” Marisa clears her throat awkwardly, looking out at the lake's surface for inspiration rather than meeting Tana's beseeching eyes. “I can swing my sword anywhere, but to become the strongest myself, I must seek out the best swordmasters there are. Frelia is surely a fine place to call home. It's just... not mine.”
Tana heaves a dramatic sigh, leaning so that her shoulder bumps into Marisa's.
“I should have known you cannot be tempted with beauty or gold alone.” Tana flashes her a cheeky smile. “As princess, I want to imagine a future with you wearing my colors, but... I suppose I shall have to content myself with your visits, sporadic as they are. After my brother's coronation, I shall have far less time to gallivant off on unchaperoned adventures with Achaeus. I can't keep sneaking out when there is so much work to be done in the wake of the war. Eirika oft writes to me about the restoration efforts in Renais, and I must endeavor to do my part for our allies, as well... Ah.”
Marisa raises an eyebrow in inquiry as Tana sits bolt upright.
“What if I just... buy you a pegasus of your own?”
Marisa stares blankly at her.
“I... don't understand.”
“It's perfect!” Tana grins, eyes shining with triumph. “Flight would allow you to swiftly travel between the desert and here, and you can move freely even when I cannot. You'll be able to visit more often! I know you are deeply fond of pegasi... And you would not be required to swear fealty to Frelia's knights, since it's just a personal gift to my consort. What say you?”
Marisa swallows around a sudden lump in her throat. Tana told her once to ignore royal titles and formality when they spoke, and Marisa honored that request ever since. They are both the culmination of their upbringing, and nothing more. Occasionally, however, she is reminded of the gulf between their statuses. A trained pegasus sold outside of Frelia's borders would cost more gold than Marisa could scrape together in years.
“It is... too generous a gift for the likes of a common sellsword. Surely the king would not...”
“Oh, pish-tosh. Father shall let me do as I please, so long as I convince Syrene to my side first. Innes doesn't wear the crown just yet!”
“You are... good at convincing people,” Marisa remarks haltingly. Her face feels unusually heated, despite the chilly air. “Perhaps... even me.”
“So it is settled, then?” Tana presses a chaste kiss to Marisa's cheek, sealing the deal. Marisa can deny Tana nothing. “I shall give you your first flying lesson on our way back to the castle! You're already a natural. One day soon, we shall soar amongst the clouds together!”
When she withdraws, Tana's bright smile stretches from ear to ear. Marisa finds her voice has deserted her entirely.
As she stares down at her boots, a momentary shadow crosses over the white snow. Then another, and another. Marisa casts her gaze upward, then catches her breath in surprise. Tana gasps outright, grabbing Marisa by the coat collar and shaking her enthusiastically. Even Achaeus bobs his head and neighs in loud excitement.
Overhead, the spiraling silhouettes of a migratory herd of pegasi darken the sky.