AN: This drabble collection will consist of short pieces containing female/female pairings from various games. They are edited versions of pieces I wrote for prompts I took on International Femslash Day. This one was for Raphiael, who asked for Miledy/Guinevere, Winter Flight.
Miledy's chin bumps Guinevere. Jerking back, she leans around Guinevere and squints. The snowfall makes it difficult enough to see without Guinevere in the way, but despite the princess's insistence that she wouldn't let go, Miledy refuses to sit in front. If she did, images of her princess falling would haunt her.
Guinevere calls out over the wind. "How far off is our destination?"
"Still quite a ways. This snowfall is impeding our progress."
Guinevere's head rubs Miledy's cheek when she nods. The chills running down Miledy's neck have nothing to do with Ilia's climate.
Miledy tries not to let herself be affected. She knows the arms on either side of Guinevere are not there to hold her, but to keep her safe. Still, when Guinevere leans back against Miledy, warmth fills her. It's not just the feeling of Guinevere's body, but the knowledge that Guinevere is willing to rely on her. The fact that her princess left Bern without her still aches, as much as Miledy has tried to forget.
The snow picks up. Miledy sees a storm in the distance. She's both glad and not for the excuse to place her mouth next to Guinevere's ear. "I'm sorry to delay us further, but the sky up ahead looks treacherous. I'm taking us down until it passes."
Guinevere's nod is hesitant. Miledy is painfully aware that Bern's princess would rather risk her life than delay her course.
Trifanne lands. Miledy dismounts and helps Guinevere down. They find shelter in a cave; there are no dwellings in this mountain path. Miledy sets a fire. Guinevere stands, because she's been sitting all day, she says, and so Miledy stands with her.
Shivering, Guinevere rubs her arms. "Miledy, I have a request, though it is a selfish one."
"Say it and it will be done."
A frown graces Guinevere's lips. Miledy is seized with the urge to turn the corners up. "Princess?"
"I am rather cold. If you would not mind holding me…"
Miledy sucks in icy air.
"You needn't trouble yourself," Guinevere says quickly.
"No. You know I will perform any task you ask of me, especially one so simple." Stepping forward, Miledy performs the embrace in as stiff a manner as she would a salute. Despite the feeling burning in her ribs, the action truly is simple until Guinevere returns it.
"The way you speak makes even this type of gesture sound so dutiful," Guinevere says. Swollen with cold as Miledy's throat is, it hurts when she swallows.
"I am your sworn knight."
"I'm quite aware."
Guinevere's fingers grip Miledy's coat with a tightness Miledy reserves for her reins. Her mind turns Guinevere's words over until she isn't sure whether or not she imagined the hint of disappointment in them. The idea of Guinevere finding her service distasteful wounds her, but Miledy can't help but feel hope bloom in her chest. The combination is too contradictory for a frank woman like her.
Carefully, Miledy tightens the embrace. Her only priority is the warmth it gives. Her princess has given an order, and as long as Miledy can perform it, the complications don't matter.