"Please," Pearl says, when rebellion is still but a seed in Rose Quartz' mind, only just begun to be spoken of in hushed whispers, "I want—"
She cuts off, eyes and mouth trembling. Knighthood, fidelity, these human concepts that make Pearl's mind burn feverishly and her body thrum with excitement, are yet to be a glimmer in her eye much less the eyes of humans. She doesn't have the language. She just wants, desperately, and that's familiar enough territory where Rose is concerned for her to take in a breath and steady herself.
"To fight," for you, "with you." Pearl swallows. "Will you teach me?"
Rose studies her a while, eyes unusually solemn, and Pearl wonders: does she see what home world sees, when she looks at her? A pearl way out of her depth, playing at things she shouldn't be playing at?
"It won't be easy," Rose says at last, and she's not saying no, but she's also not saying yes. Pearl's hands, thin and pale, more suited to science and music and engineering, curl into fists.
"Since when is war ever easy?" she retorts.
Rose concedes but the solemness stays with Pearl well after she summons her sword and shield.
I will be an asset, she thinks, parrying with a blade of her own; Rose's shield comes up, sends her teetering, but Pearl regains her footing quickly, she's always had excellent balance and she never makes the same mistake twice. I will learn to fight, and fight well, and when war comes she'll never have to go into battle without me. I'll be able to protect her.
She won't be helpless, stranded on the sidelines, but at Rose's side, proud and tall, because, whether in the thick of war or out of it, it's the only place she wants to be.