Private Tales Tea Time with Helena: Petra

Amidst the quiet charm of Astenvale, nestled in a cozy corner of the town square, lay the Wyvern's Nest. Its welcoming atmosphere was a sanctuary for those who sought refuge from the crispness of the fall morning. The clouds hung low, whispering promises of rain, yet the day didn't bear the weight of a tempestuous sky. Instead, the gentle chill in the air was invigorating, like the caress of autumn's breath. Norvyk, Petra's ever faithful if not curmudgeous companion, lay languidly outside the teahouse for a nap. The once formidable air of uncertainty and fear that had surrounded him and the citizens whenever he showed, had dissipated like morning mist over the long months they had spent with the Knights. The people of Astenvale had grown accustomed to the sight of the dragon flying overhead and Petra perusing the local shops, her dragon at her heels. Today, they merely regarded him with curiosity, interest, or the comfortable indifference of familiarity.

Petra, sitting at a polished wooden table, gazed contentedly out of the Wyvern's Nest. She had dressed in burgundy tunic today, paired with soft breeches and a dark cloak keeping her dry. Her normally adorned and wild hair was captured in a messy topknot. The elf felt, relaxed. Content. Happy even.

The tea house itself, was adorned with the soft glow of fire-warmed air. Emanating the comforting scents of freshly baked pastries and aromatic teas. Petra found herself awaiting the arrival of Helena, her Dawn Captain, for their long-anticipated tea meeting. And not knowing what pastries the woman would be interested in, in the elf's anxiety, had ordered two of every one. A plate had been sat before her with a dazzling display of warmed baked goods. The honey cakes having especially grabbed her attention. But she was polite, and would wait, even if she began to suspect that the honeycake was whispering to her the sweet nothings of temptation.

Petra sipped her steaming cup of earl grey, the foreshadowed rain finally tapping a gentle rhythm against the teahouse's windows. It was a tranquil melody that danced with the soothing atmosphere. The warm tea embraced her from the inside, casting away the autumn's chill with every sip.

Glancing out of the window, Petra watched as the townsfolk of Astenvale strolled through the square, their cloaks rustling in the wind. The inviting aura of each of the surrounding shops, beckoning passersby into their safe harbor, drawing them from the misty street and into the cozy interiors.

Just as Petra's thoughts wandered back to Helena, the door chimed with the fated arrival of her captain.

Helena

A bright smile flared at her Captain's arrive, motioning with a wave of scaled hand at the seat opposite to her.

Seeking something to do with her hands, she picked back up her teacup. Which came in handy when came time to shield her sheepish blush at Helena's observation.

"Aha, to be honest with you. I didn't know what you liked! And seeing as how this was my treat to you, I figured I might as well give you the opportunity to try whatever you wanted. But..." Her gaze shifting to said chocolate chunk cookie. "Now that I know, I will send my mother a letter and see if she'll include an extra batch in her seasonal basket she insists on sending me every year."

Petra laughed to herself at the memory while Helena settled in.

Helena

The question made her pause. She took to watching Norvyk napping in the rain outside while chewing on her bottom lip.

It was hard talking about her family. Normally, she would phrase her answers in an evasive way that dug no deeper than the surface — that invited no further need for questions beyond polite conversation. But she had grown so much since becoming a Knight. Gone was the depressed party girl who yearned so deeply for a new purpose, a new reason to make something of her long life outside of the tragedies she had wrought, that she had pried it from the hands of fate herself, teeth bared.

People like Helena had given her a chance to grow. Given her a new direction to seek, and Petra had flown towards it with all haste. She had fought cultists, corrupt lords, monsters, and even monsters hiding as men. So many things that she was asked to be brave against.

And yet...

"To be honest, Helena, ever since my mother found out I'm here at the Monastery, she couldn't be prouder." Petra turned back with a bittersweet smirk. "She sends me something every full moon. And letters even more often. But those letters? I haven't read them. I don't have the courage to."

Helena

A deep exaggerated inhale while Petra gathered her thoughts and watched Norvyk while she blew her exhale from a pillowed cheek.

How do I even answer that... She thought to herself. Indignant at her own inability to rein in the impulse to overshare. One would think that after over 100 years of tempering her impulses, she would be better at it. But part of her had grown tired of constantly mastering herself. Of intellectualizing all of her feelings. Of compartmentalizing the shame and the guilt that was tucked into a neat corner of her heart. Doing her no good besides gathering dust.

Vulnerability wasn't exactly easy. Not to mention the fear that so often went with it. But as she finally looked back into the eyes of her Captain, there was a warmth in their brown light that made it easier to displace her fears.

Acquiescing with another deep breath, "Well..." She began, fighting the desire to fidget. "I guess you could say I left a lot of pain behind when my sister died. Ran away, really." She snorted self-deprecatingly. "I think... I'm just not ready for my mother to try and convince me that it wasn't my fault. She wasn't there. And her forgiveness feels like..." The elf looked down into her cup, hypnotized by the coils of steam. "It feels like pity. And I can't stomach either."

Helena

The question was quiet, but its aim was true in the way it knocked the breath from Petra's chest for a fleeting moment.

There within the warm breaths of their teapots and the soft din of the cafe, the trajectory of their conversation had caught her so off guard that she hadn't even noticed how quickly her walls had dropped in its bubble of safety. Swallowing the sudden welling of emotion, a tired smile held vigil on her features, one born of old grief between them.

"To be loved is to be considered." Petra replied gently. A pause while she took a contemplative sip from her teacup. "I don't think I remember a single thing I ever baked with my family." She placed her teacup on its saucer and spun it casually with one taloned finger, her chin resting in the palm of her other hand as she sought answers in its depths. "But music?" A soft smirk. "I have many memories of music between us. The way my mother could sing the language of plants for her apothecary. Of my father singing to the horses he trained; and how they never wavered under his hand."

She tilted her chin up and looked at Helena, "I have lived a long time, Helena. And I will live longer still. And I've found that time is the cruelest thief. It's taken many things from me, small treasures. Like the words to the song my sister used to sing when she braided my hair and the exact color of her eyes when she laughed at my stupid jokes."

Petra closed her eyes on a humorless chuckle, trying to grab at those memories, but it strayed just out of her reach. Murky and blurred. Sighing deeply, she sat up and back against her chair, folding her arms across her chest.

"But time has also taught me how beautiful it is to have had the privilege to miss someone who shined so bright. To have learned to never stop talking about them."

Petra laid her taloned hand flat over her heart, her gaze poignant where it caught her Captain's, "Sometimes it doesn't even feel like she's left me. Only just ahead of me, waiting. Because her loves still lives here."

Helena

Petra found she could only hold the warmth in Helena's eyes for so long before she herself felt compelled to drop her gaze, suddenly embarrassed over the intensity of the emotions she had revealed. But the chattering conversation of customers around them, who had sought refuge from the rain in a fresh cup of tea, eased some of her self-inflicted tension. There was familiarity here. Safety here. Safety in letting down a few of her barbed walls while they shared fresh pastries and soft cookies.

The Dawnling watched out the window once more at her slumbering dragon while she absently pulled apart a buttery croissant that she had no real interest in, other than to busy her hands. And when the silence instead grew comfortable once more between them. and Petra felt she had corralled the most volatile and passionate of her feelings, she asked, "Do you remember when we first met?" A wry grin parting her lips. The scenes of that very odd and weird morning making her cringe inwardly, only a little.

Helena

Brows raised and nose scrunching as she grinned back, "If I had a copper for every time someone has demanded that I somehow control that beast and his sharp tongue." Petra snorted good-naturedly into her teacup, settling it into its saucer with an emphatic sigh. "You know. My father, he bred some of the best horses this side of the Vale. Farregryn steeds, he called them. Named after a famous elven hunter, who was fabled to move so quietly through the trees of Fal'Addas in pursuit of his quarry, that he was like shadow incarnate. Swift and cunning." She noted Helena's empty cup, and poured from the Captain's teapot, leaving room for cream and sugar before refilling from her own.

Wrapping her hands around her cup, she stared at the settling liquid with a nostalgic smirk. "Actually, dragons remind me a lot of horses. My father used to tell me that riding powerful horses was a privilege. You never really have control, but you get a say if you are kind."

Helena

Her Captain's coy comment startled a snorting laugh from Petra, "I'm sure he would deny that until the day he dies. He's more likely to tell you it's because I don't bore him." She looked outside to grin at a small boy who was holding some kind of waterproof parasol over the end of Norvyk's snout, taking the chance to marvel at the dragon up close. The storm dragon having cast a curious and tolerant eye upon the child while they poked and prodded him.

Sliding a teasing eye to Helena, she quipped, "Why do you think I get up to all that mischief? It is a task and a half keeping a dragon entertained."

But a somber veil suddenly fell over her features. Her hooded gold eyes tracking the panicked mother that had found her son mingling with her dragon and began dragging him away with a scolding glare. The child had dropped his parasol in the flurry, abandoned in a stray puddle amongst the cobblestones.

On a tired sigh, Petra murmured, "But I am grateful that no matter what, I will have Norvyk."

And as if Norvyk had heard his rider's words, he raised his great horned head, scales darkened to almost black with the rain. But his eyes shone bright like burnished coins where he watched them through the window across the courtyard.

Smirking despite herself, she looked back at Helena. "There's not many that can claim that they will never again know a lonely day. And I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Helena

"That was you?!" Petra burst out with a snort, trading her turmoil from moments before for kinder company. No use borrowing trouble where there isn't any. "I hope you know that you created a monster!" She followed her playful accusation with a grin that flashed when she popped a piece of buttery croissant into her mouth.

"Woe onto me now if I forget to treat him with a cake after a mission. I have half a mind to tease him that I'm going to have to start letting out his buckles."

She rested her pert chin onto the folded knuckled edges of one hand, a sincere light warming her eyes while sheepish edges pulled at her smile, "Truly, Helena, it should be me who thanks you. I don't know where I would have gone without your sanctuary. Freshly bonded to a dragon. Lost in more ways than one." She snorted half-heartedly. "Dare I even admit, scared?"

Fear. It was a dark heavy stone that sat at the bottom of her thoughts since she was accepted within the Knights of Anathaeum. And that stone bloomed a question that nagged at the fringe of her worries.

Did she even deserve to be here?

A lifetime spent being the older sister and adhering to every responsibility that came with it and more. Working to earn her keep in any situation. To being useful and as little a burden as possible. Because if she felt like she was able to earn her place somewhere, then Petra felt safe. Valued. Needed.

And that stone weighed like a boulder in her gut now—she needed to know, "Why did you allow it?" She paused bemusedly. "What did you see in us that convinced you to let us stay?"

Helena

The compliments caught her off guard and suddenly Petra found herself feeling rather foolish for having decided to sip from her teacup in that moment. The praise and teasing darkened her cheeks, and she spluttered through the brew she had choked on. She knew that she had been the one to ask the question, yet somehow, she was still unprepared for the answer.

Laughing softly through her blunder, she tried to ignore the initial wave of being overwhelmed by the sincerity in her Captain's words; but failed and struggled to look up from the linen towel she used to dab gingerly at the tea she spilled. Taking instead the opportunity to collect back her wits.

For Petra had a hard time being perceived. Granted, she considered herself a transparent creature. No one had to guess why and what she was feeling in any given situation. If Petra had an opinion on something, chances were, she was going to have her say about it.

But having parts of herself examined, pieces of her character that perhaps, she hadn't mentally prepared to be seen, made her feel vulnerable. Not that she thought Helena would use whatever she saw against her. If anything, the words that fell from her Captain startled Petra with their praise. She never realized how Helena saw her. And having her own internal version of herself collide with the objective opinion of her Captain sent her a bit off-kilter. Like the ground she thought she stood on, changed its surrounding landscape in the blink of an eye and was left dazzled by her new surroundings.

Self-consciously, Petra laughed and finally looked up at this woman who called her friend. "I'm not sure what to say. Thank you doesn't feel adequate?" A bashful lift of her shoulders. "If anything, I hope to live up to your expectations. Because that version of myself sounds like a wonderful person to know. Arrogance and all." She smiled with a teasing tilt and sighed as if dispersing the weight of the moment.

"But what I want to know, is the story of how you became Captain so young. That sounds like a story better accompanied by a stronger brew than tea."

Helena