#Another Way: Bels adventures in Dravinia

[chysgoda]

September 13 Telling

Another Way: Found Out

Spoilers: Stormblood

Art’imis Chysgoda is told about her daughter’s current endeavors.

—

Something was making the back of Art’imis Chysgoda’s neck itch.

It wasn’t Lolorito’s agent in Kuagane. (She was still annoyed that he brought up ‘stealer of pants’ in front of the twins. You take one set of pants from a jack ass at an after party and suddenly it’s a thing.) It wasn’t that this plan to make Garlemald fight a war on two fronts worried her. (It did, but not in an itchy way.) it wasn’t even that the twins were just a hair taller than her and she didn’t know when it happened. (She did, but was in denial about it.) she scratched at the scales on the back of her neck trying to alleviate the itch that seemed to radiate from her soul.

Art’imis debated wandering out to the pleasure district. Maybe exercising the beast with two backs would help. She pushed herself up and off the rented bed. She’d let Alisaie and Tataru know where she was going, that way they wouldn’t worry. Art’imis blinked, her ears popped and there was a rush of displaced air and a small dragon hovered in front of her face.

Well that kind of attention explained the itching.

“Warrior,” Midguardsommer greeted her, as grave as he always was.

“Midguardsommer, how can I help you?” Art’imis eyed the small avatar of the father of dragons. The ancient king was not in the habit of popping by for a casual chat.

“Your daughter was not able to avail herself of the knowledge kept within the stone that the knights dragoon use and has sought help from my son.”

Art’imis arched an eyebrow. She couldn’t say either fact was surprising. Aymeric, the Knight Commander of the dragoons, and she had spoken at length about if someone who’s family did not have the blood of Ratatasker could even use one of the dragoon soulstones. Aymeric and the knight commander had agreed to let Bel try, but did not have much faith it was even possible. She wondered who Bel had convinced to go out to Dravinia with her.

“Hrasvalger thought to deter her by requiring a task he believed she would not attempt to accomplish.” Midguardsommer continued in that slow measured way dragons had that made every other intelligent race on the star want to yell at them to hurry it up.

“Are you telling on your son?” Art’imis asked incredulously.

“He required that your daughter divest herself of Hydaelyn’s blessing before he would consider her request for aid.”

Art’imis blinked. There were several responses she could have to this. She decided to clarify the situation first, “Hrasvalger, told my daughter that if she wanted his help to do the thing that she has been dead set on doing since she decided that Ishgard was home and she would help protect it, she would need to remove the blessing of light. One of the few things that can keep MANY undesirable things from happening to her, which includes the Ascians. My daughter who has hated Hydaelyn since we found out that the mother crystal was using her aunt as a puppet-”

“That is not a very reasonable-”

“She’s fourteen! Reasonable is not in the equation,” Art’imis took a breath to get her temper back under control, “hopefully whoever Bel talked into taking her to the Zenith told him off before they went back to Ishgard.”

Midguardsommer was silent for several moments. Art’imis started going through the list of people Bel could talk into going with her, Estinien was most likely. She could beat his ass if she needed to. After another moment the old dragon spoke again, “She came alone when she sought out an audience with my son-”

“SHE WHAT?!” Art’imis had no doubt that the entire floor of the inn heard that, she also did not care.

“And she found a way to accomplish the task.”

Art’imis blinked again and went to the armor stand where she had hung her field leathers to air out. Midguardsommer watched her get armored up in silence until she grabbed her sword and shield. She felt his focus change and spoke first, “I’m just going to talk to them.”

“Art’imis Chysgoda-”

“I just want to talk,” Art’imis repeated herself. “At most I’ll throw one of his eyes in the siren song sea so he has to go fucking diving for it. And she is fucking GROUNDED for the rest of her life.”

The father of dragons evidently found this to be acceptable as he didn’t speak up again as she settled her shield on her back and walked out of her room and down the hall to Alphinaud’s room.

“SHE DID WHAT?!” A changing voice cracked as it shouted, disturbing the inn once again.

In Art’imis’s room, Midguardsommer considered whether or not he should let the Warrior of Light know that the next task was to recreate the blessing and if he should be concerned for his son’s life.