#Vidofnir's Wings

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 20: hamper

Running a free company came with a near-endless list of chores, especially since Vidofnir’s Wings remained rather small in comparison to the amount of people they helped. Most of these were bearable—tedious, yes, especially since they were now down their tallest member, but bearable. (Evrard had taken a rather vindictive pleasure in donating all of Busari’s things to Ul’dahn charities. Q’sevet had offered to hold a bonfire, but he’d wanted them to be useful one last time.) They hired cooks, Q’kerahn kept the ledgers, and everyone pitched in to clean. When things needed to be repaired—well, Evrard knew people. They managed.

But once a week, there came the single day all of them dreaded.

Laundry.

The hamper felt like it weighed as much as he did, and he was already sweating through his thin cotton shirt as he hauled it outside. The worst part? This wasn’t even the only one. There were six more that needed to be sorted and flung into steaming tubs. Thank the Fury for magic, at least, because that way he didn’t have to spend bells building up the fires. (He’d tried to use magic for the washing as well. It worked fine on normal clothes, but anything enchanted tended to react...badly. And when you ran an adventuring company, most of your clothing was enchanted. At least it spared them from having to scrub smallclothes.)

Haruka was already sorting lights from darks, and didn’t even bother looking up as she informed him, “There are laundromats for this, you know.”

He upended the basket on one of the low trestle tables, wheezing out a breath as he did so. His back gave a warning twinge. “And do we have laundromat gil?”

“Nope,” Q’kerahn grumbled, trudging over to unload it.

Haruka groaned.

Evrard didn’t follow suit, but he rather wanted to. Rubbing his back and wishing fervently that he’d mastered the art of levitating containers in a steady manner (his previous attempts having wound up...well, he was still missing some socks), he made his way back inside to where there was shade. Slowly. Q’sevet passed him, loaded down with his own hamper and muttering curses under his breath.

He exhaled. Five more to go, then.

[myreia]

FEBHYURARY X: DRAGON

The weeks after the events at the Singularity Reactor blur into one. With Ishgard stricken with abrupt and rapid change, she does not find the city peaceful. Aymeric has his hands full and little time to spare; the men of House Fortemps spend far too much time fretting over her. Not even the familiarity of the Forgotten Knight and Sidurgu’s solid, taciturn presence can diminish the edge she feels—like she is caught in stasis, waiting for the next thing to go wrong. And so she returns to Anyx Trine. Though peace is not yet certain between man and dragon, she is welcome by Hraesvelgr’s brood. They are friends of a kind and Vidofnir offers a sense of stability that those in Ishgard cannot. There is no judgement. No demands. No obligations. No questions. She takes comfort in these silent nights overlooking the Dravanian Forelands, curled up with Filo beneath the protection of the dragon’s wing. And some nights, when her mind wanders through the shifting, kaleidoscopic landscape of her dreams, she finds herself focusing on a single person. Someone dear to her. Someone she lost. Someone she misses so terribly it’s like an ache. There is so much she would say to him if she could see him again. But Thancred is long gone and she must steel her heart for the inevitable reality that he is lost in the Lifestream for good. ☽ ☆ ☾ He has seen her from a distance countless times now. Passing through the Forelands with that familiar determined stride, sometimes alone, other times in the company of others. More than once he has considered appearing to her, catching her on one of her journeys between Tailfeather and Anyx Trine. But always—always—he has held himself back. This damnable idea in his mind that she is far too busy to interrupt now, that any disruption to her daily activities would bring misfortune. She is, after all, preoccupied with preventing world-ending disasters and embroiled in Ishgardian politics. Now is not the time for… this. What would he say to her? What can he say to her? Perhaps he doesn’t know. And so he waits, passing through the forelands like a ghost, the Dravanian fortress haunting the skyline.

[jefarawol]

The air was bitter as they landed. Jefara slid from Vidofnir's back into the snow blinking away the soft flecks that swirled around. She could just make out the shapes of the soldiers across the way. As she closed in on them there was no doubt they were Artoirel and Stephanivien. she dashed forwards, as quickly as she could dropping to her knees beside them. "Artoirel please!" She begged. Her hands emanated a faint glow as she pressed them to his chest. But nothing happened, the small tendrils of her clemency lingered at the surface. She was too late. She hung her head, unable to cry anymore tears in the frigid wind that surrounded them. With one last push she threw all her power into the spell. The light grew brighter, the magic pooled again at her fingertips. 

"ARTOIREL!"  She cried out. Her voice echoing in the ravine.  Your tesó has moved on little one. "No!" She snarled back. "No no no!" "Warrior…" a weak voice reached out. "Stephanivien!" She gasped. His eyes were tired as he blinked several times. The sound of her screams pulling him back to consciousness.

One yet lives. Vidofnir leant her head towards the machinist from her perch on the cliff. Stephanivien gasped at the sight of her. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner."  "Shh." He placed his hand over hers still glowing with her attempted healing spell.  "I'm sorry I could not save him."

She made to pull her hand back, but the magic began to seep through and down into Artoirel's chest. She pushed harder, as much aether as she could muster.  It was a long moment. As they both watched the Count de Fortemps motionless in the snow.  And then…

His chest rose, taking in a full deep breath.

"Artoirel?"  The magic faded, but it was enough. His chest continued to rise and fall steadily. Your Gods must favour you. Vidofnir nuzzled Jefara's side gently. She looked at Stephanivien holding onto Artoirel tightly. He sobbed openly, relief flooding through him. Artoirel was alive. They were both alive. "Lets get him home, you both still need healing. Can you stand?"

Stephanivien didn't know if he could. He released Artoirel from his grip, willing his legs to move. Slowly, unsteadily holding onto Vidofnir's neck as she supported him he stood. It was a struggle to lift Artoirel's unconscious form. But with the dragon's help they managed to roll him onto her back. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

The snow had stopped, the bridge was covered in a light dusting of frost and Barham was beginning to feel the cold through his warm clothes. He leant against the wall, waiting. After a while, the gentle beat of wings came up with the wind. He braced himself and pushed off from the stone, ready to comfort his daughter in her grief. Vidofnir soared up and hovered above the stones. Barham could just see in the dark that the dragon had dropped something from its front claws. There was a clang of metal and the dragon landed with a soft thud.

"Apa! Quickly!" He could hear Jefara shouting. He hurried forward to the person he could see moving on Vidofnir's back. But to his surprise, the light shone on the two elezen, two alive elezen. "Seven hells…" Stephanivien was trying to lift Artoirel off, even as the dragon lay herself flat he struggled to put pressure on his broken wrist. Barham rushed forward to where Jefara was trying to help them, his height in comparison making it easier to pull Artoirel's unconscious form and lay him on the stones.

"Yer Lordship! Yer alive!" Joye ran forward helping Stephanivien as he slid ungracefully from the dragon's back to the ground. She threw her arms around his neck. "Joye." He hugged her weakly. "I'm sorry milord!" She cried holding onto him. "It wer all my fault!" "Shh it's okay." He patted her head with his good hand. He looked over to where Artoirel lay, anxiety rising in him as Barham began pulling off the dented pauldron. "Lánya, I need you to press down here when I lift this." He moved her hands into place. "There will be blood. Until I can seal the wound." She nodded. Stephanivien reached out to take Artoirel's hand. He felt a rush of relief when Artoirel's fingers twitched in his grip. The pauldron was lifted free and they got to work. Barham poured aether into Artoirel's body, watching as each wound from his head to his leg sealed up and healed. Satisfied that he had done all he could, he turned to Stephanivien.

"Your turn." Stephanivien felt a rush of warmth. The healing spread to the tips of his toes. He flexed his wrist experimentally. It was stiff, but the pain mercifully was gone. He never let go of Artoirel, his hand firmly secured in his own.  "He's going to be okay." Barham tried to reassure him. "His wounds are healed, but he needs time to rest."

"Let's get him back home."

[sacred-stanning]

Chapter 17 Part 10: Defeating Lyon?

Lute hit with one of her Thunder shots in her first round of combat, so I dance her up and let her go again.

Cape vs. Cape

Lute again hits once and misses once and doesn't crit.

I send Tana in to do some chip damage...

...and wow, she got that 12% crit! Now if she hits once more, she'll actually finish the boss off!

Will she do it????

yep

oh come on

There's a cutscene after, and the Demon King says,

"I still...don't have enough power."

"But injuries like this won't do me in..."

Ephraim shows up, and the Demon King basically says, "Catch me if you dare!" and runs off.

Ephraim orders soldiers to search the area for the Demon King. Innes assures Ephraim that his tracking soldiers are very good, and there is no way the Demon King will be able to get away without them knowing where it went.

Innes also lets Ephraim know that he has received the Twin Sacred Weapons from Frelia. While the Frelian Sacred Stone was destroyed, the Sacred Twins were left alone.

First is the "Snake Bow Neez-heg" (Nidhogg in the English translation). It only has 7 weight, but 18 might. It also adds 5 luck to the wielder.

The other is the "Wing Spear Vidofnir" (<- Wow, that's actually exactly how it's spelled in the official translation too! I swear I didn't look it up ahead of time!)

At 11 weight, it's not too heavy, and 15 might is pretty good, though only one might more than a Silver Lance. But it also adds +5 defense to the user, which can be pretty useful.

So nothing left to do except blindly chase after the Demon King into what is surely not a trap!

"Move out!" Vanessa commanded the fliers under her to spread out and search for the demon king. Frelia was well-known for its flying corps, and they were also excellent trackers. She was confident that they would find the Demon King before long.

"General, if it is alright, I will travel with you as your second."

Vanessa heard her sister's voice and turned to her. "Uh...yes...thank you, soldier!" It felt strange to talk to her sister like this. She hadn't seen her in a couple years, and the last time she had seen her, they had been working together, and Syrene had been the one with a higher rank!

They flew off wordlessly in a different direction from the other pairs of fliers. But as soon as they were out of earshot of anyone else, Syrene spoke to Vanessa again.

"General, with your permission, I would like to speak freely to you as your sister."

"Uh-oh," Vanessa thought, "Here it comes." She had a feeling that Syrene was going to pin her down for doing something wrong and not taking care of herself. It had happened so many times before, and the worst part was that, Syrene was always right! Vanessa never felt like she could argue with her. Quite the opposite, every time she talked to her she felt like she was 10-years-old again.

"I could order her to stick to the mission..." she thought, relishing the idea of using her rank to get out of an awkward conversation. "But she'll find a time to get me later then... I can't only talk to her when we're on duty. I might as well get this over with..."

"Permission granted," Vanessa said curtly.

Syrene felt a stab of guilt in her heart. Vanessa had always been an open book, and even more so to Syrene than anyone else. Syrene could hear the edge in Vanessa's voice. "She doesn't want to talk to me!" she thought despairingly.

Syrene decided to start with the easy conversation. No point in getting things started off on the wrong wing...

"Vanny," Syrene used Vanessa's nickname from when they were kids, "I know we've got a mission, and we need to focus on it, but I just couldn't wait to tell you how much I've missed seeing you, and how proud I am of what you've done!" She paused to let it sink in, "A general! That's incredible!"

Vanessa looked away from her sister's gaze and pretended to scan below, but she found it hard to concentrate. Her cheeks felt warm and flushed. Why did her sister always get to her like this!?

"It's not big deal. It's just a temporary thing while I'm serving under Renais. I mean, this whole army was thrown together basically, so it's not like they had lots of options for people to be gener--"

"Stop." Syrene's voice made Vanessa flinch slightly. She knew the lecture that was coming already. "You're doing it again! Don't be so hard on yourself! Why can't you celebrate your accomplishments?"

Vanessa couldn't answer the question. She didn't know why, but she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. "I-" she started to speak, and then she felt her throat close up.

"Land. Now." Syrene commanded "Or so help me by the stones I will knock you off your wyvern and make you land."

Vanessa and Syrene both glided down and landed. Without needing to be told what to do, Syrene immediately dismounted and just about caught Vanessa as she half-fell, half-dismounted her wyvern, all while sobbing.

Syrene held her sister in her arms, feeling the awkwardness of Vanessa no longer being the smaller of the two of them. "I knew she was pushing herself too hard! I could tell." she thought to herself.

Syrene waited in silence until Vanessa had cried it out for a bit. When she heard the crying stop, and the sniffling start, she relaxed her embrace a little and put a hand on one of Vaness'a cheeks to gently push her face up.

"Vanny, it's ok. You're doing a wonderful job, and I just think you should be proud of it like I am of you! I'm sorry if something I said upset you, but I really can't tell you how proud I am of you!"

Vanessa met her eyes, still sniffling. "Thanks" she said. "You d-didn't upset me. I...I just can't believe we didn't save all of the townspeople. And I was in charge! It's all my fault they're dead! I just feel so stupid and incompetent, and then I feel guilty because I'm feeling bad for myself, but they're dead!"

"Hey, you're not stupid! You're not incompetent!" Syrene paused briefly. "Believe me, I feel guilty too. I was the one who told them to stay there on that island when we were first getting overwhelmed by the enemy soldiers. I thought I would be able to protect them. I promised I would protect them all...but I failed."

Syrene looked Vanessa in the eyes, "It's ok to have feelings, Vanny. It's ok to be upset about what happened. You don't have to hide it from everyone, least of all me."

Vanessa chuckled at this. "You sound like Moulder," she sniffed.

Syrene feigned anger at the comment, "Oh, so I sound like an old man, huh? Wow, thanks!"

Vanessa smiled at this. She knew Syrene liked Moulder and wasn't really upset at the comparison. Syrene knew how much Moulder had looked out for Vanessa, especially when she was younger.

"But in seriousness," Syrene continued as she released he arms from Vanessa, "I'm glad to hear that you're talking to Moulder still. You tend to bottle things up, so here I was, worried that you weren't talking to anyone because you thought you couldn't as a general or something like that."

Syrene stepped back and took a look at her sister again.

"And I meant it before when I said you had grown more beautiful since the last time I saw you! It's been 4 years! 4 years! You're looking more and more like mom when she was young!"

Vanessa looked down at the ground, but she was smiling. "Stop. You know you were always the one who took after mom."

"Maybe before, but with each year I'm looking more and more like dad, gods save me!" Syrene said while rolling her eyes. "You're the one who lucked out with the inheritance!"

Vanessa was silent for a moment, then she spoke.

"I missed you."

Syrene felt herself starting to tear up too. It wasn't like her sister to say that so directly. "Aww, come on!" she wiped at one of her eyes with the back of her hand "you're gonna get me started now! I missed you too!"

Syrene was glad to see Vanessa relaxing a little, and she really just wanted to let the moment be and enjoy reuniting, but there was still one question she felt nagging at her mind.

"By the way, what's up with the mage girl on the horse who helped me out on the island?"

"Lute? She's...like I said, she's just a mage who joined us while we were serving under Princess Eirika." Vanessa had a concerned look on her face. "Why? Did she say something odd to you before I got there?"

"Odd?" Syrene started. "Well..."

Vanessa cut her off before she could continue. "Don't take offense if she did! She's not a bad person, but she can be kind of...direct, I guess? And she tends to talk about what she wants to..."

"Aha!" Syrene thought.

"So you two are friends then?"

Vanessa looked slightly nervous. "Yeah. Yeah, we've become friends." She paused for a moment, and then continued. "I wasn't sure what to make of her at first, but I thought she looked lonely in camp because she never seemed to talk to almost anyone except for this one monk from her village. And...I guess she kind of reminded me of myself maybe? So I tried talking to her, and she's actually pretty interesting! I wasn't kidding when I said she knows all about animals and magic. Like, she can just recite things she read in a book like it's nothing!"

Syrene noticed how as Vanessa talked about Lute, she seemed to brighten. "Hmm," she thought, "it seems like she's finally made a friend. Thank the stones!"

Syrene spoke, "Well, I could definitely tell she was smart! She surprised me, knowing about Pegasus breeds like that! Not many outside of Frelia's knights do! I'm looking forward to getting to know her!"

Vanessa looked surprised. "You want to get to know her?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I want to know one of my sister's friends?"

"Um, ok. Sure," Vanessa said awkwardly.

"I also should have a talk with this Lute on my own," Syrene thought. "I don't want to be too nosy, but Vanessa hasn't had many friends in the past, so it's not weird of me to worry about her, right? I just want to judge this Lute's character a bit, that's all!"

But she would have to make time for that later. Syrene spoke, "We should probably get back to tracking, Vanny."

"Yeah, we definitely should. Thanks for listening to me. Sorry I started crying." Then Vanessa opened her eyes wide, "Oh no, do I look like I've been crying?" she asked worriedly.

"A little, but it's nothing you wouldn't have gotten from the wind hitting your face anyway. Don't worry. You look fine! Like a proper general!" Syrene smiled.

Vanessa laughed as she stepped up into the wyvern stirrups. "I will never get used to you calling me 'general'!"

Next time: Surely not a trap!

[wyrmwinds]

A list of pros and cons for each dragon -- by wyrmwinds, certified dragonfucker

Midgardsormr + The lesser acknowledged part of the WoL brain gang. He offers a soul-deep intimacy that the other dragons cannot provide + The biggest most powerful one. Power is sexy + GILF + If you play your cards right you could be the step-parent of wyrms + You already ride him in-game. What more can I say? - Out of commission since Omega quests :( - His body just isn't what it used to be... - Might get a bit judgemental of your tastes

Hraesvelgr + Already acquainted with the workings of the human body from his time with Shiva + He gave you his eye, albeit temporarily... That's kind of romantic imo + Those downy wings probably feel heavenly to be caressed by - Pretty sure he's still hung up on his dead wife - If you try to imitate his dead wife to turn him on he will kill you - The vore did happen. If you're into that good for you I guess ? Since Shiva is now a part of him after the vore, it's sort of a threesome? In a weird, kind of freaky way.

Tiamat + Widowed MILF dragussy. You can mend her broken heart... Remind her what love feels like again + I know she's a freak in the sheets + Get to check out Meracydia if you go back to her place - You could never compare to Bahamut. I’m sorry but it’s just facts

Nidhogg + The bad dragon. You can have the nastiest hate sex + His brood mentions that he did have a soft/caring side... You Can Fix Him. Your bad boy who only cares for you. + Will make you Ala Moan - I mean he does genuinely want to kill you, but maybe you're into that - Would not communicate in mortal tongue so if you can't interpret it, tough luck

Vidofnir + The least hangups of all the options + Would take it slow, be very considerate of your frail mortal body - If you're choosing to fuck a dragon, Vidofnir feels kind of weak as an option. Aim higher.

Vrtra + Most normal of the First Brood options + The most lavish/comfortable domain of the bunch + Kind, caring, has a life outside the family drama + Get to fuck the satrap of Radz-at-han - The baby vtuber form is too weird for me, even if i'm only getting busy with the real dragon form - Also if you're fucking his adult manra simulacrum that's a coward move. This is a DRAGON fucking poll

BONUS ROUND MOST FUCKABLE FFXIV DRAGON

We've heard you all like to fuck some dragons, so we borrowed a few dragons from @most-fuck-able-ff14 (we hope you don't mind)

this one is for you, monsterfuckers

[sylviazem]

FFXIV Write 2023- Prompt #30: Amity

"It's quite amazing how many people have showed up", Elvide looked around the large crowd gathered at the Firmament. "Look, look, there's even other half-dragons!"

"My, you're right", Emma's eyes caught more than a dozen. "I had no idea there were this many like me in the city."

The gathering was a memorial for those lost during the Dragonsong War and the Final Days, and also a celebration of the reconstruction of the residential area. Lucia of the Temple Knights was holding a grand speech about the importance of coming together in times of great need, which seemed to resonate with the crowd rather well. Vidofnir was also present; it almost seemed like she had grown fond of attending such events as of late.

"Complimentary drink, madam?", a man walked over to Emma and offered her a cup of what looked like wine.

"Oh", caught off guard, she hesitated for a moment. "Thank you..."

"...and as we enter this new era of amity between man and dragon, and nations across the star, I would like to raise a toast", it seemed Lucia was nearing the end of her speech. "Before that, however, I'd like to invite Vidofnir to say a few words. If you would?"

"[I'm afraid there is naught much left for me to add. But...]", she looked over the crowd. "[I see amongst the people some few who have been afflicted with the blood of my kin. Whether forced, or by choice, mine intent is not to pass judgement. One I have met before; I beseech thee, Emma, step forth.]"

Elvide gave her an encouraging push, and with her head hung low, she meekly made her way to Vidofnir's side.

"[No doubt ye have all seen one like her before. Ye mayest yet see many more return to this city. I have but one wish]", Vidofnir slowly nodded towards the crowd. "[Pray, treat them with the same kindness she has mine kin.]"

"Hear! Hear! Let us raise a toast", Lucia declared triumphantly. "To peace, to kindness and to hope!"

"To hope!", the crowd sounded in unison and downed their drinks.

Unfortunately, the cheeriness of the moment was interrupted when Emma's cup clinked against the stone paving and she began to cough violently.

"[My child! Whatever is the matter?!]", Vidofnir exclaimed.

"I...I don't- Urk!", Emma fell on her knees, and clutching her stomach, vomited up a red liquid. Whether it was blood, the drink or both, it was hard to tell. "E-everything...hurts..!"

"[...No!]", Vidofnir caught a whiff of what it was Emma had ingested; it had to be dragon blood. "[But how? Why?!]"

Emma howled in pain as draconic wings sprouted from her back, and her body grew in size; enough to rip her dress apart and leave her exposed. Her sudden transformation elicited shocked reactions from the crowd, and she couldn't even move her wings for the pain to cover herself. Sobbing and whimpering, she curled up on the ground as Elvide and Viola rushed to her side.

"You see now", a man stepped forward; the very same who had served Emma her drink. Behind him followed a few others. "You see what happens to one who allies herself with dragons?! Has history taught you nothing?!"

"What?! Boo!", the crowd jeered. "Piss off with your anti-dragon rhetoric, you daft bastard!"

"My brothers and sisters, look!", he tried his best to ignore some various objects hurled in his general direction. "Look upon this vile whore! The only reward for serving the dragons is corruption and defilement, why do you not see-"

"[ENOUGH!!]", Vidofnir reared on her hind legs and roared to silence everyone. "[Again, ye vile hatemongers crawl forth from the woodwork to ruin a joyous occasion! Hast thou no shame?! Thou wouldst willingly choose to insult the memory of not only Saint Shiva but that of Ysayle, as well?! The memory of everyone we've lost?! Thy mere presence doth begin to sicken me!]"

"I-I don't fear you, you foul beast..!", the man's attempt at bravado was poor at best. "I have the right to speak my mind!"

"You have just assaulted an innocent woman", Lucia intervened. "At the moment, you hold very little rights. Guards, detain these malcontents!"

"This...this is an outrage! Oppression!! This is-", as he was being put in chains, he was also quickly shut up by Viola, who rushed him and ferociously kicked him between the legs.

"If you ever so much as look at my wife again," Viola kicked and screamed but was luckily being held back by Juniper. "I'll fucking kill you!! You hear me?!"

"Oi, oi", Juniper tried to calm her down. "Let's not escalate this any further, eh, lil' fireball?"

"Please, someone", Elvide pleaded to the crowd. "Is there anyone strong enough to carry her to the infirmary?!"

"Here!", a burly man-dragon ran up. "Allow me to be of assistance."

"Oh, thank you, sir", Elvide bowed. "Halone bless your kind heart."

"I trust you will have things in hand at the infirmary, lady Elvide?", Lucia asked and motioned with her hand for the guards to take the arrested protestors away. "I will gladly take care of the crowd here."

"Y-yes, quite", she watched with worry as Emma was being carried away. "Thank you, commander."

"Firstly, allow me to apologize for this unfortunate incident", Lucia addressed the onlookers who were all quiet murmurs and whispers. "It pains me that yet again, an event such as this has all but been ruined. We appreciate your attendance regardless but will have to ask you to disperse for now. Thank you for your understanding. That is all."

[jalopeura]

i think the most important side character in ffxiv is the little baby dragon vidofnir has under her wing in anyx trine

[ainarosewood]

Amaze

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

FFxivWrite2022 Day 4 Free Day

*Note the art above is a Quetzel from the lovely artists of the game Mythaura it fits so well with what I pictured Taram’s appearance to be*

Aymeric found himself at the airship landing the Elezen desperately trying to get a moment's respite from his responsibilities as acting head of Ishgard.  As he did he caught a glimpse of a lithe red form in the distance and he couldn't help but smile.  He watched, entranced, as the lithe dragon soared effortlessly through the Sea of Clouds doing some aerial acrobatics.

He knew that several of his countrymen that were still reeling from the Dragonsong War would be appalled by the thoughts in his head. To him Taram was even more beautiful in her birth form soaring in the clouds than she was in the Miqo’te form she chose to adopt to be among the races of man.  

She was lithe and thin with scales of deep crimson and equally colored feathers.  Her sharp angled face more resembled a bird’s than a dragon’s maw and above that were pale blue eyes that to him by far were the most beautiful for within them shone compassion and love of all peoples man, dragon even beastman.  Eyes fitting for the courageous Warrior of Light.  

 He found himself grinning like an idiot as he saw her loop around herself mid air, the evening sun catching her pale belly making it appear as if it were glowing she then twisted mid loop and made her way toward the airship landing where he stood.  As she landed her form blurred and shifted into the crimson haired Miqo’te form that most of Ishgard had originally known before that disaster with the True Brothers of the Faith.

Smiling as she saw him she stated, “Evening Lord Commander, I just thought to stretch my wings a bit before having a meal.  What brings you to the landing?”

He gave her a nervous laugh then said rather more loudly than intended, “Just an evening stroll to wind down from work…”

She gave him a puzzled look at his abrupt reaction and said softly, “I am sure it's frustrating especially after that incident at Falcons Nest.  Still no word on Estinien?”

He sobered and shook his head, “Nay far as we know he is still in Nidhogg’s thrall and is biding his time somewhere watching and waiting to strike again.  Pray tell me some of your wing stretch lead to the Forelands?  How fairs Vidofnir?”

Taram nodded, “Aye she is doing well.  His strike was not intended to kill, I am not sure if that was Nidhogg’s intent or Estinien intervening from within somehow.  I pray it is the latter for his sake.”

Aymeric nodded in agreement then cleared his throat awkwardly before asking, “Care for an escort back to Fortemps Manor?  You can then regale me with tales of how the lands look from a dragon's eye view perhaps?”

“I’d be honored ser,” she replied, grinning and taking the arm he had outstretched and proceeded to explain in vivid detail all she had seen on her flight.

He listened enraptured and realized he had to be honest with himself, he was smitten with the woman which would be a very controversial thing right now in Ishgard but he didn’t care he’d weather the disdain, the hatred all of it if it meant he could be at this wondrous woman’s side.

[aerialsquid]

FFXIVWrite Day 23: Pitch

Vidofnir made a small concerned noise but she placidly trotted to the edge, waited for a verbal confirmation, and then dove off into space.

It felt glorious. It felt right, the wind whipping past his face and the whole world spread out beneath him. Estinien tipped his face back to the heavens and stared up at the all-engulfing blue, so wide and empty and gorgeous.

When Vidofnir listed to the side he extended one arm out and caught the resistance of the wind, as if it were his own wing that kept him aloft. His other arm extended of its own will, until it was only his thighs that were keeping him astride the dragon's neck with the iron grip only a dragoon could master.

"Faster!" he shouted about the howling gale. The howl grew even louder as Vidofnir's wings pounded, taking them upwards into the dazzling blue.

As the sensation of flight embraced him Estinien forgot himself. His fingers released, happily, and he leapt from Vidofnir's back into the wide sky.

The world beneath him in dark browns and greys, stuck through with the green of forests and the red of Sohm Al's strange cliffs, struck him as so beautiful he could weep.

He wanted to protect it. All of it, all of that strange blend of Nidhogg and his own will, wanted to protect this beautiful, final world.

It was not until Vidofnir rammed into him and grabbed him with both talons, crushing him to her chest, that he remembered, 'Ah. Right. Not actually got any wings. Really ought to be more careful about that.'

[enthusiasmforpretty]

Dragons anon

"One must always bow to dragons," Alphinaud said as he and Jayesh cautiously climbed the hill behind Ysayle. "I read about it back in school. Purely academic, you understand. I've never actually spoken to a dragon before. We shall find out how accurate my research was anon." Estinien snorted. Jayesh's hand kept drifting toward the hilt of the greatsword he wore over his shoulder. After being attacked by so many dragons, the thought of walking toward one was making him sweat. "Bow?" he said, trying to joke. "And expose the backs of our necks to a fast bite?" "I admit, I'm not fond of the idea," Alphinaud said. "But if Ysayle trusts this Vidofnir, who are we to argue?" The white dragon at the top of the hill had swept down in a thunder of wings, and now spoke to Ysayle. "It is a fortunate that I looked twice before I dropped upon you. I nearly mistook you for Gnath and crushed you underfoot." "I come with companions," said Ysayle. "We seek to speak to your sire about ending the Dragonsong War." Jayesh and Alphinaud bowed to the dragon, slowly and carefully. Estinien did not. Vidofnir seemed amused by the whole affair, and bared her teeth in a smile that they hoped was friendly. "I cannot speak for my father," said Vidofnir cheerfully. "Most likely he will refuse to see you. But you may try him, for all that. This way, please." She led the way into the entrance to the huge tower nearby. Alphinaud grinned at Jayesh and followed. Jayesh shakily returned it, and had to stop his hand from reaching for his sword yet again.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 17: i won't be alone tonight

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Busari had been affectionate enough, devoted enough, when he was present—but he’d been gone for longer and longer stretches of time, lately. Adventuring, he’d say, and he had the scars to prove it so Evrard didn’t doubt him. No, he didn’t think the man had been unfaithful. (It would have been easier to bear if he had.) But looking back on it, he couldn’t deny that his lover had been...distant. Restless. Less involved with Vidofnir’s Wings and Evrard’s life than he would’ve liked or expected had he been in his right mind. But he hadn’t been—there’d been far too much to worry about what with Garlemald and the Final Days and everything else—and so Busari’s odd behavior had fallen by the wayside.

And then there had been that letter, the sentences still seared into his mind.

He’d read it. He’d burned it. He’d looked around at his quarters in Laterum, with half of Busari’s things still scattered about—half of Busari’s things, he now realized, that the man had figured he could part with because he wasn’t coming back—and nearly burned that too, flames licking at his soul, before he’d clenched his fists and stormed down to the commissary to get blisteringly drunk.

Alan had found him at some point during the second glass, and managed somehow to get an explanation out of him. What he’d actually said, he couldn’t remember—but it had been enough to make his best friend snarl, fists clenching like he’d like to tear Busari limb from limb, and all of a sudden Evrard had felt heat suffuse his face that he couldn’t blame on the alcohol. He’d...well, he hadn’t forgotten, you don’t forget a thing like that, but he’d deliberately let himself stop noticing that Alanais Venditor was very handsome when he was angry.

And then the man had hauled him down to the training grounds to burn off some of the emotions and the alcohol, and that had...it had helped. It had helped a lot.

Too much.

He should be more broken up about this, shouldn’t he? He and Busari had been together for years. He shouldn’t be able to return to work in two days as though nothing had happened, the hole in his heart less a chasm and more an unexpected missing stair. But Busari had been distant for quite a while, and his friends were here. Alan wasn’t shy about offering bloody vengeance, his fellow healers kept him well supplied with baked goods and sympathy, and even Busari’s own family members seemed to be on his side.

“So when I send you his horns, do you want the rest of his skull to be attached?”

Evrard lifted his head from his still-warm sandwich, staring at Gantsetseg. The woman had plopped herself down on the bench opposite his, seemingly straight from the workshops if her lightly begrimed state and unzipped jumpsuit was any indication. He hadn’t even heard her approach. “You’re not sending me anyone’s horns!”

She raised an eyebrow. “What, y’don’t want proof?”

“Proof of what—no. No, Miss Bayaqud, please do not kill your cousin for me.”

She blinked big crimson eyes at him, her limbal rings bright with outrage. “But he—”

“Behaved abominably, yes.” He was proud of himself for not hissing that, but he couldn’t stop his ears from flattening against his skull in remembered rage. What a cad. “He does not deserve to die for it. He does not, in fact, deserve a single moment of your, my, or anyone else’s time.”

Another blink. Finally she sat back, and he heard the thwap of her tail hitting the base of the bench in frustration. “’Tis your call,” she muttered. “But he’s a bloody shame on the clan, I’ll have you know.”

He couldn’t help but relax. There was something very comforting about being the object of so much care. Strange, yes, but still very comforting. Gantsetseg had always been friendly to him; he’d thought it was just because he was dating her cousin, but now it seemed he’d been wrong. “Such has been made...exceptionally clear to me. You are not the first one who’s offered to slay him.”

“That would be Al.” Her fondness for her own lover—who, notably, would never think of dumping her without a single word—shone through her voice, and Evrard had to fight down a sudden uncomfortable twist in his gut.

It got worse when she leaned on the table, an action which did fantastic things to her breasts in that tightly-woven shirt she wore, and continued, “He’s been right worried about you, y’know. We all have been, but him especially. You sure you won’t let him kill something for you?” Seeing his face, she added, “It doesn’t have to be my idjit cousin! A bear will suffice!”

He blinked slowly. Some half-formed memory of Busari explaining how Xaela flirted was screaming in the back of his head. Elaborate-yet-useful gifts were involved—pelts, woven cloth, fresh meat, weaponry. “And what would I do with a bear?” he heard himself ask, because there was no possible way Gantsetseg of the Bayaqud was flirting with him. Or, worse (better?), flirting with him on Alan’s behalf.

She shrugged. “Nice warm rug? It’ll keep you warmer than my cousin did.”

His grimace wasn’t entirely from embarrassment. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” And then she was looking past him at the long line of lunch workers. “Oh, there’s sausage soup! I’ll be right back—what’s that face? Didja not think I was gonna bring you a bowl?”

“I’m—” Not hungry, he was going to say, but the truth was that he’d been spending his morning feeding aether to badly malnourished Garlean refugees and was bloody starving. The sandwich wasn’t going to be enough. “...Thank you.”

She grinned at him, bright and wild and fanged, and he thought, Oh, shite.

At least she was gone to wait on line in the next moment, so she couldn’t see the expression on his face this time. Nor the way he raked a hand through his hair, the next best thing to pulling it out by the roots. Blessed Fury, preserve me. But the prayer fell flat, because the rest of his mind was suddenly full of Gantsetseg’s arm muscles and the light in Alan’s eyes.

He wished he had a drink.

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 20, Section 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 20 - The Lord of the Darkling Woods (con’t x2) A memory came to her. It was from the day that Renais Castle fell.

She didn't know if Ephraim was alive or dead, Seth had suffered a major injury, and the future was shrouded in darkness. Just how long could the road to Frelia be?

Then, at Frelia Palace, she heard the news of her father's death. She ignored King Hayden's warning and traveled towards Renvall Castle because if she hadn't, then she wouldn't have been able to move past her grief.

As she traveled, her number of allies slowly increased. She remembered Seth telling her that their meetings were not coincidence, but fate… Now, she knew the weight of those words.

Everyone had been guided by fate to gather by her side, to fight this final battle together at this palace deep within the Darkling Woods. 

Eirika didn't have any strength in the beginning. All she did was shake in fear from being separated from her father and brother.

Even now, she was not changed at her core. Though her skills with her sword had improved and she'd become used to battle, she was as lost as always. If her allies were not with her… there wasn't a single chance she would have made it this far.

ー

Tana, with Winged Lance Vidofnir in her hands, flew towards the Demon King.

Though she'd lamented that the lance was too heavy for her to wield it, she was now supporting its weight with both hands. Its tip effortlessly stabbed deep into the Demon King's body as if the weapon itself had its own fighting spirit.

The Demon King howled in pain and hit her with his fist. Tana's tiny figure flew through the air, fell onto the floor, and remained motionless.

"Tana!" L'Arachel raised Latona. 

Holy power burst forth from within it and enveloped Tana's body. All of her wounds were healed in an instant.

Innes glanced over at his sister, but wasn't the type to rush over and help her. Once he knew that L'Arachel had healed her, with an expression making it look like nothing had happened, he shot an arrow with Nidhogg.

As the harsh battle raged on, he of course was always aware of his appearance. Though his clothing and hair were in disarray, his form as he drew back Nidhogg's string was impeccable. 

His arrow flew straight into the Demon King's eye, pausing the giant's movements for a moment.

Eirika did not squander that opening. 

'Lyon… please lend me your strength.' She prayed and rushed towards the Demon King. She put all of her strength into one swing of Sieglinde, aimed at the back of his neck. Ephraim stabbed Siegmund into his chest at the same time.

Eirika felt the two Sacred Twins respond to each other and emit a pure light. With the most vital parts of his body sliced open, there was only one reaction the Demon King could have.

His giant body shook. He spasmed violently, attempting to fight his now inevitable fate, but could not hold out for long.

His wail full of resentment and hatred echoed through the air. Then, the Demon King fell.

He was disappearing. The body that had continued to leak miasma into the Darkling Woods for eight hundred long years was losing its form and disintegrating...

ー

Eirika was frozen in a daze, sword still in hand, for a long while.

The Dark Palace was utterly silent. The bizarre plants that the Demon King had kept alive were rapidly withering away. The ominous energy vanished, and they could now even feel rays of sunlight shining through the cracks in walls.

Still, Eirika could not move for a while longer. When she finally turned around, Ephraim lightly patted her on the back.

She turned blankly towards her brother's face and whispered, "It's over, isn't it…? The Demon King… his body is gone, right…?"

"Yes. We did it, Eirika." Ephraim's face looked tired, but his expression was bright.

L'Arachel announced solemnly, "The Demon King's body was destroyed, and his soul is sealed inside the Sacred Stone. He will never terrorize this continent ever again. A legend has been retold. The legend of the ancient heroes was reborn just now…"

"Heroes, huh…?" Ephraim twirled Siegmund around a few times before saying, "It's so strange. Saaga said that we did not possess any kind of special powers."

"But we still succeeded. And we were even able to do far greater than the heroes of old." Innes said. Among the utterly exhausted army, he alone combed through his disheveled hair and refolded his collar. "Because this time, not just the Demon King's soul was locked away. His body was also destroyed. He will never be resurrected ever again."

Eirika looked around at everyone's faces.

They were all looking back. She didn't know what kinds of thoughts and feelings were rushing around within their hearts, but Franz and Ross just looked happy, and Neimi was overcome by emotion and crying as hard as she could. The innocent Ewan was holding Tethys' hand and jumping around. But, in contrast to their reactions, Duessel, Knoll, and the other soldiers from Grado looked to be experiencing a myriad of complex feelings, with none of them being happiness. 

Yet still, the one feeling they all had in common was hope. It would be no easy feat to restore Magvel to its former glory after being overrun by monsters, but they had the time they needed to do so. No matter how long it took, one day, the world would surely return to the peace it once enjoyed.

Joshua took a coin out of his breast pocket and tossed it upwards. It spun around and around in the air before landing on his palm. Then, he covered it with his other hand, and said to himself, “If it’s heads, I’ll go home straight away and become king. If it’s tails… I’ll continue on as a mercenary for a little while longer.”

“It’s heads.” Natasha, who was standing next to him, said with confidence. She looked at him with a smile on her face.

Joshua raised an eyebrow and looked at the coin. “...It is heads! You know, you’ve got quite a knack for gambling, Sister!”

Natasha looked down at her feet in embarrassment and laughed.

“Looks like it’s time for us to be heading home too, huh. We’ll finally be able to relax for a while… maybe.” Forde said lazily.

Kyle argued back in a stern voice, “There will be no time to rest. We must work together using all of our strength to restore Renais.”

“Good grief… Or so I want to say, but if the work is to restore our home, it might actually be a lot of fun. Don’t you think so, Ephraim?”

“Yeah, I do. We’re only going to get busier from here. I’ll need both of you to lend me your strength.”

Eirika looked around for Seth. He was standing behind Forde and the others, reserved in showing his emotions.

When their eyes met, he smiled. Eirika smiled back while reflecting on the weight of Ephraim’s words.

It would still take much time to revive Renais from the ruins it was in. It would take many months to restore the buildings alone… To heal the people’s wounded hearts, it would probably take years. And there would be many things that would never be regained, no matter how much time passed.

However, they would see the work through until the very end. Ephraim would follow in their father’s footsteps and likely rule over Renais as a great king. She would become his pillar of support, and Seth would always be by their side.

“Let’s go home. To where the people waiting for us are…” Eirika started to walk out of the Dark Palace.

When she stepped outside, the light she was bathed in was too bright, and she instinctively narrowed her eyes. The Darkling Woods had returned to its former glory. The trees looked as if they had been reborn, now thick with lush leaves and branches spread out magnificent and wide.

This was a new world, and a reborn Magvel...

Eirika, feeling the new life in the trees, drew in a deep, refreshing breath.

[winterdeepelegy]

Prompt #3: Scale(s)

During her travels, and nearing the end of the Dragonsong War, Ciel paid a visit to the denizens of Anyx Trine, guided by her curiosity.  She wished to know more about the dragons’ singing, especially as it was said that the late Ratatoskr was an especially marvelous singer.  She figured some of those more willing to give the Children of Man a chance at redemption might be equally willing to share some of the great wyrm’s history, or maybe even some of her songs. Of course, such a request could never be made without offering something in kind, and so Ciel offered to sing for Vidofnir and her kin and teach them some of the songs of Man.  But what songs might a dragon enjoy?  Songs about hunting?  Tales of bright, sun-filled days on the wing?  A ballad, perhaps, of love lost? She thought that, perhaps, the latter ought to be left off the list, along with any battle hymns or tales of noble dragon slayers, or anything glorifying the might of Man.  The more she thought about it, the shorter the list of options became until she settled on a few purely instrumental pieces, her most famous poem about an obnoxious moogle, and a couple of pieces of opera sung in an old tongue that was neither Dravanian, nor in common Eorzean, or in old, high  Ishgardian. The inner chambers of Anyx Trine made for a wonderful acoustic chamber.  It was no wonder that the singers among them enjoyed the location so much, for the way their voices carried and echoed off the stone walls and through the corridors.  She could only imagine how a full orchestra might sound here, but she would never bring herself to consider it enough to ask Vidofnir’s permission. Although she lacked the booming depth of a dragon’s roar, a few of those roosting were momentarily startled by the Elezen woman’s clarion voice as she ascended the scales at the top of her volume, and then later transitioned into an aria.  They quickly settled in and listened, seeming content with their guest and the entertainment she gifted upon them.  Few had heard such things before and, for Vidofnir, it had been untold centuries since a child of Man last graced her company with music.  Of course, it could never compare to their own songs, but it was nonetheless appreciated.

[jefarawol]

Ishgard will not last long against Nidhogg and his Horde. We must away!

Know you, then, what this roar portendeth?

Aye. I must return to my city without delay.

Then we shall lend you our wings. Let us meet with Nidhogg on the field of battle, and together bring an end to his wrathful song.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

The time had finally come, alone it would take to long for us to return to Ishgard. But Hraesvelgr anticipated the need for haste. He summoned his two children Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir, to carry us back. We clambered up and took the to skies praying we would not be too late.

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 27: Clarity

*rolls in two months late without starbucks*

Hi, have a bit of combat, understandings, apologies, and some purple-dark prose, as Serella and Aymeric reconcile following the investigation into her actions as a Dark Knight.

cw: combat against scalekin, some angst, but a happy ending

word count: 2,360

A part of negotiations between Dravania and Ishgard involved their continued collaboration, in both peace talks, as well as pushing back the last vestiges of Nidhogg’s enraged brood. The latter, however, happened with dwindling occurrence as time went on. Dwindling, but not entirely ceased, at least for now.

So when Aevis descended on what should have been a diplomatic meeting between Vidofnir speaking on her father’s authority, the Lord Speaker of Ishgard speaking on authority of his city, it was only meet that he raised his blade in her defense. It bode well that his beloved had accompanied him for this conference.

“Warrior of Light, are you with me?” Aymeric asked her as he readied his sword.

When he turned to Serella, he could not bite back a proud smile at the sight of her already having her blade drawn and shield high.

“As ever. Vidofnir, go!” She barked over her shoulder.

“I would not leave thee to struggle without aid—” Vidofnir widened her stance, wings flared out in warning to the encroaching aevis who snapped and snarled as they krept nearer.

“Then help us by protecting your little ones.” Serella insisted. “We’ll be fine. Go!”

Neither of them turned to the dragon again, but the gust that swept their coats against their legs told of her retreat. With a nod between Knight and Paladin, they braced for battle. When one of the aevis attempted to break ranks and give chase, Aymeric sprinted to meet it instead, Naegling carving through its neck. The blue of the blade was almost entirely stained with crimson when he ripped it out of the wound it had made. The scalekin reeled back with a gurgling howl, thrashing even as it fell, dying.

Chaos erupted. Driven all the more mad for the blood freshly spilled, the remaining flock of aevis, five in total, launched themselves in a frenzy. 

Two bore down on him, charging together. Though Aymeric managed to leap to the side and knock one of them back into a second, a third closed in behind him, teeth bared in preparation to taste his flesh.

The air pressure around him changed suddenly enough that his ears popped. The temperature rose with a flash of brilliant gold light. When that light spread beneath him, he leapt back in time to avoid the blazing aetherial blade that shot up from the ground, tall as a pillar, and speared the aevis that would have claimed his life. The impact of the blow sent the scalekin skyward, and it landed with such a force that the ground beneath them quaked. The Confiteor spell took the second aevis by surprise, and Aymeric closed in to capitalize on the opportunity, piercing its skull with a downward stab of his blade.

A sharp cry of pain rang out from behind him— he whirred around in time to see Serella be flung several yalms away, her shield clattering to the ground where she had been struck. One of the remaining aevis must have recovered and took the opening she had made in saving him. As it closed in on her, it limped— the trail of blood it left in its wake confirmed she had at least managed to maim it before she was blown back.

Heart in his throat and blood roaring in his ears, Aymeric turned to sprint toward where she lay crumpled upon the crag. If he could at least get her shield to her, keep them off of her long enough to recover—  

He barely caught an aevis by its gnashing teeth before they closed in on his shoulder, Naegling forcibly wedged within its jaw kept the scalekin at bay, but the impact forced him to the ground. With the weight of the beast bearing down on him and his arms burning from the effort of keeping those jaws from closing in, Aymeric grit his teeth and fought to free himself. Though he saw the last of the aevis lumbering toward him, he focused more on getting free of the one pinning him down; if he could get to Serella, then that was all that mattered, he had to get to her before they did—

A shadow passed over him. A chill rippled along the length of his spine. The noise of crackling aether and the scent of ozone and salted earth. Where the Confiteor spell that Serella had shot off had felt like the oxygen in the area momentarily leaving, this felt like the air had grown dense. It reminded Aymeric of how the air felt with an encroaching storm, heavy, still, and thick with anticipation of rain or snow. Familiar and quiet and calming.

The aevis that had been gnashing against his blade was forcibly knocked away from him. Hauling himself to his feet, he anticipated blocking the second aevis that had been approaching, shocked to see it was being successfully held off by what he could only describe as a shadow clad in armor, wielding a claymore. The darkness flowed and bent in a familiar dance; even if the motions were nothing like when she wielded a sword and shield and its stance was completely different, even just looking at the shadow made Aymeric think: that is Serella. The swings of its darkened blade were precise but weighty, each impact bursting with purple and ebon aether that rippled and warped around and through the aevis it struck. Though Aymeric only looked on for the span of a breath, it felt like time had slowed, even as he had turned to face the aevis that had been thrown off of him.

Before he could even get line of sight on the beast, the ground quaked again. Time seemed to catch up to him in a rush with the impact of something mighty crashing to the earth, and his eyes settled on the scene. Pinning it to the ground as it squirmed in a frenzy was a familiar blade— long, smoky steel with glinting blue adornments, he recognized it instantly: Dainslaif. Serella loomed over the scalekin, her armor dark with blood and shadows. He could not see her face with her back to him as it was, but something about the way she casually reached for the blade’s handle and ripped it across the aevis’ neck to cleanly decapitate the dying aevis came across as cold.

A feeling that crept into the silence that reigned in the aftermath of the fight. She stayed still, in that position, greatsword still firmly in her grasp, her back to him. Though the wind blew her hair and the coat of her armor, she was otherwise eerily still. In his periphery, Aymeric could see that figure cloaked in shadow turn to face her, almost expectantly, as if waiting for her to command it. 

Then, it began to move toward her, steps languid but hushed. Familiar. Heart flying into his throat again, Aymeric moved to run those scant fulms to her, when its gaze was turned to him. There was something about it— something intrinsically her about the shade that froze him to the spot. Her blue iris was reflected in those eyes, the exact same shade that he so adored losing himself in.

The reminder that this is her, too, was enough to inspire him to move again, curious but unafraid. And the shadow watched him, as he drew closer to where she stood. Watched, until Serella swayed in place. In an instant, both he and the shadow snapped their focus to her. With unnatural speed, the shadow reached her first, but that did not stop his advance; nothing else mattered but ensuring she was all right.

“Ella…?”

His voice was barely above a whisper, hand tentatively reaching out to close the distance. When the space between them was down to scant ilms, her aether crackled again, a riot of violet and red rippling along her armor. At her flinch, Aymeric and the shadow both retracted their hands as if the kaleidoscope of luminosity inside her threatened to burn them. 

“I’m fine.” She lied to them both.

“Fine with that cracked rib of yours?” The shadow scoffed.

When Aymeric reached out to stabilize her, it spoke again, sharply: “Have you not done enough?”

“Stop, Esteem.” Serella cut her shadow off swiftly, tone brooking no arguement. “He’s done nothing wrong, and we both know it. I’m fine.”

"Oh, so you're fine with being put last? Again?" The shadow— Esteem? — snorted. "By him?" 

There was very little that could make him physically recoil as though he were a wretched and awful thing, but the thought that he had done irreparable harm to her was enough to inspire that distance, that hesitation.

The tension left her shoulders, slumped as if in defeat. She did not respond— which, he supposed, was a response all its own. He felt ill.

“Shadow, fall behind me.” Serella beckoned in a tired voice.

The shadow paused to look at him again. Though the feeling of something not-quite-there scrutinizing him was unnerving, he stood his ground and did not look away. It was a part of her. He had naught to fear from it, he saw that now. Something seemed to satisfy the armor clad darkness, or at least placate it, as it turned and knelt before Serella, sword stuck into the ground as a knight kneels before its queen. That crackling aether remained, but calmed into something more akin to gentle ocean waves idly lapping at their shores, bridging the distance between Serella and her shadow as it melted into the earth. As it sunk lower, lower, into the earth, until the pool of inky darkness stretched toward her feet and clung to her heels, giving her back the shadow she had cast away to save him.

This was what he had been raised to fear and hate? This was the villainy of darkness and sin that he had been taught made a Dark Knight? This protective shade, this Guardian in the dark, of the dark, was what should be expunged from Ishgard? This was the face of all the evils in the night? Impossible.

It was beautiful.

“Sorry.” She said quietly, and swayed all the more as she turned to face him.

Her eyes were blue.

“What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“Didn’t want you see this.” She mumbled, gesturing weakly at herself. “Never wanted you to see it. But I’d rather you live and hate me tha—”

When she tried to turn her body away as she spoke, her words died off with a yelp of pain. She staggered and clutched at the side that she had landed on when thrown. Before he had even realized he had moved, Aymeric had caught her as she stumbled, and eased them both to the ground when her knees buckled. 

“Shh, shh, I have you,” He cooed in her ear as he knelt into the earth and did what he could to keep the pressure off of her injured side.

“Never wanted you to see—” Serella hissed through her teeth, hands fumbling to press flat against her ribs. 

He could not see her face with her head bent as it was. As she began to weave starlight around her injury, she let out a pained whimper at a worrying pop from under her platemail. Shifting to let her rest her weight primarily against his chest and ease her weight off of her healing side entirely, he lifted a hand to smooth her hair down and press a kiss to her scalp.

“See what? That I had naught to fear but mine own prejudice?” He held her face with the hand that had brushed her hair away and used it to guide her into looking at him gently once her healing magic had tapered off. Despite the situation, he huffed a laugh. “A lesson you have had to teach me twice now. Would that it had taken less than this for me to see. I am so sorry.”

“I didn’t want you to see.” Serella said with a laugh, eyes filled with tears. She was smiling, in that relieved and unreserved way that crinkled the corners of her eyes and caused her tears to flow. “I was sure you would hate me—”

“I can hate you no more than I can hate breathing.” He whispered fiercely, and pressed their foreheads together. “Your shadow— Esteem, was it? — Also had no qualms taking me to task for how I have failed you.”

“You—”

Didn’t, Aymeric taster her denial on her tongue when he crushed his mouth to hers.

“In my desperation to keep my promise to you, I fear I have done exactly that, in leaving you to think that I hold you beneath anything— anything, on this star or any other.”

“But we promised to put everything else ahead of us!” Serella wept, even as she kept smiling.

“In duty, aye— and we have. And we will.” Aymeric brushed her hair back when the wind swept it in her face again. Even as her eyes were still too bright, still blue, he refused to look away. “That does not mean that I love anyone or anything more than you— I can’t even fathom doing so.” With another kiss to her forehead, he hugged her closer. “I’m so, so sorry I ever left you to doubt that— and worse, did so because I lacked the words for what I felt.”

Serella closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if letting his words seep into her soul. When she opened them again, they were mismatched. He smiled around a sigh of relief.

“There is my world.” He whispered against her lips in a kiss. “My heart.” He moved to her nose to kiss the tip. “My everything.” He kissed her forehead before he all but crushed her close.

Vidofnir flew back to their side with her little hatchlings in tow once the winds had calmed, and found them just like that, with Aymeric holding close his Warrior of Light and Darkness both, as Serella used healing magic to attempt to ease the discomfort. Content that the threat had passed, she laid herself close and shielded them under her wing. The little dragonlings, all chirping and cooing and worried, settling around their shoulders, in Serella’s lap, looped around Aymeric’s wyrm torque, rumbling in a way they hoped would help, protecting their protectors, as their ancestors had before them.

Adrift in the Sea of Clouds, the bridges between man and dragon, and Lord Commander and Warrior of Light, continued to mend.

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #8: They Grow Up So Fast

Prompt: clamor | Master Post | On AO3

Spoilers for Ehll Tou’s Custom Deliveries!

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Aymeric jumped in alarm, looking up from his paperwork when the doors to his Congregation office crashed open. Nearly every item in the room shook.

Synnove stood in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes red and bloodshot, her usual crafting attire askew and her braids disheveled. Her lower lip wobbled and tears filled her eyes as her expression crumbled.

Aymeric was up and out of his chair so fast it nearly toppled over, rounding his desk and practically dashing towards his lady to gather her up in his arms. Synnove was not a woman who regularly gave into strong emotion, and seeing her like this… He said a silent prayer to the Fury for the foresight of shucking his formal armor earlier as Synnove mashed her face into his shoulder and bawled.

He rubbed her back soothingly, crooning wordlessly into her ear, and rocked them back and forth, desperately attempting to get his love to calm down enough to draw a full breath. Once her sobs finally began to taper off, he said, “Synnove, what’s wrong? What happened?” He managed to keep his voice steady, thank the Fury, as his own panic would be useless.

His ladylove sniffed, hard, and though her voice came out muffled and hiccupping, she managed to finally wail, “She got BIG!”

Aymeric blinked, his mind screeching to a halt. Blinked again. Blinked a third time, attempting to process Synnove’s statement.

Unbidden, his mouth twitched, and he fought down the absolutely inappropriate urge to giggle. His shoulders shook, just once, and he ducked his head to press his face into Synnove’s hair before a snicker could escape him.

Of course. Synnove wasn’t one for such excessive displays of emotion, unless she was so overwhelmed it bubbled over beyond her control… And in such cases, it was usually due to some overwhelming positive emotion. For negative emotions, she usually turned quiet and withdrawn, except in rare instances. Thankfully, with a declaration like that, this wasn’t one of those rare cases.

In fact, he had rather a hunch about whom his lady was talking.

“Do you mean Ehll Tou?” he said.

“YES!” she wailed again. “Hautdilong came by and said it had been days since Ehll Tou had gone to the Churning Mists to share her sandwiches with her friends and she should have been back and he was worried and I was worried and so I went to Zenith to find her and deliver the hammer Arvide made for her and one of her friends said she wasn’t ready to be seen and—”

Aymeric ran a firm hand up and down her spine and murmured, “Sweetheart, breathe.”

Synnove sucked in a deep breath and let it out again, shakily. “—and I gave the hammer to Ehll Tou’s friend to deliver but I wasn’t going to leave until I saw Ehll Tou myself and then Arvide and Haudtilong arrived and then Ehll Tou finally came and she was BI-I-I-I-I-I-G.” The last word came out as one of those heaving, hiccupping sobs, drawing it out to multiple syllables.

He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and pulled away just enough to offer it to his lady. “Blow,” he said, fond.

She accepted the handkerchief and obediently blew her nose, balling the cloth up in her hand after she was finished. Another sniff and she wiped at her eyes.

“Now,” Aymeric said, “what precisely do you mean by she was ‘big?’”

Synnove’s lip wobbled again, but she held onto her composure—barely. “She grew up,” she said, voice watery.

Aymeric blinked.

“It’s—it’s how dragons mature,” Synnove said. “Apparently it’s one big change and its affected by both internal and external factors. ‘Sometimes it’s dramatic,’ Ehll Tou said to us.” She sniffled. “And—and she also said hers was fostered b-by learning how to craft, by ‘peace and fellowship’ and not warped by the needs of a war of vengeance.”

Aymeric had the peculiar situation of experiencing the world tilting even as he knew he was still upright as he just stared at Synnove, mouth going dry.

Synnove didn’t seem to notice that she—and Ehll Tou herself, with her freely given explanation—was effectively rewriting all the knowledge Ishgard had of dragons as she continued in a babble, “She’s not as large as Vidofnir or Vedrfolnir…maybe about the size of aevis?” His lady had begun to fret with her hands and he reached out to grasp them in his own, stilling them before she fell into the old habit of picking at her nails. “And—Aymeric, she has hands. Well, not as a man would know them, she still has three fingers as she did when she was a dragonet, but one is as dexterous as a thumb and she can do such fine work with them, as well as any master craftsperson! HANDS!”

And she devolved into more sobbing again, tucking herself close to soak his shirt anew with her tears. He wrapped his arms around her again, rocking her to soothe her and propping his chin on her head as he did. He smiled and said wonderingly, “All reasons to be overwhelmed, I’m sure. But what specifically as you so out of sorts, my love?”

“I’m s-s-so proud of her!” Synnove wailed. “She’s so excited to continue forges ties between man and dragon by creating things and teaching her fellows and she grew up and I’m so proud of her!”

Aymeric didn’t bother to hide his quiet laugh and kissed her hair. He was absolutely going to have to give in to her requests that Ehll Tou come to dinner, though perhaps it would need to be a luncheon held in the garden…

A knock came at the window, and Aymeric jerked his head up in surprise, whipping his head around in the direction of the sound. Synnove hadn’t heard, as her face was still buried in his shoulder.

A dragon peered in through the panes, her brilliant ruby face framed by cream spines. She smiled, huge and toothy, her equally huge brown eyes sparkling, and she waved at him. A pair fo black horns curved up from her head, and carefully pinned in place to the bottom of the left horn was a jaunty, feathered, familiar hat.

Aymeric stared, but lifted one hand to wave back.

Ehll Tou’s growling purr of a laugh was just barely audible over Synnove’s hiccups, and then with a flap of her wings she was pushing away and wheeling back towards the Firmament, a whooping Hautdilong on her back.