#also ive been playing get deep fried on repeat all day and its like a comfort song i love it sooo much

[s-ccaam-era-crepe]

hmmm what do i do... the speech due today. or play video games. hmmmmm this is Sooooo Harddd

[expressandadmirable]

Warm Hands In Cold Fog (Maergrahn)

I.

Shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, Aviva stepped out into the frigid late morning air, blinking at the sunlight turning the snow into a glittering blanket. Halei had left hours ago, heading down the mountain to dispense her particular brand of justice in the Dwarven village below, and Aviva had lazed about as long as she could before wanderlust finally got the better of her. Time seemed to stand still in the Titanlands, a winter without end. It made her restless.

One of Maergrahn’s sons -- she was embarrassed to admit she still had trouble telling the three of them apart -- looked up from the pathway he was shovelling and waved cheerily as she passed. “Happy Maergrahn Day!” Aviva raised a hand in greeting, chuckling under her breath. Was any day not Maergrahn day?

Past the collection of squat, interconnected houses and dojos clustered on the last stretch of level ground, the path steepened as the mountain continued to climb and disappear into the clouds. Picking her way carefully, Aviva hopped from step to ancient step until she found what she sought: a small, Dwarf-sized opening, cleverly hidden by a rocky overhang, invisible but to those right beside it. Dwarven ingenuity (and practicality) never ceased to amaze her.

Through a tight, rough-hewn tunnel and up a short flight of steps, the cavernous Hall of the Titans sprawled before her. Massive pillars supported the impossibly high, vaulted ceiling, the stained glass windows painting the floor with an intricate watercolour of light. On the dais at the far end sat a set of giant carved thrones, and it took Aviva a moment to realise that not all of them were empty.

“Took the side entrance, I see.”

Aviva smirked as Maergrahn approached, nodding toward the huge stone doors set into the wall behind him. “Bit of a challenge for just me. I’m tall, but I’m not that tall.” Her smile broadened. “Oh, I heard it was Maergrahn Day.”

The Dwarf scoffed. “Of course it is! Make sure you pick up your Maergrahn Day tunic before you leave. Get one for Sol, too.” He paused in thought. “A big one, so it fits over her armour.”

“I certainly will.”

At that moment, a high-pitched shriek erupted from the dais. From their end of the Hall, the shapes on the thrones looked no larger than a child’s toys, but as one raised its head to snap at another, Aviva realised just how large juvenile dragons were.

“Hey!” Maergrahn bellowed, waving his arms frantically. “You kids cut it out!”

Aviva blinked at the Dwarf, huffing a soft laugh at his complete disregard for the poetic enormity of his life’s task. “Are they always this feisty?”

“Only when they’re hungry, or engaging in hamhoonery.” Maergrahn squinted. “Right now, probably both.” He looked up at the Tiefling. “Want to meet them?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hop to it, then!” With an actual hop, Maergrahn began the trek across the Hall. Aviva smiled to herself and followed.

II.

“Gin!” Maergrahn declared, tossing his cards on the table.

“Double gin!” countered Halei, placing her cards on top of Maergrahn’s.

“Triple gin!” Wil blurted next, his own cards covering Halei’s.

“Devil’s gin!” Aviva tried quickly, slapping her cards atop the pile. Her companions stared at her. “...What?”

Maergrahn shook his head in admiration. “Brilliant.”

Aviva was sure the game had started as poker.

III.

“Envoy’s leaving in ten,” Halei called into the bedroom.

Aviva shoved one more sparkling garment into her pack and slung both the strap of her lute and the strap of the pack over her shoulder. “Coming, coming. Where’s the baby?”

“Elerian has her.” In truth, ‘the baby’ was nearing fifteen years, but fifteen years in a Half-Elven life meant she was little more than a highly precocious toddler. Halei gestured for Aviva to lead the way, locking the door to their quarters behind them. “Cutting it a bit fine there, my love.”

“And yet, here we are, right on time.” Aviva retorted, then let her smile fade as they descended the back stairs to the garden. “Do you ever feel odd about the Festival of Torches?”

Halei shrugged. “Not especially. Tradition is a comfort. After what the world went through, repurposing the Festival to celebrate the completion of the Prophecy rather than avoiding the Prophecy seems pretty logical.”

“Mmm.”

The time for introspection passed quickly; meeting the rest of the envoy at the gazebo sheltering the royal private portal, Aviva traded her pack and lute to an attendant and accepted her sleeping daughter from Elerian. The ever-harried Celestine took attendance on her checklist, each person stepping under the gazebo in turn and arranging themselves appropriately.

“Did you hear?” one attendant asked another, their hushed voice giddy with excitement. “The Dragonfriend is going to be there!”

Aviva frowned at Halei, mouthing ‘Dragonfriend?’, but before the Drow could respond, the air turned to golden haze and the tranquil garden became a wide marble balcony at the base of the Grand Palace of Corneria. King Johann and Queen Celeste awaited them, flanked by a cadre of guards and advisors, and despite their welcoming expressions, Aviva felt a pang of regret; the void that Princess Sara had left so many years ago could never truly be filled. She had heard that without an heir, the ageing King had handed more and more authority to his democratic council. This promised to be a very interesting diplomatic visit indeed.

“Welcome, esteemed guests of Aelfheim, and Heroes of Light--” the King began, but paused as a large shadow passed overhead. Confused murmurs rippled through the assemblies, eyes turning to the sky. The shadow grew, solidifying into a great beast, its leathery wings sending gusts of wind toward the balcony. The Cornerian Guard drew their swords, but a gesture from the King kept them at bay. Aviva glanced at Halei and saw the smirk forming on her wife’s lips. Only one person could make an entrance like this.

Dumbfounded, the gathering watched as the crimson-scaled dragon landed directly between the King’s party and the Prince’s, its claws scratching deep grooves into the marble. For a moment, no-one moved. Then, a small figure popped up from behind the dragon’s head and waved jovially at Elerian. Sliding down the dragon’s neck, Maergrahn dropped several feet to the ground, tucking into a roll and jumping nimbly to his feet. “Hello! I heard there were snacks!”

Halei caught Aviva’s eye. ‘Dragonfriend’, she mouthed. The Tiefling grinned.

IV.

The city was, as it had always been on Festival night, beautiful. The night air was warm and smelled of cinnamon, honey mead, fried food and wood smoke. Music and laughter drifted on the soft breeze, ruffling Aviva’s hair as she stepped onto the Palace balcony. A lone figure leaned against the carved marble railing, watching the lights dance in the streets below. The Tiefling smiled as she approached.

“Evening, Maergrahn Dragonfriend.”

Maergrahn turned and gave the Tiefling a bright grin, the fires far beneath him illuminating the bottom of his beard and making it seem huge and unruly. “Good evening, Aviva! How are you faring?”

“Not terribly. The baby’s in bed early. I managed to sneak off and play on one of the stages down in the market, until the attention got to be too much. A boy in the kitchen said this balcony has the best view of the fireworks. Is that what you heard too?”

The Dwarf bobbed his head. “I did, I did. It’s also where Gertie has taken to sleeping.” He nodded to the far end of the balcony where the red dragon lay curled in a giant ball, her head tucked beneath her wing.

Aviva squinted, incredulous. “You named her Gertie?”

“Well, dragons name themselves,” Maergrahn answered matter-of-factly. “I just called her Gertie when she was small. I figured they needed names. She goes by something else now, but she still lets me call her Gertie.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I think she secretly likes it.”

“I’ll bet,” Aviva chuckled. “And the rest?”

Maergrahn ticked them off on his fingers. “There’s Bahamut Junior, he’s the gold one. Calmest of the bunch, hatched first. Maergrahn Junior, the blue one. White is Daisy; she fights with her sister a lot, but she listens when I tell her to have a fly-around instead. I decided to bring Gertie so they could be apart for a spell. And, green is Louie. He’s a bit of a prankster.” He sounded especially proud of that.

Aviva nodded as he spoke, trying not to giggle at the assortment of names. “Is he now? How does that go?”

“We scared my aunt so bad she fainted. So, quite well.”

Despite her desire to always take Maergrahn’s bizarre statements at face value, Aviva couldn’t help but laugh. “Very good.”

The procession of torches in the streets had started to make their way to the bay, the other best place to see the fireworks, and a comfortable silence fell over the pair as they watched the rivers of flame meander toward the sea. Fire meeting water, presided over by the embodiments of those two same elements.

“You seem content.”

Surprised, Aviva looked at the Dwarf. “Hmm?”

“You seem content,” he repeated. “With your life, your family. You have love. I’m glad.”

It took the Tiefling a moment to process Maergrahn’s rare moment of candor, but then she smiled. “I am.” She glanced over her shoulder at the slumbering dragon. “Are you?”

“Well, I could always do with a few more cities adopting Maergrahn Day. But that’s more of a long-term goal. For now, yes. I am.”

“I’m glad.”

The first firework shot into the air from a gondola floating in the bay, erupting into a shower of red and blue sparks. Purple followed, then green and gold, silvery-white, pink and red, orange, red and blue again. The rainbow of the world glittered above them, and they watched, content.

(Art by @biasanduntrue)