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geekgirles · 9 months ago

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 1: Desperate Measures

Word Count: 9339

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Summary: In a reality where the Eliatropes arrived at an already populated World of Twelve, their presence and the concerns it rises amongst their people have forced the twelve gods to act. After all, they too had their motives for considering the portal-making race a potential threat, especially their king, Yugo.

In an effort to placate both their visitors and worshippers, Sadida is tasked with repeating a feat from the Primitive Era: create a new Divine Doll to seduce the Eliatrope King with and bring peace to the World of Twelve. After all, he is an Eliatrope and she is a Sadida Doll; they're falling in love is inevitable.

The arrival of the Eliatropes turned their world upside down.

Until then, the inhabitants of the World of Twelve, consisting of both the followers of the twelve gods and the many other races that coexisted with them, lived in perfect harmony. Beyond a few, mostly harmless stereotypes, the Twelvians knew peace and prosperity under the six Primordial Dofus created thanks to Sadida’s intervention.

Their world was prosperous and lush, encompassing large continents filled to the brim with opportunities to settle down, make a living, or even set out on countless, unforgettable adventures. All thanks to their gods, who, despite their own mischievousness and unpredictable nature—just ask Ecaflip’s followers…—, were always looking out for their people.

Such peace and happiness couldn’t last forever, however. One day, practically out of nowhere, the horrifying sight of an enormous mechanical contraption, as big as a mountain, descended from the heavens, wreaking chaos among the Twelvians.

Nobody understood what was going on. Did something happen? Had they somehow offended the gods and now they were being punished for their insolence with certain doom? Was it really the end?

Turns out, it truly was the end. The end of an era.

The falling monstrosity they saw falling from the sky wasn’t any form of divine retribution, but the Zenith, an advanced mothership belonging to a whole different race from a whole different world: the Eliatropes.

Unlike the Twelvians, the Eliatropes did not follow any of the twelve gods, they didn’t worship any of the deities populating the World of Twelve, for that matter! No. They were actually descended from the Great Goddess herself, the creator of all life in the Krosmoz! As such, they shared her innate, intimate knowledge on wakfu and, more importantly, her portal-making ability.

Finding out wherever they went they could never be able to escape their unexpected visitors did not help soothe the Twelvians’ already frazzled nerves.

And yet, despite how eerie, how otherworldly the Eliatropes were, they were nothing compared to their leaders. The Council of Six, consisting of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons. Indeed, not only did the Eliatropes bring six dragons with them—which were revered as some of the most powerful creatures in existence—, but they were actually semi-divine. As it were, the Eliatrope Council were demigods, and especially rare ones at that, too! Each of them was gifted with a unique ability or skill they mainly used to serve their people, but not for that were they any less formidable.

And because that wasn’t enough, they even had their own set of Dofus and their knowledge on wakfu allowed them to both manipulate those sacred artefacts to their full potential as well as develop incredibly advanced technology. Because, apparently, they needed further advantages over the Twelvians to thrive.

When the Eliatropes formally introduced themselves—by crashing an official meeting of the Council of Twelve meant precisely to discuss what to do with them, in fact—, they insisted they simply wanted a place to settle down after their homeworld had been devastated during a most ruthless war. They had been voyageing the Krosmoz for years until they finally found their world, and now all they wanted was a place they could call home and thrive in.

Unfortunately, despite swearing up and down they meant no harm and even wished to ally themselves with the world’s native nations and play by their rules, the council only became even warier of them. Especially when they proved their demigod nature when the World of Twelve’s greatest heroes and warriors—having been sent to cow their unwelcome visitors into submission—were soundly defeated by the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior himself, Yugo.

After that, most Twelvians quaked in their boots whenever they believed to see a spark of blue from the corner of their eye—more than one poor, unsuspecting Feca had found themselves subjected to a beating as a result of their hair colour. A market’s jovial if busy atmosphere became awkward and stuffy the moment anyone caught a glimpse of an Eliatrope hat or, even worse, their portals. For their part, while they genuinely wanted to have a peaceful coexistence with their new neighbours, the Eliatropes chose to try avoiding further conflict and isolate themselves in Oma Island, where they’d built their new civilisation.

Even so, the Twelvians’ paranoia only grew each passing day, and with it, their gods’ concerns. Fear and distrust reigned supreme, so much so, ever since the Eliatropes’ arrival, the only prayers the gods received from their worshippers were asking them to please do something about those outsiders. Some asked for them to be kicked out of the planet, while others begged for their gods to find a way to protect them or at least ensure the Eliatropes wouldn’t try anything to harm them.

Unbeknownst to their worshippers, however, the gods had their own reasons for being wary of the Eliatropes. So much so, it didn’t take them much convincing to decide to convene on what to do with them.

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Far, far away, deep within Inglorium, the land of the gods themselves, the reigning divinities their followers owed their powers and appearances to were gathered within the Communal Palace. Seeing as it kept the recorded life of every single mortal, regardless of their alliance to which god, the palace was the only place where no god had greater power or influence than the rest. Thus, the reason why their war room was located there, as everyone would be forced to listen to what their fellow deities had to say while they remained seated around the same table.

And at that very moment, a very heated discussion was taking place.

“I simply do not understand why we don’t just annihilate them!” Bellowed Sram, who had grown tired of his cohorts dismissing his ideas as ‘too impulsive for an assassin god.’ “No creature has ever been known to withstand the full power of a god, not even demigods! This whole ordeal would be over already if all of us joined forces to vanquish those outsiders!”

“They are not simple demigods, however. Which is exactly what turns them into such dangerous foes.” Cra reminded, her voice poised and collected, but that, much like the Great Huntress herself, belied a cunning mind and nerves of steel.

“Besides, have you already forgotten the reason why our dear Iop isn’t with us anymore?” Ecaflip added sarcastically, leaning back in his seat to jab a claw towards the empty chair the god of war used to occupy.

“Indeed. As much as it hurts my pride, there is no guarantee we will actually be victorious if we were to battle the Eliatropes.” Sacrier agreed from her chained position, letting out an almost imperceptible wince at the familiar sensation of one of her worshippers exchanging their pain with her.

However, Xelor himself was in agreement with the assassin god. “While it is a high gamble, the Eliatropes’ presence threatens the very balance of the world! Their mere existence is unlawful, who knows the kind of chaos they might unleash were they to stay?!”

Ecaflip raised an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses, using two of his arms to lean in closer to the god of time while the remaining pair filed his claws disinterestedly. “Look at you, talking about gambling! Last time I checked, that was my specialty, Cuckoo-clock.”

“Then perhaps you should start living up to your reputation and take more risks, god of chance.” Xelor fired back, sneering derisively at the feline deity.

For his part, Ecaflip couldn't help but think privately how having to look down at someone’s chest to notice their eyes narrowing in on you would never stop being weird. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

“Except Iop’s absence is precisely the reason why sparking a confrontation against the Eliatropes would lead to disaster.” Feca spoke up, her clipped tone revealing her irritation at some of her cohorts’ shortsightedness. “Iop was the physically strongest one among us. What chance do we have of beating opponents equally adept at combat without him?”

“You seem to be underestimating us, Feca. After all, while their prowess over wakfu is certainly versatile and impressive, we are still gods. Each one of us possesses a varied array of powers that go beyond human comprehension. Compared to us, they are nothing but a one-trick dragoturkey.” Eniripsa countered, looking down at her nails as if this whole conversation was beneath her. As if to prove her point, she conjured a scroll written in a long-lost language, one only she and her followers could still read, of course.

“On the contrary, my dear fairy.” Enutrof said, uncoiling his golden, serpentine body to make use of his height and rise above the rest, drawing every eye to him. “Feca is merely trying to point out that we should not underestimate our opponents. After all, there is much to lose.” His red eyes glinted menacingly when he said that. As the draconic god of fortune, there was nothing Enutrof hated more than losses.

“And why don’t we simply welcome them to our world? With enough bamboo milk, the more the merrier!” Pandawa suggested, taking a generous sip of the aforementioned beverage as if to prove her point.

As the gods kept arguing about which course of action to take, whether to face off against the Eliatropes to drive them away from their world or to try looking for a different solution, Cra’s trained eye noticed how Osamodas and Sadida had yet to say a word. What’s more, while the chimeran tamer remained composed even under all the in-fighting, not even Sadida’s mask could hide the gravely air around him, especially when the green of his skin seemed to have lost its lustre.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, the Woodland Beauty opened her mouth to force her fellow gods to confess what they were undoubtedly keeping hidden from them. “Pray tell, Osamodas, what is on your mind? Is it possible you have already drafted a plan?”

Despite her open attempt at turning the other gods against him, the Master of Beasts remained unperturbed. His tail flicking around as he stroked his long, silver beard, a wry smirk graced his features. “As a matter of fact, dearest Cra, I do have an idea that might help us keep the Eliatropes in check.”

“We expel them from our world to never return, correct?” Sram ventured, a devilish smirk stretching over his face.

Osamodas shook his goat-like head. “That course of action could bring forth unforeseen consequences, I’m afraid.”

That made Sram pout.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Sacrier asked, sharing a worried look with Pandawa.

“Same thing we did to bring peace and harmony to our world the first time.” He smirked.

This time, it was Ecaflip who chose that moment to chime in, voicing everyone’s thoughts. “Um… Last time we created the Dofus. Are you suggesting we create more to drive them off? Wouldn’t that unsettle the balance?”

As his fellow gods voiced their agreement with the King of Fortune’s summation, as well as voiced their disagreement with what they interpreted as Osamodas’ plan, Sadida broke them all out of their own thoughts when he spoke for the first time since the meeting began. His voice, while naturally rich and deep, lacked the usual vitality associated with the god of nature.

“Our goal would be to prevent them from unsettling the balance by ensuring they have no reason to use their Dofus.” He said somberly.

“And how do you propose we do that, exactly?” Xelor questioned, his eyes narrowed in suspicion—and causing Ecaflip to shudder in disgust yet again.

The smug look never left Osamodas’ face. “As I was saying, we simply must follow the same procedure as with the Primordial Dofus: we seduce them.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, almost every eye in the room settled on Cra, scanning her curvaceous body from head-to-toe. Flinching at the unexpected scrutiny she suddenly found herself in, the Master of the Bolt snapped, “What?!”

“He said we ought to seduce the Eliatropes, and since your beauty is known for bewitching anyone but your followers… I suppose that means it is up to you, my dear.” Enutrof sentenced. With a snap of his claws, he conjured up a very revealing red dress and a matching pair of heels that Ecaflip presented proudly to her with his four limbs and a winning smile on his face.

Her eye twitching at the offence, Cra’s immediate reaction was to materialise a series of light-based arrows she wasted no time firing at her fellow gods. With a yelp, Ecaflip dropped the clothes right before he and Enutrof scrambled to try in vain to avoid the goddess’ wrath.

All Osamodas could do in response to that was let out a long-suffering sigh, one hand pinching the bridge of his non-existent nose in vexation.

“None of us shall seduce the Eliatropes, you fools!” He bellowed, catching their attention as he slammed his hands against the table. “Have you already forgotten what we did to create the Dofus?!”

“It has been a long time, I would know…” Xelor muttered sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest—ehrm, face? “And, again, won’t seducing the Eliatrope dragons result in more Dofus? What about the balance then?”

“Ah, but I never said we would be seducing their dragons, now did I?” Osamodas pointed out, wagging a finger in the air.

The gods’ eyes widened. They exchanged mistified glances with each other, silently asking if anybody knew what the Master Tamer was trying to get at.

Rising from his crouched down position over his hind legs, Osamodas began circling around the others counterclockwise, his hands to his back as he finally shared his plan in full detail. “Objectively speaking, each and every one of the Eliatropes is a potential threat, especially the members of their council. However, it should be noted the biggest threat by far would be the one they call their king and greatest warrior, Yugo.

“Given his battle prowess and divine nature, it would be unwise to make an enemy out of him. As for his people and their interactions with ours… Well, it is undeniable their help could be crucial in the development of our world…”

“What are you suggesting, Osamodas?” Eniripsa queried, the fluttering of her wings betraying her genuine interest for how this would all play out.

“Much like Pandawa suggested, it would be much more beneficial for us to have the Eliatropes as our allies, instead of our enemies. All we must do is ensure they feel no need to assert their dominance over our worshippers.” He explained, though the enigmatic nature of his answer didn’t do much to dispel the other gods’ doubts.

“That’s great and all…” Sram waved a hand dismissively. “But what does that have to do with seducing their king?”

Just as the assassin god posed his question, Osamodas reached Sadida, whose forlorn gaze was fixed on the table before him. Lowering his torso slightly to speak as face-to-face as possible with the nature god, the chimaera simply said, “Would you care to do the honours, my friend?”

Sadida’s face contorted into a pained grimace. It looked as if it took every ounce of his strength not to break down right there and then. In fact, he seemed to be in so much pain, Cra was already on her feet to reach out to him and console him when he finally spoke.

“I shall craft one last Divine Doll specifically to be gifted to King Yugo.”

A series of loud gasps echoed throughout the room, though no one was as alarmed as Cra.

“You desire to create another Divine Doll, and to seduce the Eliatrope King with her?! Sadida, surely you don’t mean that...”

“It worked with most of the primordial dragons, and the boy has draconic blood running through his veins.” He retorted simply, although he didn’t seem to be able to look the goddess in the eye. “Besides, unlike dragons, men are simple creatures. And I intend to make my eleventh doll my masterpiece. If he falls for a gift we made specifically for him, then he should have no reason to ever turn against our world.”

“Conversely, upon discovering we entrusted the Eliatrope King with one of our own, our people should eventually feel more at ease. Since it would appear we do not consider them a threat.” Sacrier concluded. As the other gods spoke, she had been quietly connecting the dots.

“Is it really such a good idea, though?” Enutrof questioned, still nursing his behind, where Cra’s arrow hit. “Divine Dolls are essentially your daughters, Sadida, which makes them demigoddesses in their own right. So is Yugo, and a powerful one at that. Do we really want to risk them siring a child together?”

Away from their eyes, the masked god clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles almost turned white. “That is precisely why offering one of my dolls is the best course of action, old friend. Unlike your children, they cannot bear offspring.” Then, noticing the uneasy looks they were sending him, he added, his voice low and serious. “I will make sure of it.”

A heavy atmosphere fell over the gods after that. All they could do was exchange nervous glances. Cra in particular was trying desperately to lock eyes with Sadida, worry for her old friend overwhelming her senses. She was about to close the distance between them to try to talk some sense into him when Ecaflip clasped all four of his hands.

“Well, I like it!” He declared, smiling broadly. “We’re betting it all on love; is there a better, or riskier, game than that? Count me in!”

“Now you sound like yourself, you fleabag!” Xelor laughed, clasping the feline on the back.

One by one, each and every god eventually gave their consent, seeing as it truly was the best idea any of them had come up with since the Eliatrope issue first appeared. Eventually, seeing herself outnumbered, even Cra had to give in, but not without making the resolution of talking to the nature god about it first.

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“I already made up my mind, Cra; so did the others. Even you cannot impose your will over a unanimous decision.” Sadida sighed, not even turning around from his table at his atelier to look his old friend in the eye. If he did, he knew the Woodland Beauty would be able to see his resolve crumble like dust.

“Technically speaking, it wasn’t unanimous. Iop wasn’t there to vote.” She said matter-of-factly, trying to relieve the tension with that wry humour they had in common. The small smirk on her face at her observation fell when not even that elicited a response from Sadida.

After the meeting, the archery goddess wasted no time following Sadida back into his lands, despite knowing she possessed no power there, and into the hutt he used for his creations, which wasn’t unlike his people’s houses on the top of the trees. Seeing as the nature god hadn’t told her to leave despite having already taken out the materials he would need to first design and then create his newest doll, Cra took her chances. With measured steps, she made her way over to the Leafy God, placing a delicate but firm hand on his shoulder to get him to look at her.

She put on her most reassuring smile. “I am simply worried about you, my friend. There is a reason why you haven’t made any more Divine Dolls ever since the end of the Primitive Era.”

“The reason being there was no need; we already had six Dofus and that was all we required to bring peace to our land.” The masked god scoffed matter-of-factly, turning his head away from the archer.

“We both know that is not the only reason…” Cra said testily, before realising her slip of the tongue.

In an instant, Sadida had swirled around to face her with the most furious expression she had seen from him in centuries, not even his mask was enough to hide the depth of his anger. However, even without her prodigious sight, she knew deep down he was more hurt than angry. Still, knowing he was a few seconds away from kicking her out of his workshop—an order she would have no way to refuse, seeing as these were indeed his domains—, Cra was quick to act.

“My deepest apologies, my friend. I should have known better than to reopen old wounds.” She said placatingly, though not any less sincerely. “I…I just… I merely worry about you. I do not wish to see you get hurt.”

With a glance at her genuinely remorseful face, obscured by fallen locks of her long, golden hair, Sadida’s own expression softened considerably. With a heavy sigh, he hung his head, before bringing a hand to his mask as he reprimanded himself for his callous treatment of his friend.

His earthy fingers taking hold of her gloved hand startled the archer out of her thoughts. “Please, forgive me, my dear Cra. It is not you I am angry with, but myself.”

Understanding the reason for his anger without words, only the long-lasting bond they shared, Cra ventured. “Then why give in to Osamodas’ request? We found a way to make Eliatrope pay for her crimes, we can find a way to deal with her people too!”

“Because her people are not any more at fault for what happened than ours, Cra.” Sadida’s solemn declaration made the goddess gasp in surprise. “It would not be right to punish them for a crime they did not commit. Just as it would not be just of them to vent any residual fury they might be feeling towards our actions against our followers.”

He let go of the Great Huntress’ hand, his eyes fixed on the floor as he reflected. “As much as it pains me to admit it, Osamodas and Pandawa are right. The best way to protect our people is by not giving the Eliatropes reasons to attack them. And if creating an eleventh Divine Doll is the way to achieve that…” He shrugged, although the action wasn’t enough to dispel the burden he carried over his shoulders. “Then so be it.”

��If you have truly come to terms with what needs to be done, then why do you look so troubled by it?” Cra challenged.

Sadida’s answer broke her heart, especially because she knew nothing she could say or do could dissuade him.

“Because I will still be sending my youngest daughter elsewhere shortly after being born with no guarantee of her ever returning.”

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At first, everything was dark. A black abyss presented itself before her and, despite having the feeling she would not be harmed, the fact that she didn’t know how to navigate the darkness was still alarming. However, those fears were slowly but surely disappearing the more her newly acquired senses developed.

First came touch. She could feel herself being seated over something smooth, yet porous. Sturdy, but light. The more she connected with her sense of touch, the more she awakened other, more refined abilities. After a while of marvelling at the sensations, a startling realisation materialised itself in her mind, unbidden: wood; she was sitting on something made out of wood. But why did that wood feel like a part of herself?

Then came the sense of smell. Taking a deep breath, soon she was enveloped by a myriad of aromas that immediately put her mind at ease. On the one hand, she perceived a waft of something rich and earthy, and she immediately gained a deep understanding of concepts like blades of fresh grass or wet, fertile soil after a delicate spring shower. But on the other hand, her nose was assaulted by far more delicate, though not any less pleasant, fragrances; a flower’s perfume, the aroma of fruits and vegetables, aromatic herbs and plants she couldn’t quite identify but had a feeling she would soon.

When sound finally arrived, the first thing she registered, even before opening her eyes, was the cacophony of warm, loving voices echoing all around her.

“Oh, she truly is marvellous, Father!”

“I really like her overall shape; it’s really cute.”

“Says the doll that could be mistaken for a loaf of bread…” Another voice said, her tone somewhat derisive.

“Not all of us can be shaped after adorable bears like you, Lophapharo.” The second voice countered with a hmph!

“Personally, I believe she could use some more mushrooms in her overall design, but the end result is quite pretty as well.” This voice was prim and proper, though the tiniest bit judgemental.

“Oh, hush, Razeriana! She is not for you, but for the Eliatrope King. It is him whom she must please.”

“In that case, I don’t think her lack of mushrooms will matter. Eliatropes are essentially humans; they are far shallower than dragons and our sister looks… like this.”

“Ibago! Are you suggesting Father’s creation is imperfect?!”

“Oh, don’t get your stitches into a twist, Sallydally.” A scoff. “I’m merely trying to look out for our sister’s well-being; as she is right now, she will be lucky if the Eliatrope King takes her in as a pet.”

“Ibago!” All voices exclaimed in unison, scandalised.

“Now, now, my dolls. I assure you, your sister is as gifted as all of you. After all, she is mine.” A deep, rich, masculine voice—how did she know that?—cut through the others. Just then, she could feel herself be scooped up in two mossy hands and raised high above. Whoever was talking to her used his thumb to rub gentle caresses on her cheek. “Come now, Amalia. Try opening your eyes slowly.”

Amalia… Is that my name? The little doll couldn’t help but ask herself. Still, compelled by her creator’s encouraging tones, she did as she was told. With slight difficulty, she unglued her eyelids, wincing at the burning sensation caused by the unfiltered light making contact with her retinas. Thanks to a few slow blinks, she finally regained her senses, only for them to be flooded again at the explosion of colour that greeted her upon setting her gaze on the figures in front of her.

Wherever she looked, she was assaulted by wide, curious eyes. Some of them belonged to three beautiful humanoid women with plant-like features, be it the colour of their skin and hair or the clothes they wore. Others she found on the faces of six nature-inspired… dolls? They certainly looked like dolls —and the masculine voice had described them as such—, even if she couldn’t understand how she even knew what those were; with their small, stumpy bodies, that somehow didn’t detract from their own unique beauty. And yet, as dissimilar as the nine creatures before her were, they all had something in common: they all proudly displayed a series of stitches going up and down their skin.

But what truly got her blinking in amazement was the imposing yet oddly loving figure right in front of her. The same one that had scooped her up in his palms and commanded her to open her eyes.

He radiated unmistakable power, a kind of power that, weirdly enough, she could feel herself responding to, resonating from her very core. His body was lean, yet his muscles firm, not unlike tree bark; the ebony tone of his skin coursing through his shape until it reached a loincloth, hiding what lay beneath; or his hands, covered by moss and fungi, and a lighter shade of the same bark comprising his body; and his head…

Despite her limited understanding of the world around her, Amalia was sure she could not see his face. All she could see was a large, green and orange wooden mask with both ends donning completely different decorations. The lower end gave way to a white, scruffy goatee; while the upper end was adorned with rows of palm leaves and even luminescent mushrooms that ended in brownish leaves hanging from matching golden rings on each side of his head. Truth be told, the holes in both eyes and mouth made it a very impressive mask, but it still wasn’t an actual face.

For a second, Amalia couldn’t help but wonder if she too had a mask instead of a face and that was why—what was her name…? Oh, that’s right!—Ibago found her ugly before. She gulped in horror at the mere thought.

The figure chuckled, the sound reverberating from his throat with fondness and mirth. “Worry not, my dear. I can assure you, soon you will be one of the most beautiful creatures to walk the World of Twelve. If your suitor isn’t careful, he might find himself having to fight off hordes of young men and women vying for your affection.” Even though she could tell that it was meant to be a light-hearted joke, his tone darkened slightly at the mention of her ‘suitor.’

Speaking of which…

“What is a ‘suitor’?” She found herself asking and, goodness! Was that her voice? Was that really how she sounded?

“Someone who wishes to sweep you off your feet.” The figure explained. Then realising it might be too soon for her to understand metaphors, he corrected himself. “Someone who wishes to make you fall in love with them. Although in your case, your own suitor has yet to realise that…”

“How is that possible?” She questioned, not sure she understood the strange new rules the world she was in seemed to be run by.

“Uh… I shall explain it all in due time, my dear, but first, let me introduce myself and your sisters.” Carefully passing her from both his open hands to just one, he used his new free hand to gesture at himself. “I am Sadida. God of nature and patron of the tree people inhabiting the World of Twelve. And these are your sisters: Maminala, Lophapharo, Belladona, Peparava, Yopo, Razeriana, Ladysally, Ibago, and Dathura;” he gestured to each and every one of them as he listed them off, “they’re all Divine Dolls, such as yourself, my dear.”

“A ‘Divine Doll’?” She tilted her head in confusion. “What is that?”

“My creations.” He responded simply. “I am your father and you, my dear, are my masterpiece. And you were created with a very specific purpose. But before going into detail, allow me to tell you all about the wondrous world you’re about to discover…”

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Despite the relatively short amount of time their race had inhabited Oma Island, their history, their culture, their very essence as people have already been engraved onto each and every nook and cranny composing the area. The inside of their rulers’ place of residence was no exception; the corridors inside the Eliatrope palace were an architectural marvel. Covering the expanse of the tall, sturdy walls were murals depicting their people’s history, with the Council of Six and their dragon siblings front and centre.

In that very moment, walking down the path connecting the council room with the throne room were four figures; three of them looked quite similar and humanoid, while the fourth one stood out thanks to his reptilian, if still bipedal, appearance. What they all had in common, however, was the brisk pace at which they marched, although one of them, the one leading their little group, was visibly more ruffled than the others.

“This is unbelievable. Just… unbelievable! The natives treat us like monsters for months on end, the gods don’t even acknowledge our presence—”

“Which we must not forget might be for the best.” The voice belonging to the reptilian silhouette cautioned wisely.

“—and now, out of the blue, they send us—no, scratch that—they send me something called a ‘Divine Doll’ to take as my bride?! Just, who does that?!” The agitated voice belonged to none other than King Yugo of the Eliatropes, whom anyone would be able to tell was at the verge of losing it from just one look at his face.

The reason for his ire and disbelief was simple. Shortly after arriving at the World of Twelve and choosing the distant Oma Island to settle down and restart their civilisation, the Council of Six, composed by him and his siblings—Adamaï, Qilby, Shinonomé, Nora, Efrim, Glip, Baltazar, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, and Phaeris—, had come to the decision that they needed to introduce themselves to the other races populating this world and show them they meant no harm.

Originally, they simply wanted to establish a mutually beneficial relationship between them all in order for their respective civilisations to thrive. However, their hopes of fostering positive relationships were dashed when the natives immediately responded to them with nothing but scorn and distrust. No matter their attempts at proving they only wished for a peaceful coexistence, the Twelvians regarded them as outsiders. Even worse, as invaders just waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.

They kept trying to reach out to them for months on end, to no avail. The fact that the Twelvians sent their finest warriors specifically to drive them out only cemented what they already knew.

They were not welcomed.

Unfortunately, even if it would have been better to just leave this world and look for another place they could call home, the Council knew it would not be possible. Their people had already spent decades navigating the Krosmoz, looking for the perfect substitute for their own world, and in all that time the only planet that met all their requirements and would be able to satisfy their needs was the World of Twelve. Who knew how long it would be until they found their next candidate? And what if they couldn’t stay there either?

No, it was better to remain where they were and limit themselves to only interact with the outside world when strictly necessary.

Considering the uprise and unrest their arrival caused, the Yugo and his siblings were fully expecting this world’s gods to intervene, probably even cast them out or at least force them to fight for their right to have a place to belong. They even dared hope the deities might intervene in their favour and convince their followers to give them a chance. But it was all for naught. No one came.

Which made the fact that one of their guards was forced to interrupt a council meeting to inform their king something called ‘a Divine Doll’ had been sent directly from Inglorium as his bride-to-be all the more infuriating.

“And what’s more!” The Eliatrope went on to say. “How can they just assume I need a bride? How do they know I’m not already married, or betrothed?!”

Adamaï perfectly understood where Yugo was coming from. He was his very own dragon twin brother, after all. As with most council meetings taking place indoors, he was making use of his humanoid yet draconic form to walk beside his brother inside the palace. Even if he understood how his brother felt, however, he couldn’t help but shake his head with a sigh at his words.

“Yugo, they are the gods of this world. They probably oversee everything that happens here.” He was quick to remind his king. “Meaning, they’re most likely aware you are very much single.”

“Have been in all your past lives, as a matter of fact. A few, several-years-long flings here and there, but you have never taken a queen in the entirety of our history.” Another voice chimed in, sounding somewhat amused.

Said infuriatingly smug voice belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope clad in a long, white tunic over brown pants and shoes, its hood resembling a pair of horns that ended in a tuft of dark fur at the back. He had a long face that culminated in a braided beard the same hue as his long, dirty blond hair. A small pair of round glasses over his nose only amplified the sharp intellect reflected in his hazel eyes.

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes in frustration at his brother’s need to remind him of every single event that had ever taken place in the course of their many lifetimes. “My point is, whatever it is they’re trying to do, it won’t work. The only reason we’re not sending that thing packing is because Mina and Phaeris advised us against it.”

“As much as I agree with you, brother, Mina and Phaeris believe doing so will only be worse, as it could be taken as a declaration of war against the gods themselves. And I’m afraid they’re probably right.” Nora spoke, her pink eyes trained on the path ahead of them.

Her hair as pale as her porcelain skin, it was mostly covered by a long, magenta cloak that reached down her knees. Whenever her movements would force the cloak to open and reveal what lay behind, a matching magenta, form-fitting, sleeveless suit and fingerless gloves up to her forearms appeared. Despite their initial role as their people’s joy-bringers, the war against the Mechasms had hardened both her and her dragon brother Efrim into capable warriors in their own right.

“Nora, is right, Yugo.” Adamaï said, putting a claw over his brother’s shoulder. “You don’t have to take the Divine Doll as your bride, but it would not be wise to rudely reject a gift from the gods, either.” Then, a small gasp leaving his throat as he came to a realisation, he added, much more enthused. “What if this ends up being the chance we were waiting for? What if this is the key to convince the Twelvians we are not a threat?”

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessing.” Qilby pointed out.

“I know, I know.” Their king said, running a hand through his hair from under his own hood in frustration.” You’re all probably right, I just… I don’t know… I mean, what even is a Divine Doll?!” Yugo wondered aloud, his mind racing.

Without even having to look at him, Yugo could just feel Qilby perk up in excitement at the prospect of explaining something. And then Glip was supposed to be the teacher…

“According to my research on this world and its lore,” the bespectacled Eliatrope began, “Divine Dolls, also known as Sadida Dolls, for that is their creator, the god of nature; were created for the sole purpose of making this world’s primordial dragons fall in love with them to get them to produce Dofus.

“Apparently, there are ten dolls and ten dragons, but only six of them succeeded in their mission. Meaning, much like us, there are only six Dofus native to this world.” Although he finished his retelling, Qilby was clearly not quite done, for he pushed his glasses up with one finger before adding, “Considering they were created by Sadida himself, despite the unconventional means behind their conception, they are regarded as demigoddesses in their own right. In fact, they are said to be the only ones besides the gods themselves that get to live in Inglorium.” At his siblings’ astonished expressions at that piece of information, all he could do was shrug. “Yes, it appears they’re that special.”

“So all the more reason not to be disrespectful towards our guest. Just wonderful…” Yugo let out a tired sigh.

“Look on the bright side,” Nora said, a wry smile dancing at her lips, “that means you at least won’t have to worry about your different lifespans. All demigods are virtually immortal, after all.”

Knowing his sister and her love for messing with him, Yugo only narrowed his eyes at her, unamused. As terrible a thought as it was, this doll living for as long as he did only meant he would not be able to rid himself of her until he died, when normally, he would have only had to wait a few decades before being free. Again, just wonderful.

“I don’t understand, however.” Adamaï said, his chin caught in between his thumb and index finger pensively. “You said Sadida Dolls were meant to seduce dragons.” A nod from Qilby. “Then why would they send one to Yugo, instead of one of us, Eliatrope dragons? I don’t like this…”

Nora’s expression sobered up at the grim reminder. “All the more reason to keep our eyes peeled for anything.”

Right as she said this, they reached the door leading them into the throne room, where they had been informed the doll would be waiting for them. Taking a deep breath in a feeble attempt to reign his thunderous emotions in lest they came out in full force and risked offending their uninvited guest, Yugo sent a nod towards the guards positioned at either side, silently signalling for them to open up the doors.

As the gates creaked open, the three Primordial Eliatropes and the dragon accompanying them could finally take a good look at the creature waiting for them inside. As his eyes registered her form, all Yugo could think of was how this… wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting.

Standing in the middle of the room was the tiniest thing he had ever seen in his life—a thought he kept to himself in case Qilby felt like correcting him on how a baby singing whale he saw back in their 3215th reincarnation was actually the smallest thing he had ever seen, or something. Looking back at him with wide, brown eyes—he thought they were brown; it was hard to tell with her size and the distance between them— was a simple, dark brown rag doll. Her shape could not have been any more complex than a figure with a body, four limbs with no discernible fingers or toes, and a big round head with a small mouth shaped like an ‘o’, the aforementioned pair of brown eyes, and a leafy tuft of green hair on her head.

As his siblings exchanged confused glances and he heard Adamaï muttering ‘This are the famed Divine Dolls that made dragons fall in love with them?’, despite himself and his best attempts at being cordial towards the poor thing, a disbelieving Yugo could only blurt out, “If this is supposed to be my bride, then I don’t think the gods know much about our anatomy…”

His words broke her out of her trance, an embarrassed blush making its way over to her cheeks. She really had intended to present herself in the same elegant, refined manner her sisters had suggested, to display her divine heritage in its full splendour. In fact, ever since she was guided to the throne room to await her suitor—as Father called the Eliatrope King—, she had been discreetly rehearsing what she would say and how she would present herself.

But the moment the large, beautifully detailed doors opened to reveal the Eliatrope King, her mind skidded to a halt at the same time as her little heart skipped a beat. Walking towards her was the most handsome man she had ever seen—granted, she hadn’t really met that many, but there was still something very special about him. Even if he wore a long, blue cloak and his head was covered by a wabbit-shaped hood, his chiselled body was easily discernible underneath. His every curve and muscle was only accentuated by a dark blue, tight, fingerless body-suit with golden detailing.

What little she could see of his face didn’t disappoint either. Despite his chiselled features, he had this boyish quality to him, something that made him extremely endearing. Only hammering this fact were his sharp and alert, yet big and kind dark brown eyes and his short, messy dirty blond hair.

But when his words registered in her mind—why did his voice have to be attractive, too?!— Amalia couldn’t help but feel slightly self-conscious about her body. For a moment, she feared Ibago’s warning against humans, especially men, had been right and her appearance would pose a problem. But just then, her eyes glinted determinedly as she remembered both Father and Dathura’s teachings: as the eleventh Divine Doll, she was not as restricted by her physical form as her older sisters.

Moreover, she had an ace up her sleeve.

But first things first.

“Greetings, Your Majesty and members of the Council of Six. It is a great honour to be here.” She bowed politely, her body bending ninety degrees. “My name is Amalia. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. The gods send me as proof of good will between their followers and your people.”

Just as Yugo’s mind scrambled to understand what she meant by ‘eleventh doll’ and the implications behind it, the doll in question—Amalia—interrupted his train of thought. “It appears my current physical form is disconcerting. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

Before anyone present could even utter a word, a veritable hurricane of pink flower petals came to surround the little doll, swirling around her and hiding her from view. Despite himself, the breeze that originated from it was so strong, Yugo couldn’t help but avert his eyes as he covered his face with his forearm, his siblings following his lead.

When he finally felt the wind dying down, the Eliatrope tentatively lowered his arm. Blinking slowly, he finally allowed his gaze to settle on Amalia and, eyes widening at the sight, promptly lost all ability to form a single coherent thought.

The first thing he noticed was that her eyes were indeed a warm, chocolate brown, as well as big and doe-like, luring him in with their siren song. The second most eye-catching thing about her was her hair, elegantly framing her face. It was almost paradoxical, how such an untamed, forest-green mane could also look so silky, which also created a wonderful contrast with her smooth mahogany skin, not a single blemish in sight. Her green locks were pulled back in a high ponytail by a wooden, forked headband that circled around her head only to then rise up beyond her forehead, emulating two antlers or even the branches of a tree.

Yugo couldn’t understand why then, but at the sight of it, his hands itched to just reach out to her hair and touch it. To see for himself if it was truly as silky as it looked. Then, almost as if drawn to it, his eyes couldn’t help sweeping down her body and taking it all in, drinking her in.

She was clad in what at first glance looked like a dress but that, upon closer inspection, the copious amount of skin it showed proved it was actually a two-piece joined together at the front and with several straps on her thighs and back. The upper half consisted of a top made from orange leaves adorned by a rather large white daisy in the very middle. Said daisy was then connected to a leaf the same colour of her hair that went down her equally orange leaf skirt, the same as the one covering her posterior. She was adorned in matching green anklets and armlets that reached up to her shins and forearms, respectively.

At the sight of her silhouette, Yugo, the Eliatrope King and greatest warrior his people had ever known, could only gulp with slight difficulty. Her exposed legs were long and toned, going all the way up to her invitingly mouthwatering hourglass hips. Despite her modest bosom, her petite frame managed to imbue her alluring figure with a certain sweetness that somehow only highlighted her undeniable beauty. Just as sweet was her round, symmetrical doll-like face, which he assumed was to be expected since she was a doll, only now he was beginning to understand just how truly divine she truly was.

As he stood there, drinking her in, all his admittedly short-circuited mind could think was that she was the loveliest flower he had ever seen. He had a feeling not even Qilby would be able to correct him on that.

Adamaï could only blink blankly at what had just happened, astonished. Sure, as a dragon, he was no stranger to shapeshifting, but seeing an unassuming rag doll turn herself into a wild beauty with only the help of a torrent of flower petals was a stretch even for him!

He was about to comment on the change with his brother, leaning closer to whisper in his ear, when he had to do a double take at the state his twin was in, his own mouth hanging open in silent shock.

Yugo was staring intently at Amalia, his whole expression speaking louder than a thousand words. He stood there, slack-jawed, eyes wide and unblinking, and the most furious blush Adamaï had ever seen on his brother’s face had erupted all over his skin.

He looked more like a hormonal teenager seeing his crush naked than a centuries-old king.

Remembering Yugo’s comment right before Amalia literally stole his breath away—seriously, he didn’t look like he was even breathing—, Adamaï couldn’t help himself and leaned in closer to whisper to Nora. “I’d say the gods certainly know what they’re doing…”

“If he doesn’t want her, I’ll gladly take her.” Nora whispered right back.

Qilby simply raised an intrigued eyebrow at this development.

Their whispering, coupled with Amalia’s face contorting in the slightest confusion, was enough to finally break Yugo out of his trance. Clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant, and failing miserably, the king stepped closer to his guest to say, “It…It is an honour to have you here with us as well, Amalia. Although I believe you can imagine how unexpected this all is…”

“Oh, yes. Father did warn me you were not originally aware of my imminent arrival.”

Nora refrained herself from saying something rude about a god, especially in front of what was essentially his daughter. Everyone else in the room could already tell what she was thinking, after all. Efrim in particular must have felt it from all the way over to the opposite end of the palace.

“Nevertheless, I trust your stay with us will be a pleasant experience for you.” Yugo went on, trying very hard not to lose himself in those brown eyes of hers for what he had to say next was very important. “Amalia, if you don’t mind my asking, what exactly were you told you are to do here?”

The question seemed to take her aback for a moment, her cheeks colouring as she gathered her thoughts. Shyly tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, she answered. “I was told I am to remain by your side for as long as you permit me, Your Majesty. Hopefully, that will result in you falling in love with me.”

Adamaï almost choked.

Before Yugo had time to get his heart pumping blood again, Amalia added, a little bashfully. “Though, truth be told, I do not even fully understand what ‘falling in love’ is, let alone how I am supposed to achieve it. Father calls you my suitor, but I still don’t fully understand what it means, let alone what it means that I am to be your bride.”

Oh, so she had no idea what she was even supposed to do here. That made things easier somehow.

Yugo panicked when Qilby began to speak.

“Well, you see, my dear, a bride is a woman who is either married or about to be—.”

“Thank you, Qilby.” Yugo said loudly through gritted teeth, at the same time as both Nora and Adamaï clamped their hands over the eldest Eliatrope mouth to get him to shut up. Turning back to Amalia, he willed the heat to leave his cheeks. “Um, yes, brides and marriages usually go hand-in-hand.” Then, grabbing her hands to get her to look him in the eye, his voice turned serious. “However, Amalia, there is no guarantee you and I will get married.”

Her brow furrowing in confusion had no business being so cute. “Why not? Is it my appearance? Is it not to your liking?”

Yugo’s heart stopped. That was definitely not the problem. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.” He hated how strangled his voice sounded, and he especially hated his siblings chortling at his expense. What was the point in being king if it didn’t save you from brotherly teasing?

“Then what is it?” She pressed on. At the same time, she stepped a little closer to him, and suddenly all the Eliatrope could see was her beautiful face.

Oh, what did he do to deserve such sweet torture?!

Mustering every ounce of strength he possessed, he took one deep breath before looking her straight in the eye. But seeing her big, doe-like eyes staring back at him in wonder deflated his resolve somewhat. With a sigh, he settled for explaining things from a different angle.

“It’s got to do with what you said about making me fall in love with you.” He settled on. “Love is a very complicated thing; there’s no guarantee that will ever happen, therefore, it would be foolish to marry only to be miserable.”

Eyes widening slightly in realisation, Amalia had the strange feeling something inside her broke. Weird. She had been born recently and Father was a master craftsman. She should be in perfect condition. She shook her head and with that those wayward thoughts; now it wasn’t the time for that.

She looked back at the king. There really was something magnetic about him, even if she couldn’t tell what it was.

“Then I suppose I should make my way back to Inglorium and explain the reason for my return to Father. You have my deepest gratitude for your time.”

Just as the Divine Doll let go of his hands and bowed down to them yet again, turning around to abandon the Eliatropes’ territory, Yugo and his siblings panicked, terrified at the prospect of the twelve gods taking their fury out on them.

While Adamaï and Nora sent him pointed looks and gestured wildly at Amalia’s retreating form (Qilby just shrugged), Yugo acted without thinking. He pointed one hand at the floor beneath him, creating a portal underneath his feet that immediately transported him right in front of the Sadida Doll, who could only take one startled step back in response.

Eyes glimmering in fascination, looking him up and down, all Amalia could say was, “Incredible…”

Taking advantage of her stupefied state, Yugo reached out for her hand again—was it weird how much he’d been doing it in the sparse few moments he had known her? Should he be worried?—; with her attention back on him, he rushed to say. “However, even though there is no guarantee love will ever blossom between us, I meant it when I say we are honoured to have you here. And if the gods expect us to spend our time together, then it will be my pleasure to be your friend, Amalia.” Then, he added. “Oh, and if we’re going to be friends, you can just call me Yugo. I was never good with formalities.”

“You have my thanks, Yugo.”

Her smile was so blinding, Yugo had the feeling his subsequent reaction to it was not a good sign for a perfectly platonic relationship.

After that, he formally introduced his siblings, with promises of letting her meet the remaining members of the Council and tours around the palace, and maybe even the island. They had to part ways relatively soon since Yugo and the rest still had some urgent matters to attend to, but he instructed some of his guards to guide Amalia to what would be her room from then on.

As he walked back to the council room, flashes of Amalia’s smiling face materialising in his mind, Yugo couldn’t help but wonder what awaited him now that the Sadida Doll was here to stay.

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