#the golden dragon might be a go but one of the wing blades is messed up

[dark-twist-fairytales]

can we see all your sets

So, unfortunately, I don't have but one set built. That one set is Cole's Dragon Cruiser, along with its characters. (4 mini-figs total)

I have, however, many sets and booklets form the past. I have characters and mixed up parts, and it's honestly saddening how many can't be completed due to the amount of Legos missing over the years.

But, let's go by set by set that I KNOW we have by release order (Fandom Wiki)

-Epic Dragon Battle (season 2)

-Kai's Fire Mech (season 2)

-Cole's Earth Digger (season 2)

-The Golden Dragon (season 2)

-Kai Fighter (season 3)

-Sky Shark (season 6)

-The Vermillion Attack (season 7)

-Desert Lightning (season 7)

-Vermillion Invader (season 7)

-Cole's Dragon Cruiser (season 15)

It's honestly really upsetting that I'm not able to build a lot of these from missing pieces. I believe there is another box somewhere of legos that got misplaced, but.. Yeah, this is all I have salvaged from every single bit of lego.

As a note: I have the stickered and special printed lego pieces for a lot of these, as well as all of the dragon heads (excluding one jaw from the quad dragon)

ANOTHER NOTE: Nya did NOT come from a set, she came from my character encyclopedia (pictured below with Nya in place), that unfortunately now has a rip on one of the pages (by accident from my niece, no blame on her, just still upset by this because it's a brand new book)

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #193

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re building the new guy everyone knows and loves, Prince Nezha! They’re an Ascendant Dragon Monk for their fire wheels and spear skills, as well as a Strength Cleric to pick up all those sacred treasures they get while still being the stabby stabby bot we all adore.

(I’ll be perfectly upfront right now; we did not have the time to read through Investiture of the Gods and Journey to the West to make one character, so they’ll be getting all the sacred treasures that we found while binging OSP’s videos on the latter. Also, lots of anti-demon stuff. You don’t need first-hand knowledge of a series to know that the “Demon-Hacking Blade” probably has some anti-demon features in it.)

Anyways, check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet over here!

Next up: The Mysterious Miss Moolah!

Race and background

Nezha’s more clay than metal, but they’re still hanging out in an artificial body, that’s a Warforged. They get +2 Constitution and +1 to any stat, so +1 Wisdom, as well as Constructed Resilience, so you don’t have to eat, drink, breathe, or sleep, don’t get sick, and have advantage and resistance to poison effects. Instead of sleeping, you take a Sentry’s Rest, spending 6 hours awake but not moving. You also get Integrated Protection for +1 AC. There’s more to it, but you’re a monk, you don’t use armor anyway. Finally, your Specialized Design gives you proficiency in one skill, I picked Animal Handling for the same reason I grabbed it for Nero. If you can “handle” the king of the monkeys, the rest should fall in line.

I meant beating him up, don’t be gross.

You respect your coworkers, which means to mortals you’d probably be an Acolyte, which gives you proficiency with Insight and Religion.

Ability Scores

Wisdom comes from making mistakes, and dear god have you made some doozies, so make that number one. Second highest should be Dexterity, you can fly, but only by balancing on wheels. That’s a high-stakes highwire act. Your Strength is next- going toe-to-toe with the monkey king requires a lot of it. Your Constitution is also above average, the zhenren sages don’t skimp on their designs. This means your Intelligence will be a bit low since we don’t need it for the build, but we’re dumping Charisma. There’s a bit of a disconnect between you and others, and also you have a lot of self-loathing issues to work through, which just makes hanging out a bit awkward.

Class Levels

Monk 1: Starting off as a monk gives you plenty of goodies, like proficiency in Strength and Dexterity saves, Acrobatics for balance, and History. I cannot emphasize enough about how all these servant builds should probably just get free history proficiency. You also get Unarmored Defense, which adds to your Integrated Protection for a total AC of 11+ your dex mod + your wisdom modifier. That brings your current AC up to 16 for a start, not bad. You also get Martial Arts so your monk attacks deal at least 1d4 (which grows as you level up), can use your dexterity instead of strength, and if you make one of those attacks as your action you can make another attack as a bonus action. Spears are simple weapons and versatile, not two-handed, so you’re in the clear.

Cleric 1: We’re gonna bounce over to cleric right away to become a worshiper of Strength. When you become an Acolyte of Strength, you learn one Druid cantrip, and gain proficiency with another skill- in this case, Athletics. For your free cantrip, grab Shillelagh. I know it says club or quarterstaff, but just hold the spear backwards. If gives you a d8 for damage, turns the weapon magical, and you can use Wisdom to attack with it instead of dexterity or strength. While we’re on the topic, you also get Spells now that use your Wisdom to cast and prepare. That means you don’t have a hard and fast spell list, but you can switch things up each long rest. For cantrips, Spare the Dying gives you beans of immortality that you can pop into a creature’s mouth as an action to stabilize them. You also get Sacred Flame for sacred flames, and Thaumaturgy to show off your celestial origins. As a strength cleric you’ll always have Divine Favor and Shield of Faith on tap, but you can also use Detect Evil and Good and Protection from Evil and Good for demon fighting.

Monk 2: We’re not going to focus on cleric too much though, we have martial arts to learn. At second level, you get Ki points equal to your monk level each short rest, letting you attack twice, dodge, disengage, or dash as a bonus action. You also get Unarmored Movement, adding to your speed as you level up.

Monk 3: At third level you can finally set down the Way of the Ascendant Dragon, making your fists a lot more fiery. You’re now a Draconic Disciple as well as a cleric, so when you hit a creature with your fists or feet you can deal bludgeoning damage as normal, or acid, cold, fire, lightning, or poison. Obviously fire is the most in character, but there’s probably a baobei that works for the other elements if you really want them. You can also spend your reaction to re-roll a failed intimidation or persuasion check, succeeding once per long rest. I guess Nezha can be kind of scary when they want to be. You can also use the Breath of the Dragon, replacing one of your normal attacks with a cone or line of acid, cold, fire, lighting, or poison damage, forcing a dexterity save against your ki save (DC 8 + proficiency + wisdom modifier), taking 2 rolls of your martial arts die on a failure, or half as much on a success. If that monkey king’s modern iteration can get beam weapons so can you. You get Proficiency free uses per long rest, but you can use it more by spending 1 ki point per use. Finally, you can react to someone shooting you with an arrow to Deflect Missiles, reducing the damage, If it’s reduced to 0, you can spend a ki point to launch it back at them.

Cleric 2: Back into cleric for a hot second. Second level clerics can Channel Divinity in one of two ways per short rest. Turn Undead makes nearby undead run if they fail a wisdom save, but you can also use a Feat of Strength to add +10 to an attack roll or strength check/save. The Zhenren really don’t mess around.

Monk 4: Fourth level monks get their first Ability Score Improvement, so improve that Wisdom for a higher AC, better shillelagh attacks, and stronger fire powers. You also learn how to Slow Fall as a reaction so falling off your wheels isn’t quite as big an issue.

Monk 5: Fifth level monks get an Extra Attack per attack action, bringing your total in a turn up to two with just an action, three with your martial arts bonus action, or four with flurry of blows. You can also turn those attacks into Stunning Strikes by spending ki. This forces a constitution save on the creature you just hit, stunning them if they fail until the end of your next turn.

Monk 6: Sixth level monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes for magical unarmed attacks. If you’re fighting a triply immortal monkey it’s best to prep as much as possible. You also get the reason we’re here in the first place, Wings Unfurled. Now when you use your ki points to dash as a bonus action you get dragon wings for a turn, giving you a flying speed equal to your walking speed until the end of your turn. If you’re in the air, you will fall, but to be fair Nezha mostly uses this to go like, 20 feet up and divebomb someone, so it’s not a huge restriction. You can fly Proficiency times per long rest, or by spending a ki point each extra time you use it.

Monk 7: Our final level of monk gets you Evasion for better dexterity saves. You probably know the drill by now- failures are now as good as most people’s successes, and successes negate all damage. You also get a Stillness of Mind, letting you end a charming or frightening effect as a bonus action. Just hit ctrl alt delete on BeScared.exe, not hard.

Cleric 3: Now that your training is complete, it’s time to quest for all those sacred treasures. Starting off strong at third level, you get second level cleric spells, including the freebies Enhance Ability and Protection from Poison. You can also make a Spiritual Weapon to summon whatever demon-slaying tool you might need, creating a floating weapon as a bonus action that’ll move around and deal force damage if you use it each bonus action for up to 1 minute. Alternatively, you can use Hold Person to summon the Diamond Snare/Wukong’s headband/The five Golden Rings (there’s a lot of sacred treasures that focus on immobilization) to force a wisdom save on one humanoid. If they fail, they’re paralyzed for a while, or until they succeed on a save. Paralysis is nasty too, it gives attacks advantage to hit plus guaranteed crits when they do.

Cleric 4: Use this ASI to bump up your Dexterity for better unarmed strikes and a better AC. You also get the Light cantrip to use your fire constructively.

Cleric 5: Fifth level clerics get a boost to Turn Undead, “turn”ing it into Destroy Undead instead. If a creature of CR 1/2 or lower gets caught in it, it’s just gone. You also get third level spells like Haste and Protection From Energy. Either get out of the way of the beam weapons, or shield yourself from them. Alternatively, grab spells like Spirit Shroud for a more heavenly aura, or Speak with Dead. You can literally just go to the afterlife to talk to them, what like it’s hard?

Cleric 6: You can now Channel Divinity twice per short rest, and you can also use that divinity to give out Rhonas’ Blessing! It’s like feat of strength, but it has a range of 30′ instead of self. You’re not the kind of person to hang out with weaklings.

Cleric 7: Seventh level clerics get fourth level spells. Dominate Beast is Wukong’s headband but for all sorts of creatures, and Stoneskin... yeah. You can also use Death Ward for an actual immortality bean that prevents one case of koing, Guardian of Faith to call in a favor from another celestial, or Banishment to make Lao Tzu take his goddamn pets back. If the target isn’t from another plane, they’re just gone for about a minute.

Cleric 8: Eighth level clerics get another ASI to max out your Wisdom for the best attacks, good defense, and stronger spells. Destroy Undead bumps up to CR 1, and you get a Divine Strike once per turn, adding 1d8 of an existing damage type to your weapon attack. They don’t call you “lancer” for nothing. Actually they do, you should be called “spear-er”, I guess.

Cleric 9: You get fifth level spells! Your freebies are Destructive Wave and Insect Plague, which aren’t super in character, but they do sound like something a sacred treasure could do. You can also call down a Flame Strike for some real fire power, turn your spear into a Holy Weapon for even more damage, Dispel Evil and Good to roll protection from E&G and a faster banishment into a single spell, or you can Summon Celestial to call down a coworker to help out. You get either an Avenger or a Defender, the former dealing more damage and the latter giving allies temporary HP.

Cleric 10: At tenth level you finally get a direct line back home, letting you call them up for some Divine Intervention. It’s a percent chance based on your cleric level, but if you succeed it’s basically up to the DM how much help you get. You can do this once per day, or after a week when it works. You also get the Resistance cantrip. You’re tough, it tracks.

Cleric 11: Destroy Undead hits CR 2, and you get sixth level spells. Planar Ally summons a celestial coworker for as long as you can pay them, but be prepared, it can be steep. You can also use Sunbeam for more fire.

Cleric 12: Use your last ASI to bump up Dexterity again. You know the drill, more AC, better unarmed attacks, the works.

Cleric 13: Your final level gets you seventh level spells, letting you Conjure Celestial for a much cheaper celestial companion that’ll stick with you for up to 1 hour. You can also Plane Shift to visit the heavens for yourself.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Flight is always good to have, event if it’s a limited trial version like yours. Hop over to where you should be, and keep out of range of anyone you don’t feel like fighting.

Strength Clerics are basically war clerics but better, and Feat of Strength will make it really easy for you to grapple, lift, push, or just be the powerhouse of the team.

Clerics are really versatile casters, getting healing, buffs, utility, and damaging spells, so your spell list will always be handy. On top of that, your dragon fists let you pick your element when you hit people, so you won’t be completely hosed by fire resistant enemies.

Cons:

You have limited resources for your best abilities, with only 7 ki points and 2 channel divinities per short rest. Wings Unfurled might let you instant transmission, but you won’t be able to spam it like they do on Dragon Ball Z, sorry.

For a strength-focused subclass, your strength score is pretty underwhelming. Sure, you can use Feat of Strength to power yourself up, but odds are there’s someone else who could put Rhonas’ Blessing to better use. Learn to share, it’ll help.

You also have a really low charisma, so don’t be surprised if you get into fights more often than you’d think. Also, it’s a good thing you got plane shift at level 20, because you might get banished a lot.

[raddifferent]

I'm late but I'm in the middle of switching jobs so who cares! Here's Day Two of @rosemarymonth2021: Fantasy! This is Chapter 1; Chapter 2 will double as the Chapter 4 prompt because I want to finish this fic rather than do medieval with no fantasy elements. It's my writing project and I make the rules!!

Anyways, as usual the link will be in the replies and the fic is below the cut!

The esteemed Duchess Lepidopterina Dolorosa of the House Maryam, Baroness of the Misted Isles, Devotee of the Midnight Spiral, and Serene Lady of the Obsidian Blade, first of her name, was having a bit of a shit day. As some of her many fancy titles would suggest, she was an adept swordswoman, and she had been honored to be invited to the wedding of Duke Egbert’s daughter. She was more familiar with Lady Egbert than her betrothed, another Duchess of the Troll kingdom, despite being a troll herself. That was one of the side effects of spending an inordinate amount of time in the borderlands fighting off the blasted undead, as she found herself doing now.

Her traveling party had been journeying through the Cresting Mountains for a fortnight now, having crossed the mountain peaks worn oddly smooth by some ancient ocean and cracked in half on their tectonic ascent. The scraggly pines of its forests were dense in places and opened into large clearings in others, creating an unpredictable landscape full of pockets of zombies. Three of the party had fallen when the undead felled their horses, and she’d lost sight of the other two of her companions when the pack had separated them. Now, she fought the beasts alone.

Kanaya raised a shining hand, turning some of the undead near herself. She had a moment to catch her breath and assess the situation. A crowd of about fifteen undead humans and trolls had her backed against the base of a thick pine. At her feet lay a pile of bodies twenty-strong. Her black leather boots were shiny with rotting ichor, and splashes of guts, grime, and gore adorned her oiled outerwear. The Duchess twirled her twin blades, each a deep, midnight indigo sparkling with obsidian glitter, and also with a little magic. Her hands were covered with snugly-fit leather gloves, but beneath the animal hide Kanaya knew the sigils of the Church of the Midnight Spiral gleamed on the backs of her hands. Indeed, her skin itself glowed from the inside, although that was more of a side effect of being a Blessed Resurrectionist. Kanaya lived thirty five years, and died, and was brought back by The Bright Light in the Dark Sky to walk again some fifty more years. Those outside the Church would call her another, luckier undead. A vampire.

Her groaning, festering foes began to clamber close enough to swipe at her again. Kanaya whirled and sliced, removing limbs and heads as the undead shuffled within her reach. Eight more fell, leaving seven standing. Kanaya tried to wipe a smear of viscera from her face, but she feared the back of her sleeve only made the mess worse. She was breathing heavily. The dampness on her boots and the height of the bodies was beginning to impede her. She needed to reach high ground, and soon.

Just then, a golden light shone from deeper in the woods surrounding this clearing. Kanaya jumped to the side just as a zombie swiped at her head, leaving her in the perfect position to see a glowing arrow pin her assailant’s head to a tree. There must have only been one archer aiding her, as only one or two arrows came at a time, but they still landed more rapidly than Kanaya’s own battle maidens could achieve. In seconds, the battle had ended.

Still breathing heavily, Kanaya attempted to wipe her blades off on her jacket before sheathing them. She began to walk towards where the arrows had been coming from.

Kanaya was met at the edge of the clearing by a figure in a deep purple cloak. Her skin was a deeper, redder brown than Kanaya’s own, set in sharp contrast to their white-blond hair. Kanaya met her startlingly purple eyes, which were bright, intelligent, and a little mischievous. She had a golden lip ring down the center of her mouth, and a thin golden chain as a choker. Her clothing was modest but fine, Kanaya’s keen eye picking out expensive brocade in the shirt.

“To whom do I owe thanks for such gracious assistance?” Kanaya offered when the stranger did not speak.

The stranger spoke in a slightly raspy voice with a short, clipped affect. “Arrows rained upon your general area moments before, and yet you walk towards a potential source of danger? Moments after your own life was at risk? You must either be assured of your skill, or very stupid.”

“I like to think I am the former, although there is always time to prove the latter.”

The stranger smiled. “You think it is inevitable you will be proven unintelligent?”

“I find it imprudent to assume one will never make a mistake.”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. “Ah, a pragmatist. We may get along yet.”

Kanaya pursed her lips. “I find I get along with people much better if we have something to call each other by.”

“You would still like my name, then.” It wasn’t a question. They seemed to be hesitating. “I suppose you can call me Briar,” she said with a wry smile. “I’m just a traveler in these woods. There’s nothing I have to claim that involves fanfare.”

Politely, Kanaya did not mention the clearly magical bow, or the fine clothing. “I do have a bit of a fancy title, but I think it best not to rattle off the entire thing. Suffice it to say that you can call me Kanaya.” Hopefully, her rescuer would be equally polite about her weaponry and dress.

“May I ask where you’re headed? I wouldn’t mind some company, and you certainly seem like you need the assistance.” The last was delivered with a smirk, which Kanaya bristled a little at.

“I have been traveling with several others, thank you; we just found ourselves separated after that large group of undead descended onto us. I had almost dispatched all of them when you arrived.” She made a sweeping gesture back towards the not-immodest pile of re-deceased zombies surrounding the tree she had been up against.

Briar smirked harder. “So my assistance is not desired?”

“No, that is not-” Kanaya broke off her objection with a huff as Briar began to laugh. “I would, actually, quite like your help locating my companions. However, I would like to know why you would want to help me. You seem to be taking great pleasure in needling me about needing it.”

The other traveler sobered slightly. “I just know what it’s like to be traveling alone, and the drudgery of not having someone to talk to, no stories to tell around the fire or on the road. It can be better to group up, even temporarily, just to kill the boredom.”

“Did you lose a companion recently as well?” Kanaya blurted.

Briar raised a thin eyebrow. “Not recently, as it were. But yes, I have previously parted ways with those whom I enjoyed sharing a story or three.”

“I would be happy to share tales with you, stranger. My companions would likely head towards the closest inn if they were sure they were separated from me, as that was our next destination. Does that align with your path?”

The other woman smiled. “That it does. When last I consulted my map, the next inn was a half-day’s walk up the road. Shall we?”

As they walked up the road, dappled light gently touched the faces of both travelers. Briar hummed an aimless tune, kicking up dead, brown leaves. They traveled in silence for quite some time, neither quite willing to speak up after such an abrupt introduction. About an hour into the walk, Kanaya opened her mouth and was about to begin some sort of small talk about the weather when they reached the top of a hill. Below them, the trees opened up to reveal a path curving down and around a small, ruined stone structure. What had previously been a large castle town now lay in disarray, the abbey wall crumbling and holding nothing at bay. The peasant houses must have been constructed of wood, as all but their foundations had long rotted away. All that remained was a small stone castle with a single, thin spire reaching high into the sky. Small was relative; the property would have held a baron comfortably in his keep with acres of holdings, but from the vantage point it felt like a child’s plaything.

“Well, that certainly looks interesting.” Briar broke the silence with a chuckle.

Kanaya did have to agree. Ruins such as this one, so deep in the woods, were possibly undisturbed, and might have strange and magical treasures hidden within. At the very least, there would be a few monsters to kill, and get some of her frustrations out. “We should explore it. There is still light in the sky.”

Briar’s smile faded slightly. “You know, I grew up not too far from here. When I was a little girl, we were told a tale in whispers. It was the sort of fairy tale that adults would laugh off, but forbid you from speaking about ever again. Would you like to hear it?”

“Right now?” Kanaya asked, the question coming out more incredulously than she intended. “While we’re stopped in the middle of the road?”

The smile was back. “I can walk and weave words, miss.”

“Well then, far be it from me than to stop you.”

“A long, long time ago, a young king killed what he thought was the last dragon in his lands. His fields were free from fiery terror, and his people lived prosperously for three decades. One day, a winged shadow drew over the land again, smaller than the scourge that had last plagued the land, but still enough to wreak havoc. One dragon spawn had survived, and had lived long enough to exact its revenge.”

Briar stopped to hop over a river, holding out an arm to steady Kanaya as she crossed. Her hands were warm, heat thrumming through Kanaya’s thick gear to her palm where she clasped Briar’s. She let go, and they continued. Kanaya’s hand felt cold.

“The dragon landed on the top of the castle of the now-middle-aged king, and told the king that he would leave the lands be, if only the king would offer his daughter. One life in exchange for the kingdom’s safety.”

Kanaya laughed grimly. “I suppose it was an easy deal to make with the dragon staring him down.”

“I suppose it was,” Briar replied. “He brought his daughter to be scooped up in the dragon’s claws and carried away. The kingdom was quiet and safe for another thirty years, until the king’s son had borne an heir and several daughters, and a new ruler was crowned. The dragon once again flew across the land, and once again sat atop the tower and demanded a companion. Every three decades, the dragon would return, larger than before, and more imposing.”

“And how long ago was the last time the dragon came to the land?” Kanaya asked, playing along.

“Well, that’s just the thing.” Briar held a branch up so Kanaya could pass under it. “The dragon hasn’t been sighted in over fifty years.”

“Do you know why?”

The first crumbling pieces of stone that formerly lined the road to the castle began to rise up from the sides of the road. “No one knows. Some of the bravest in our village once described traveling deep into the woods and seeing a castle with a tall tower, a sleeping monster curled around the top.”

Kanaya squinted ahead, trying to spot the castle. “Did you put much stock in their tales?”

“When I was younger? Not really. Now? Also no, not really. I think if a dragon had a castle, he’d sleep inside of it, not on top.”

Involuntarily, Kanaya burst out laughing. “That’s your justification for why they’re wrong? Not that your country doesn’t have a history of missing princesses, or that you happened to live close enough to the dragon’s castle to find it, but not so close that it bothers you?”

Briar put her hands on her hips. “Would you sleep out in the rain and the cold if you had the option not to?”

“I make a habit not to when I have the choice,” Kanaya ceded.

“Then you admit there’s some logic to what I say,” Briar smirked felinely.

Kanaya rolled her eyes, smiling. “Begrudgingly. At any rate, there was no dragon on that tower when we saw it from above.”

“No,” Briar said. “There wasn’t.”

[subwalls]

WHUMPTOBER 2021 - 4/30

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Also available on AO3!

 Sapnap’s day starts off with his shitty apartment flooding ankle-deep in unidentifiable monsterly fluids, which sucks.

 It’s not as dangerous as that one time the whole building came alive and tried to eat its residents, but it’s definitely messier, which is arguably worse.

 This is the kind of thing most people usually take as a sign from the universe that they should go over to a friend’s place and sulk for the rest of the day. Anyone who’s survived more than a week in this clusterfuck of a city knows to trust their instincts on that—which usually means getting the hell out of dodge.

 Unfortunately, Sapnap has kind of garbage instincts.

 Oh, they’re fantastic at keeping him alive, sure. He’s coming up on his one-year anniversary of being here, and he’ll definitely be celebrating that at one of those dubiously legal and definitely non-human bars, but the fact that he’s      still     here, squelching through monster goop and all…

 Sapnap wrinkles his nose as he sidesteps the still-twitching corpse in the lobby. Some idiot with an organ graft from the End, probably, which explains the goop seeping into everything. Shouldn’t the drawbacks of End tissue be common knowledge by know? Specifically the fact that it implodes at the first hint of water?

 Most apartment complexes these days have sprinklers installed on the doorstep for the explicit purpose of enforcing their dumb Huma-only policies.

 Sapnap, with his Netherborn lungs, counts himself lucky. He looks Huma,      is    legally Huma, and can hold his breath when the sprinkler douses him. So his landlord’s none the wiser.

 Probably.

 Eh, if he was going to be evicted for that, it would’ve already happened. Work comes first, and if Sapnap’s lucky, he’ll be too worn out to even notice if they’ve cleaned up the mess by the time he comes back.

 He pats the left side of his face, checking that his eyepatch is in place like it should be, and walks out into the thoroughfare of SMP City.

 Immediately, the world drops out from under him. Sapnap whirls around, reaching out for the wall that should be right there, but the thin clouds slip through his fingers without so much as a whisper of substance.

 The wind forces his good eye shut. He forces it open again, squinting, all too aware of the warmth smoldering in his chest. His vision blurs weirdly in a way that could’ve been from wind pressure or because he’s been out for longer than he thinks. After a few seconds of blinking furiously, it clears.

 Oh. That’s not the sky.

 That’s the void.

 Those are two very different things. One is up, and the other is… well. All around the city, truthfully; it swallows the ocean and heaven alike into the dragon’s maw, marking out the abyssal boundary of where the other worlds bleed into this one.

 It’s part of what makes commute in and out of the place troublesome, because too-big vehicles that get too close end up attacked by the aforementioned dragon—not that anyone’s every seen the whole breadth of the thing, just an errant wing or tail that swings up to demolish a plane or ship, black scales iridescent against the darkness.

 The fact that Sapnap is standing on a platform in the middle of this beast’s territory is, as they say, Not Good.

 Leaning over the edge, Sapnap sees no support holding up the square of rock he’s somehow ended up on. It’s just floating over the misty emptiness. Looking up yields nothing of note either; he must be pretty low in the void if he can only see the wispy fog instead of the surface.

 Something silver flashes at the edge of his vision, and Sapnap ducks out of the way of a shattered blade. His cheek flares, and he slaps a hand against it, wincing.

 The metal tumbles into the void. Sapnap pulls his hand away, and blinks at the smear of blood left behind.

 “GREETINGS,” bellows out from somewhere overhead. A long scythe of a blade lowers from the fog, and Sapnap backs up to the edge of his floating rock as its tip comes to a gentle rest over his throat.

 “Why am I here?” Sapnap demands. He slouches backward, sticking his hands into his pockets like the perfect image of a begrudged student. If it’s to hide the trembling of his arms, that’s a secret between him and the phone in his pocket. “Who are you?”

 “I AM UNKNOWN, COLLECTOR OF DIVINE INSTRUMENTS, PROSTHESIS MADE BY THE GREATER POWERS,” the voice booms. “I AM HERE TO COLLECT YOURS.”

 “Uh, divine what now?” Sapnap says. He presses his thumb against the cool screen of his phone, making sure it’s facing towards himself so the light doesn’t bleed out. “I don’t know what those are. You’ve got the wrong person.”

 The scythe jerks upward, nicking open his chin, trailing up his face.

 And comes to rest directly over his eyepatch.

 Sapnap stills.

 “THE ALL-SEEING EYES OF THE GODS.”

 “What about them?”

 “YOU HAVE THEM. OR SO I THOUGHT,” the voice adds, and the scythe withdraws a little. “I DID THINK YOU FELL FOR THAT TRAP TOO EASILY FOR A TRUE WIELDER… IT WAS EITHER YOU OR YOUR SYNDICATE FRIEND, THEY SAID, AND THE FANG HUNTER IS MORE TROUBLE THAN I’D LIKE.”

 Syndicate friend. Fang hunter.      Dream.     Sapnap's heart plummets to his heels, but he tries to keep an even keel. “Who’s they?” he asks over the sound of his phone unlocking. As subtly as possible, he drags his thumb across the screen.

 “AH, NOW THAT WOULD BE TELLING, WOULDN’T IT?” A low cackle rolls through the fog like thunder, ruby light flashing faintly in the distance. “OF COURSE, IF YOU GIVE ME WHAT I WANT, I WILL GLADLY TELL.”

 “You… want to take the Eyes,” Sapnap says, slowly.

 “I DO.” A metallic      click     echoes overhead, and two more scythes descend, grinding against each other in a thin shriek of metal on metal. “BUT IF YOU ARE NOT THE ONE WHO WIELDS THEM…”

 Inhale, feel the air warm in his throat, embers into flame. “What’re you gonna do,” Sapnap says, “kill me?”

 “AND WASTE SUCH A RESOURCE? NO, NO. YOU ARE BEST KEPT HERE,” Unknown says, amused. Another blade comes low, and clinks against the phone in his pocket. Sapnap freezes. “GO ON. ASK YOUR FRIEND TO SAVE YOU. CALL THEM HERE. THESE THINGS ARE ALWAYS EASIER TO NEGOTIATE FACE TO FACE.”

 Well now he doesn’t want to do it.

 Sapnap snorts, and a tongue of flame washes over the back of his teeth. “I’m not going to be your good little hostage,” he spits.

 “BUT YOU ALREADY ARE,” says Unknown, and the scythes all turn to slam into the rock.

 Ruptures tear across the surface of the stone, and Sapnap swears as he quickly shuffles onto the biggest piece. The edge crumbles away; far below, the fog shifts. A dull purple glow starts to brighten in the abyss, a tell-tale sign of the dragon waking, and Sapnap throws himself at the scythe in preparation to climb up the weapon-limb if he must—

 His vision      sings.    

 Suddenly, the world takes on a blue tint. Everything jumps into high-definition, and the fog might as well not exist, and Sapnap can see the arching crimson light of a      fucking Blood Breed     looming above him, Unknown is a      Blood Breed,     Sapnap doesn’t stand a chance even if he can read out the letters of their true name from the red aura surrounding them—he looks away, and notices for the first time the golden threads spanning the width of the void, glittering with magic.

 In the back of his mind, he registers that he’s looking at the spell that stopped the Great Collapse, the one that saved the worlds from folding in on each other into utter destruction.

 The rest of his mind is a little busy      screaming,     though.

 A displeased snarl rips through the air as another set of scythes cleave down towards him, and Sapnap exhales a spout of flame that slows them down only barely enough to dodge.

 “OH,” says Unknown, “OH, OH! IS THAT AN EYE? YOU      DO     HAVE ONE! I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD HIDE THE GODS’ GIFT LIKE THAT—YOU MUST LET ME HAVE IT, HUMA, IT IS WASTED IN YOUR SOCKET!”

 Sapnap shouts, “You can take it over my dead body!” and throws himself at the ground when a blade tries to cut him in half at the hip.

 “GLADLY!” Unknown dives, now, their nebulous aura now a very clear and vivid blood-red glare into Sapnap’s vision, ruby light spinning down their bony weapon-limbs like latticework.

 Sapnap doesn’t flinch, and even swings his head upward to let the Eye watch and watch and watch—thinking      this is what I go through for you     with only half the bitterness he really feels—which is the only reason he notices the other one.

 Two Blood Breeds in a single day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 A blade pins him through the shoulder in a burst of hot-eyed pain, but the rest all      miss     as a thin red string wraps around Unknown’s limbs and yanks them upward, into the low-hanging mist.

 Sapnap blinks. He can still see them, thrashing against a thread that yanks Unknown around like a plaything before throwing them aside. It’s connected to the second Blood Breed, which is descending towards him now.

 Okay, okay, it’s fine, he has a little time. A Blood Breed’s weakness is their true name, so if he can just extract that, he might be able to… burn it, or something.

 Sapnap takes a deep breath, gives his vision the middle finger just so the other end of the Eye can see it, and then focuses      hard     on that deep red aura.

 For the most part, it’s just a storm of crimson, red and red and ruby and blood, but Sapnap keeps      looking     and his one working eye whirs like a machine as it narrows, cutting through the noise, piercing down until he can see the heart and the core and… at the very end, a thin string of letters in a language he shouldn’t know.

 The All-Seeing Eye of the Gods pours it all into his head:       red red crimson-winged elder ⍊𝙹╎ᓵᒷ↸╎⍊ᒷ ᓵ∷ᔑℸ ̣ ╎リᒷ ⍑||!¡╎ ̇/ᒷꖌ ℸ ̣ ᒷᓵ⍑リ𝙹ʖꖎᔑ↸ᒷred blood red red war red—  

 “Tech—” he begins, and promptly chokes as a hand slaps over his mouth.

 “Shush,” says the Blood Breed, calm as anything, quite suddenly right beside him. “Yeah, I got there in time, of course I did. Hey, you’re Sapnap, right?”

 Sapnap tries to melt him on pure force of will alone.

 “I’m gonna let go of you now. Maybe don’t be rude and expose me in front of an idiot like that, alright?” The Blood Breed exaggeratedly steps back, and Sapnap immediately flings himself to the opposite side of the very tiny floating rock they’re standing on. “Great, cool, nice talk. Not awkward at all.”

 “What do you want?” Sapnap demands, bristling.

 “You don’t recognize me?”

 Sapnap pauses. He gives the Blood Breed another once-over, taking in the plush red cape and royal garb. Looks at the name again. Nothing rings a bell. “Should I?”

 “Eh. Guess not. We’re a little short on time anyway, so introductions can wait, I guess.” As if on cue, the void begins to rumble. The dragon must be      inches     from rushing out.

 Sapnap waves his hand through what he’s sure is a gear of light blue energy rotating in front of his face, trying to tell his friend to let it go. He doesn’t want him to watch him die.

 The Blood Breed interrupts him with a hand on his wrist. “Hey. Do you trust me?”

 “Hell no.”

 “Smart,” the Blood Breed says, and shoves him off the edge.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Tightrope Walker

Once upon a time, I, Chuang Chou, dreamed I was a butterfly, fluttering here and there. For all intents and purposes I was a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was Chou. Soon, I awakened and, there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man, dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. -- Zhuangzi

“We’re here.”

The train had come to a sudden stop, but I didn’t feel the change in inertia. The scenery outside the window had just stopped moving. There was no sound of a whistle or breaks. The unnerving sensation broke me out in a cold sweat and  goosebumps all over. I started to shake. “Mingfei...”

“It’s okay.” He took my hand. “Everything’s going to be fine. I know where we are.”

Together we stepped off the train. There was no platform, so Mingfei jumped off first and then held up his hands to brace me and let me down. The train had stopped at two large concrete barriers. We’d literally reached the end of the line and the thought of that made me shudder. “Mingfei.” I said, my voice a soft hoarse whisper.

“What is it.”

“I want to go back. This is a mistake.”

Mingfei took a deep breath and let it out. “I know you’re nervous. But you have to trust me okay? I know what’s here. I know what’s going to happen.” 

He continued to lead me by the hand. I dragged my feet and he slowed his pace, not willing to tug me along.

We came to a wide open area that was partially collapsed. A large dragon skeleton was half-buried in the rubble. The bones were gleaming white and it reminded me of a 737 airplane.

“This is it. This is where I killed Fenrir.”

In the middle of the area was a large golden box shining with a green patina. Mingfei let go of my hand and jogged to it. “Yes. This is what I’m looking for.”

He pressed a button on the box and it snapped open unfolding half a dozen blades inserted in to individual sheathes. Each blade snarled and roared and rattled as though alive, but Mingfei wasn’t afraid. His hand hovered over them as he tried to pick out which one he would use.

“Come here.” He beckoned to me. “You get one too.”

I approached cautiously. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah,” He pulled out one and it hissed in his hand in protest. “You’re S-ranked. They’ll respond to you.” It was a long curved blade of slate colored Damascene steel, beautifully striated.

“This one is called Wrath.” 

“The others are Pride, Lust, Sloth...Envy, Greed and... huh. Gluttony is missing.”

“The Seven Deadly Sins...” 

He looked at me as I approached and I looked away, bashfully hiding the sudden attraction these blades held for me.

“They’re the ultimate dragon slaying weapons. Forged by the Lord of Bronze and Fire specifically for killing the other dragons.”

“Is there a dragon here?” I asked.

A voice behind me made me start. “Please don’t ask stupid questions. You’re way smarter than that.”

Mingze stood in front of the concrete barrier, one hand on his waist, his sword, the missing Gluttony, pointed toward the ground. His smile was gone and his gaze was more frigid than ever. He turned his attention to Mingfei. “You can really hurt me with those you know. To be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d sleep a little longer. But I suppose three fourths of your life will have to do.”

My heart leaped in my throat and my lungs worked like bellows. This guy. This was the one who was going to take Mingfei!

I reached out without looking and seized one of the handles. It screamed as I drew it and I charged him, swinging it at his neck. 

He simply leaned out of the way, and turned and fled up the pile of rubble with me hot on his heels. We sent stones cascading down the mountainous heap, the sound of our blades echoing in the empty space. But Mingze stayed just out of of the reach of my sword. He was above me, staring down with a smug smile

“Sibling rivalry is hard enough without your interference.” He said.

The rubble suddenly shifted under my feet. The white spike of a bone jabbed upward between us. The shifting rock made me lose my footing and I was falling, tumbling in a rockslide. The world spun. I couldn’t see. My vision exploded into sparks.

I suddenly stopped, a strong jerk halting my fall. I was hanging and being swung. Something had caught the back of my dress. I looked around, disoriented by shifting bones that glowed with a faint greenish light. I reached up behind me to free myself until I realized I was a dozen feet off the floor. Instead, used the momentum of my swinging to toss myself upward and grab on to another bone.

The dragon skeleton was reanimating. A yellow light in the empty eye sockets. Mingze was gone again, leaving me trapped in this maze of moving bone. Mingfei stood, staying far too calm in this situation. “Don’t do it!” I called down to him.

I had to stop this. My sword had come loose from my hand and was being ground between the vertabrae above my head. “Wait Mingfei! Don’t do it!”

The dragon skeleton lumbered forward, silently toward an unmoving Mingfei.

“Meixiu! Calm down! It’s fine!” 

Mingfei was smiling. I thought he still didn’t understand. My mind was filled with dread over what might happen if Mingfei remembered his power. I wrapped my legs around the rib and start to shimmy upward, like climbing a rope at a gym class.

The blade was still stuck. The bones on the spine were grinding together with tremendous force, enough to crush me in a second. I reached for the sword but it as just beyond my fingertips.

I glanced back at Mingfei. The undead dragon was half way out of the rubble and Mingfei was petting it like it was a cat.

I stopped. They weren’t going to fight?

Mingfei looked up at me. “See? Fenrir is not aggressive. Never was.”

I stared, uncertain. A deep thundering voice echoed through the cavern. “Watch... TV.”

Mingfei sighed, a deep sadness on his face. “Sorry, buddy. I’m just here for the swords. I can’t watch TV right now.”

I was frozen in confusion watching as the zombie dragon settled down in front of a piece of 80s technology that somehow managed to get reception down here. Meanwhile, Mingfei called me down from the Dragon’s rib cage. “Meixiu! Jump! I’ll catch you!”

“Oh... ...Okay.” I gathered myself and took a flying leap, down, down and landed on Mingfei. He staggered back and fell.

The dragon suddenly turned, eyes blazing in its empty skull. Its mouth opened, shining fangs on display. It spread its intimidating wingspan.

“Woah! Easy buddy! She’s a friend too!”

I watched in awe as the dragon settled down again, looking at me. Its wings lowered. “Play....?”

Mingfei let out a little laugh. “Nah. No time for that.”

“Sister... play... play with me...”

“...eh?” I asked.

“He thinks you’re his sister... I...” Mingfei’s eyes suddenly welled up with tears and he let out a sob. “I killed him.’

“You... ... but why?” I shook my head.

“It was messed up! Chu Zihang came and attacked him. But... he wasn’t doing anything. But I had no chance to explain anything. Hee was too strong, it was Chu Zihang or Fenrir and well...”

He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

I suddenly felt a sharp nudge. “Play?”

The dragon was now pushing me, like a puppy wanting to be pet.

Mingfei took my hand and we were about to leave but Mingze was blocking our path. His unpleasant smile told us everything without words.

“NO!” Mingfei tossed me aside and rushed towards Mingze, but the boy vanished. The cavern was suddenly rocked by a massive earthquake, bursting with heat and light, like a bomb had gone off. The dragon suddenly picked me up and tossed me behind him, standing protectively over me, hissing at this new threat.

Mingze was now completely different. Gone was his pristine suit and elegant shoes and boyish smile. Instead, his face was expressionless, his arms covered with iron blue scales that were as hard as steel. They opened and shut against his skin with a faint rattling sound, like the cocking of a hundred tiny pistols.

His dark bony wings stroked the air, keeping him aloft. Even though he couldn’t use any words here, the surging spiritual power came naturally from him, filling the cavern with the oppressive sense of impending doom. Even if I had the power of Berengaria, I had the feeling he could extinguish all my spears of light as easily as birthday candles.

Mingfei roared up at him. “Hey! Stop! leave Fenrir out of this!”

“You know how this ends, brother. If you want me, you’re going to have to come up here and get me!” Mingze was mocking. Just the heat of his body was moving air around him like a giant furnace. He inhaled a huge amount of air and the wind formed a vortex that began to swallow up the heat radiating from him. The scorching wind  was then directed at the undead dragon.

The wind was too hot to breathe, like the powerful pyroclastic air that flowed down from mount Vesuvius. My skin was growing red. I felt like I was burning all over!

The smell of the burning dragon bones was overpowering. I thought of my husband, my daughter, who were going to grow up without me and started to cry, but my tears evaporated before they could fall.

“CANCEL!”

The word boomed out over the sound of the wind and the dragon’s roars, like a large bell from a church tower. In rang in my ears and I suddenly felt a strong spiritual pressure. My mind and body were both arrested in an instant.

The hot wind ceased, the air grew cool and still. Fenrir’s bones were still red hot and to the touch and stinking. But the attack had stopped.

My eyelids were sticking to my dry eyes but I could still look up and see. I saw the empty spot where Mingfei was and rolled my eyes upward. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach and my body went limp with despair.

Mingfei had gone up to get Mingze. Huge bone wings spread out behind him forming a cross with his body. Standing in the dark emptiness, his golden pupils shined so brightly that I could see the light even though his back was turned to me. 

Our souls were bonded together since the day we both nearly died outside the dragon temple in the mountains. I’d asked him not to leave me and he chose to stay. If only I had let him die in that moment. If only we had both died.

“Say the words brother... say the words you said that night.” Mingze’s voice was cold and flat sounding.

“This isn’t a play and you don’t write the script. Not any more.”

It didn’t even sound like him. Mingfei didn’t talk like that. There was an eerie commanding calm to his voice, like someone who had never known fear. Unlike the Mingfei I knew, this was his natural state. It took real effort for him to maintain this aura of weakness, of ignorance, effort and a team of people around him kept his mind quiet while telling him he was human and weak.

But all it took was a separation from this environment and, like a tightrope walker in a strong wind, Mingfei began to give in to the pull of his natural state. Once he started down that path, there was no turning back.

“You’re so confident. But you’ve sold three fourths of your life to me. You still think you can win?” Mingze laughed. 

This person who used to be Mingfei turned to me, he waved his hand in the air and I felt myself gently lifted and set aside.

He then turned to the bones of Fenrir raised one hand and then closed it into a fist.

The massive moving skeleton shattered into dust and, drawn by an invisible gravity, this dust surrounded Mingfei. Slowly, a bony armored plating coalesced on his arms and legs and a helmet appeared on his head, covering his hair in boney white. The sword I’d left in the vertebrae settled in his hand.

Mingze’s eyes widened and he ground his teeth. “You...”

Mingfei, continuing his strange silence, suddenly pounced on Mingze, gripping his neck with hands reinforced with dragon bone and pierced his scales through with claws.

Mingze let out an unnatural screech and jerked away. Mingfei had left long bloody cuts in the skin not protected by scales and the younger brother was clearly shaken. “You... you hurt me. Brother... you hurt me! Don’t you know? Don’t you know that if you hurt me here. You hurt me there?”

The scene suddenly shifted. As I blinked my eyes, I saw strange pillars and bubbling pools of mercury rising in a steam, filling the air. In the the center of a circle of runes was a metal cross. Hung on the cross was a child, his skin white, and so thin that I could count his ribs. He was pierced in the heart and fastened to this pole with a spear.

My mind recognized this as a place I could go. I could cross the Nibelungen and I would arrive in this place I could see. The mercury pools were real. The cross was real. The child was real.

Lu Mingze, the little brother, was still alive. His body was hung on this cross.

And I could get to him.

[marjiandco]

Prompt #4: Clinch

Timeline: The ending of Stormblood’s main story

Characters: Raiku, Marji, Zenos

Word Count: 1694

The battle was long and bloody, fraught with close calls for all on that god's arena. Blood rained down his head, his healing wound ripped open by the claws of the monster before him. The voices of the people rang in his head, his mentors and friends asking him to strain as far as he could, for if he didn't all would be lost. He lowered the point of his bow and sucked in a deep, rattling breath. If he was going to spend himself, now is the best time to do so.  The miqo'te he was with, the strongest person he knew was barely keeping herself on top of the gods forsaken platform as the creature ripped and teared at her. Now or never.

His head whipped up. Raiku screamed at Marji to hold Shinryu back as he fell back on one knee and pointed his arrowhead not at the primal, but just above it's head. Focus on the direction, have your will be done he thought to himself. Aether pooled around him before tangling its way to the tip of his arrow, and when he could not hold on any longer, he loosed it. Shinryu, thinking that the lalafell's aim was for him, dodged out of the way, a roaring laugh buffeting the two on the arena. His talons reached for Raiku, but he paid no mind as the sky stained gold. The heavens opened, and an insurmountable amount of aetheric arrows hailed from the sky.  He yanked on his friend's tail to pull her to safety as Shinryu cried out in agony, his body slamming into the arena.

Marji, elated at Raiku's new found power was spurned forward. She spread her arms like wings above her, using a spell to pull his loosened aether from the field to create a deathflare so powerful it seemed to melt the primals body, revealing the man beneath. Marji and Raiku, together, ripped Zenos from his host.

With dragon and man separated, the creature disappeared and so to did the arena. Air rushed around them as they plummeted to the castle below. Marji clung to one of Zenos' shoulder plates and a few fulm's away, Raiku was yelling, his eyes drying rapidly in the wind as he held his arms out before him in some reckless attempt to slow himself down. Marji started to cry out, planning to use what little life she had left to save her friend when she caught sight of a green hue swirling around her and Zenos. The last bit of the draconic nightmare's aether.

Desperation breeds a certain sort of clarity as she swipes her hands through the lasting bit of magic. Like strands of spider's web they drag with her nails. Not a moment later a weakened form of Bahamut-egi flew next to them. She shook her free hand over at Raiku and the summon obediently followed her train of thought. It's long talons swung beneath Raiku's belly as gently as Marji could will it. Zeno's unconscious body is snatched next in its hind legs. It roared at the sudden weight as Marji scrambles onto it's back none too gracefully and wrapped her arms around the summon's ropy neck.

Its wings brush the ground as it steadies their descent. A shaky breath from the exertion on keeping control of her summon is all Marji can do as she points down at Bahamut's feet. It drops Zenos and floats away to roll its arms open for Raiku to land on his feet. With the last of the green aether dissipating from her enemy, so too did her summon. The ground was hard met, even with a sea of flowers surrounding them. She swears as her ankles buckle and she slaps her hands down to catch herself. Raiku hobbles over and places a concerned hand on her shoulder. An exhausted nod, pinched eyebrows in worry is their conversation before movement catches both their eyes.

It almost seemed a blur; the others, Lyse and Alphinaud coming forward to see the final moments of Zenos. Marji rushes forward as he places his own blade at his neck, mouth parting in a silent yell as he calls her his first love, and slit his own throat. Stumbling to a stop as his body crumples, more people joined them at the top of the menagerie. As they speak around her, she walks away to look at her enemies face; so strange to see a monster made flesh look so....normal. So happy. Absently she wondered if that's how Garleans see her when she stands before them. Raubahn's words rip her from her thoughts.

“Justice has been done.” He says, looking down at Zeno's body.

Her ears quirk back.

“No such thing in a senseless death.” Marji comments.

Silence hangs in the air.

“Waste not your words on this animal.” is his rebuttal. Empty of love but glad of the end of a long fight.

So ends the Garlean hold on this country. The men and women of Ala Mhigo, of Doma, of Eorzea marched forward in their triumph. Lyse beckons for them to follow, but Raiku and Marji stay back with a quick wave of Raiku's hand. He winces at the movement, but the reprieve from questions and stares of the common folk is more than enough reward for now. The pair stand together, watching the train of people leave without them. Raiku breaks their silence.

“Sorry about his weird obsession with you. Usually people like that tend to be on our side.” his chuckle turns into a groan, cradling his ribs. Marji tilts her head obligingly. He wanders until he found a clean spot to sit down on. He looks expectantly at Marji patting the cobblestone next to him. Joints strain and thighs burn as she half falls next to him. She places hands behind her to hold herself up and get a clear view of the sunset.

“You think I could have saved him?” She asks.

He shrugs. “I don't think it matters if you could or couldn't. Even if you did manage to somehow tame him, he couldn't suffer the both of you alive long enough for it to mean anything.” he wipes away the dry blood on his chin. “You didn't kill him though, and I think that may have saved you.”

Thought of their last meeting swirled in her mind; the anger and hurt as they shouted each other down inside their tent; her leaving, angry and hurt but knowing his words were close to her fears. She was becoming more brutal. She wanted to murder Fordola for hurting Alisae, she wanted to get stronger so she could kill Zenos. Ferocity and fear somehow grew around her without any realization of the deafening call for help that bounces around inside her own cage. How close to being swallowed by permanent grief did she get before Raiku talked to her? She really never did get closure she needed, even with the magic that called forth some ephemeral version of Haurchefant that helped her all those months ago. She might as well be walking in Zeno's armor, his husk of a person on their side. Still, she bit down on her lip even now, not sure if this simple act of refusing to kill the man was enough to call her back from her sickness.  

“Thanks.” She said, listening to the crescendo of voices on the breeze. “Means a lot Rai.”

She knocked his shoulder and they both moaned, her cradling her bruised hand and his lacerated shoulder “I didn't know you could use aether like that. You really made our victory.”

“You know, I don't think I did either.” He smiled. “I guess I need to stop calling myself a plain old archer. I'm a fancy archer now.”

The wind picked up and Raiku closed his eyes, letting the zephyr sweep his sweat soaked hair out of his face. Scrapes and cuts lined him, his small fingers calloused from bow use. Even without the echo he managed to stand by her side and cut down a primal and one of the strongest people they've come across. Such a small frame could hold that level of courage seemed inconceivable. Seeing him actually call forth his aether and interact with the world around him, how he rained golden arrows down on the beast before them; it was enough to make the most timid mouse want to brave the world. It was her catalyst, to turn anger and hopelessness into a weapon instead of letting it overwhelm her. She could push all of it into an actual summon instead of using her own self.

“What're you looking at?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs, looking back at Zeno's body.

“Thal's Ball's Marj you take to melancholy like a bee takes to pollen. You need a fuckin' diary.”

She laughs at him. “I'll have more than enough time to think about such things tomorrow. Right now I'd rather just sit back with you.”

Besides a few comments back and forth, that's what they did. They sit atop Ala Mhigo, burns and cuts and probably something worse hiding beneath the skin. Time passed as a whisper, until Lyse and the others start making their way back towards them. With some amusement Marji catches Alphinaud looking down at her worryingly. The boys going to get crows feet before he reaches his next summer.

“Hey Rai,” with some effort Marji pushes herself to her feet. “You know how before I asked you to replace me for a bit as Warrior of Light?” She holds out a hand.

He takes it, hesitation in his “yes?”

“I think I was wrong to ask that of you. You are one, same as me except you manage to do all this” she waves her arm around “without the echo. What do you say? Want to me my partner in all this mess?”

“Yes!”

“Great because I'm heading out to help my Pasun with something so you got this for a few days right?”

He punches her in the leg and she's back down on the ground as a genuine laugh bubbles up from her chest.

[rueitae]

Pinned Down

Read my whumptober collection on Ao3

Pikelavar today! Inspired by @defendersofaurita dragon Meklavar

~~~~~

Pike slips silently into the cave, fully on guard. He doesn’t mind the darkness, his eyes allow him to see better in the absence of light than most. 

Though he can see just fine, he’s still on edge. Each step that should be second nature takes precious ticks longer. 

But extra cautious he must be, for invading a dragon’s lair means walking the thin line between the treasure of a lifetime or certain, grisly death.

Pike wouldn’t even be here if not for… if the lives of his niece and nephew weren’t on the line. 

“Bring me the Jewel of Jitan,” Bentok tells him with a smug, knowing smile - the knowledge that Pike is trapped. The crime boss sits back into his large throne-like chair and gently pulls little Nadia closer to him and strokes her ears. She’s terrified, tears staining her cheeks as she sobs, tail curled up and eyes shut tightly as if to pretend none of this is happening. 

Pike feels sick, unable to do a thing for his niece, nor his nephew, struggling in the arms of a nearby guard, lest all of them die here and now.

“As long as you succeed, the children will be in safe hands.”

Pike’s breath hitches at the memory. He must do this. The kids are counting on him, and he’s the only family they have left… the only family he has left. 

The floor moves. Pike holds his breath as the dragon stirs, stretching its feathery wings and relieving an itch on its belly with razor sharp claws. Pike is afraid he’s messed up and his late brother’s children will be doomed to a life of slavery with his death. 

But the dragon simply slumps over on its other side, snorting out a bit of flame, remaining deep in slumber. 

Pike only lets himself relax after a full minute of draconic snoring. 

He’s even more careful as he stealthily walks deeper into the cave, heart pounding in fear. His stomach is uneasy until he sees one object he’s very familiar with - a gold coin. 

A trail of them leads to the most glorious sight he’s ever seen - the dragon’s treasure room. 

Piles of gold litter the large cavern, and goblets of silver and jewels of every color cover every square inch. There are suits of armor, tapestries, and mechanical marvels he’s only heard rumor of when he sneaks into castles. 

Pike slaps himself, which he regrets because the rings he wears hurt. “Get your head in the game! Nadia and Sylvio are counting on you!” he whispers harshly. 

Treading softly over the treasure he keeps himself focused, using a discerning eye from years of thievery to try and find the item that Bentok seeks. He’s heard talk of it in darker circles, mages after it for its magical properties. Pike could hardly care, to him it's simply the key to freeing the kids. 

His tail stands on end when he reaches the back of the cavern. On a pedestal is a diamond the size of his fist, clearly special enough to deserve a spot of honor. Pike lets out a sigh of relief as he reaches out and takes it into his hands.

“You’ll be out of his hands soon, guys. Be brave just a little bit longer.”

Then the breath is knocked from his lungs.

In an instant he is face first in a pile of gold, hard jagged treasure pokes uncomfortably into his belly and cheeks. He gains leverage by putting his arms under his chest and tries to stand… but a massive force pushes down relentlessly on him.

“A thief? How dare you try and take what is not yours?” the dragon hisses and huffs. “I suppose I should expect no less of humans, much less a man.”

Well, that cleared up a few things. 

“I need only borrow it, lady dragon!” Pike gasps. “I can return it to you, just as soon as my niece and nephew are safe, I swear it!”

The dragon is silent for a few terrifying moments before rolling him over onto his back with the flip of a claw. She keeps one heavy on his chest as he gasps for breath. 

Her four horns form what looks like a crown, feathers dressed her wings like a robe over her scales. The claws… just as sharp and dangerous as he’d expected as the one on him begins to get uncomfortable, breaking his skin. 

Her eyes piece his soul just as much as her claw digs into his skin. They are angry, and looks so… so…

So human. 

“Mortal excuses are getting more pathetic by the day,” she growls. 

Arching her head back and breathing in, Pike whines in terror. She’s going to roast him to death!

“Please don’t! I’m not lying!” he begs.

She breathes on him, a thick smog that makes him cough, desperate for air. “N-no!” he struggles, not caring the claw drags down his chest, tearing his shirt in two and leaving a thin line of broken skin. “I can’t - he’ll never let them go.” he cries, skin crawling at the thought of Bentok trapping his nephew in a cage and treating his niece like a lap cat. 

When the smog clears and he still draws breath, he dares look back up to the dragon who still has him pinned. 

She no longer looks at him in contempt, rather one of pity.

“You tell the truth,” she says - more quietly than he’d ever expect. Releasing him, she steps back, eyes drifting to the distance, mind clearly elsewhere. 

Pike slowly rises to his knees, now feeling the stinging pain in his chest. “What did you do to me?” he asks, because magic was not his expertise and dragons were very magical. 

She does not look his way. “A truth spell… I saw the young ones from your eyes I-I am sorry… I too would do anything for my family.”

Gulping, and feeling a bit more bold now that he isn’t under threat of death, he takes the Jewel of Jitan from where it lies haphazardly on the piles of gold before standing. 

No sooner than he does, he’s wrapped in claws, arms pinned to his sides. He meets the dragon’s stony gaze. 

“But I cannot let you leave with the Jewel of Jitan,” she says definitively. “It is my duty to see to it’s safety. It has far more power than you know, disastrous when in the wrong hands. Especially one who would enslave children.”

Pike growls. “Then you know why I can’t just leave them there! I’m the only hope they’ve got! If I don’t bring him this hunk of rock I—” he chokes, then hardens his resolve, “you might as well kill me because I couldn’t live with myself leaving them to that fate.”

The dragon considers him for several long moments, more than he likes, as he lets her know by struggling in her grip. 

Eventually, she sets him back down.

“I will rescue your niece and nephew,” the dragon says, stunning Pike to stillness, “but in return, the three of you must live here. I cannot let definitive knowledge of the Jewel leave this cave, the world depends on it. Do you understand?”

What hope Pike feels when the dragon began talking turns to rage. “So we go from one prison to another?”

The dragon bristles, eyes narrowed in distaste. “You can choose me, who will gladly educate the children and perhaps one day let you all go should you earn my trust, or they stay with the man who will keep them as slaves, never to see their uncle again.”

The entire situation angers Pike still… but dragons are protective, and this one is definitely not evil. If true to her word it won’t be the worst life for the kids, and he can keep an eye on them. In any case, she's right, better her than Bentok.

Pike takes a deep breath, feeling just as trapped as when he was given his mission. Though he has no choice, he searches her golden eyes one last time for hope and truth. “You’ll really save them? And keep them safe after? They won’t just be a-a shiny toy for a few weeks?

The dragon looks almost offended he would even think that. “You have my word. On my name, Meklavar Forestguard, I swear to you and your family will be treated like people.”

He knows a dragon’s name is sacred, and for him just to know it seals his own fate to stay here. Slumping, he lets the Jewel of Jitan loose and it falls to the ground between them. “It’s a deal, Meklavar,” he says as strongly as he can. For Nadia and Sylvio. “The name’s Pike. You’ll have my blade for life if you save them.”

Meklavar grins, big and toothy, almost smug. “Let’s go hunting for organized crime scum, Pike.”

[altissiavibritannia]

Soul Geass: School?!

A/N: I don’t own Code Geass or Soul Eater. I just own my oc Altissia Nyx Casablanca and a few other ocs that might be featured in this fanfic. If any of the characters relates to those irl or deceased, it’s just by coincidence! Nothing more and nothing less. 

It was rather a nice afternoon, not snow or rain. Just a nice spring day. School was over and three students of the DWMA was out and about on a mission. They’ve collected up to 58 souls so far. Their victim criminal was soul that was halfway on it’s way to being a kishin. His bleach blond hair waving in the soft cool breeze. His light purple orbs staring right back at them. His blades for fingers glistened in the soft sunset.

“Cold Blooded Scissor Hands, we’re here to take your soul!” the female spoke.

They then posed, the brunette’s foot was out of line. The female got ticked off just like that. Turning around to face the boys behind her as she squawks at them. Her whole entire being full with rage. 

“How many times have I told you?! Suzaku, quit messing up! The pose is meant to be symmetrical! Do you even know what symmetry even is you birdbrain?!” she hissed. Her purple eye turned yellow in an instant. 

“Who cares...the villain is getting away...” the other one said bluntly.

Growling as she then grabbed his and Suzaku’s hands roughly. They knew what this meant. They both shifted into their weapon forms. One was a black bladed scythe with two blades that looked like a pair of dragon wings. The head of the staff was like that of a dragon while the end was the tail. The eyes of the scythe was glowing red, including the inside of the mouth as if it was about to breathe fire at any second.

The other scythe was icy blueish in color as beautiful red metal roses outlined it’s long blade, the staff was nothing but vines and thrones. She swung the rose scythe first and then took a chunk out of the villain's arm with the other. It was like looking at a video game character coming to life. Cold Blooded Scissor Hands screamed in agony before bursting into flames. All that was left of him was a red kishin egg.

Panting as she then let go of them as they shifted back into themselves. Violet orbs to green, blushing as they had to play Rock, Paper, Death again. Their meister looked unhappy about this as Suzaku won and ate the red soul. They were uneven know with how many souls they’ve collected. They then bowed and apologized as they knew that she’s like her father, Lord Death The Kid. She liked everything to be perfect, even if it meant squawking at them nonstop. 

Sighing in relief after they got yet another lecture of symmetry. They stood behind her in silence as she then cracked her knuckles. She then pointed at the ground as two beams at the ground. A skull with three stripes on it showed up as she then crossed her arms after a hologram of him appeared.

 “How’s my perfect daughter doing?” he chimed, he then spotted her three black stripes in her white hair. 

Suzaku and his brother rolled their eyes as they then started to bicker about their stripes in their hair yet again. It’s always the stripes in their hair that tend to get to them the most. After a few minutes they stopped and then cleared their throats after feeling the two scythe demon weapons hard glares.

“I’m guessing you’re uneven again...but before I send you off to your next mission to even things out, I’m sending you to DWMA for a change. You really need to make friends. And as the next Reaper of the family, are you sure you don’t want to use your powers for a change or maybe use Daddy’s twin pistols Patty and Liz?” he asked.

“Dad...I’m not into guns! Unless you’d like to see them dead! I don’t want Liz and Patty...Lelouch and Suzaku are fine. I want them to be my weapons of choice and not one that you give me...” she scoffed before grabbing Lelouch by his collar and kissed him roughly.

“How dare you kiss that roughen! Don’t you dare do it again! Gah!!!” he screamed as he saw them kissing for a minute or two.

“Oh, please do shut up dad...I’m not a baby anymore and I can date whoever I want! So what if he’s a Black Dragon Demon Scythe?! I don’t care if he’s and his twin little brother Suzaku the Red Queen’s Demon Scythe are from royalty and are the best damn twin scythes I’ve ever had! Hell I don’t care if I have to marry them both, just to piss you off!” she shouted back at the hologram.

Before he could say anything else about it, she hung up on him. She then sighed as she turned around to face them. Both were redder than a tomato after hearing everything and of course Lelouch being kissed in front of the new Lord Death. He then was about to say something, but was speechless after all of that. He had his first kiss with her. Her yellow eye went back to purple, to hide her Reaper traits. She then blushed and looked up at the Prince of the Demon Weapons.

“S-Sorry about that...I-I should’ve told you my love confession awhile ago before doing that, straight on...it’s just that my father can be a butthead about stuff like who I can marry and such...” she apologized with her blush deepening. 

“Well despite you being a Grim Reaper and of course being a rank higher than me, it’s fine...I’ve wanted to tell you that I love you too, Your Majesty. I’m shocked that you had the guts to even go all out in front of your father like that...” he admitted. 

Suzaku scoffed before rolling his eyes as he then shoved him into her. They both crashed to the ground, with Lelouch’s face in her bosom. Chuckling nervously as they then kissed again, before getting back onto their feet. They then walked over to DWMA, since her father Kid went there when he was her age. She was following his footsteps as his heir, yet her personality was halfway like his but mostly took her mother’s traits. 

“This is boring...wanna skate there?” she asked them.

“I’m in...Your Majesty...Suzaku is just nuts to stand this much of a distance by walking alone...” Lelouch whined.

Suzaku rolled his eyes as he then sighed. “Fine you pains in my butt...”

They then went back into their legendary scythe forms, before she put them onto her back in their respective cases for their blades. She then took out her dragon skeleton skateboard out from her sleeve, before taking off. The hoverbaord hissed along the streets of Death City. Once they made it to Death Weapon Meister Academy, she took them off of her back and they shifted back.

“I’m not sure how the hell you can stand it with the weight of us on your back...now I see why you’re a Reaper...do you have any other weakness aside from your stupid OCD?! I’m shocked how your back didn’t break every time you held us! We’re extremely heavy due to our models and of course our wavelengths being powerful!” Suzaku yelled at her, cracking his stiff back.

“Hey, it’s not my fault for gaining that from my father and it’s also not my fault for being a Reaper! A Reaper’s spiritual wavelength energy if higher than everyone else’s, so of course you two would be swung about like two tiny little plastic or foam swords that kids use due to being too young to even become a real meister!” she shouted back.

“Guys knock it off! Lord Death would be waiting for us in the Death Room here, so we might as well visit her grandfather before we do anymore bickering! Now shut your yaps and get going before Lord Kid-kun gets pissed off at us even more!” Lelouch shouted, forcing them to shut up.

They then glared at each other as they walked all the way to the Death Room. Students glancing at them as they walked past and onward to class. Once inside of the Death Room, the old Grim Reaper jumped out of his rocker with such glee. He was holding his granddaughter’s hands with his gloved hands. He was using his human form. He looked like her father but with longer hair and the three white stripes in his hair was perfect rings. His golden old eyes looked at her with such happiness.

“Hey, Hey how’s my number one granddaughter?! I’ve been waiting for this moment to arrive for such a long time now. To have my beautiful granddaughter enroll here at the academy!” he said in his kiddish squeaky voice.

“Come on Altissia, say something. He’s your grandpa after all.” Suzaku said, jabbing her lightly in the ribs. 

“.......” Altissia Nyx Casablanca Death was frozen.

Lelouch cleared his throat before kissing her cheek. “He won’t hurt you love, he’s not like Lord Kid-kun.” 

“H-Hi grandpa, it’s so nice to see you again...! When was it last that we’ve met?” she asked, blushing with a bit of steam coming from the top of her head.

Lord Death blushed as he noticed this behavior between her and one of the Royal Demon Scythes. His grin just got even bigger and randomly hugged Lelouch. Lelouch blushed and hugged him back. Once they got to know each other and telling him that they’re a couple now, Lord Death then gave them another soul to have, one that he kept for Lelouch to have. He knew that Altissia had OCD like her father and knew how many souls were in each and he needed to fix that. 

“Ok, now that’s settled, please come daily unless on a mission. Don’t forget to contact your pappi every once in a while or your father or the both of us, I don’t mind however you do it. As long as we keep in touch. Now go ahead and have fun!” Lord Death chirped.

Lelouch, Altissia, and Suzaku started to enjoy their new school life as things moved along. Everything went swimmingly unless it was about symmetry and they’ll be rambling on and on for hours about it.

[fierypen37]

Held Captive XXXIX

Another chapter up! (keep tissues close by)

 “I’ll make you curse the day your mother brought you into this world, Blackfyre!” Daenerys snarled, leaning southward on Drogon’s back.

Drogon loosed a mighty roar in the face of this new threat. A black sigil snapped in the wind, the red dragon mocking her. The colors should be reversed, bastard that he was. What use was the hoax of being Rhaegar’s son? There were many who would support his claim, Blackfyre or Targaryen. Opportunistic scum would leap whichever way the wind blew.

The pretender and his armies, at last she was to face him on the field! Men who fight for gold cannot lose to a woman. And lose they would, burning and screaming like all the rest who sought to kill her. The thought filled her with a grim relish.

Daenerys frowned. The force, though impressive with ranks of men, cavalry, siege weapons and armored elephants, all together it looked smaller than she envisioned. Was this the might of all the sellsword contracts in Essos, the Golden Company, the Second Sons, the Stormbreakers, and others? A sinking feeling settled in her belly. Had the pretender sent a splinter force to accost her men from the Rock? That would explain their delay. Her wearied northern men couldn’t hold off this onslaught. The pretender had the Others’ timing.

“They will not get to my men. They will not get to Jon.” She would make sure of it.  

Rhaegal and Viserion roared, filling the sky with their rage. A sound answered them, a smattering of trumpeting cries. Daenerys’ brow puckered, leaning over to see the ranks of elephants, their armor gleaming dully in the sunlight. Towers loomed on their backs, bristling with archers and slingers. It struck her heart that those gentle beasts were whipped and burned and prodded into battle rage. The pretender was loathsome for that alone. She remembered the elephant in Meereen with its great sad eyes.

Through their bond, she felt a reflection of her sons’ hunger. To a dragon, an elephant was a fine meal. Drogon dove sharply, arrows rattling useless against his underbelly, even his thick leathery wings. Such blows could not wound him. The swift movement lifted Daenerys in the saddle, wind rattling within the confines of her helm. The speed and exhilaration made her smile as she unleashed her children: “Dracarys!”

Drogon’s black fire burst forth, curling and twisting in the wind. Even from her saddle behind his head, intense heat washed over her. Rhaegal and Viserion followed suit, and below the men of the Golden Company—their standards with golden skulls gleaming in the sunshine—marched grimly on. The fire slew swathes of foot soldiers and cavalry. The elephants’ large ears flapped in distress, some bolted with trumpeting cries. Drogon skimmed low, intent on tasting the lumbering animal, his mouth watering at the tender meat and hot blood lurking beneath that leathery skin, just the right size to bite . . .

“No. Fly now, my love. Feast later,” Daenerys said with a snap of the mental rein. Drogon bristled under the command. He craned his neck to look at her, tongues of black fire licking along his quivering lips.

“Later. I promise,” Daenerys said. It was a razor-thin line she walked guiding her dragons in battle. They needed an outlet for their frustration, but to allow them to hunt and feast would make them slower, more susceptible to attack. Still, Drogon obeyed because she had earned his trust.

Rhaegal and Viserion scattered the elephants, goading them with fire and the hair-raising echo of their roars. Daenerys urged Drogon toward the dragon banner raised amongst the sellsword banners, a mockery of her own. The ground blurred beneath them, Drogon’s wings beat in taut control—perhaps twice the height of a man above the ground. Drogon’s roar was deep and strident, the assertion of a king.

Horses bolted and plunged, breaking their grand charge into a milling mess of terrified horses, sliding and falling in the snow beneath the whips and spurs of their riders. A flick of Drogon’s tail broke the banner’s pole, the false dragon banner fell to the ground shred nearly in half. Daenerys grinned. No army in the world could stand against her children. Did these men not remember the Field of Fire?

Daenerys peered south. Beyond the charging men was the rear guard and baggage wains. A group of pack ponies, a semi-circle of covered wagons. Energy sang through her. Ballistae! Two men tore the tarp away, revealing a barbed scorpion. Too close. Too close! Her heart thundered in her ears.

“Drogon!” Daenerys screamed.

“Fire!”

A hideous crank and twang as the scorpion fired. Drogon tucked his wings, rolling like a cork-screw to the left. Daenerys clenched her jaw to keep from biting her tongue as the world upended. Her brave, clever son, he was too swift for them! Drogon righted himself, wings striving to gain height in the air. Her breath came swift and sharp, the fear and excitement singing through her muscles making her hands tremble. Rhaegal and Viserion shrieked. Viserion dove like a falling star, shattering the machine with a passing sweep his claws. Rhaegal snatched three soldiers from the scorpion’s cart, tossing them up in the air and consuming them in green-tinged flame.

Daenerys urged her children higher in the air in tight formation, flying in wide circles. Men scrabbled for the scorpions. A quick tally found roughly two dozen, some made entirely of metal, gleaming dully in the sun. They’d planning facing her on the field, then. Viserion was the swiftest flyer. He could quickly burn the wooden scorpions. Rhaegal’s fire was hottest, but he would need time to melt the metal ones. Drogon’s bulk and strength would be enough to defend his brothers. Daenerys struggled, straining through the bond to touch their minds. Blood trickled from her nose, pain a steady heartbeat behind her eyes. Her hand strayed to her belly. The shivering part of her soul fretted the stress of battle would harm the babe. Jon’s precious, miracle babe. . . Daenerys took a steadying breath. She could only focus on the task at hand, and trust the babe had its parents’ resilience.

“Viserion! Rhaegal!” Daenerys shouted. Her sons answered with rumbling growls. Rhaegal snaked his head out to blow a ring of white smoke around her. A rush of affection flooded her, she channeled it in a warm flood through their bond. I love you, my brave, fierce children. Viserion preened, Rhaegal wreathed her in smoke, and Drogon uttered his clicking growl.

“Let’s get to work,” Daenerys said.

                                                          ~

 Jon galloped toward the edge of the western line, now riding a bay courser. A squire shoved a waterskin into his hand as Jon set his foot to stirrup. The water was reprieve enough; there was no time for rest or food, not when the pretender’s dragon flew beside the double pane of Connington’s red and white griffins.

Daenerys flew to meet them, the dragons shining in the sun like buffed jewels: black diamond, emerald, and opal. Fire consumed the field. Gods, we’re spent. It will be a miracle if we take the gatehouses on the walls with the men we have left. Even with Asha’s fresh men from the Dragonstone garrison, we’re in desperate need of reinforcements.

Jon heeled the bay towards Lord Royce’s men, already forming a front. Umber’s men in the van were busy with the siege ladders, and the Blackfish’s men were galloping hard for Blackwater Bay. The rivermen would be invaluable aid for Asha’s ironborn.

The soldiers were mixed in any company, though as a rule the lord commanded their own men. Vale knights were straightforward, disciplined, and unflappable. Together with the Unsullied stationed at the Harrenhal garrison, it would be a decent defense against the pretender’s sellswords. A grim smirk tugged at his lips. If his wife allowed any to survive their approach. Daenerys and the three dragons had neutralized the Volantene elephants effectively. Their panicked trumpeting and stomping tugged at the heart. It was the animals and children who suffered in war.

Jon loped up and down the line, urging the men into position. He gestured with Longclaw to an Unsullied soldier.

“Go to the siege engines, have them concentrate fire on the center of the pretender’s men,” Jon said.

“Issa, azantys!” he said, tucking his spear across his back and sprinting north to the looming bulk of trebuchets and catapults. Jon pulled up his blowing mount at the Royce banner.  

“Lord Royce, how goes it?”

The Vale lord’s white cape was spattered with mud and blood, his bluff face red with exertion. His son Willem, a sturdy blond young man, pressed a wineskin into his hand. Lord Royce took it with a grimy gauntleted hand. The wine dribbled down into his white beard like blood. Jon swiped the blood from Longclaw on his trousers before sliding the blade into its sheath.

“Ser Snow, good to see you well. The Targaryen boy proves to be an impulsive lout,” he said. Jon’s lips pursed. Given his newfound lineage, it cast the pretender in a different light. You will not lay a finger on my wife or her children!  

“Along with a liar and traitor,” Jon said. The battle would prove exhausting for her. Daenerys would need every ounce of her strength.    

“The queen is quite magnificent,” Lord Royce said, eyes lifting to the dragons on wing, “I never thought I would see dragons fill the sky with their fire.” Fire and Blood, Jon thought, now as much his words as the Stark’s.

Jon squinted into the sky, the sun sank towards afternoon and still no reinforcements from the Rock. Men like Barristan Selmy didn’t dither when it came to obeying their queen’s summons.

“She is. Thank the gods for her children,” Jon said, watching Rhaegal shred a hapless destrier in two.

“I’ll join them. The queen will need someone to guard her back,” he said. Lord Royce offered a knife-thin smile while Willem laughed.

“Aye, wouldn’t that be something?” Willem said.

“Ser Snow ride dragon. This one has seen this,” another Unsullied said with a laconic shrug. A look of startled awe flitted across Royce’s face. Jon shrugged, uncomfortable.

“Hold the line, Lord Royce.”

“I . . . I will, Ser Dragonrider,” he said as Jon touched his heels to the bay’s sides. He broke into a controlled canter, hooves sliding on bloody field then, as they left the battlefield behind, crunching through the crust of snow. Jon shoved up the visor, letting the cold wind baptize his burning face. His first clean breath in hours, the fresh air was almost dizzying.

The dragons looked like mythic gods silhouetted by the golden afternoon sun.  

“Rhaegal!” Jon shouted.

The green dragon heard him, white teeth as long as his arm cutting off the flow of his fire. The bronze candle-flame of his mind loomed close. His roar held an almost irritated edge. He could almost hear Daenerys’ voice translating in his head. What took you so long? Jon grinned, dismounting from the bay. A slap on his rump sent the horse trotting back toward the hay promised him with the baggage wains. Jon stretched sore muscles as Rhaegal veered south toward him.

“Come on, let’s burn the fuckers,” Jon said.

                                                       ~

 If she killed the Blackfyre, the sellswords and traitors would scatter like rats. She scanned the confused scrum of men below. He would be in extravagant armor, perhaps mimicking Rhaegar’s at the Trident. The bloody glow of ruby flashed in the corner of her eye.

There he was, in night-black plate aglitter with rubies, surrounding by a thorny mass of spears and swords. He rode a lathered white destrier, a red dragon laid in rubies on his breastplate. Silver hair fell to his shoulders beneath the crowned black steel helm. Violet eyes met hers, hard with hate. Lying worm. To his right, Jon Connington’s griffin helm snarled, within she saw a gleam of seamed blue eyes. This man was said to have loved Rhaegar like a brother. Why then, would he throw his lot in with a bastard pretender?

“Blackfyre!” Daenerys shouted, echoed by Drogon’s roar.

“Is this all you have to bring against me? My children have proven you false. You are a liar and pretender. Surrender and you will be well treated, I swear it.” It was a generous offer by any accounting. He would be wise to take it. Even given his force’s size, all three of her children would make short work of them.

“I will accept nothing less than my birthright, aunt,” the pretender sneered, drawing his sword. Daenerys smirked. The new steel gleamed pale and clean in the light. Remembering Duckfield’s sniveling, his bared steel did not frighten her. His men loosed arrows and spears at her and Drogon, but he flew beyond their range.

“A bastard’s inheritance is naught but ash,” Daenerys said, holding his gaze. Drogon arched his neck, anticipating the ancient Valyrian word for ‘fire’ to leave her lips—

“You best mind your handsome northern toy, my sweet aunt!” the fair pretender said.

Fear sliced her vocal cords like a knife on string. Daenerys swiveled in her saddle, squinting southward toward the city. Rhaegal swooped over the ground, flying toward a dark speck on the ground—Jon. He was landing to get Jon. Heart in her throat, she scanned the field for danger. The Lannister men had all fled for the safety of the city . . . Daenerys sucked in a gasp. A trio of ballistae, loaded on light chariots, ran at a dead gallop toward the two. Rhaegal would be most vulnerable on the ground as Jon mounted.

“Viserion! Stop them!” she shouted in Valyrian.

Blood pounded in her ears, fear and rage coursing through her veins. A cruel smile sat stamped on the pretender’s face. Daenerys had felt such passionate hatred and helplessness before, beneath Viserys’s thumb, beneath Drogo’s cruelty. No! No, she would not allow it again!      

“Dracarys!”

Drogon’s fire flew in an arch, black and seething. Three men leapt in the way, blocking Drogon’s fire with their bodies. Their corpses fell in charred heaps, armor welded to red, weeping flesh. Gods! What oaths had he extracted from them to sacrifice their lives for his? The pretender’s white charger bolted, fleeing south toward the safety of his gathered war machines. Drogon cut off the stream of fire to utter a harsh roar, thwarted from the kill he craved.

Daenerys leaned forward in the saddle, intent on having Drogon tear him limb from limb. A thin sound shivered through her, too high-pitched for a roar. A warbling shriek, borne of fear. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She twisted around in the saddle. Horror struck her heart like a knife of ice.

“Viserion!”

The ballistae swiveled upward, the bolt flew. Viserion strained higher in the air, uttering that frightened shriek that shattered her heart into tiny pieces. The bolt flew wide, but with barely a pause, another chased him, and another! How was that possible?

A flutter of movement at the tail of her eye. Rhaegal! Daenerys kneaded the striving muscles between Drogon’s wings. Faster! Faster! Jon, Jon—where was Jon? Daenerys clenched her eyes shut, surging through their bond. Viserion’s fear washed over her, a torrent, a river of it. She surged toward him, swimming up through the current, striving for a calm she didn’t feel. Drogon and Rhaegal hovered close, so close the edges of their thoughts seemed to tangle. A net, a rope binding them tight together.

Pain severed any other thought. A sharp cold bolt in her center.

Painpainhurtohgodsithurt!

Daenerys clutched her chest to stem the hot flow of blood pouring out. All her fingers found was cold, smooth steel. What--? The sound that left her didn’t sound human. The keen of a dying soul.

With a sucking breath, she opened her eyes in time to see Rhaegal falling from the sky. Frozen in place, she watched, her throat raw and burning. Blood fell in a crimson torrent from the wound in his chest, along with a burst of green fire. Rhaegal’s cry was full of pain as he crashed into the ground. How? What had--? Jon? Where was Jon? Rhaegal’s saddle was empty.

Every detail was sharp as cut glass.

The pattern of snow hissing on his scales.

One wing bent at a painful angle beneath him.

The piteous edge to his growls.

The cruel iron spike thrust into his chest, right at the wing juncture.    

Oh gods.

Drogon landed with a teeth-jarring thud. Her ice-cold hands fumbled with the leg straps. Soon she was free, staggering to Rhaegal. The ground boiled with his blood, a gauzy cocoon of steam rising up. Words bubbled from her lips like blood’s flood from his great heart. Words of love, of solace, when there was none. The world was bitter and cruel, eager to rend and shatter and defile. Daenerys cradled his horned head, rocking gently, staring deep into pain-fogged bronze of his eye. Gods, he was so cold. The searing heat of him ebbed to a candle’s flame.

“Rhaegal, oh Rhaegal my love. Please . . . please,” she said thickly, pressing her forehead to his snout. She didn’t know what she pled for or to whom, but plead she did. To any god who would listen. Please, not my baby, spare my child . . .  Through their bond, he clung to her as he had as a hatchling, trusting her to save him from pain and fear. Daenerys cradled him in that place, trying to pull him into her and absorb the blow herself. Nonononono he was slipping!

“Rhaegal?” she said, swiping a warm, ticklish sensation from her face. She gritted her teeth through the tearing pain, trying to stitch together the holes torn in his soul. The abyss loomed, ever patient. Blood pattered on his snout. Was there another wound--? Rhaegal uttered a soft, sad whine, gently nudging her chest.      

“Gods. Rhaegal,” Jon’s voice behind her was soft, broken into pieces as she was. Jon was bloodied, limping, but whole. There was no room inside her for relief at that fact. Her child was dying. Rhaegal lifted his head to nudge Jon’s chest, his growl soft and sweet.

“Rhaegal, no!” Daenerys said, clinging to him in body and mind. She felt the exact moment his heart stopped. The bronze-hued beauty and heat of him quenched into ash and darkness. Bound as close to him as she was, the death was hers too. Not a soft embrace of cold and silence, but a sharp, soul-deep rending. Pain bloomed and burned, hotter than dragonfire. She was drowning, drowning in an ocean of pain and grief. She screamed, clawing at the pain in her head.

Then, blessedly, darkness rose up to meet her.

                                                        ~

 “Dany? Dany? Oh gods, Dany, please,” Jon said, swiping tears from his face as he groped for a pulse at his wife’s throat. Gods, that scream as Rhaegal died. He would remember that sound for the rest of his life. Her face was a mess. Blood trickled from her nose, even from her eyes, mingled with tears wetting her face. Jon cradled in her in the crook of his arm, bleating her name.

There. Thank the gods, her heart still beat. Jon mopped her face as best he could.

He sat in the snow, the cold seeping through the seat of his trousers, frozen and stupid. Jon’s skin was slicked with cold sweat, his breath coming in shuddering, sobbing gulps. Rhaegal was dead. He died protecting Jon, protecting Viserion.

“What do I do? What do I . . .” Jon said, looking for help, for answers.

Drogon and Viserion were there, radiating heat and strength in the dying sunlight. Drogon’s low growl rattled in his chest. He couldn’t look at Rhaegal’s body, already so cold. A howl rose in his throat, a wolf’s keen mourning. He swallowed it, choked down the burning. Viserion’s yellow-gold eye met his. Dimly, Jon felt the press of the dragon’s mind. His was different than the mellow bronze of Rhaegal’s. Viserion was sharper, swifter, a gust of warm wind.  

“They’ll die for this,” Jon swore. Dragons understood revenge.

There was no strategy, no thought. Jon existed in a deeper wild place. Targaryen blood ran as hot as wolf’s blood, and he felt ablaze with it. With a harsh cry, he heaved Daenerys’ limp body onto Drogon’s back. Tenderly, he tightened the legs straps, guided her lie with her head on Drogon’s shoulder. His shield strap lashed her torso to Drogon’s spikes. As safe as he could make her. Jon knelt at Rhaegal’s head, pressing a hand to his snout.

“I’m sorry, my friend. I wish we could have . . .” his voice broke, “. . . could have had more time. I will avenge you, I promise.” On impulse, he dragged a finger in Rhaegal’s blood, painting a stripe across his forehead. The blood held a vestige of his heart’s heat, warm on his skin. Jon would carry his warmth close.

Jon turned to Viserion, offering an upturned hand.

“I know we haven’t time to--”

Viserion interrupted him by lifting his head, impatient and haughty. No saddle, but there was no time to linger. Jon climbed up Viserion’s gold spikes to sit on the hot cream-colored scales.

“Sōves!” Jon shouted.

[carlyoshawott]

There’s Nothing Wrong With Being Human - Vol 2

In which a mirror dragon and a planet god piss each other off, again and again.

Vol. 2 - Reflecting Darkness

Rating: (for this part) G (swearing)

Notes: I’m gonna keep pumping these out until someone gives a shit about them.

Reflecting Darkness

“Firem, why?” He breaths.

“You must be healthy, and balanced, Father.”

“Let me leave this world, Darling…”

“No.”

That landscape of peaceful dreams. They were shattered. Absolutely shattered.

Firem’s eyes slowly blinked open, as she was just conscious enough to feel something soft and silky brush against the tip of her nose.

When her vision cleared, she was greeted by a most unpleasant thing. Color.

As well as two red eyes.

The colorful thing was dragged away from her line of sight, and noise rang through her normally silent dimension.

“Wake up, wake up, sleepy bitch~!”

The voice was enough to make her sit up, but the profane word made her put on an angry expression on her usually calm face.

She looked ahead, and what she saw was enough to make her jaw drop.

A man clad in purple and gold armor, a flimsy toga, and a pure white cloth that seemed to float behind him. His skin was a shining umber, a golden winged laurel raked in his amethyst locks. There was a round hole in his chestplate, that looked like a gate to the void of space. He seemed to glow with a strange light, as if he was giving off what looked like the galaxy.

All of that, placed right there in her precious dimension. At first, she felt a wave of panic wash over her. (As well as a slight feeling of, well, something else that was unidentifiable to her.) And then she noticed two things. One was the long, shimmering purple blade hooked on his belt, and two, were those piercing red eyes.

“Quit ogling.”

“Y...you…” Firem muttered, shakily getting onto her feet. “You’re the one from the dungeon, aren’t you?” She rubbed her eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of being able to see them.

She heard the sound of metal clinking. “Yep…” The boyish voice came from behind her.

The dragoness spun around and glared at him, her legs tensing. “Who are you?” She called sternly, attempting to shake the grogginess from her voice.

More alien noise echoed through her perfect dimension, this time it was him yawning. “Listen, Reflecty, I just want that jewel back. So give it to me, and I’ll leave you be.”

“No.” Firem rebutted as soon as he stopped speaking. “And it’s Firem, not-”

“Firem. What a name, huh?”

She drew in a sharp inhale.

“...ugh.” He moaned, stretching out his limbs. “It’s too damn bright in this place. Here, let me fix it for you-”

“Hm. Well, that’s because in this place the laws of Light and Dark- wait what are you even doing?!”

Firem watched in shock as the intruder grabbed the blade on his belt, and pierced what looked to be the very fabric of the white void that was her world.

Her legs buckled, as noises she would only call pathetic slipped out of her mouth. He dragged the blade towards him, as the world tore like cloth, leaving a crooked diagonal slit that slowly pried open.

He tugged the blade and hooked it back onto his belt, and smacked his hands together as if he was proud of his vandalization. “There you go.”

“What have you done?!” Her cold facade was finally shattered, as she quickly made her way to the tear. “No! No! What is this? What is it?”

She heard him laugh raucously. “Chill! It’s only a rift. It leads to my own dimension, isn’t it pretty?” His honeyed words made her want to strangle him right there and then.

“No! It’ll be too much and he- I mean t-the dimension will die!” Pale hands flailed around, reaching to the cosmic rift, trying to find some kind of solution.

He laughed again. “Aw, you wanna go there? I might take you if you’re nice enough, little dragon…” He sat as he levitated, one leg slung over the other.

It was suddenly silent.

“Pitiful.”

“Hm?”

“Pathetic. You’re pathetic.”

“What did you say?”

“Disgusting! You’re so pathetic!”

“I…”

“I hate you! Your kind is so...so...detestable!”

No words were spoken, as Firem was grabbed by the hair and forcefully spun around. She was met with the navy void of space, before her cheeks were pressed in by cold fingers.

Her limbs went limp as she was lifted up to meet his face. His playful yet devious expression was now gone, as he stared into her very being with those dreaded bloody eyes.

In a state of terror, she shut her eyes, unable to express anything else with her scrunched face.

Firem felt his cold breath brush against her face. Her eyelids quivered.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Firem had never felt such hate for anything before. No human, monster, dragon, god, devil, spirit, whatever was this detestable to her. Despite the hurricane of emotions inside her, she gathered her little strength and opened her eyes.

Regret poured into her as her very soul was stabbed by those crimson daggers.

“Listen here, Shiny.”

He was now speaking in an angry, gravelly tone, tilting his head ever-so-slightly so he could get a good look at her.

“I am Uranus, and I am a God.”

Her soul quaked.

“You will not slander me, unless you want to ripped apart, limb by limb, piece by piece, into tiny, little, scraps.”

Firem’s face was beginning to turn a sickly grey.

“Do I make myself clear…?”

She nodded, knowing that if she disobeyed, she would be suffocated violently. “...yes…”

Uranus dropped her.

Firem fell to the ground, landing on all fours, brutally coughing as she attempted to catch her breath.

She hacked as she felt Uranus press his boot onto the back of her bare midriff.

“Y’know, you’re doing a great job at holding in those tears.” He laughed, toyingly putting pressure on her spine. “Most people would’ve broken down by now, but you’re a pretty tough girl.”

“...most people?” Firem whimpered, afraid of what he would do to her if she even talked back.

The God lightened the pressure, giving her the chance to recover. “Oh, I haven’t really done this to anybody else. I’ve usually just killed malicious human robbers, stuff like that...m-a-n, those guys have such fragile little brains.”

“But I don’t wanna kill you, Firem. You’re super fun to mess with!”

She couldn’t even come up with anything to say back to that.

Uranus finally removed his foot, but she didn’t stand up. “Okay, enough messing around. Where’s that stupid jewel?”

Firem, despite her determination and reluctancy, didn’t hesitate to summon the jewel beside her with a weak snap. She rose to her knees as she watched him take the artifact in his hands, and cover it with his bizarre white cloth-cape thing.

Without saying a word, Uranus strolled over to the rift he created. He looked back, smiled, and waved at Firem, as he stepped into his own dastardly place. “Bye-bye, Firem!” He cooed.

But, as he was waving goodbye to his little draconic plaything, he felt someone grab his hand, and he jerked back with a grunt.

To put it shortly, Firem was now in his dimension.

And she was not okay.

[kelzygosa]

A Trade...

Wait… did I read that right? Laereth blinked away the drowsiness that sitting in front of a cozy fireplace would put on anyone, squinting at the battered old journal that he held open with one hand. Much of the writing within was blurred, and pages as well as the blue leather cover were water damaged; that’s what happened when a journal got dropped into a lake.

When one of his contacts had offered it to him for a hefty chunk of gold, Laereth almost turned her away. But the name on the inside cover had prodded at some bit of memory. Archmage Maenius. The journal had sat unread for days as the Spellbreaker had rifled through two libraries trying to find the reference to that name that had stuck in his mind.

The Crystal of Zin'malor. Laereth himself had done the occasional curious hunt for the item, not to take it for his own benefit, but to make sure no idiots happened to have come across it. In the magic-oriented greed that seemed common to all elvish races, a staggering number of elves had fallen prey to the Crystal. Its ability to control the arcane, no matter how powerful, had been quite a lure. The curse that came with it less so. Every time someone had gone to take it from the shattered highborne city of Kel'theril, it bound them and those with them to the frozen lake, left to wander in grief and regret. And every one of them deserved it, messing with forces that dangerous.

Laereth had little in the way of sympathy. His interest in the legends around the Crystal was oddly noble; if he ever happened to find the cursed thing, he fully intended to lock it in a stasis-box and then lock that box in the vault within the locked sub-basement of his heavily guarded and warded manor. Nobody needed to add more ghosts to that ruined city in Winterspring. But it wasn’t a hint of the Crystal that caught his attention and washed the comfortable drowsiness away.

“Blue dragons arrived, two of them. We were prepared to defend our claims, determined not to let the Crystal fall into the hands of Malygos’s brood. They can’t have it. It’s mine now… or do I belong to it…. But they didn’t have any interest in us. Maybe they fear ghosts. I do. Does that mean I fear me? They had things with them when they flew in, heavy sacks with rounded bulges. Eggs, perhaps. Not my concern. The Crystal can control so much more than any of these drakes. And they can’t have it. What are dragon eggs compared to this power? And we paid for it. I paid! It’s mine….”

The journal was clearly written after the Archmage’s death, and just as clearly, he’d fallen to madness. Easy to do, when your ghost was locked forever to a frozen lake and the crumbled remains of what had once been glory, with only a pretty gem for company. And the other ghosts, of course.

But eggs! If they’d been stashed in Winterspring, if any had survived Deathwing’s mad hunt, some may still be viable. The Blues were accustomed to the cold, and so were their eggs. The frozen conditions could have preserved some. Laereth had to go find out.

In the end, he only found a single egg still intact. There were dips in the ice where others had clearly been, and perhaps they were taken by the Blues during the chaos of the Cataclysm. Shells were here and there, proof that some had hatched, probably the first clutch that the Mad Mage had written about. Deeper under the ice, further back in the ancient tower that the dragons had cleared out and burrowed deep beneath for their lair, there could be more. He’d have to pass that information on to the Blue Flight…

Wait. Laereth peered down at the egg in his hands. It looked like a large oval-shaped frosted sapphire, but was worth so much more than any gemstone. He could sense something within, faint not-thoughts and flickers of magic from the unborn beast inside, waking from long slumber after being chipped carefully out of the ice. I can use this…

He found himself unusually reluctant. Perhaps in his time with the egg, he’d bonded with the small creature within. But he’d made up his mind; Laereth was going to use the egg to do some good. To protect his people. It felt better, thinking of it as just an egg instead of a living whelp as yet un-hatched.

Using the lock of pale blonde hair he’d taken some time ago and bound with blue string, he crafted a ritualized spell to help him track down the single Blue dragon he knew personally. Calling her a friend would be an extreme stretch, but a dragon was a good contact to have. If only she’d stop mucking around with the leylines and making those blasted cards. Well, he had a solution for that, even if it made him frown faintly.

He got the Blue alone and withdrew the egg from the fur-lined sack he’d stored it in for the trip, carefully holding it against his chest, making sure it wouldn’t drop. Or be abruptly snatched by an avaricious dragon in need of a shield to the snoot. “I will trade this to you… in exchange for all of your cards. Every one of them, Alicion. Give them to me, and you can have the egg, and the location where I salvaged it.” Laereth didn’t sound as certain as he usually did, but he was going to make this trade for the greater good. Even if he didn’t particularly want to.

Kelzygosa’s Response:

[Music]

Escaping reality was only possible when venturing through the open sea. Wings tucked along her body as she coursed through the strong pull of cold underwater currents. Golden eyes traversed the darkened depths with little care as she surged onward - challenging any other creature in her path with a feral gurgle or vicious display of thrashing claws and snapping fangs. One unfortunate victim found itself caught in her jaws and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Perhaps it was a fish or maybe it was a Naga? It didn’t appear she cared at any rate. Her eyes even held a distant look to them that mirrored the abyssal black in shark eyes. Finding her swim relatively soothing, she eventually surfaced on the Glittering Strand just off the coast of Dragonblight. 

Relatively close in fact to where destroyed surge needles lay in the barren wastes of arctic snow and arcane stained earth. The pool of mana that remained there was relatively potent - no doubt due to some tampering on her part. And with most of the Kirin'tor stuck waging war with the Legion on the Broken Isles, Northrend felt like a safe place to return to. A frigid gust of air slapped against her scales as she surveyed the path of raw arcana with a hungry stare. But something felt off about her environment as her head lifted towards the sky. Nostrils flared as she inhaled the scents about her. Registering familiarity with one scent in specific, she’d quickly vacate the place with furious pumps of her wings. 

Clouds provided a blanket of cover for her as she peered down along the expanse of white and scattered treelines. But it wasn’t far from where she was that she spotted the crimson haired warrior standing on the road just shy of her place of respite. Knowing he was not the type to stray from active combat, the dragon dove through the clouds to intercept him. But he didn’t appear surprised in the slightest. Once more - she flicked her tongue within her maw to glean about the pheromones around her. Studying the way the warrior held himself and what he had to say, her claws tensed along the frozen ground. Watching him as he procured the egg before her, she’d feel the air in her lungs become strained. 

Instead of speaking, the dragon chose to respond by advancing towards him. Her head neared the surface of the egg as she inhaled the scent that coated it. While Laereth’s smell was fairly prevalent about the egg, she wanted to discern who the mother was of this young whelpling. Closing her eyes she let her mind drift back to the memories of Coldarra and her time with the Blue Dragonflight. A low sound left her maw as a sensation of anguish passed through her form. The idea that he was holding an egg that was from one of her first clutches made her reconsider his proposition very carefully. The decision was not something she could easily make, but she could sense he had a longing to care for it. The reluctance of his parting with the egg caused her to smirk solemnly. 

Having surrendered many eggs before during the War of Shifting Sands, she had experienced sacriface. As well as loss during the Nexus Wars when she watched some of her clutch get slain by the Red Dragons that defended the Wyrmrest Accord Temple. And while she still possessed a few eggs in her lair, this was an opportunity to add another to the fold. Contemplating a great many things, her mind reflected back onto a conversation she held with Atos. Guilt and depression plagued her mind about the eggs she did not hatch. The reason she never did so was largely due to fear; fear that the blue dragonflight might permanently be forced into extinction if she could not protect her children. 

However…

Laereth had proven himself time and time again to his people. Not that she was more the wiser, but he had the credability to become a Dragonsworn. With the prospect that he may never truly be an ally to her, she suspected he would reconsider for a whelpling who had yet to experience the world. And who better than a child of her own clutch? Once her decision was made, she’d concentrate on her mana and place a rune on the egg just beneath the place her snout rested against the egg. Pulling back - the rune of power began to illuminate brighter as cracks of arcana caused the egg to incubate in Laereth’s outstretched arm. With the egg quickening as rapidly as it had, it was clear it was about to hatch. Kelzygosa drew in a deep breath before speaking. 

“I can not surrender my cards. The same could be said about you in the sense that you can’t surrender your blade or shield when in battle or protecting your people. But… I believe… -no, I know that it is the whelp you wish to care for. Please… if there is one thing that I fear most in this world, it’s knowing that my clutches will never get the life they deserve to enjoy. If you would refuse this opportunity to care for my offspring-…” Pausing in her speech, she watched as the shell continued to rock and expand. Drawing in another breath, she felt emotion seize her. Mesmerized by the emergence of a beautiful azure whelpling, she tilted her head to listen to the soft cries of hunger that came from it. 

“Laereth… will you accept the responsibility of being a Dragonsworn to the Blue Dragonflight? If not for me… for him?” It was clear that the newborn whelp was a male, but that didn’t deter the passion she felt towards her young as she watched it move about in Laereth’s hand. Remaining as still as the snow on the ground, she awaited for Laereth’s answer, head hung low to hear the man’s decision.

@ma-at-thought - I had such a wonderful time reading your submission. It was extremely difficult to consider what angle I wanted Kelzygosa to reply with. But I think my response was probably the best I could have chosen for her, and I am very curious to see how Laereth might take her request. It made me tear up, NGL. And congratulations for being the Grand Prize Winner! Look forward to getting into more adventures with the Shield Booper. 

[abakersquest]

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN – A HARSHER FLAME

Vaporous mist arose from every surface of the ice cavern as an atmospheric tide of heat bloomed from the Halcyon Knight. Her seemingly placid gaze lazily slid from one opponent to the next as each of them silently planned an opening gambit.

“Good,” she finally said in a calm voice. “Not a one of you flinched or even took that threat seriously. I’d honestly hate to find out any of you were cowardly without the Flarebearer around.”

They didn’t dare take eyes off the tigress, not even to look at one another for some clue to a joint strike. She moved with confidence, and her narrow golden eyes seemed to drill into each of them as she continued to slowly turn in place.

“Careful now,” she chided. “You really should be paying less attention to my face.”

Hyla was the first to turn her eyes downward just as mystic fires began to dance on the back of the knight’s leg. From there came an explosion of noise and a flash of light as a jet of flame shot from the back of her ankle. The force of the focused burst launched her leg into a sweeping kick that left an infernal wake which quickly raced out in a circle around its creator. As Hyla raised her arms to try and defend herself, she was already off her feet being dragged by her shoulders out of the mouth of the cave.

Confusion quickly fell away as the concentrated wave of mystical fire raced past her eyes. She followed the shimmering crescent as it barely skimmed the back of Gan, who’d grabbed her in an instant and dragged her to safety before she even realized it.

The lightning quick kestrel both grunted and recoiled from the intense heat, forcing them both down into the thankfully soft snow. Hyla quickly shook off the rough landing and turned her notice to Gan, seeing him hurriedly flop onto his back and sigh with relief as the snow made short work of the dangerous heat thereupon.

“Just missed,” he managed to say. “If that hit, we’d’ve been cooked alive…”

When she took a breath to respond, Gan sprang to his feet. “The Captain and Argus are still in there! I couldn’t see if they dodged it or not! Come on!”

“Gan wait!” she called out as he took one bold step forward, slipped on the snow, and firmly introduced his beak to the terrain below.

He said something muffled yet clearly frustrated as Hyla finally got back on her feet. Snow and ash had some commonality, so while it was uncomfortable to spread her toes out onto the frigid mass, it improved her traction just as she’d hoped. “Gan,” she said calmly as she moved to help him stand. “They’re alright; I can still sense them in the cave. Now, there’s no point of us rushing back in there without a plan, so let’s take what time we have to-”

A jagged ice tower to the left of them exploded as a massive cannonball treated it like the finish line of a race. Both quickly turned their eyes toward the oncoming fortress, a rolling disaster headed straight for them and the Aspect of Air beyond.

“Warriors!” Illica’s voice called to them from the mouth of the cave. “I shall help your friends inside; Jinra will assist you in destroying the ship!”

Gan looked to Hyla, “That’s… That’s the dragon’s name, right?”

A roar that was more detonation than animal cry shook the air for miles as the great serpentine beast rose like a geyser of scales and fury from the ice cavern.

“Yes, Gan.” Hyla finally said, finding it slightly harder to breathe at the mere sight of the great beast. “Illica… How exactly do we…” Hyla’s voice trailed off as she turned back toward the strange snow fox, or rather, to where she once stood.

“I think we just follow it,” Gan said, a mixture of awe and fear in his voice as his eyes followed the dragon’s course across the sky toward the approaching warship. He flinched as exploding shells filled the sky with blossoms of fire and noise above them, just missing their massive target. “But uh... Maybe not too close?”

“No,” Hyla said plainly. “Argus said the last one was powered by a big furnace on the inside. So, we go in, destroy the furnace, and that should stop it dead. There’s just one thing we have to do first.”

Gan shimmied uncomfortably, feeling like a coiled spring as he looked away from the firefight to Hyla. When he met her eyes, he flinched ever so slightly.

“Gan,” her voice was calm despite the volume it needed to overcome the explosions above and gusting winds below. “I know I can trust you. Without thinking twice you put yourself in harm’s way to save me just now… But you need to know, you can trust me too.”

She could feel it wash over him, the strange unknown sensation she’d felt as they walked into the cave before. His eyes tried to look past her and his hands clenched into fist for a second or two. She could see him struggle and fumble to say something as an argument took place at the forefront of his mind.

She decided planting the seed of an idea was enough for now; the nascent notion that she’d fight as hard as he would for her. She turned away and faced the task at hand, her mystically aided senses giving her a clear view of the oncoming mechanical danger. A multitude of cannons on the warship’s side pivoted skyward as the dragon above dodged shot after shot. It soon closed the gap and crashed violently against the ship’s prodigious armor to seemingly little effect. With a breath to steady herself and erase the distractions of her surroundings, Hyla dragged open the curtain of the world and forged a Dark Vault.

Now, for anyone else, passing through these inky black portals is an instant event. For those gifted enough to make them however, there is something else. It’s best described as a feeling of a truly greater force far beyond anything they could make sense of, moving about an infinite space that isn’t so much “dark” as it is “full of potential.” Tetsudin would often describe it to her as the moment before you turn on the light in your bedroom, the anticipation of something familiar amidst unfamiliar shadows.

But this time, this time she turned away from the path she’d carved in the endless twilight. Despite all her training and concentration, a radiant force in the immeasurable distance turned her attention toward it. This momentary distraction, this sight of something that demanded it be seen threw her off their landing. What should’ve been an exit onto a well chosen perch amidst the ruined remains of the rear starboard prop’s assembly was, instead, the open air before it.

The momentum of their steps found no floor on the other end of the Dark Vault. Instead, the pair tumbled helplessly through the frigid air before Gan flared out his wings and straightened himself out.

Driven by inborn instinct, he summoned a curtain of ion excited air and bounded off it like a springboard toward the retreating sound of Hyla’s surprised shout. Every Orni’Hulan is born to catch their young should they fall in their efforts to fly, and even at a young age they have the strength and natural skill to do just that. He knew if he simply caught her, whatever limb he grabbed would dislocate. He knew that if he tried to change her momentum too suddenly, both of them would come out with broken bones. He rushed down to match her speed, hooked his legs around her and, with all his might and prowess, put a curve to both their trajectories that just barely saw them skirt the icy ground below.

With some effort to fight the turbulent wind surrounding the rolling fortress, Gan managed to find them a perch lower than they’d originally aimed. He put Hyla down as gently as he could before landing himself and helping her up. “What happened? Why did we miss?”

“There… When we were crossing I felt this… I don’t know what it was but it was massive…” She closed her eyes and tried to visualize it, to put forth more than just an oncoming rush of sensation to describe whatever it was she’d seen, but nothing took shape. A sigh rolled out of her throat. “This probably isn’t helping our little trust issue, is it?”

When she looked to Gan again, the great mess of feathers on the top his head rose as did the strange mixture of emotions and thoughts she’d tried to ignore. She did her best to give him a smile to try and calm him down, “It’s alright, we just-”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you!” He shouted, and then clamped his beak shut. She could hear him grumble and the talons on his toes rake the metal flooring beneath them. Finally he screwed his eyes shut and continued at the same volume. “I do trust you! Really! I just…” he quieted himself as the next words came. “Argus said I shouldn’t apologize… That I should just show you I’m sorry, but… I… I really wanted to say it, that I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

A genuine smile crossed her face and she rested her hand on his shoulder. To her it’d been nothing more than a few sour looks and an air of somewhat overdone caution, both absolutely minor slights she could easily understand. To the young kestrel just entering into the wider world, it felt like some incredible insult to a friend. What else could she have said but, “Apology accepted.”

Gan’s spirits and shoulders rose in time with one another and the shine of confidence in his eyes sparkled without reservation.

“Now, let’s see if we can’t take the heart out of this metal monster.”

“Right!” Gan looked around at the ruined structure the Prominence Cannon had left for them to traverse, hoping to see something that looked like a way in. The damaged metal ahead of him exploded outward as a forked black blade tore a hole through it. The imposing mass of a hulking Black Rock Knight soon followed, wrenching through the metal hull as if it were little more than thick paper.

Gan may have had the reflexes to dodge the stone titan’s sudden emergence, but nowhere near enough to put his knives between an oncoming sword swipe and Hyla. With Storm Magic aiding his perception, he could only watch as the deadly blade closed in on her while she crossed her arms over her chest. He stared on in stark surprise as it passed through her without a drop of blood and rammed into the ruined support strut just off to her side.

And yet, despite the acceleration of his sight, he blinked only once and saw that, in that partial second where his eyes closed, Hyla and the offending knight had changed places. The boost in speed ebbed away and a line appeared in the stony figure’s midsection where Hyla had once been.

The slowed tone of her voice reached his ears with a single magically intoned word, “Imposition.”

When it tried to turn, the upper body of the Black Rock Knight slid right off. It tumbled downward, leaving its legs alone on the platform. They took a few blind steps, collided with some previously melted beam, and fell down after its better half.

Before he could even find the words to question the events that unfolded, Hyla spoke. “I don’t like that it knew exactly where we were. Come on, let’s go before more of them can pin us in.”

Gan shook off any lingering curiosity and nodded, quickly making his way through the torn opening. Hyla moved to follow, turning back toward the ice cavern where she could still sense signs of Argus and Blackeye. Thankful for that much, she didn’t think to question why she couldn’t suss out any sense of Illica.

---

Moments ago, Blackeye had barely managed to command the ice at his side to rush across the open air as water and block the oncoming burst of compressed mystic fire. Just past the resulting steam he caught sight of Gan’s tail feathers rushing out the cave’s opening. He did his best not to let the satisfaction he felt at the boy’s performance show on his face. Pride in the doings of the young came so easily with old age.

“You’re right to feel proud, Captain Cofresi. For such a young flyer, he’s certainly got talent. My ‘Drake Smile’ is quite hard to dodge.”

He couldn’t help the annoyed grunt at the even keeled speech of the Halcyon Knight standing before him. He didn’t need the empathic sense Fire Mages possessed to know it wasn’t a statement fueled by brash overconfidence.

She carefully adjusted her gauntlets as she spoke. “You should also feel proud yourself… It can’t be easy for such a seasoned fellow to forcefully turn ice back into water in less than a second. I can see why Vizier Bulfo finds you the second biggest threat of this little band of heroes.”

“I suppose we’re to presume the first is Wally then?” Argus said; the stock of the Thunderhead firmly braced to his shoulder, its flared barrel pointed squarely at the tigress.

“Don’t engage, Mister Cael.” Blackeye cautioned. “You might not know it from our friendly Flarebearer, but thems with fire like to chatter so’s to get in your head. Makes dealin’ with ‘em some pretty nasty business.”

“He’s right, you know,” she added smoothly.

Argus’ eyes narrowed. “I’ve fought my fair share of Fire Mages during the war, Captain. I can assure you, she won’t find me an easy mark.”

“Ooh, I do believe you offended your friend, Captain Cofresi…” Her smile was far too cheerful to be believed. “You did hear that bitter little undertone there, right?”

Blackeye was as still as a stony shoreline at low tide, he didn’t even blink.

She turned to Argus instead, and found him the equivalent of a notched arrow, ready to strike down prey.

“My,” she said with a slight giggle, scratching the back of one of her ears. “I might have picked the wrong dance partners.”

The first thing was the smell in the air. Past the stale smell of old ice, the brightstone in Argus’ weapon, and the subtle hint of char all Fire Mages bore. Blackeye’s mind called up the image of a paraffin lamp, and the lingering bittersweet smell as one replaces its fuel. Before a word could be spoken, and his vaunted sense of danger could warn him, the air around their bodies was filled pinpricks of free-floating light, each barely half an inch away.

“There now, those should even things out, and give us time to properly chat!” The tigress smiled brightly. “My name is Pan Diar, the Halcyon Knight of Fire. It’s a pleasure to make both your acquaintances.”

Blackeye huffed out his nostrils.

Argus rolled his eyes.

She sighed. “My but you two are as stoic as they come… I really would’ve been better off with that Orni’Hulan and Hyla Areo. Now she’d be fun to talk to, especially after finding out what happened to her old master.” She shrugged casually, “but that’s not the bed I made, so why complain about not getting to sleep in it. Instead, I’ll just get right to it and ask. Do either of you know where I could find the Aspect of Air?”

“S'pose it don’t do us any good to try and lie to a Fire Mage, eh Argus?” Blackeye commented.

“Quite so, captain. Shall you do the honors, or will I?”

“Well, you’re the scholarly fella here; she’d believe you over me.”

“Tut-tut, captain. You’re a proud and practiced explorer of the sea; your experience makes you the better choice.”

One of Pan’s ears twitched. “Well, it’s obvious to anyone with a brain you’re both stalling… But neither one of you can seem to agree on what you’re stalling fo-”

And then the Dragon roared.

Its mighty cry coupled with the shifting of its massive body created a maelstrom within the cave. The tiny dots of fire were blown away like so many embers, followed by both their master and would be victims. The three tumbled down a winding tunnel of glacial blue, before landing in a cave of glimmering crystals. Blackeye recognized the particularly luminous stones as the same kind he’d used to light his home. He would much rather have had that be a nice recollection, instead of a passing thought when his shoulder bashed through a particularly large one.

Argus barely managed to kick off another large crystal himself, instead rising too close to its sharp edged siblings in the cave’s ceiling. They tore bits of his clothes and scratched at his carapace, but worst of all cut a small gash in his ammunition bag. Several ampoules of his magical cultivations set to twirl in the air and leave his field of view before the winds died down, and he was harshly dropped into a patch of small glowing mushrooms.

“Mycena Cryphagia,” Argus groaned as he picked himself up. “The Crystal-Eater Mushroom. I should remember to collect a sample before I go.”

He turned to take in the surroundings of this new underground chamber to see Pan Diar, as a true credit to her genus, had landed squarely on her feet. Her fang filled smile was as unwelcome sight, as were the glimmering dots of light under her command. The flock of sparks quickly closed the gap between them. With no other choice, Argus leveled the Thunderhead and fired whatever was in the barrel with the singular mental imperative of defense. A sheet of ionized air blossomed from the barrel like a cast net, the small dots of light sticking to it readily.

Pan Diar’s mystically intoned voice carried easily across the crystalline cavern, “Wisp Swarm.”

The lights detonated.

The electrical net shattered.

The blast wave hit Argus full on, launching him helplessly toward a far wall. The air in his lungs harshly pushed out on impact, and his shaken senses turned the world into a painful smear all around him. He shook his head to try and clear away at least a fraction of the blur, silently grateful to have been born an Insicai; with a hardy exoskeleton that could take so much force and not give way. He knew however, that one more burst like that, even at a distance, would cause far more permanent damage.

He was also grateful for another gift of his biology, as his antenna twitched and felt the air move around what could only be an approaching Halcyon Knight. She said something he couldn’t hear over the muffled ringing in his head, prepared a witty remark regardless, and found something odd happened as he began to say it.

It was an unnatural sort of cold that moved around him at first, then for a singular moment felt as if it’d passed through him. Suddenly the wall at his back was simply gone and replaced by a strong hand with webbed fingers, keeping him from falling backward.

“-er Ca-”

A voice just barely rose above the bell resounding in his head, it sounded familiar.

“-On Mister Cael, ne… you to find your feet.”

He blinked, the voice was gruff yet not unwelcome. The world finally came back into focus and at his side stood Captain Blackeye. “Wh-… What… When did you…”

“Get your eyes front now that ya uncrossed ‘em. That’ll tell you.”

Argus could finally make out the razor focus of the Captain’s expression and followed the length of his gaze over to where he assumed he’d been standing just before now. Before him, the Halcyon Knight of Fire launched volley after volley of magical conflagrations at a seemingly amorphous fog. Amidst the concentration of otherworldly condensation he could just make out the slimmest view of Illica, the snow fox they’d met earlier before the knight attacked.

Now that he thought on it, he had no memory of her dodging the opening attack, or tumbling down the tunnel with them.

“Now this is entirely unfair!” Pan Diar shouted. “Why can’t I hit you?!”

“Why?” Illica teased, her approach toward the knight entirely unhindered. “I thought Fire Mages always had an answer to everything.”

The tigress shouted in frustration, fires beneath her feet exploding and launching her through the air. She fired off fireballs the entire way, each simply slipping by their target and splashing pointlessly against the cave floor. It didn’t make any sense, no magic she knew of could make someone so seemingly untouchable. Worst of all, her natural empathic gift felt nothing from this approaching oddity, while every other sense she had screamed, ‘Don’t let it touch you.’

She landed, then quickly sprang back to keep distance between the snow fox and herself. She forced the words Illica had spoken to grow louder in her mind, ‘fire mages had an answer to everything.’ The stripes in Pan’s fur made the furrow of her brow all the more prominent, a frustrated growl boiled up from her throat before she closed her eyes and stood up straight, the end of her tail impatiently tapping against the floor. “You know what? You’re right. I ignored it because it seemed kind of a silly idea at first, but seeing how this is turning out? It must be the best answer!”

Two winding serpents of flame slowly twisted their way from her shoulder and over the surface of her arm. Slowly, she held it up and pointed her flat palm toward the ceiling. The magical fires slid up toward her open hand and pooled there, creating a beacon of blazing light.

Blackeye smirked and whispered, “Now’s our chance, Cael. I know exactly what she’s about to do. You still able to lift that cannon of yours?”

Argus thumbed the hammer and turned the barrel of The Thunderhead, “Absolutely.”

The air around them began to bake and the light in Diar’s palm surged, her voice calling forth a familiar spell in a foreign voice, “DRAGON’S CALDERA!” She slammed the ethereal flames down against the floor of the cavern, creating an infernal tsunami in every direction around her.

The captain brought his harpoon down in the motion of a sweeping strike, a deluge of water forming a small barrier around himself and Argus. “NOW ARGUS, HOP ON!” Before the grasshopper could respond, Blackeye thrust his harpoon forward and called out, “SLIPSTREAM!” From the end of his bejeweled weapon a rushing bridge of water began to race toward the offending Halcyon Knight.

Without another thought, Argus sprang onto the water and raced along its length. As he lined up his shot, he could hear Blackeye strain and feel the watery path falter. He didn’t dare look back; he couldn’t miss this chance. Just as the aquatic construct beneath his feet began to fade away, he leapt for all he was worth, his momentum carrying him well past his target. Still in motion, he flipped over in the air; his legs extended for both balance and to cease his turn.

His antenna recoiled at the intense heat below them.

He held his breath to slow his heart and steady his aim.

Seconds turned into an infinity as a single opportunity presented itself.

Pan Diar barely turned in time to see the Thunderhead unleash its power, a massive hand made of clay, exploding out of its flared barrel. The earthen magic broke her concentration instantly and the fire below evaporated as Argus tucked his head and let the top of his shoulders roll onto the ground, followed by the rest of him. Not his tidiest landing, but certainly not a deadly one.

Picking himself up slowly, Argus saw Illica float down into view on a small cushion of fog, and Captain Blackeye moving closer, rubbing his shoulder.

“Damn,” he spoke with some stiffness. “That landing hurt me more than I thought, sorry about that, Mister Cael.”

Argus tried to stand up straight and present himself with propriety, and then very painfully curled in on the sudden throbbing ache in his torso. “Suppose… We’re both worse for wear… Captain.”

Both warriors quickly levied their weapons at the collapsed Knight as she loudly growled and set fire to her bindings. The clay baked and hardened around her body, turning an admittedly lovely shade of earthenware red.

Pan’s fire died down and she sighed, “I hate pottery…”

A few moments passed and Illica saw Argus and Blackeye share a curious glance before going back to watching the downed knight. “Are the two of you waiting for something?”

“Aye,” Blackeye said without looking up. “Usually these youngins pull a little vanishin’ act when they can’t fight no more.”

“What say you dear,” Argus cut in. “Has your tiresome toad of a leader finally abandoned one of you to the cause?”

The tigress was still for a few seconds before squirming under her rigid confines. “Nope,” her voice returned to a seemingly ineffable calm. “I’m just not done yet.”

Blackeye scoffed, “Darlin’ if you think for one second you’re gettin’ past the three of us to the Aspect, you got another thing comin’.”

“Very true, I’d never get past all three of you. In fact, with your experience and abilities, I’m completely outmatched. Also, since Vizier Bulfo hates sending out too many of us at a time, I can’t expect reinforcement. But see, I figured something out.” She squirmed around a bit more, managing to turn her gaze toward Illica. “You… You’re not really here… That’s why I couldn’t hit you or feel you even while you’re standing right in front of me. So I got to thinking, ‘If I can see you but not touch or sense you, what are you?’”

Pan Diar’s fist exploded through the baked clay, a Mobius Glass firmly clutched within. “You’re the wind.”

Argus tore the ground beneath his feet as he jumped toward Illica to push her out of the way, only to pass right through her and tumble to the ground. He could only watch as the entirety of her being became a narrow band of vapor, inhaled by the small magical artifact.

Blackeye thrust his harpoon as hard as he could, shattering through the hardened clay, just grazing the tigress as a Dark Vault opened beneath her.

Once she’d vanished, a victorious little titter from her hung in the air far longer than either of them would’ve liked.

Then something else came, something gradual but not beyond notice. The air felt wrong as they breathed, not thin, but still missing something they knew it should have needed.

Blackeye sighed. “Old Poda did tell us there’s more’n one way for’em to get what they need.”

Argus felt heavy as he stood back up. He looked to the half destroyed clay hand and said, “I never would’ve guessed it could take the shape of a person…”

“That’s the way of the world, Mister Cael. Always throwin’ you a rogue wave or a sudden squall.” There was a solid moment of loud rumbling above them. “And we ain’t in calm waters just yet.”

He made a small noise in agreement before looking around and seeing one of his small magic ampoules in the distance. “You go on ahead, Captain. I need to find my cultures; some of them fell out of my bag on our way down here.”

Blackeye nodded firmly then made his way toward the exit.

As Argus did his best to suppress feelings of dismay and failure for later review, he walked over to the small glass vial and tried focusing instead on feelings of pride that his glasswork held up as well as he’d hoped. Then he saw something just beyond it that made all of that go away.

The softly glowing patch of flowers, thriving in a place with no natural sunlight, would be enough to give him pause on their own. But what they’d grown around, what they came to cradle in the course of time, was clearly a very old skull. One that made Argus wish he was less observant, and less able to identify species and genus from bone structure alone.

The weight of emotion on his heart brought him down to one knee. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, recalling a soft prayer he’d heard once in his travels. Whatever Illica had been, a willful ghost or the power of a god using the visage of a dead traveler to defend itself, he knew in his heart she most assuredly deserved better.

He scooped up the vial, straightened himself as best he could, and let these revelations become fuel to the fire of his resolve.

<[Chapter 36]–[Index]–[Chapter 38]>

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: Maternal Instinct

Major Spoilers: Chisei Spoilers for Level 103

Trigger Warning: Cruel imagery

The full force of Chisei's Soul Skill Majesty descended on the area. Only the King and the white winged child remained unaffected by the tenfold increase in gravitational pull.

His Dragon Words sent everyone else into a gasping heap on the ground as they struggled to remain conscious.

I stood behind Chisei who leaned out of the open helicopter door.

“You can still leave.” He shouted over the rotors.

“I will not.” My eyes shone golden, my dragon blood purity rising to still my fears and make myself more eager for a fight. I was not the young woman talking to him from before but the fearless Empress Hybrid. 

He turned his head. Using such a powerful Soul Skill turned his eyes that same golden color. It reminded me of my love, Johann Chu, and my heart stirred in my chest.

Chisei was stronger than Johann. I squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

Chisei leaped from the helicopter and I followed him, a bright lance appearing in my hand. The wind roared against my ear drums. The ground rushed up to me. My heart leaped in my chest and I felt a wild sort of joy. I braced myself for landing, the shock of it rattle through my knees and hips and spine. I rolled to my feet and sprinted toward the battle.

The heavily armored former priests sent a rain of cover fire that cut down the struggling Devil Clan members where they lay. They were sliding down ropes from the helicopter, brandishing their weapons.

 Chisei’s leap had forced him to lift the gravitational well. The Devil Clan survivors struggled under the rain of fire and the dizziness, still some mounted a desperate counter attack. A few unlucky ones were shot off the ropes and fell the rest of the way down from the helicopter. If the shot didn’t kill them the fall likely did. I threw myself against one of the gunmen, stabbing him through the chest. His scream rattled my ears.

With a flick of my arm, three more spears felled another man who had pointed his gun up at the helicopter. I called Ielia and the phantom dashed to the other end of the Red Well. She was like a bright white wolf among sheep. Their bullets flew right through her, shooting into their own comrades in their attempt to kill an ethereal ghost.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chisei charge the King, but the man simply tossed a baby in the air. I stood in confusion when the child opened massive wings to shield him from Chisei’s attack. My chest tightened.

For a few breathless seconds, I couldn't move. In the light of my dragon eyes, I recognized this child as truly my own, the child of an emperor hybrid man. My vision focused on its beautiful eyes, patterned, like a mandala. I knew those eyes. They were Ruri Kazama's eyes. 

Inside my mind, I begged Chisei not to attack it, even as he charged with twin blades. I wanted to tell him that this was no brave fighter. Couldn't he see he was crying?

I watched, frozen, as the child defended out of instinct, throwing out flaming tendrils to protect himself.  He flailed wildly, seeking to hit Chisei with all his strength. The tendrils whipped in unpredictable patterns, leaving craters in the ground with every desperate strike. Chisei was forced to back away or risk being cut in two.

One fiery vine arced upward and sliced a burning trail into the large helicopter hovering above. The pilot did not have time to get out and struggled to control the aircraft as it descended so as to avoid landing on his Patriarch. He slammed into the high stone walls surrounding the well. The fuselage rolled down the vertical surface and showered flaming debris on both the child and Chisei. 

Facing threats both above and in front, the child curled itself within his wings in defense. In doing so, he could no longer see. 

Maternal instinct finally impelled me. I ran toward the baby boy, my heart in my throat, hoping to take it away from this battlefield!

A sound above me. The rotor had broken loose from the wreckage and was dropping right between us! I barely avoided being crushed. In an instant, the air was full of glass and cutting bits of metal. 

My approach was blocked again, this time by Chisei himself. He passed in front of me, blades forward, eyes intent, clothing torn, body bloodied. 

The child was forced to open its white wings to escape the rain of metal and in that moment, Chisei threw the swords. They pierced the baby through its tiny body.

All the air rushed from my lungs. I must have screamed, but my voice was lost in the sound of crashing metal.

Chisei grabbed hold of me, threw to the ground, pinned me. A second later, the helicopter smashed on top of us, plunging us into darkness.

I should have been crushed. Instead, the wreckage had fallen around Chisei.

A fire swept through the wreckage. Silvery scales crawled across his skin in the crimson light. He was bearing the full weight of the helicopter with an unnatural surge of muscle. He halted the progression of the fire with his breathing, sucking bellows of air. 

"Please... Chisei... It's not his fault. Let me take him." I begged.

"Our blood is cursed. If we die here, the legacy of emperors ends. The world is a better place." He snarled, gasping under the weight of the helicopter, baring the sharpened teeth of a dragon.

"Don't give into... Despair, Chisei." His dripped blood left a burning trail down my face, mingling with my tears.

"It’s reality!" Crystalline claws stretched from his fingertips and dug into the red earth.

"Then I reject this reality!" I rolled over to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Release!"

I let my soul speech rise to meet the challenge of his runaway dragonblood, just like I had with Johann over the Bay of Bombay, just like I had with Ruri Kazama. Chisei had come to battle ready to throw everything away for victory. If his blood rose just one step higher, I would lose him forever to it.

A voice just outside. I couldn't hear what was being said, but the rhythm and tone told me it was the King.

Chisei's body heaved in a mighty shrug and he stood. I still clung to his neck and he brought me with him, lifting me clear off the ground. His hand thrust through the metal wreckage. Then he used his other fist to smash a hole through the helicopter in one hit.

Chisei walked from the wreckage with a silvery white body showing through his torn clothes. With one clawed hand, he grasped the King completely around the head.

Chisei lifted his own pair of bat-like wings from his back. The wounds created by their emergence healed closed before my eyes.

I rested my head against his cheek, whispering the draconic to keep his mind clear, and his soul intact. Chisei had gone Devil. In the depth of his personal darkness, he'd been tempted by the draw of power, like a moth drawn to the flame.

The King was screaming. "Dragon blood! You drank dragon bl-" 

Chisei's grip tightened.  The screams of the King cut off. The King's skull broke apart.  Chisei let the limp body of the King drop and left a crushed spurting mess on the ground.. He walked towards the child.

I looked over my shoulder. The child was still alive despite the heavy blades that impaled him. I turned back to the Devil Emperor, trying to meet his eyes. "Mercy! Mercy!" I struggled to pull his blood down to weaken him enough for him to listen. Blood Rage burned through my body in the effort. He wasn't going to listen.

My lips curled up to show my fangs. I let go of him, landed on my feet. I staggered back and sent an array of spears of light to impale him. They thrust from the ground into his body, crossing him like tentpoles, halting his steps. I didn't retract them but let them linger there, embedded.

Their heat cauterized and reopened the wounds in a cycle, making it impossible for him to heal. His claws reached down to grab them, but they burned his hands.

He snarled, trembling in pain, but his expression was like a stone wall as he looked at me. Gradually, the scales on his body retreated, the wings blackened and crumbled. I released the spears. Chisei fell to his knees.

I rushed to the child's side, one hand curling around the hilt of one sword. His white wings had withered, his eyes were shut. But he was breathing. Removing the blade might cause more pain! Leaving it in ... Would he die?

Sobbing bitterly, I apologized and withdrew one blade and then the other, pleading that his dragonblood be enough to heal, to live.

I cradled the baby in my arms in silence. The helicopter was burning and collapsing, but the Devil Clan and the soldiers had finished each other off in their battle.

I stood staggering towards the box that held the wriggling parasite. So long as that thing lived, my child would never have a secure future.

“Father...?” At this time, the only person I could think of was my own father who had spared my life for his own pleasure. “ I need to ask you one thing. How did you obliterate something from existence?”

“To applause.” I turned my head. The King was still alive. I staggered away from him, but didn’t get far. Chisei’s Spider Fang was in his hand,  and he’d run me through with it back to front. The steel felt cold. Then unbearably hot. The baby slipped from my grasp and he caught him.

[marjiandco]

Respite

Context: right at the end of Stormblood as The battle of Shinryu ends, Marji and Raiku have a second to breath before moving on with their lot in life. Stormblood 4.0 spoilers for those who haven’t finished before the patches yet.

The battle was long and bloody, fraught with close calls for all on that god's arena. At one point Raiku screamed at Marji to hold Shinryu back and for the first time, he gathered his aether and opened the heavens for arrows to hail from the sky. Marji, elated at Raiku's new found power, so too sucked up his loosened aether from the field and called forth Bahamut's mightiest dragon's breath. Together, they ripped Zenos from his host.

Before they knew it they were falling. Marji clings to one of Zenos' shoulder plates a few fulm's away, Raiku holds his hands before him as if to slow himself down. A green hue swirls around her and Zenos. The last bit of the draconic nightmare's aether. The ground rises, maybe a few seconds before impact. Desperation breeds a certain sort of clarity as she swipes her hands through the lasting bit of magic, and like strands of spider's web they drag with her nails. Not a moment later a newly formed, if physically weak, version of Bahamut-egi flew next to them. It's long talons first swings beneath Raiku's belly and takes him in its hand as gently as Marji could will it. Zeno's unconscious body is snatched next in its hind legs, and it roared at the sudden weight. Marji scrambles onto it's back none too gracefully and wrapped her arms around the summon's ropy neck.

Its wings brush the ground as it steadies their descent. A shakey breath from the exertion on keeping control of her summon is all Marji can do as she points down at Bahamut's feet. It drops Zenos and floats away to roll its arms open for Raiku to land on his feet. With the last of the green aether dissipating from her enemy, so too did her summon. The ground was hard met, even with a sea of flowers surrounding them. She swears as her ankles buckle and she slaps her hands down to catch herself. Raiku hobbles over and places a concerned hand on her shoulder. An exhausted nod, pinched eyebrows in worry is their conversation before movement catches both their eyes.

It almost seemed a blur; the others, Lyse and Alphinaud coming forward to see the final moments of Zenos. Marji rushes forward as he places his own blade at his neck, mouth parting in a silent yell as he calls her his first love, and slit his own throat. Stumbling to a stop as his body crumples, more people joined them at the top of the menagerie. As they speak around her, she walks away to look at her enemies face; so strange to see a monster made flesh look so....normal. So happy. Absently she wondered if that's how Garleans see her when she stands before them. Raubahn's words rip her from her thoughts.

“Justice has been done.” He says, looking down at Zeno's body.

Her ears quirk back.

“No such thing in a senseless death.” Marji comments.

Silence hangs in the air.

“Waste not your words on this animal.” is his rebuttal. Empty of love but glad of the end of a long fight.

So ends the Garlean hold on this country. The men and women of Ala Mhigo, of Doma, of Eorzea marched forward in their triumph. Lyse beckons for them to follow, but Raiku and Marji stay back with a quick wave of Raiku's hand. He winces at the movement, but the reprieve from questions and stares of the common folk is more than enough reward for now. The pair stand together, watching the train of people leave without them. Raiku breaks their silence.

“Sorry about his weird obsession with you. Usually people like that tend to be on our side.” his chuckle turns into a groan, cradling his ribs. Marji tilts her head obligingly. He wanders until he found a clean spot to sit down on. He looks expectantly at Marji patting the cobblestone next to him. Joints strain and thighs burn as she half falls next to him. She places hands behind her to hold herself up and get a clear view of the sunset.

“You think I could have saved him?” She asks.

He shrugs. “I don't think it matters if you could or couldn't. Even if you did manage to somehow tame him, he couldn't suffer the both of you alive long enough for it to mean anything.” he wipes away the dry blood on his chin. “You didn't kill him though, and I think that may have saved you.”

Thought of their last meeting swirled in her mind; the anger and hurt as they shouted each other down inside their tent; her leaving, angry and hurt but knowing his words were close to her fears. She was becoming more brutal. She wanted to murder Fordola for hurting Alisae, she wanted to get stronger so she could kill Zenos. Ferocity and fear somehow grew around her without any realization of the deafening call for help that bounces around inside her own cage. How close to being swallowed by permanent grief did she get before Raiku talked to her? She really never did get closure she needed, even with the magic that called forth some ephemeral version of Haurchefant that helped her all those months ago. She might as well be walking in Zeno's armor, his husk of a person on their side. Still, she bit down on her lip even now, not sure if this simple act of refusing to kill the man was enough to call her back from her sickness.  

“Thanks.” She said, listening to the crescendo of voices on the breeze. “Means a lot Rai.”

She knocked his shoulder and they both moaned, her cradling her bruised hand and his lacerated shoulder “I didn't know you could use aether like that.”

“You know, I don't think I did either.” He smiled. “I guess I need to stop calling myself a plain old archer. I'm a fancy archer now.”

The wind picked up and Raiku closed his eyes, letting the zephyr sweep his sweat soaked hair out of his face. Scraps and cuts lined him, his small fingers calloused from bow use. Even without the echo he managed to stand by her side and cut down a primal and one of the strongest people they've come across. Such a small frame could hold that level of courage seemed inconceivable. Seeing him actually call forth his aether and interact with the world around him, how he rained golden arrows down on the beast before them; it was enough to make the most timid mouse want to brave the world. It was her catalyst, to turn anger and hopelessness into a weapon instead of letting it overwhelm her. She could push all of it into an actual summon instead of using her own self.

“What're you looking at?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs, looking back at Zeno's body.

“Thal's Ball's Marj you take to melancholy like a bee takes to pollen. Go find a diary or something by the gods.”

She laughs at him. “I'll have more than enough time to think about such things tomorrow. Right now I'd rather just sit back with you.”

Besides a few comments back and forth, that's what they did. They sit atop Ala Mhigo, burns and cuts and probably something worse hiding beneath the skin. Time passed as a whisper, until Lyse and the others start making their way back towards them. With some amusement Marji catches Alphinaud looking down at her worryingly. The boys going to get crows feet before he reaches his next summer.

“Hey Rai,” with some effort Marji pushes herself to her feet. “You know how before I asked you to replace me for a bit as Warrior of Light?” She holds out a hand.

He takes it, hesitation in his “yes?”

“I think I was wrong to ask that of you. You are one, same as me except you manage to do all this” she waves her arm around “without the echo. What do you say? Want to me my partner in all this mess?”

“Yes!”

“Great because I'm heading out to help my Pasun with something so you got this for a few days right?”

He punches her in the leg and she's back down on the ground as a genuine laugh bubbles up from her chest.