Chapter Text
Kain Highwind was capable of remembering most of his dreams, a talent he regarded as a blessed curse. Every night he journeyed wide to seek adventure, or he slipped effortlessly through the air in rapturous flight, or else he shivered in the shadows of formless beings born from the darkest, most wintry crevices of his mind. He could never predict what his subconscious was going to treat him to.
Kain never talked to his parents about his dreams, though he suspected he ought to mention them to his mother at least once. He didn't, however. He just accepted the memory of his dreams alongside his recollections of the waking world. In time, his dream-memories of his wordless conversations with towering, eyeless shades were almost indistinguishable from his childhood memories of Ricard Highwind lifting him up to touch the warm, soot-caked snout of his blue dragon mount.
So when Kain's mother shook him awake hours before dawn on a mild early autumn morning, he had to blink his eyes rapidly to tear away the sticky caul of dreams clinging to him. He'd been having another "conversation" with a shadow, even though no words passed between them; just frigid scents of loathing and fear. And more and more often the black, hateful gales that pushed against Kain while he slept reminded him of his friends Cecil and Rosa, but he was helpless to explain why--
"Kain! If you're not up and out of bed in one minute, I'm going to leave you behind."
The voice of Ruth Aranea Highwind was the only force on earth capable of instantly whisking Kain out of a dream-induced stupor, and it did the job once again. Kain forced his eyes to focus on his mother, whose small form looked deceptively serene and gentle in the light of the lantern she held beside her.
"Mother?" Kain said, wisely stifling a yawn. "Did Foe's Blood come back?"
"She did," Ruth said, lifting her lantern a little so that Kain could safely clamber out of bed. Her strange violet eyes shimmered excitedly in the weak light. "She's ready to take me to see her hatchlings, and I'll warn you one more time to stop talking and get dressed or we'll leave you behind."
Ruth put the lantern on a small table near the door of Kain's bedchamber. Every year Ruth had an argument with Ricard about whether it was time for Kain to start sleeping in the dormitories reserved for Baron's Dragoons, and every year Ruth's defense of her son's privacy won out -- though Kain figured his days of sleeping behind his own walls were numbered now that he was coming up on his thirteenth birthday.
Ruth's shadow danced furiously on the wall as she pawed through the trunk containing Kain's personal effects. "Dress warm; it's going to be a cold trip." She tossed a tangled ball of cloth and furs at him, and Kain caught it on the first try (not without a little relief).
Ruth picked up her lantern again and glared. "Why are you just standing there with your gob as wide as a boot?"
Kain squirmed. "I just -- want to get dressed in private. If that's all right. Mother."
Ruth made a sound between a laugh and a snort. "I don't recall you having clothes on when you came out of me screaming like a wild thing. But whatever you like, little lord. Make it quick."
Kain huffed as he pulled on his clothes, taking a second to appreciate the snug warmth of his black-spotted coeurl fur cape. Its heaviness was already causing him to sweat a little, but he knew he'd be thankful to have it as soon as he left the ground.
Kain left his bedroom and turned his head left and right, looking for Ruth. He felt her grip fall on his upper arm before he even saw her. The hold was not gentle, and Kain instinctively froze.
"Get behind me and stay behind me," Ruth said in a low, even tone that made Kain's skin bristle with chills even though he was well-wrapped. "Foe's Blood is very maternal right now, and you're smart enough to know that doesn't mean she's feeling tender. If she regards you as a threat, you're dead, and I won't be able to save you. Do you understand?"
Kain swallowed. "Yes, mother."
"Do you still want to come with me?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
Ruth relaxed her grip. "Let's go, then."
Ruth's stride wasn't much wider than Kain's, but he still needed to half-run to keep up with his mother as she made her way through Baron Castle's eastern wing -- the domain of the Dragoons, their servants, and their squires. It also housed the quarters of the aviary caretakers, the men and women responsible for tending to Baron's flight of dragons. Ruth's connection with the beasts eventually earned her the rank of the aviary's matron. Ruth's subordinates mumbled amongst each other about how her promotion wasn't too surprising; her temperament gave her a lot in common with her precariously-tamed charges.
Mother and son wound their way up the easternmost tower of Baron Castle. Ruth's breathing remained even through the climb, but Kain was panting by the time the two opened the last door and broke into the night. Kain greedily took in mouthfuls of the autumn wind and savoured the moist, calm taste of a world settling down for a long sleep. The breeze pressed against his sweat-damp clothes, causing a chill to shiver down into his core.
Foe's Blood was indeed present. She perched on the ramparts of the east tower, her hind claws confidently clutching the crumbling brick. Her fore-talons, slick with moonlight, sheathed and unsheathed as she slid her upper body towards Ruth like a great crimson cat. Any other dragon would have looked suitably sleek with such a display, but Foe's Blood's movements were a bit graceless; she was broad, squat, and knotted with muscle. Her short neck, bulging jaws, and bristly back-hair always reminded Kain of the dogs Baron bred to hunt Behemoths.
Foe's Blood had left the aviary over six months ago to find a mate, and Kain was so happy to see her again that he lost his head for a second and began to run towards her. He remembered himself after a step and a half and stopped so suddenly that he nearly pitched over, but the small jerk was still enough to agitate Foe's Blood. The Baronian Red, usually happy to see Kain (especially if he had morsels of Chocobo meat on his person) lifted herself on her hind claws, flared her wings, and bared her fangs at him. Kain gawped at the display. His father's dragon, Skyrunner, had Foe beat for length and wingspan, but Kain knew that if Foe decided to bring her muscles and teeth down on him, his ribcage would fold into his lungs like the legs of a grotesque, dying spider curling into itself.
"It's fine, Foe, it's fine," Ruth said sharply but steadily as she threw out an arm to protect her son. "It's only Kain. He wants to see your babies, too. Is that all right?"
Foe's Blood covered her teeth, tucked away her wings, and dropped back down on all fours at the sound of Ruth's voice, though a storm rumbled deep in her chest. Kain's legs were still trembling when his mother silently reached around and slapped him upside his head.
Thankfully, Foe's boiling temper quickly cooled and she let Kain approach her. She dipped her head and Kain wrapped his arms around her snout. He murmured greetings, dug in his heels, and pushed back against the dragon as she nuzzled him.
"No need to apologize," Kain told her. "It was my fault."
Ruth dug her fingers into Foe's neck-mane and scratched deeply. "She's pretty agitated. I doubt she'll hold still long enough for me to get her saddled." She pulled away from the dragon and brushed off her hands. "Kain, you're about to learn how to ride a dragon bareback. For the gods' sake, don't tell your father."
Kain's mouth dropped open. "That -- that's terribly unsafe, mother. It's against every rule the Dragoons ever--"
Ruth smiled. "Kain Highwind. My love, my heart. If anyone ever suspects you're not Ricard's son, I'll just pull the rod out of his ass and the rod out of your ass, line them up side-by-side, and prove beyond doubt you're both woven from the same soul. Now off we go."
Ruth effortlessly plucked Kain from the ground by his armpits. Foe lowered herself obligingly as Ruth swept her son up and onto the dragon's neck. Then she mounted behind Kain, allowing enough clearance for Foe's wings. There was just enough room for the both of them, though Ruth had to practically squish Kain into her bosom. Kain blushed and gathered up double handfuls of dragon-mane.
"Hold on tight," Ruth said, "and press your knees against her neck as hard as you can. You won't hurt her. Ready?"
Ruth didn't wait for an answer before she gently slapped Foe's Blood twice on the side of her neck. The dragon loped to the other side of the tower and plunged over the rampart.
Kain's stomach immediately opted to stay behind at the tower, but when Foe's wings opened, caught the updraft, and sent the three of them spiraling up towards the cheese-yellow harvest moon, Kain's heart and soul flew away from him, far and fast. He gripped onto the dragon's mane, mouth unhinged slightly, icy air rushing past his teeth. He silently urged Foe's Blood to go faster, fast enough to catch up to his spirit and let him sample the full flavour of being a wild, winged thing. Here, on dragonback, the wind washed everything dark out of Kain's head. He thought only of good things, hopeful things, remembered only the white side of his dreams.
Behind him, Ruth wrapped her arms around Kain a little more tightly. Kain didn't need to turn around to know there was a rapturous look in her eyes that mirrored his own ecstasy.
The flight was short, too short. Foe's Blood started to drop altitude when she reached the long, low mountain range that divided Baron from the small and secluded nation of Mist. Kain felt a little nervous at the prospect of crossing Mist's borders. Of course, the tiny country had no means of stopping them from doing so, but Kain picked up worrying sentences and words about the secluded people around the Dragoons' barracks. "Phantoms" was one word he often heard. "Eidolons" was another. He had no idea what either word had to do with Mist, but hearing them always made his heart quicken.
"Inbred" was still another word that was often used in conjunction with Mist, usually followed by a short, mirthless laugh. Kain didn't know what "inbred" meant. He'd been meaning to ask his mother.
"Looks like Foe didn't wander too far from home this time," Ruth said into Kain's hair. She was in a very light mood; Kain suspected Ruth was worried Foe's Blood wouldn't return before winter -- or not at all. It was a valid fear, since it certainly wasn't unheard of for one of Baron's dragons to turn feral after mating and opt not to return to its handler. Kain knew Foe's Blood would never leave Ruth, the dragon had told him so herself, but he supposed the fear always roosted in the back of his mother's mind.
Foe's Blood dropped onto a tiny plateau so suddenly that Kain's teeth rattled. Ruth quickly slid down Foe's shoulder, but Kain hesitated at the dragon's nervous shuffling and shifting. Ruth reached up and helped Kain touch down safely.
Ruth must have caught scent of Kain's unease because she said, "Kain, what's with you?"
Kain's breaths felt shallow. "We're near Mist, right?"
"Yes, I think we're about ten miles southwest of--" Ruth stopped. "Wait. Are you scared?"
Kain could feel his cheeks burn against the wind, and even though he knew his mother probably couldn't see the blooming roses in the dim light, he lowered his head.
"What manner of crud have the Dragoons been telling you about the Summoners of Mist, Kain?"
Ruth's voice was rough with emotion, which caused Kain to quickly lift up his head again. His mother's eyes were opaque black wells in the moonlight, but they flashed wet and violet in Kain's memory.
"Mother -- are you -- are we--"
Ruth sadly ran her hand down the tied-back stump that barely passed for Kain's ponytail and kissed the top of his head. "I don't know for certain, love. I don't know enough about my heritage, your blood. It's made being with your father difficult sometimes, and when you were born with my eyes ... Well, I'll just say I thanked the gods when they changed over to Ricard's blue when you were around a year old."
Kain swallowed.
"The less I say right now, the less I speculate, the better for both of us," Ruth said. Foe's Blood stole up behind her and pressed her chin none-too-gently on Ruth's shoulder. Ruth staggered, but also chuckled. "You're young, Kain. I'm young, too. We'll talk more about this when you're a little older and able to understand it all. For now, this ugly mother is getting impatient with us."
The plateau offered little shelter from the relentless wind -- and up here in the mountains, the fall weather didn't allow the dregs of the summer's humidity to cling to its tail. Kain wrapped his fur cape tighter around himself and followed his mother and Foe's Blood to the one stand-out feature on the plateau: A tangle of boulders and squat, leafless trees that looked as if they'd been grim and naked since the dawn of time. It was an inhospitable place, but it was also too high and barren for birds of prey to take much of an interest in.
Besides, even hatchling dragons were tough against bad weather. And the hatchling that Foe's Blood had stashed in the twigs and hawk-feathers gathered in the crotch of one of the tree's system of roots seemed lively enough.
"Look at that," Ruth whispered more to herself than Kain.
Curled up, the dragon-whelp was about the size of a summer melon. It was pale-green in the moonlight, and its wings stuck to its leathery body like wet parchment. It looked directly at Kain with glittering pebble eyes, then opened its mouth and swayed its head to and fro.
"Somebody likes you, Kain," Ruth said. "Or at least she likes the idea of being fed by you. With baby dragons, that's really the best you can hope for."
Foe's Blood pushed by Kain with a contented noise and touched snouts with her offspring. Ruth looked worriedly at the smashed, trampled eggshells littering the nest. One egg was still intact, but Kain could tell at a glance that it was cold and dead.
"Not a very strong brood," Ruth said. "Fewer dragons being born year after year. When dragons are scared to breed well, it usually means they sense trouble." She exhaled through her nose, gave her head a shake, and threw her arms as far as they'd reach around Foe's neck. "You did well, my honey. So well."
"What's next?" Kain asked.
"We all go home as a family," Ruth said with a considerably more cheerful face. "You're going to raise the whelp, Kain. Make sure she stays cozy on the flight."
Kain's eyes darted from his mother to the hatchling and then back to his mother. "I'm going to -- what?"
"All Dragoons raise at least one dragon," Ruth said evenly. She picked up one of the eggshells from the nest and examined it in the light of the moon. It folded over itself like wet paper, and she frowned. "If things go well, this little one will be a companion for life. So think of a good name and pray she likes it."
Kain sucked in his breath and regarded the tiny beast. She stared into him with opaque, static eyes. Some very old dragons -- particularly those descended directly from Shinryu, Bahamut, and the other primal draconian gods said to have formed the world -- could speak to humans. Most dragons, however, were only capable of projecting faint jumbles of colour and emotion towards the humans they bonded with.
Some humans, like Ruth, were excellent at sniffing out the meanings behind those projections. Kain was … well, he was still trying to get the gist of it. He knew most captive-bred dragons are born with an idea of what they want their human handlers to call them, but getting that name out of the hatchling was a dizzying task. Communicating with adult dragons was a huge undertaking, but at least there was some predictably and order involved. Communicating with a whelp was like playing a guessing game with a criminally insane individual.
Nevertheless, Kain was eager to try. He cleared his mind best he could, and invited the dragon-whelp into it. He gasped unconsciously when the hatchling moved in with a torrent of riotously-coloured baby-babble. The backs of his eyes were immediately saturated with whorls of pink and red; the colour of Foe's scales, and the colour of the half-digested deer meat she regurgitated for the whelp every day.
But there was something buried beneath the pup's message to Kain, something more complex than her initial "I LOVE MOM" and "I LOVE FOOD." It couldn't be translated precisely into words, but Kain tried to pick up the gist of the dragon's picture-scent.
"One by one, my brothers stopped calling to me from inside their shells. I am all there is."
Kain's eyes flew open. "Endir? You want me to call you Endir?"
The whelp withdrew all its colours from Kain's head. If she thought the name was good or bad, she gave no indication.
"Not surprising she wants to sound important," Ruth muttered. "Look who her mother is." She put her hand on Kain's shoulder. "Endir's your responsibility now, Kain. If you do wrong by her, you'll have to answer to your father and myself -- and Foe's Blood."
Kain's blood turned slick and cold at the thought of hurting the little dragon. "She'll be my partner, my friend, my life," he said shakily.
Ruth nodded. "That's the right thing to say, but talk is cheap. Do good by your promise, Kain, and never forget Endir is your friend first and foremost. Now wrap up tight and make sure she's warm too, or she'll freeze to death on the ride home before you can get to know each other."
Kain half-panicked as he tried to think of a way to keep the baby comfortable; Ruth and Foe's Blood were preparing to fly again. In a few thoughtless, desperate jerks, Kain threw open his fur cloak, whipped out the hem of his shirt, and tucked Endir against his bare chest. He heard a muffled squeak of surprise.
Ruth's face gave no indication that Kain had done right or wrong. From atop Foe's neck, she silently offered a hand to help Kain scrabble up in front of her. Kain used his other hand to keep the baby dragon secure, like a pregnant woman guarding her belly.
"You look like a prize dunce, Kain," Ruth said finally, "but no doubt the baby's comfortable and warm. You'll do fine with her, I think. Hold on tight."
Foe's Blood launched herself skyward, and again there was the all-too-brief ecstasy of riding the wind and defying gravity's iron law. Kain's rapture was cut even shorter when Endir latched onto his chest with her teeth just as Baron's spires began to form against the sleepy dawn sky.
Later that morning, Ruth pat the back of Kain's hand while Baron's white mages applied their magic to the gnawed wad of meat that was once his left breast.
"Congratulations on your first occupational scar." she said, her voice oozing viscously through Kain's sedated mind. "Get used to them, honey."