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Chapter Text

Varshahn had long been a familiar face in and around the training grounds of the Radiant Host. At first, Estinien had believed Vrtra was checking up on him, mayhap ensuring Estinien did not introduce any subversive Ishgardian anti-Dravanian sentiments along with his lancework instruction.

Yet he quickly discovered that the members of the Radiant Host one and all greeted the 'boy' with friendly familiarity, treating him somewhere between a younger brother and a mascot. It was clear Varshahn had been frequently underfoot long before Estinien came into the picture.

Estinien then assumed the wyrm must be keeping an eye on the whole of his army, ensuring there were no signs of potential rebellion. It seemed a wise precaution, especially with everything in such upheaval upon the revelation that Thavnair had been ruled by a dragon all along.

As time wore on, however, he came to realize that Varshahn's presence was nothing more nor less than an indication that the dragon enjoyed being among his people, seeing them live out their daily lives.

Vrtra seemed perfectly content to serve as a runner and errand boy, and a wyrm of his power certainly could divide his attention easily enough. Though Varshahn's true identity was now widely known amongst the Host, they one and all continued to treat him like the boy they'd previously thought him to be.

Eventually Estinien came to accept Varshahn's presence as a fixture of the training grounds, and even on occasion found himself treating the 'boy' much as the rest of the Host did.

The first day back after their trip to the Void, he wasn't surprised to find Varshahn amongst the Radiant Host once more. Estinien was surprised to see him in his adult body, standing among the rank and file of all the dragoon trainees, lance in hand like the 'man' was no different from the rest of them.

Coming to an abrupt halt, Estinien stared at the wyrm. "You must be jesting," he protested.

Varshahn gazed back at him, serene. "I wish to learn like any other," he said in his smooth voice with its lilting accent. "This new body finally allows me to do so."

Floundering in disbelief, Estinien tried to sort out all his conflicting emotions about the idea. The whole thing was ridiculous. "May I speak to you for a moment," he finally asked, tipping his head towards the exit from the training ground.

"Of course." Unperturbed, Varshahn sheathed his lance on his back and followed Estinien out of earshot from the rest of the trainees.

Estinien rounded on him the moment they were out of eyesight, scowling fiercely. "I saw you fight in the Void," he reminded the wyrm. "You're already worlds better than even the best of these men and women. Hells, you are better than quite a few of the Knights Dragoon I trained for years. I know not how you obtained such skill..."

"I spent centuries watching and working with dragoons," Varshahn interrupted, tipping his head to one side. "Ages ago, when dragoons still trained to fight with dragons, not against them. Indeed, many a dragoon did I myself bear in battle against the Allagans."

That made sense, and certainly explained why it felt so incredibly effortless for Estinien to fight from Vrtra's back during the Final Days. Vrtra had always known exactly where to be, to provide Estinien with the best landing and launching points. At the time, Estinien had been too occupied with the battle to wonder at their near perfect synchronicity.

"Still," Estinien murmured, shaking his head. "Understanding the theory should not translate into true ability, not at the level you displayed. Watching others practice is no substitute for burning the muscle memory into your own body."

Varshahn shrugged. "And that is exactly why I wish to train with you," he asserted. "My skill does not approach yours, and I still have much I can learn."

'I'm not as good as you, yet' was a refrain Estinien oft heard from those he trained. The very best of the Knights Dragoon had won that skill by struggling to match him, but no one could hope to do what an Azure Dragoon could. That was the whole point of the Azure, that the power of the Eye granted him or her strength and fortitude far beyond the limits of mere mortals.

Estinien opened his mouth to say as much, his standard answer to that protest. Thankfully his brain caught up with him ere the words slipped past his lips to make a fool of him.

Varshahn commanded far more of the power of a great wyrm than Estinien did. In this case, it was Estinien who might well find himself struggling to keep up with another, if Varshahn truly dedicated himself to his training.

The thought was disconcerting. Had he not spent so much time of late with the Warrior of Light, Estinien might even have found himself resentful, after so long accustomed to being the superior power in any fight.

"But why?" Estinien asked instead. "If battle comes to Thavnair again, you would fight in your true form anyway. No matter how good you become in this body, you will always be more powerful as a dragon, by an order of magnitude."

"Already I have found myself in a situation where I could not fight in my true form," Varshahn pointed out with inexorable logic. "Our journey to the Void is not over yet. Besides." He smiled, making him look startlingly young and eager. "After so many millennia, I have the chance to experience something new. I wish to embrace every moment of it."

Ennui was doubtless the enemy of anyone with such a long lifespan. From that perspective, it made sense that Vrtra would take advantage of the capabilities of his new body to explore as many new opportunities as he could find.

"Well, you still cannot train with the Host," Estinien asserted. "Only two outcomes could result. One, you will humiliate and demoralize them, by being so much better. Or two, you will hold back to match them, learn nothing, and perchance cause them to lose some faith in you because they think their leader is unskilled. Neither is desirable."

Frowning, Varshahn considered his words. "I had not thought of it in such a way," he admitted reluctantly. "I would not wish to break their spirit. Is there no solution?"

Sighing, Estinien gave in to the inevitable. "I shall give you lessons in private," he conceded. "You have the raw power, but your technique and form could use work. Meanwhile, you can serve as my second, training the rest of them. There are enough now that I'm being forced to spread my attention too thin, and not give them each the focus they deserve. You know the theory, probably better than I do."

The delight that lit up Varshahn's eyes was unquestionably genuine. "Yes, I can do that," he agreed. "You are still the more experienced, so I will defer to your judgement. And I will not be able to attend every day. Some matters require more of my attention, such that I cannot spare enough to be in this body."

"Understandable." Vrtra was busier than ever, now that he didn't have a figurehead satrap to handle the minutiae of running the country. He needed to appoint some assistants, but had yet to do so. Mayhap he still felt he needed to prove himself as the nation's leader.

With that settled, Estinien led the way back to the training ground. The announcement that Varshahn would be acting as Estinien's second evoked some confusion amongst the ranks, but no complaints.

That confusion vanished quickly, as Varshahn moved among the trainees during the drills, correcting a stance here, demonstrating a strike there. His competence was obvious even in these small exercises. His soft-spoken and encouraging corrections also served as the perfect foil to Estinien's gruff and demanding training style, as it turned out.

Estinien trained these men and women in the same manner he had been trained, first by Alberic and later by the Knights Dragoon; by breaking them down and then building them back up again. It was a harsh regimen and he knew it, but he was not a man to go easy on those who wished to learn from him. Thus far none had quit, a measure of the dedication and loyalty of the Radiant Host, but he'd expected it to be a matter of time.

Now, with their beloved leader offering approbation and affirmation to both counter and reinforce Estinien's demands, every last one of the trainees stood taller and straighter, eyes bright with pride and determination. They also worked even harder, something Estinien honestly wouldn't have believed possible.

At the end of the day, the trainees had to drag themselves off the field with groans and complaints, but Varshahn looked as fresh as when they'd begun. Estinien nodded with grudging approval. "A job well done," he declared, and clapped Varshahn on the shoulder, just as he would have with anyone else who'd assisted him thus.

Though Estinien never forgot to whom he truly spoke, Vrtra had made it clear that he wished to be treated as any other man when being Varshahn. It seemed strange to pat a great wyrm on the back and praise him like any recruit, but Varshahn beamed with pride just as the other trainees did when they won Estinien's approval.

"They worked so hard," Varshahn commented, and Estinien realized some of the pride in his eyes was for the men and women of the Host, not himself. "I knew that they do, but 'tis different to see from this perspective. And they seemed to accept me as a teacher."

"Indeed, they like you better than me," Estinien chuckled. "As it should be. And what of you? Still eager for that lesson? You've seen how I train them, and I shall expect far more from you. 'Tis a great many repetitive exercises, training basic movements and techniques. There is no glamour or excitement in it."

"Full well do I know how such training works," Varshahn assured him, turning solemn. "As you said before, I must teach my body to know the motions so thoroughly, they are automatic. I shall not shirk from boredom."

"I expect you to run drills on your own time as well," Estinien warned him. "Once a day for an hour or so is not enough to cement this, not at the level you already fight at."

Varshahn shrugged. "Tis easy enough to set the body to doing repetitive tasks, and let it run its course with most of my attention elsewhere. I shall do so at every opportunity."

The casual answer made Estinien laugh for its seeming farcicality. It would have been ludicrous coming from anyone else, but he did not doubt the wyrm would do exactly that.

"I definitely could not allow you to train with the others," he declared, shaking his head. "You have far too many unfair advantages. Come, then. Let's put you through your paces."

Varshahn applied himself to the exercises Estinien set him with all the ferocity of a true life or death battle. He did not once complain of weariness or soreness, though Estinien pushed him hard enough that even the wyrm should grow tired.

In the end it was Estinien who put a halt to it, after some two hours of practice. He'd been up and working since the dawn, doing his own exercises ere he joined the Radiant Host for their training. The sun now hovered at the opposite horizon. Though serving as a trainer wasn't physically taxing, he was more than ready to end the day and get a solid meal in him.

"Enough," Estinien declared, when Varshahn completed yet another set of drills. "You've got plenty to work on for now, and your form has already improved. It's well past dinner, and I'm hungry."

Varshahn had the oddest look on his face as he slid his lance onto his back. He pressed a hand over his stomach, cocking his head. "Hungry. Is that what I am feeling? I thought perchance something had gone wrong with the body."

"You don't know what it feels like to be hungry?" Estinien stared at him. It was true that they'd not eaten whilst in the Void - they hadn't been there so long it would harm them to go without, and eating anything in that place might have granted the corruption a way into their bodies.

"Mine own power from the eye within it was sufficient to sustain the smaller body," Varshahn said, bemused. "It appears the greater complexity of this new form is such that it will require additional fuel for the organic components to continue to function. Though I suspect I shall not need to consume sustenance as oft as would be expected were this body real."

Estinien wondered what 'organic components' had been added to the design that required nutrients, but didn't bother to ask. Even if Varshahn could answer the question, likely Estinien wouldn't understand a word of it.

"Well, if the body burns energy like a living thing would, you'll probably need to eat regularly whilst training," Estinien pointed out. "This is hard work, and 'twill only grow harder as I get your measure and start pushing your limits."

He'd half expected the implication that today had been easy would give Varshahn pause. Instead the man smiled as if Estinien had offered him a gift. "Then I shall be certain to refuel it appropriately. I should not wish to disappoint you."

"Scant chance of that," Estinien assured him, because he was already impressed. Even accounting for Varshahn's considerable advantages over a normal trainee, the dedication and determination displayed was extraordinary.

A thought occurred to him, and he cocked his head. "If your previous avatar did not eat, does that mean you've never tasted your nation's cuisine? I strain to imagine you slurping up pots of curry and rice in your true form."

Varshahn chuckled. "Dragons are able to eat plant matter in small quantities, so I could have done so if I'd wished to, but no. In that form I prefer my meat and occasional fruits and vegetables in raw form. Spices make me sneeze terribly."

Estinien snorted a laugh at the image of the great wyrm sneezing his head off after sniffing at the local spices. "You're in for a delight, then. Thavnair's food takes some getting used to, but 'tis undeniably delicious once you grow accustomed to the heat of it."

"I look forward to the experience," Varshahn said. "The palace kitchens supply food for all the servants and nobles, they will surely have something I can consume."

"Do any of the servants know Varshahn's true identity now?" Estinien countered, eyebrow raised.

"The head servants do, and possibly others as well." Varshahn looked puzzled. "Why?"

Head servants would include the head cook, no doubt. "Because if they realize they are feeding their ruler, they will insist on making a fuss about it," Estinien told him. "Servants as happy as yours take great pride in their work, and they will not accept the idea of you eating anything less than their best efforts."

"Do you really think so?" Varshahn gazed at him wide-eyed.

"At best, they'll make you wait hours whilst they prepare a feast, and still be unhappy that they didn't have a chance to organize delicacies in advance," Estinien said. "At worst, if you insist on not waiting, they shall be flustered and horrified that their first chance to show off for you consisted of a hasty, 'substandard' meal."

"I see." Solemn, Varshahn contemplated that with one fist raised to his chin, expression pensive. "Will it always be thus?"

"Once they've had the chance to impress you and satisfy themselves that you know how good they are, they'll likely ease up," Estinien explained. "It may take some work to accustom them to the idea that you prefer simpler and less formal meals, but in time they'll accept it. It's the first impression that really matters."

Sighing, Varshahn appeared to resign himself to that. "Very well. Once more, I shall bow to your greater experience. But I do not wish to wait for hours more. This sensation of hunger is most distressing, now that I am paying attention to it."

Small wonder, considering the effort and energy they'd all expended in their excursion into the Void, not to mention today’s training. Clearly the body could indeed go far longer without food than a true living being, but Estinien wasn't surprised the hunger was sharp enough to be uncomfortable.

"Easy enough to fix," Estinien told him. "We'll head into the city, and I'll show you some of my favourites. My treat; you've certainly shown me more than enough hospitality since I've been here."

"I think I shall enjoy that," Varshahn agreed, with a smile that Estinien might have described as 'shy' on anyone else. "Lead the way, my friend."

Being named 'friend' by a great wyrm still felt odd to Estinien. That any Azure might be considered a friend by a dragon, after what the first of their Order had done to Ratatoskr and later to Nidhogg, was unlikely enough. That Estinien specifically, the man who slew Nidhogg in the end, should be welcomed by that wyrm's brood brother seemed unfathomable.

Yet Vrtra clearly bore Estinien no ill will for having murdered his brother. He seemed undisturbed by the constant reminder of that fact, which came in the form of the pieces of Nidhogg's power Estinien still carried. From the beginning, once he'd assured himself that Estinien bore Vrtra no ill will and intended no harm to him or the people of Thavnair, Vrtra had welcomed Estinien, fought unflinching at his side, and even invited him back specifically to train his army.

The mind of a great wyrm was a strange and wondrous thing. Their view of time was very different from a mortal's. They could hold a grudge for eons, carried down through the generations in perpetuity, as Nidhogg had done. Yet they also seemed able to set the past aside and accept the moment for what it was, as evidenced by Vrtra's reaction to him.

Though Estinien had greater insight into the workings of such a mind than any other mortal, thanks to his bond with Nidhogg, still he well knew he would never truly understand. All he could do was accept Vrtra's welcome for what it was, and do his best to return the sentiment in kind.

Chapter Text

Estinien was highly entertained by the mere act of walking through Radz-at-Han's markets with Varshahn at his side. Vrtra had traversed the streets with his child body many a time, so the wyrm wasn't surprised or amazed by the sights. Rather, it was the people - and their reaction to Varshahn's newly adult form - that seemed to puzzle him.

A great many Auri woman they passed, along with a decent number of the men, gave Varshahn second and third looks. Often those looks were accompanied by sly and seductive smiles, or a swish of sari skirts meant to draw his eye to an attractive young lady. The reaction from the Hyur half of the population wasn't as near-universal, but there were still a fair number who took note of the handsome man Varshahn appeared to be.

At first Vrtra seemed oblivious. When he did notice all the attention, he was bemused, then baffled. "Why do they stare so?" he whispered to Estinien, even as he offered an awkward smile back to the girl currently fluttering her lashes at him.

Estinien chuckled. "They are flirting with you," he informed the wyrm. Varshahn snapped his head around to stare at Estinien, as if he suspected Estinien of pulling a prank. "Get used to it. Your new form is most attractive, and none of these people know the truth of this body's identity yet, so they're not intimidated to approach you. You'll be getting more than mere smiles ere the end of the night, I'd wager."

The most perplexed expression Estinien had ever seen crossed Varshahn's face. He looked truly flabbergasted, as if he could not comprehend the notion of people flirting with him. "They... wish to procreate with me?" he asked hesitantly. "That is the intention of 'flirting', is it not? To invite sexual intercourse?"

The urge to laugh was so strong, Estinien had to cough into his hand to hold it back. He didn't want Vrtra to take offense or think Estinien was mocking him. "Most of them aren't like to have procreation on their minds, at least not yet. Such suggestions are typically reserved for more serious and long-term relationships. But yes, they're attempting to indicate they are sexually interested in you."

Nor could Estinien blame them. Varshahn was quite attractive by anyone's standards. Estinien didn't tend to find the draconic aspects of Au Ra appealing, but even he had to admit he could see the 'man's' beauty. Mayhap 'twas because he knew Varshahn well enough to see him not as an Au Ra, but as a person, so the scales and horns didn't seem as disconcerting. Or mayhap he was simply growing more accustomed to thinking of draconic traits in a positive light.

"Why would one wish to engage in intercourse if not for procreation?" Varshahn’s bewilderment seemed genuine, as if he truly could not fathom the idea.

Wonderful. How had Estinien ended up giving a birds and the bees talk to a great wyrm? "Because the act is pleasurable in and of itself. In fact, there are spells and potions meant to ensure procreation does not occur, so that women may engage in the pleasure without fear of consequences."

Stopping right there in the midst of the street, Varshahn stared at Estinien. "Truly? You are not jesting with me?"

"How do you not know this?" Estinien cocked his head. "You have been living among these people for generations uncounted. Though, I suppose with your previous childish appearance, people would not have spoken of or done such things in front of you."

Resuming his walk, Varshahn appeared to ponder the question deeply. "In truth, I think perchance this explains some aspects of mortal culture that had thus far seemed incomprehensible," he admitted. "For example, why there is so much emphasis on being able to procreate with one's mate, and never doing so with anyone except that mate."

"The concept of mating and procreating are completely separate to dragons?" This was news to Estinien. Ishgard had not put a great deal of effort into studying the mating habits of dragons, since they regarded them as beasts to be exterminated. The piece of Nidhogg that inhabited Estinien was not coherent enough for him to learn anything from it, even had the wyrm projected anything to him other than endless rage.

"Yes," Varshahn confirmed. "Having offspring requires finding a partner with the best genes to combine with yours. The odds of that being someone who complements your soul in a way that would make you wish to spend eternity with them is very slim. It can happen - Tiamat and Bahamut had such a relationship. But sex is simply a bodily function, not something to do for the enjoyment of it."

"Well, that explains a great deal about Hraesvelgr and Shiva," Estinien muttered. He'd wondered what would possess a great wyrm to take a mortal as a mate, when they were clearly incompatible in a physical sense.

"I wonder if this body is capable of experiencing pleasurable intercourse?" Varshahn mused, head tilted. "I shall have to ask Nidhana. Now I am curious what it feels like."

Estinien choked on air at the notion of the wyrm experimenting with mortal style sex. Then he pictured Varshahn guilelessly attempting to 'indicate interest in intercourse' to one of the people flirting with him, and how disastrously that might end. Grimacing, Estinien rubbed at his temple, where a headache was suddenly building.

"Ask her if you must, but ere you do anything about it, come to me," Estinien instructed. "There are years' worth of lessons about such things that you'd simply have absorbed had you grown up as part of our society, but which you now must learn. Else you may end up causing extreme offense, or even harming one of your subjects without realizing it."

"I would never harm one of them," Varshahn protested, scowling fiercely in offense.

"Not intentionally, no," Estinien agreed. "But do you understand how to read the non-verbal cues, the body language and emotions, that warn you when someone is reaching the limit of how far they are comfortable going? Just because someone is attracted to you, it does not necessarily mean they wish to jump straight into sex. A woman, or even a man, might find it difficult to say 'no' once things have begun, especially if you are as forceful as I have seen you be when you truly desire something."

By draconic standards, Vrtra was unfathomably patient and understanding with mortals. However, when he did get worked up about something, like all dragons his focus was absolute and sometimes even terrifying, such as his search for his sister. It was all too easy to picture Varshahn, caught up in a whirlwind of sensations and physical pleasure, turning that focus on his partner and leaving them unable to protest.

Especially if anyone realized who Varshahn truly was. Most people would feel unable to deny their ruler, even if that ruler was not as terrifying and powerful as a great wyrm. They might well give him anything he asked for without objection, and Vrtra in his innocence of mortal emotions would never know or understand how much that had hurt them.

Still frowning, though no longer offended, Varshahn resumed walking as he puzzled through Estinien's words. At last he sighed and looked resigned. "It seems I must thank you for preventing me from harming my subjects yet again," he conceded. "Even after so many millennia, there is still so much I do not understand about mortals. How do you all grasp so much, when your lifespan to learn it is so much shorter?"

"Don't feel too bad," Estinien said. "Some of it is, as I said before, that we are raised in the midst of it, and a great many unspoken rules are imparted by example that you have not witnessed. Some of it is likely instincts that we possess which you do not, because you have your own instinctive behaviour that we cannot understand."

"Such as the separation between mating and procreation?" Varshahn tipped his head. "Yes, that is something that no one ever needed to explain to me. It simply is, unquestionable and incontrovertible."

"Amongst your own species, I'm sure you'd be able to tell if someone was unwilling to have sex with you, yet I would likely not understand such signals," Estinien pointed out.

To his surprise, Varshahn laughed merrily. "I doubt you could misunderstand it. Our females' reaction to undesirable advances from a male is usually an attempt to claw off the offending visage. They are not patient with those they deem unworthy, and have no hesitation in showing it."

Estinien snorted. "Very well, I stand corrected. But our women are not always so straightforward, trained as they are from a young age to be more submissive and conciliatory, at least in many cultures. And I know plenty of men who would fall prey to your force of charisma, as well."

"Am I truly so attractive?" Varshahn smiled teasingly at him. "Do you find me so?"

Unaccountably flustered by the direct inquiry, Estinien cleared his throat. "Don't fish for compliments, 'tis considered crass. Here, this seems a likely place to get dinner." He picked a random street food stall, even though he'd told Varshahn he would show the man his favourite places to eat.

As diversions went, it was a clumsy attempt, but Varshahn followed his lead willingly enough. Thankfully the food did prove quite delicious, and not too spicy. Estinien was growing accustomed to the biting heat of the nation's typical food, but was still an amateur when it came to spiciness. More importantly, Varshahn was a complete beginner, entirely unused to the heat.

Sure enough, Varshahn choked on the first bite, coughing in surprise as his eyes watered. Laughing, a nearby vendor proffered a mug of the thick, creamy drink called lassi, which served well to cut through the heat of the spices. "Not a local?" the woman teased, as Estinien paid for the drink and Varshahn gulped it down gratefully. "You look the part, though."

"I am," Varshahn protested, still red-faced. His accent proved his claim, and the vendors looked puzzled. "But it seems I have been somewhat sheltered when it comes to food. It is delicious," he assured the first vendor, and took another - though more cautious - bite of the food.

He grew accustomed to the spice much faster than Estinien had the first time he'd tried local cuisine, and Estinien suspected some alchemy or magic at work. Mayhap the body adjusted itself to circumstance, or mayhap the power of Vrtra's eye treated this as a sort of need for healing. By the time he finished the meal, Varshahn showed no hint of discomfort and every sign of enjoyment.

In fact, he was so enthusiastic in his appreciation that Estinien couldn't resist buying him another treat, and another after that. Varshahn happily tried a bit of everything presented to him, and more than that, he stayed to speak with each of the vendors. He asked them about their business, their lives, and their happiness. His genuine interest was so obvious, people opened up to him immediately, in a way that they never did with Estinien.

Vrtra truly was an excellent ruler. The only other noble Estinien had ever seen come close to this level of concern for the populace was Aymeric, and even he wouldn't go so far as running menial errands just to spend time amongst the common people. The more Estinien saw of the wyrm and his people, the more glad Estinien was that the inhabitants of the island had been willing to accept Vrtra as their true satrap.

As they made their way back toward Meghaduta, Varshahn appeared deep in thought once again. Estinien let him be, more than happy to walk in silence. He'd never been the sort to feel the need to fill the air with chatter, just to hear the sound of a voice.

The lights of the palace had just come into view when Varshahn stopped at the side of a scenic stream, and cocked his head at Estinien. "Do you find this body attractive?" he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Estinien grunted to cover how disconcerted the repeated question made him. "What did I say about fishing for compliments?"

"That's not what I'm doing," Varshahn assured him. "It merely occurred to me that you are certainly not someone I could accidentally intimidate or pressure into going farther than you wished to. You do not ever hesitate to speak your mind to me, and I have always appreciated that."

Pressing a hand to the temple that once more throbbed with a headache, Estinien sighed. "Whilst that is true, and I do not deny that your adult form as Varshahn is comely, there is still more to it than that. You need to be attracted as well, or the whole exercise is for naught. Could you truly have intimate relations with the man who slaughtered your brother?"

Though none of the First Brood Estinien encountered seemed to hold a grudge against him for slaying Nidhogg, he kept waiting for the axe to fall. Hraesvelgr had been present in the final moments, and even assisted them to best the last vestiges of Nidhogg's spirit, so clearly he already agreed it was necessary. As for Tiamat, Estinien wasn't entirely sure she had been aware of Estinien's part in her brother's death. But Vrtra knew everything, and though he appeared to bear no ill will towards Estinien, surely it would interfere in something like this.

Again, Varshahn appeared puzzled. "You did what must be done. Nidhogg had gone mad in his rage and grief, and though I certainly understand his sentiments, ‘twas not appropriate for him to endlessly punish descendants who had personally done him no wrong. Besides, the piece of him that you carry within you is the last of him that survives in this world. In a way, you are his legacy, and being with you makes me feel closer to him."

Whilst Estinien was grateful for the confirmation that Vrtra did not blame him, the declaration only confused him further. "If being with me reminds you of your brother, why would you wish to do anything of a sexual nature with me?"

"Are we... having the same conversation?" Varshahn tipped his head, baffled. "You keep saying things which make no sense. What has one to do with the other?"

In all honesty, Estinien almost thought they were having two different discussions, as well. They seemed to talk at cross-purposes half the time. "It is generally considered extremely taboo to wish to have sexual relations of any kind with a sibling!"

"But why... oh!" Varshahn lit up, as if he'd discovered the secret to the universe, and nodded. "Yes, of course. Because your siblings would be blood relations, and having children between one another would potentially be a genetic disaster. But the eggs that Midgardsormr carried with him from our dying home star to this world were all unrelated, for exactly that reason. None of the First Brood share genetics with any of the others, nor with our brood father. Else, how could we have populated this world with more dragons?"

Estinien stared at him, rather dumbfounded. People spoke of dragon hordes as being 'Nidhogg's brood' or 'Hraesvelgr's brood' or even 'Midgardsormr's brood', but of course there must have been a second dragon involved in producing those offspring. And who else could the initial mates have been, but others of the First Brood? Hells, he knew the story of Tiamat and Bahamut, he just hadn't quite thought the whole thing through. Besides, if they'd all been Midgardsormr's children, then all dragons would be Midgardsormr's brood.

But if they'd been raised together... no, even that wasn't really a consideration. Estinien now knew the eggs carried by Midgardsormr had not all hatched at the same time, but decades or even centuries apart. That was exactly why Vrtra was so close to Azdaja, because she'd raised him since their brood father had gone into dormancy ere Vrtra hatched. As the youngest, Vrtra had probably not even seen much of the majority of his older siblings, since they'd already have left to start their own broods elsewhere in the world.

So, being neither genetically related nor having spent their childhoods together, of course Vrtra would not understand why his brood brother should be considered off-limits. They were 'siblings' only by dint of both having been carried to this star by Midgardsormr.

"So," Varshahn said, with a small smile. "We have now established yet again that I bear you no grudge for the death of Nidhogg, and also that there is no reason your connection to his spirit would be a barrier to us being together - though since the whole point of this is non-procreative sex, I'm not sure why a genetic relationship would have mattered, regardless. I assure you that I do indeed wish to try this, and you would seem a most ideal companion for the experiment. Are there yet more barriers you feel should be addressed?"

Sighing deeply, Estinien buried his face in his hands. There were still so many more reasons he could object to this insane notion, but the truth was that each and every one of them was naught but an excuse. He did find Varshahn attractive enough, and Fury knew the man was correct that Estinien might be the one person in all of Thavnair who would not hesitate to speak his mind to Vrtra if he felt the need to protest or put a stop to things.

"You truly wish to explore this so much?" Estinien asked at last, raising his head and regarding Varshahn squarely.

"As I said about the lance work," Varshahn replied with a winning smile. "Tis not every day a wyrm of my age has the chance to experience something new. Especially something as truly unprecedented as this. I am most eager."

"And you are willing to let me take the lead on this, to act as the guide and teacher?" Estinien demanded, regarding the other man closely. "There are those who would say that puts me in the more dominant position in the relationship."

"How is that different from you teaching me the lance?" Varshahn asked. "You are the greater expert in this matter, so of course I will defer to you."

There was a very big difference between bowing to the expertise of a master in physical training, versus submitting yourself to a partner during sex. But then, how could Vrtra possibly understand that, on an instinctive level? Mayhap a demonstration was required, just to be certain the wyrm knew what he was truly agreeing to.

Glancing around, Estinien confirmed they were alone for the moment. "Shall we test it out?" Estinien stepped closer to him, and reached out to catch Varshahn's chin in his hand, holding him in place.

Compared to most Auri adult males, Varshahn had very little facial scaling; Estinien wasn't sure if he was still 'young', or if the alchemists had for some reason constructed him thus, but it did make him more attractive in Estinien's eyes than most Au Ra. Though, the scales where Estinien's fingers brushed against his cheek were surprisingly warm and supple, not at all how he'd expected them to feel.

Varshahn regarded him with no hint of wariness or reluctance, red eyes wide and expression trusting, if somewhat confused. "What are we testing, exactly?"

"Whether you're able to react to me in a sexual fashion," Estinien informed him. He brushed his thumb over Varshahn's bottom lip, and the man shivered, eyes going wide as his lips parted in surprise.

"H-how will we know?" Varshahn asked, and his voice emerged more breathless than he had been after his lance drills.

"Oh, you'll know," Estinien assured him, and closed the distance between them to seal their lips together. They were of a height, bodies aligned and perfectly positioned for a kiss. Estinien used his grip on Varshahn's chin to tip his head to a better angle, and plunged his tongue into the 'man's' mouth.

Varshahn gasped, parting his lips further, and Estinien took advantage of the opening. His lips and mouth were soft and wet as anyone's were, and he tasted of the honeyed dough he’d last eaten. Varshahn stood rigid and unmoving at first, either not knowing how to respond or unable to do so, lips parted but not otherwise participating in the kiss.

Just when Estinien was ready to conclude there was no point in continuing further, he felt the tentative brush of Varshahn's tongue against his own in turn. It came again, then harder; first a hesitant parry, then a stabbing riposte, and finally a full fledged attack that left them in a delicious duel.

Varshahn pressed his body against Estinien's, moulded to him as if trying to ensure not an ilm of air could possibly come between them. One hand clenched in Estinien's hair, tugging it free of the tie. The other came around Estinien's waist, holding him closer with desperate strength. Estinien retaliated in kind, grip tightening on Varshahn's jaw even as he cinched the other arm around the man's waist and hauled him closer still.

One kiss turned to two, and two became more, until Estinien lost count because all he could focus on was the feel of the warm, strong body against his. It had been too long, far too long, since he'd last indulged his body's needs so. He oft went long periods between lovers, and rarely stayed with one person for long, preferring his solitude and freedom. It had been some moons since the last.

Then again, Varshahn responded with such eager enthusiasm, Estinien suspected he could have found release hours before and still been roused by this contact. The wyrm's boundless curiosity translated into a thorough exploration of all aspects of the kiss, and his innocence meant he held nothing back. There were no coy games, no playing hard to get, no hesitation for fear of things going too far. Just an all out, no holds barred enjoyment of the pleasure between them.

The sound of a jeering wolf whistle split the air, and Estinien jerked back to his senses abruptly. Lost in the moment, he'd forgotten they were still out in a very public location. When he tried to pull away, Varshahn resisted and clung to him, tongue spearing into Estinien's mouth in pursuit of more pleasure.

Reluctantly, Estinien planted a hand on the man's chest and shoved, hard enough to break the contact. Varshahn gasped as their lips parted and blinked back at him, confused and dismayed. "Why did you stop?" the avatar demanded.

Estinien put more distance between them, stepping back until they were fully separated. "Because this is not the appropriate venue for such activities," he pointed out. "We got carried away, which I suppose does at least answer the question at hand."

Varshahn was capable of experiencing physical pleasure, and eager to do so with Estinien. Furthermore, if the iron bar Estinien had felt pressed against his thigh was any indication, the wyrm's adult avatar was indeed built to allow him to indulge in the full range of 'non-procreative sex'.

"Then...?" Varshahn cocked his head. "Have I satisfied all your objections and concerns? Will you do this thing with me?"

It was mayhap the least sensual and appealing invitation to such activities that Estinien had ever received - and he'd received full many such over the years. Paradoxically, he'd never felt quite as compelled to accept. It seemed even he was not immune to Varshahn's charisma. Turning the wyrm loose on an unsuspecting populace was definitely a bad idea.

Estinien told himself it wasn't jealousy that made him dislike the thought of Varshahn engaging in such activities with anyone else.

"Talk to Nidhana," he said, struggling to ignore the flush that heated his cheeks. "Find out what and how much is safe for you to indulge in. I would not see you come to harm for your eagerness to experience something new."

His lips quirked as he spoke. What he wouldn't give to be the proverbial fly on the wall for that conversation. Nidhana was a very practical and down to earth woman, but even she would likely be thrown to have the great wyrm who ruled her people earnestly ask whether she'd built his avatar to be capable of 'pleasurable sex'.

"I shall do so," Varshahn, with all the solemnity of a vow. "I will let you know what I find out. I think I need to speak to her regardless; something strange is happening to the body right now. I hope it is not a sign that I am not able to do this."

It took Estinien a moment to realize the wyrm spoke of his erection. Well, that was something Nidhana would have to explain, because Estinien had more than had his fill of awkward and embarrassing discussions for one day.

"Off you go, then," he said, taking Varshahn by the shoulder and turning him towards the palace, then pushing. "I'm going to stay out and enjoy the night air a little longer."

Bewildered, but not arguing, Varshahn nodded and headed off down the path once more. Estinien watched him go, hands planted on his hips, customary scowl firmly in place.

Only when the wyrm's avatar was safely out of sight did he let go of his stranglehold on the laughter that consumed him. If it verged slightly on hysterical, he thought he could be excused. After all, how oft was an Azure Dragoon propositioned by a great wyrm?

Any priest of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church would have a litter of gaelicats at the mere notion. If they were in Coerthas, Estinien would be looking over his shoulder in fear of the Inquisition appearing at any moment, never mind that Aymeric was doing his best to disband that foul tradition.

How did he find himself in this ridiculous situation?

And why was he so damn tantalized by what ludicrous thing might come next?

Chapter Text

There was no sign of Varshahn at the training ground the next morning, and Estinien couldn't deny his disappointment. He'd not been able to get that bloody kiss out of his mind, forced to stroke himself to completion ere he could seek slumber, only to suffer heated dreams and wake hard as if he'd not had release in a week.

Then again, perhaps the wyrm's absence was just as well. Had Varshahn presented himself early a second time, Estinien might have pushed him into the nearest wall for a repeat demonstration of desire, and gotten carried away again. The last thing either of them needed was for the trainee lancers to discover them in a blatant embrace, humping each other in full view of the world.

Though even that image tantalized Estinien in a way it certainly should not have. Full glad was he that the thick leather and armour he wore hid the raging erection he sported through far too much of the day's training.

Dinner came and went with still no sign of the avatar. The evening passed as well, and Estinien eventually concluded that either Vrtra had changed his mind, or Nidhana had forbidden the contact. Either case would be bitterly disappointing, now that he'd allowed himself to contemplate the possibilities inherent in Varshahn's adult form.

As he disrobed for bed, a tentative knock came at the door. Estinien glanced down at his shirtless form, then shrugged and moved to answer it. If someone cared to disturb him so late, they could deal with him in his half-dressed state.

To his surprise he found none other than the adult Varshahn standing without. The avatar's mouth opened as if to speak, but no words emerged, his eyes locked on Estinien's bare chest. Startled heat bloomed in his eyes, gaze tracking down over the muscled flesh, until he lit on the erection that sprang to life and tented Estinien's trousers.

Feeling more than a little overheated himself, Estinien clutched at the door. "If you're going to look at me that way, you'd damned well better be here to say you're going through with it," he warned, his voice emerging as a husky growl.

"What?" Varshahn blinked a few times, gaze refocusing as he jerked his eyes up to meet Estinien's. The distraction pleased Estinien, who took it for flattering appreciation. "Oh! Oh, yes. Nidhana gave me a most thorough and educational lecture, but approved our planned activities. She seemed flustered for some reason, yet also amused."

Yes, it appeared that conversation had gone according to Estinien's expectations. He chuckled, and swung the door wider, inviting Varshahn inside. "When I didn't see you all day, I thought mayhap things had not turned out in our favour," he admitted.

Walking in, Varshahn waited impatiently as Estinien closed the door. Instead of answering the implied question as Estinien expected, the avatar threw himself into Estinien's arms, seeking his mouth in an eager kiss.

Startled, but far from loath to respond, Estinien wrapped his arms around the other man and kissed him back. Varshahn's tongue sought his, and Estinien duelled him in return, the push and shove, stroke and parry, ramping the heat between them higher still.

Once again Estinien became aware of the hard, eager length of Varshahn's cock against his thigh. Twisting, he turned them so he had the avatar pinned between the door and Estinien's body, then slid his thigh between Varshahn's to grind against that rigid bar.

Gasping, Varshahn broke the kiss to throw his head back against the door, eyes half closed as his hips rocked into the contact. "Estinien!"

"Did Nidhana explain the purpose of this?" Estinien asked, slipping a hand between them to squeeze the wyrm's length. Varshahn moaned, cock jerking beneath Estinien's rough hand.

"I know what a cock is for," Varshahn protested, the vehemence somewhat lessened by the breathlessness of his voice. "Though she did have to explain how it was meant to work between two males, and I confess I'm not entirely certain why such should be appealing, but I am willing to put my trust in you and find out."

Those simple words should not have affected Estinien as strongly as they did, but to have a creature as powerful as Vrtra place himself so willingly in Estinien's control... by the Fury, Estinien's cock had never felt so hard in his life.

He ground the aching member against Varshan's thigh in turn, letting the avatar feel what he did to Estinien. "Oh, I will show you exactly why it is appealing," he promised in a harsh growl. "I shall fuck you senseless, drawing pleasure from you again and again until you think you will go mad with it, and beg me to stop even as you plead for more at the same time."

Though not usually one to talk during sex, the words poured from him unbidden, and they had an enticing effect on Varshahn. His eyes rolled back, head tipping to one side to expose the vulnerable curve of his neck, and he clutched at Estinien's hips hard enough to dig in his claws.

The tiny pricks of pain only stoked the fire within Estinien further. Part of him wanted to strip Varshahn's pants off, turn the avatar around to face the door, then thrust into him from behind and rut like an animal. But the wyrm deserved better treatment than that, and Estinien very much looked forward to wrecking him with pleasure.

In fact, he'd spent far too much of the evening preoccupied with thoughts of exactly what he'd wanted to do to the other man. Now, presented with the opportunity, he scarce knew where to start.

He had no idea how quickly or frequently the avatar's body might be capable of reaching orgasm, and there was likely no point in asking, so it was probably best to take it slow. Estinien wouldn't want to end the night's fun prematurely, after all.

So he made a conscious effort to gentle his touch and slow the pace, pulling back and tugging Varshahn away from the door. "Come to the bed," Estinien invited. "And let's get you out of some of those pesky clothes on the way. You look overheated."

"I am," Varshahn confessed with an air of bewilderment, of course missing the innuendo. "Usually I find the weather here quite pleasantly warm, but for some reason this room seems..."

"It has naught to do with the temperature," Estinien informed him dryly, catching the hem of the other man's shirt and pulling it over his head. It got tangled on Varshahn's horns, and he struggled for a moment before the avatar chuckled and reached up to help.

"Oh?" Varshahn gave him a surprisingly sly look, when he emerged from within the garment. "Are you saying you are the one responsible?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying," Estinien agreed with no false modesty. Sliding his hands over the avatar's sculpted chest, every bit as muscled as Estinien's own, he explored on his way down to the waistband of the wyrm’s pants.

The contrast between skin and scales was startling, and far more pleasant than Estinien expected. Once again he found the draconic traits less off-putting than he'd thought; indeed, the idea of what those textured scales might feel like against his own skin was appealing.

Rather than testing it out that moment, however, he dropped to his knees before the other man. Deliberately Estinien placed himself in a position one might take to suck a man's cock, and Varshahn's breath caught in his throat. He looked confused but aroused, his body understanding the implicit promise even if his mind didn't.

By the Fury, this was going to be so much fun. Estinien had never been attracted to virgins, preferring not to deal with shyness and uncertainty. But Varshahn was neither of those things, quite eager and open in his appreciation of Estinien, with no idea why he might feel any shame or hesitation.

Undoing the fly, Estinien drew forth Varshahn's rather impressive cock. Were all Auri so well endowed, or had the alchemists so bestowed their beloved satrap's avatar deliberately? Whatever the reason, the hard length bobbed in the air as Estinien pushed the voluminous sarouel down. Next came the undergarment, leaving Varshahn exposed in all his glory.

Breathless with anticipation, Varshahn watched the proceedings with his eyes glowing and hands buried in Estinien's hair. When Estinien wrapped his hand around that hard length, Varshahn gasped and trembled.

When he ran his thumb over the head, tracing the contours and dipping into the slit, Varshahn cried out and gripped his hair so tight it pulled.

"Estinien!" Wrecked with pleasure from even so brief a touch, the wyrm shuddered and stumbled, legs giving way.

Chuckling, Estinien guided him down onto the bed, leaving him sprawled over the mattress instead. "Oh, now there's a sight," he murmured, hastily unbuckling his own belt and shoving the trousers over his hips.

"I agree," Varshahn murmured, licking his lips as his gaze fixed on Estinien's newly exposed cock. "So beautiful. I did not expect that."

Startled by the praise, Estinien flushed. He was attractive enough, well built and not unpleasant to look at, but nobody had ever called him beautiful before. Certainly not while staring so avidly at his cock.

"Would you like to touch?" he invited, taking himself in hand and stroking in a slow tease meant to display him to best advantage.

"May I?" Once again Varshahn's eyes lit up, and he scrambled to his hands and knees. "Nidhana said I must follow your lead in what touches are permitted, as she did not know Ishgardian customs and taboos."

Estinien snorted. "By Ishgardian standards, everything I've done so far marks me as a foul sinner, so 'tis just as well she couldn't tell you."

"Because I am a dragon?" Varshahn asked, head cocked to one side curiously.

That drew an outright laugh from Estinien. "Well, yes, that first and foremost I suppose," he chuckled. "Even if you were naught more than the Au Ra you seem, I think the priests would deem that too close to dravanian blood for comfort. However, I meant that congress between men is strictly forbidden."

"But why?" Varshahn reared back, startled.

"No good reason I can discern," Estinien replied. "And like everything else preached by the church I can see no basis for, I have long ignored it. Especially now, knowing the truth of how their doctrines came about in the first place. The Inquisition has no place here between us.”

“Inquisition?” Varshahn tipped his head, and Estinien grimaced. How had they gotten onto this thoroughly unsexy subject?

“An organization created by the Church to hunt down sinners and heretics,” he reluctantly explained. “They are zealots and fanatics, taking great pleasure in the torment and suffering of their fellows. Far too many innocents were caught in their sights over the centuries, and they considered that to be a reasonable price, willingly paid, in order to catch a few actual heretics.”

Heretics that were now known to have been telling the truth, though Estinien would never condone their brutal methods of ‘conversion’. The Inquisition had arguably been even more brutal and cruel; if not for the innocents caught between them, he’d have left the two groups to terrorize each other and counted himself well rid of both.

“The point is, you need not worry about taboos and customs,” Estinien concluded, more than ready to be done with this topic. “You are welcome to touch me however you please. I shall tell you if you cross a line I do not enjoy, and that is the only restriction which truly matters."

"Full well shall I respect that line," Varshahn promised with all the solemnity of a sworn vow. Then his expression turned speculative. "Any way I please?"

"As you wish," Estinien confirmed, with an indulgent smile.

That expression was wiped off his face in the next moment, as Varshahn lunged towards him and twisted around him, tripping Estinien and sending him tumbling onto the bed with the avatar atop him.

In a battle he'd never have allowed himself to be caught by surprise, but he'd let his guard down in his trust of Varshahn. And so Estinien found himself pinned beneath the wyrm, flat on his back on the bed with the other man above him on hands and knees, looking down at him with the expression of a starving man presented with a banquet.

Unaccustomed to finding himself in such a position, Estinien floundered, uncertain what to do. Training prodded him to toss the 'attacker' off him; instinct demanded he grab Varshahn and roll them over to put himself back on top. But the wyrm had offered no offense yet, and Estinien had said he might do as he pleased.

Varshahn dove in for another eager kiss, hands exploring every ilm of Estinien's chest with curious fingers. His claw tips scraped enticingly, such a tiny sting it registered as pleasure rather than pain. He rocked his hips to grind their cocks together, a slow tease of pressure and friction that made Estinien jerk up beneath him in response.

Getting his own hands in on the action, Estinien sought and found the flat discs of the avatar's nipples, then teased them to tiny peaks. When Varshahn pulled back to pant for air, Estinien smirked up at him.

"Are you hoping to fuck me?" he asked, and Varshahn's chest expanded with a startled breath at the vulgarity. "I've never done that, but I confess you make me curious enough to mayhap be willing to try it. However, I think for this first time, 'twould make more sense for me to be the one in control, as I am the one who knows what he's doing."

Shifting restlessly, Varshahn surveyed Estinien beneath him, a strangely possessive light in his eyes. "But I like this position," he protested, licking his lips.

"Then try this." Estinien urged him up for a moment, then rearranged them so Varshahn's knees were on either side of his hips instead. That left the wyrm spread open above him, ass rubbing over Estinien's hard length as Varshahn's cock dragged over his abdomen in turn.

"Oh!" Varshahn tipped his head back, eyes closing as he deliberately rocked his hips. "Oh, yes, I think this is most acceptable."

Fumbling at the table beside the bed, Estinien found the oil he kept there and poured a generous amount into his hand. "You must use something to slick the way when lying with another man," he explained.

"Yes, Nidhana was quite adamant about that," Varshahn nodded. "And you are meant to put the oil inside me with your fingers, yes?"

It sounded so clinical when he put it that way. Rolling his eyes, Estinien wrapped his oiled hand around Varshahn's cock and stroked, letting the slick liquid ease the passage and allow him to tighten his grip farther than he'd have dared without.

Shouting, Varshahn jerked beneath him, hips stuttering and hands digging into Estinien's chest where he braced himself. "Estinien!"

"No more talk of Nidhana," Estinien instructed. "She is a lovely woman in many ways, but I do not care to have her in my bed even in so indirect a fashion. I want you focused on me."

"Yes," Varshahn breathed out, submission and encouragement both. Estinien rewarded him with another stroke, then worked his hand lower still, between the avatar's taut thighs. He teased the heavy sac holding his balls, making Varshahn squirm in reaction, then finally reached his true goal.

The tight ring of muscle at the avatar's asshole felt much like any other man's, and Estinien slicked it liberally with oil. Carefully, he pressed one finger against the pucker, forcing the tip inside.

Varshahn made a startled noise and squirmed. "That feels... I'm not sure I like that," he said uncertainly.

"Do you wish me to stop?" Estinien asked, pausing his exploration and looking up at him. "I promise, it will be worth it, but we needn't do everything all at once, either. There are other ways to find pleasure."

Chewing his lip, Varshahn considered it. "Go ahead," he said at last, raising his chin. "I know you would not harm me, so I will try it this once."

Charmed by the trust, Estinien resumed his task, but decided to approach it from a different direction. He wrapped his other hand around Varshahn's cock, stroking with torturous slowness. With each pass he worked his slick finger a little deeper, and thus managed to distract Varshahn from his body's instinctive attempt to reject the intrusion.

Pulling free, Estinien paused long enough to add more oil, drawing a protest from Varshahn at the cessation of stimulation. "Patience," he scolded the dragon, smirking as he returned his newly slick hand to the task. "I'm surprised I must lecture a member of the First Brood on such matters."

"I can be patient," Varshahn agreed, though the words emerged rather petulant. "If it is worth the restraint, of course."

"It will be," Estinien promised. This time he pushed two fingers within as he stroked, and Varshahn gasped at the stretch. His body clenched, again trying to repel Estinien, but Estinien worked past it. Then he curled the fingers within, searching deep for a particular place where the flesh felt different...

He knew he'd found it when Varshahn shouted and jerked above him. "What... oh! Oh... oh." He seemed to lose coherence as Estinien kept rubbing the spot, his cock throbbing in Estinien's other hand.

"That's it," Estinien encouraged, his voice rough and cock straining with eagerness. "Now you're starting to understand." He withdrew his fingers, and Varshahn grunted a protest, making Estinien laugh. "I've got something better than my hand to offer," he reminded the wyrm.

"Hurry," Varshahn demanded, apparently forgetting all about patience. Reaching back, he grasped Estinien's cock and shifted his hips to position himself over it, then sank down to spear himself with the hard length afore Estinien could protest that they needed more oil.

As it turned out, they did not, because Varshahn accepted him eagerly into his body despite the far greater width of Estinien’s cock compared to his fingers. It seemed the wyrm had made up his mind, and would brook no interference, even from his own discomfort. Estinien might have laughed again, but he was too busy groaning at the tight squeeze of the avatar's hot body around his cock.

"You'll have to do the work in this position," he gritted out, stroking Varshahn's cock harder as enticement. "Lift yourself and drop again, as fast as you wish to go. Most people believe faster feels better, but it's up to you."

Eyes alight with curiosity, Varshahn raised himself again, powerful thighs easily lifting his weight with no sign of strain. Like Estinien, he was built to make prodigious jumps, legs strong and endurance high, so a physical challenge of this nature should present no issues for him.

Varshahn experimented, shifting himself forward and back with each stroke, until he found the angle that made him moan as Estinien's cock pressed against that spot within him. Holding that position, Varshahn began to rise and fall over Estinien, picking up speed and force as he went, until he all but bounced on Estinien's lap.

It felt glorious, and Estinien had to grit his teeth to hold his own control. He stroked Varshahn's cock in time with the thrusts, and rocked his hips up to meet each downward push and add a tiny bit more force.

Moans and cries resounded in the room, and Estinien lost track of who made what sound. The only thing that mattered was the heated rub of flesh against flesh, cocks straining as they grew harder still, each thrust pushing them closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Estinien had expected Varshahn's control to break quickly, new as the avatar was to any sort of sexual stimulation. He'd forgotten to account for Vrtra's intense focus, however, and the wrym seemed determined to hold back his release as long as possible to experience every last drop of pleasure.

In the end it was Estinien who lost his composure first, crying out as he slammed his hips upward and his cock throbbed with the force of his release. Hot seed pulsed into Varshahn's body, and Estinien unintentionally tightened his grip on the other man's cock until it must surely push the edge of pain.

Or not; Varshan gave a startled shout that verged perilously close to a scream as the tight grasp pushed him over the edge as well. Thick white globs of sticky liquid splashed Estinien's abdomen and chest, an impressive volume and force of ejaculation.

"Oh!" Varshahn grunted as he came. "Oh, oh, oh! Estinien!" With one final cry he collapsed to sprawl over Estinien, heavy weight pressing him into the mattress.

Panting, Estinien struggled for coherence, or at least the strength to move. Finally he managed to wrap his arms around Varshahn, cradling the avatar close. His softening cock slipped out of the other man's body, and they both moaned softly.

"Oh," Varshahn exclaimed once more, soft and wondering this time. "I see. Yes, I do see. That was... absolutely remarkable."

"Yes, it was." If Estinien had ever found a release quite so satisfying before, he'd forgotten the occasion.

"May we do that again?" Varshahn asked eagerly. "As soon as possible, please. If you don't mind?"

"I may have created a monster," Estinien muttered, stroking the length of the other man's spine. This time when his fingers glided over scales, it felt perfectly natural. "Yes, we may do that again. As soon as possible. But first we must rest, unless they've built your body to be different from a normal man's. I cannot rise again so soon."

"No, it seems unwilling to respond now," Varshahn confessed, clearly disappointed. He pushed up to his hands and knees, and Estinien tightened his grip in startled protest, halting the avatar's movement.

"Leaving already?" Estinien asked, surprised and a touch hurt. He mentally rolled his eyes at himself for the latter emotion. The wyrm could not be expected to know, or even follow, mortal conventions in such matters. "You're welcome to stay until morning."

He'd never invited a lover to do so before, but the promise of a second round come morning was too much temptation to resist.

"Oh? I would like that," Varshahn agreed, though he did not lie down again. "You may be disturbed to have this body near you through the night, however. Once it goes into a restive state, I will pull my attention from it and pursue other tasks."

Of course. Dragons of Vrtra's age slept but rarely, though when they did so they might slumber through an entire mortal generation. And with Vrtra's attention elsewhere, the avatar might well be disturbingly similar to a breathing corpse, completely unresponsive.

"Let's try it," Estinien said, though he wasn't entirely sure of the wisdom. "If I find it too unsettling, I'll move to my bedroll for the night, and we won't do it again. But I should very much like to have you again as soon as possible, and that requires you to be present."

"Very well." Varshahn smiled at him, and settled down on the other side of the bed. "I look forward to seeing what more you have to show me."

"There is still so much more," Estinien promised him. He'd never been so eager for a repeat performance in his life.

It occurred to him that he might be getting into this dangerously far over his head. Yet he regretted not a single thing they'd done so far; indeed, the regret would have come from not having this glorious experience.

So long as he remembered this was all in the spirit of fun and exploration, he'd be fine. Nobody in Ishgard need ever know he'd consorted so with a wyrm, and eventually Vrtra would get the curiosity out of his system. Hopefully that would occur about the time Estinien began feeling restless, because such would surely happen sooner or later. He had no intention of settling down, after all.

No matter how much fun this liaison was in the moment, it's not as though it could go anywhere further.

Chapter Text

The next morning Estinien found himself awoken in a most pleasant fashion. Vrtra returned his attention to Varshahn in the hour just before dawn, and apparently decided the fastest way to rouse Estinien as well would be applying his hand to Estinien's cock.

As wake-up calls went, 'twas by far the best Estinien had ever received. He rewarded the wyrm for taking initiative, by rolling them over and fucking the avatar hard and fast, to both their enjoyment. Indeed, Estinien had to pry Varshahn off him so he could clean up and go about his daily tasks.

He was sorry to see the avatar chose once again not to join the Radiant Host for the day's training. Perhaps the creation needed some kind of maintenance or recharging after such vigorous use? The notion had Estinien smirking for half the morn - right up until it occurred to him that if such was the case, sex would be off the table after any time Vrtra joined the Scions in battle.

They took a break for lunch, and it was then that Varshahn finally appeared. In his adult body, so hopefully that meant he didn't need too much time between 'exercise'.

"Estinien, may I speak with you in private?" the avatar requested politely. He seemed tense, which was rather worrying. Vrtra was the most easy-going dragon Estinien had ever encountered, and Varshahn even more so, always calm and collected except in the most extreme of circumstances.

If Vrtra was so upset that it showed in his avatar's body, that boded nothing good.

"Of course." Gulping down the last of his curry, Estinien returned the dish to the cooks and followed Varshahn out of the mess hall. They entered one of the small meeting rooms used by the Radiant Host...

... and Estinien found himself thrust up against the door, Varshahn's mouth hot and hungry on his, hands clenched around the sides of his breastplate to hold him still for the attack.

Startled but not in the least dismayed, Estinien returned the kiss with equal fervour. Through the thick leather of his trousers he could feel Varshahn's rigid cock grinding against him, prompting his own to begin rising.

Sadly, air became a pressing priority, and finally Estinien had to tear his mouth away ere his lungs burst. Varshahn didn't even seem winded; for all Estinien knew, the construct need not breathe at all save to speak.

Which brought up all kinds of intriguing possibilities involving Varshahn's mouth and Estinien's cock, actually.

"Eager for it already, are you?" Estinien chuckled. "Here I thought something was wrong. Couldn't wait a few more hours?"

"How does one ever accomplish aught else?" Varshahn demanded. "I cannot stop thinking about it. The need consumes me."

"Well, I suppose we're a bit more accustomed to dealing with it," Estinien conceded. "Fury knows young males first awakening to their body's needs are nigh infamous for thinking of little else. You skipped the need to go through puberty, and are paying for it now."

"Tis not comfortable to walk about in such state," Vrtra complained. "I fear someone shall notice and comment."

"Try using the other body, then," Estinien suggested. "I think 'tis too young to be roused by such thoughts. Though I'm no good judge of age among Au Ra, so mayhap I am wrong."

Varshahn rolled his eyes, a gesture he must have picked up from the mortals around him, because it was not one used by dragons. "I speak not of the avatar's condition. And I have already attempted that solution."

Estinien's eyes went wide as he contemplated what a cockstand might look like on a wyrm of Vrtra's great size. Yes, that would likely be both very awkward and very noticeable. Estinien found he was rather curious to see it for himself, though he'd never be so crass as to say so.

Not for any prurient reason, but out of sheer inability to imagine the scale of it. The next time he heard some uncouth male bragging in a tavern about the size of his supposedly prodigious cock, Estinien would be hard put not to start a brawl by laughing in their face.

"I thought dragons were not aroused by the idea of sex unless a mating was imminent?" Estinien dared to tease.

"We aren't," Vrtra replied, his tone cross. "However, it appears that now I am aware of how pleasurable it can be, the reactions of this body are reflected in mine own."

It probably shouldn't seem as funny as it did. Estinien had to admit the wyrm had a true dilemma. But it was just so bloody hilarious.

"Well, the solution is a combination of getting it out of your system when necessary, and accustoming yourself to longer and longer periods of restraint," he managed to say with a relatively straight face.

"Yes, getting it out of my system is what I had hoped to accomplish," Varshahn replied with a determined gleam in his eyes. "But you continue to persist in talking." He dove in for another kiss ere Estinien could reply.

Chuckling against the other man's lips, Estinien gave way. Working one hand between them, he squeezed his fingers around the iron bar of Varshahn's member. The avatar groaned and thrust against the pressure of Estinien's hand, frantic.

Actual sex while in plate armour was nigh impossible, and they'd neither the time nor the security to start stripping. Though it didn't seem like Varshahn had gotten that memo, his hands fumbling impatiently with the straps that held Estinien's pauldrons in place.

Apparently Estinien was going to have to introduce a great wyrm to the concept of a 'quickie'.

"This isn't the place for that," he murmured, catching Varshahn's hands and directing him away from the armour. When Varshahn growled at him, an animalistic sound that Estinien knew came more from Vrtra than the avatar, he chuckled. "I didn't say I was refusing. Unless you want to wait fifteen minutes to get all the damned armour off. I have a faster idea."

Varshahn narrowed his eyes as if suspicious, but nodded. Estinien shifted them so the avatar was the one with his back to the door, then sank to his knees. Varshahn looked down at him with a puzzled and impatient expression.

Smirking, Estinien shoved the man's tunic aside, unlaced his brais, and withdrew that iron rod from within. Then he leaned forward and swallowed as much of it as he could take, before drawing slowly back so that his lips slid over the sensitive flesh on the way out.

With a strangled noise, Varshahn fisted his hands in Estinien's hair and rocked his hips up, trying frantically to get his cock back into Estinien's mouth. Varshahn was strong, but Estinien was determined and experienced. He ignored the pull on his hair and continued his work, licking with his tongue on the way back down, then sucking as he pulled off again.

After just a few bobbing motions, he had to pull back entirely to look up and scold, "Cover your mouth with your hand, if you cannot remain quiet. Else you'll have people piling in here to find out what the fuss is."

"How am I meant to remain quiet whilst you do such a thing?" Varshahn demanded, eyes wide.

"Well, I'm like to take it as an insult if you could," Estinien acknowledged, lips curving. "Which is why I told you to hush yourself physically." He waited pointedly until Varshahn released his hair with one hand in order to cover his own mouth. Only then did Estinien return to his task.

The avatar's cock was thick enough to stretch his lips and long enough that Estinien could not take in the whole length of it without choking. He'd heard there were some who could suppress such a reflex, but he'd never learned the trick. Even so, he took pride in his 'work', giving it his very best as he used every trick he knew to blow the wyrm's mind.

As he worked with his mouth, Estinien reached down with one hand to unlace his own trousers, then gripped his cock with a firm hand. He stroked in time with his actions on Varshahn, teasing them both with a slow pace.

With his other hand he fondled the avatar's balls, playing with the taut globes beneath velvety skin, rolling them together in his hand or even tugging them gently away from the man's body. In short order Varshahn began to tremble, his cock jerking in Estinien's mouth as he moaned against the poor gag of his hand.

Though tempted to draw things out and torture the wyrm, Estinien knew they hadn't time for such play. Later, mayhap. He quickened his pace, lashing the head of Varshahn's cock with his tongue and squeezing his own dick as he did so.

Varshahn came first, groaning long and loud as he spilled his seed over Estinien's tongue. Estinien followed him over the edge but moments later, moaning his appreciation around Varshahn's cock, which wrung one last spurt of fluid from the avatar.

Once Varshahn's cock began to soften, Estinien let it slip from between his lips, and leaned back on his heels to smirk up at the other 'man'. "Better, I trust?" he asked, making no effort to hide his smug demeanour.

"Indeed." Varshahn sighed with gratitude and contentment. "My thanks. Oh, but what about you?" He pushed up off the door, looking down at Estinien with a worried gaze. "Tis poor thanks should I leave you in such state."

"No matter, I took care of it," Estinien assured him. He rose back to his feet, gesturing to his open fly.

"You... how?" Varshahn stared at Estinien's softening cock, as if the wonders of the universe had been arrayed before him.

"With my hand, obviously. We've not time to indulge in a return round." Whan Varshahn only continued to gape, Estinien raised an eyebrow at him. "Had you not worked out that you can find release without assistance?"

"Nobody mentioned that part!" Varshahn asserted, seeming cross at the belated revelation. "How was I meant to intuit it?"

The same way every teen boy of every race figured it out - through trial and error, and sheer pressure of need. However, Estinien forbore to say as much. Vrtra wasn't like to welcome teasing in this moment, his countenance made that clear.

"Well, you can do it yourself," he said instead, though he struggled mightily to keep a straight face. "Tis not near as satisfying as doing so with another's help, but it does well enough when needed."

Sighing, Varshahn fumbled to right his clothes. "I shall keep it in mind. 'Twill at least save me from having to seek you out thrice in a day."

Once they were both decent - or as close to it as they could get, considering Varshahn's beautiful flush and desire-blown pupils - Estinien caught the other man's chin in his hand. "I hope you don't decide I'm not worth the effort if you can do it alone," he purred, leaning close so his mouth brushed Varshahn's as he spoke.

"Not at all," Varshahn promised, and closed the last ilm of distance to kiss him. They allowed their tongues to tangle one last time, ere the wyrm pulled away with another sigh. "I suppose we must return ere anyone comes in search."

Estinien nodded with all solemnity. "You go ahead. I'll leave a few minutes later, and hopefully avoid awkward questions if anyone sees us both emerge looking rather dishevelled."

He watched Varshahn leave, then counted to twenty to be sure the avatar was out of hearing range. Then he counted again, just to be certain.

Once he was sure it was safe, Estinien let go of his iron control and nigh laughed himself sick at the look on the avatar's face when Vrtra realized there was such a thing as masturbation.

Laughing until he gasped for air was becoming a frequent occurrence around the avatar, and rather out of character for Estinien, but he would not trade this experience for all the riches in the world.

To his pleasure, Vrtra apparently had time to spare his attention that afternoon, for Varshahn appeared at the Radiant Host training ground with lance in hand once more. The would-be dragoons greeted him with gladness and great cheer, and practice went well for the rest of the day.

Varshahn was attentive to his soldiers as before, but he kept sliding sly little glances towards Estinien. The direction of his prurient thoughts was clear in the increasing heat in his eyes, the way his gaze lingered on Estinien whenever he demonstrated some new technique or drill - and the avatar's eyes were not on his face or hands, but rather lower down.

Estinien smirked any time he caught the wyrm looking, and might have put a little extra flex into his muscles as he demonstrated. He'd never thought himself a tease, but Varshahn's response was so very pure and intense, Estinien could not resist showing off for him.

If any of the trainees noted the odd interplay 'twixt their commander and their ruler, they forbore to comment. At the end of the day spirits were high, and they smiled and chattered amongst themselves as they trailed out of the training grounds, nodding to both Estinien and Varshahn as they passed by.

Once the last had gone and he stood alone in the big space with the avatar, Estinien raised an eyebrow at Varshahn. "I'm glad to have you back. You raise their morale just by being here, and so obviously approving of their efforts."

"They work so hard." Varshahn smiled. "They shall be excellent dragoons. It almost makes me wish I'd had a brood of mine own, that they might carry my soldiers into the skies as 'twas meant to be."

"They are your brood," Estinien observed. "You dote upon them with the pride of a parent, at least. You watch over and care for them no less than if they were of your own flesh and blood. Mayhap someday mortal and dragon will fight side by side again, and 'tis like to be your dragoons atop the brood of one of your siblings."

Varshahn looked startled, then thoughtful. "Mayhap you have the right of it," he said slowly. "I certainly feel no less protective of my people than any dragon mother of her eggs. I but rarely feel the lack of any offspring in my life."

"Are you here for your lesson?" Estinien asked, changing the heavy subject ere they could grow any more maudlin. He smirked. "Not been neglecting your lance training due to the other new exercises I've taught you?"

"I've set the avatar to drilling in my moments of inattention, as promised," Varshahn laughed. "Though 'tis at times distinctly uncomfortable."

Of course Estinien's eyes dropped to Varshahn's crotch, where a tent did indeed strain the fabric once again. "You are insatiable," he commented, chuckling. "Were you sporting that through the whole practice?"

"I managed to compose myself for the most part," Varshahn responded, eyes glinting with heat.

"Well, you may compose yourself again, for we're not done with our work yet," Estinien declared ruthlessly. At Varshahn's astonished and protesting noise, Estinien gave him an imperious look. "Think you are the first overly horny young male I've trained? I warned you at the start, I shall not take it easy on you if you wish to learn from me."

"You are cruel," Varshahn complained, but swung his lance off his back and took a ready position. Then he chuckled. "Though I doubt any of your past trainees were 'horny' in quite the manner of a dragon or an Au Ra."

It took Estinien a moment to realize the wyrm spoke of literal horns, and then he smiled reluctantly. "Mayhap not. Now, show me those drills, let's see if your form has improved."

To Vrtra's credit, the wyrm focused his attention properly on the lesson once begun. He applied himself with the same zeal as before, absorbing all Estinien had to offer and improving upon it of his own accord.

By the end of the two hours, Estinien was more than pleased with the wyrm's progress. Vrtra had sharpened his form and increased the power of his jumps noticeably, even from only one previous lesson.
"You bid fair to put me to shame," Estinien said wryly, waving to call a halt to the drills. "In very little time, to boot. Careful, or you'll make me feel inadequate."

There was a tiny sliver of true uncertainty buried beneath the jest, if he was being honest with himself. Estinien had spent his entire life training to be the best of the best. With the power of Nidhogg's eye, the Azure Dragoon soared far above any mere mortal.

But Varshahn was no mere mortal. Estinien no longer reigned uncontested at the top of the dragoon food chain.

"Tis not a competition," Varshahn protested, smiling. "Why would I make it so, when we are a far more powerful opponent working together, with you upon my back? These drills can only serve to improve our synergy, as I better understand your style."

"True." The thought was cheering. They did make a rather terrifying combination, and fighting from atop Vrtra's broad back was a heady thing indeed. It felt like Estinien could finally reach his true potential, and it became obvious that dragoons were indeed meant to fight alongside dragons, not against them.

The entirety of the skies opened up before them, and none could hope to challenge their supremacy in it.

"Now," Varshahn said, gaze heating yet again. He ran a hand down Estinien's chest, though sadly the armour prevented him from feeling the touch. "Where were we, ere you so callously interrupted the fun with practicality."

Though part of him was tempted to let the wyrm continue on his current trajectory, Estinien caught the avatar's hand and prevented him from going lower. "Not here," he cautioned. "We are painfully in public. Even if nobody comes into the training grounds, we shall emerge covered in dust and dishevelled in a manner that makes it quite clear we were not only tussling for training."

Curious, Varshahn tipped his head. "Are you ashamed for others to know of our relationship?" he asked, sadness darkening his crimson eyes. "Is this to do with your religious strictures against men together?"

Hesitating, Estinien contemplated the issue. "The answer to that is very complex," he said slowly. "Though I have never ascribed to the notion that the Fury cares aught for what her followers do in bed between consenting adults, still I have had to live my life wary of discovery by the Inquisition. Caution is ingrained, and I misdoubt I shall ever be comfortable displaying affection publicly."

He paused, then chuckled darkly. "Then again, I think I should be not much less inclined to show public affection to a female companion, if for some reason I ever chose to take one. I am a private person by nature."

Varshahn appeared to consider that with all due seriousness. At last he nodded slowly. "I accept that your natural reservation means you wish to be circumspect, and I shall do my best to respect that going forward. But I hope you shall never feel guilt or shame in our union."

A twinge of discomfort surprised Estinien. He did feel some hesitation, deep down in his soul. Not only at the idea of being with a wyrm, something that should feel like an abomination to any good child of Ishgard. There was also his own personal history to consider, and no matter how many times Vrtra insisted he did not consider Estinien's past actions to be an obstacle between them, Estinien could not quite make himself believe it.

"I worry how your people would receive the idea," he finally said, which was at least part of the truth. "I am an outsider, and regardless of your feelings about the matter, I am a dragon-slayer as well. They might well resent or be suspicious of my influence over you."

The sadness in Varshahn's eyes deepened into true sorrow. "I wish that you could see yourself as I do, Estinien. The purity of your spirit, the depth of your honour, the greatness of your heart. Full well have you won the loyalty of many and more of my people, soldiers and civilians both. Mayhap some shall take more time to warm up to you, but those who matter know the truth. All except you, yourself."

To have someone Estinien respected as much as he did Vrtra say such things of him left him floundering for a response. He couldn't exactly argue that the wyrm was wrong, though neither could he simply agree with such outrageous praise.

"You see me as you wish me to be," he finally said. "And I would fain live up to your expectations, but I fear I shall disillusion you sooner or later."

Varshahn's smile was enigmatic. "I suppose only time shall tell who has the right of it. In the meantime, if this location is too public for your tastes, might I suggest we repair unto your chambers instead?"

"Fiend," Estinien accused him, chuckling. He was glad for the diversion, and not unwilling to follow the wyrm's lead. "You're going to wear me out at this rate. Yes, very well, let's go to my room. Dinner can wait a bit."

As they headed out of the arena, Varshahn rested a hand at the small of Estinien's back. It could have been a friendly touch, so he did not object, yet it felt distinctly possessive.

He found he did not mind the sly claiming in the least.

Chapter Text

They could not spend every free moment fucking - despite Varshahn's attempts at times to convince Estinien otherwise. If the avatar had his way, they'd snatch their meals on the way to Estinien's quarters and eat as quickly as possible, ere resuming amorous activities.

Estinien put his foot down, however, and eventually Varshahn rumbled a sigh and agreed. So instead, whenever Vrtra had the attention to spare in the evening, they would go out to eat or wander the markets.

Estinien already knew the wyrm enjoyed being out among his people, or he'd not have created his avatar system in the first place. He also knew how easy it was in the first flush of frantic arousal to forget all about the rest of life's simpler pleasures. After the initial grumbling, Vrtra appeared to realize Estinien was correct, and stopped trying to rush them back to the bed chamber.

On one such evening, they entered the meyhane to find an unusually tense atmosphere. Mehryde herself hurried over to greet them, as she usually did when Varshahn accompanied Estinien, but this time her focus was not on the satrap.

"Ser Estinien," she said with a smile too obviously forced. "I could mayhap use your assistance, if you've a moment to spare?"

"Of course," he agreed immediately. She'd been a good hostess to him over the past moons, oft times sending a drink or dessert on the house to thank him for his frequent custom - and the fact that having one of the Saviours of the End of Days as a regular was a big pull for other customers.

"What troubles you?" he asked, scanning the room with a sharp gaze for problems. She nodded discreetly to one side of the meyhane, where two long tables held large groups.

"Some of your countrymen have arrived in search of trade goods, hoping to form alliances now that Coerthas has opened its borders," she said. "Unfortunately, they seem to have taken exception to the number of Au Ra in the city. They refused service from my Auri girls, insisted on a Hyur waitress."

Fantastic. Just what Ishgard needed, a bunch of hidebound merchants making all of them look racist. "I'm not sure what help I might offer, save cracking their heads together to try to knock some sense into them."

A hint of a real smile entered her eyes. "Would that I could see that," she chuckled. "You're famous in your home, are you not? Would not a good word from the Azure Dragoon who ended the Dragonsong War mayhap put them into a more receptive frame of mind? I fear they may start a brawl with those guards at the next table over, elsewise."

There was indeed a large group of off-duty Radiant Host guards, both Au Ra and Hyur, sitting nearby to the Ishgardian contingent. Estinien recognized all of them from among his trainees, and they yet had their lances strapped to their backs.

The signs of an imminent bar brawl were clear to anyone who knew how to read the room. The patrons at both tables eyed one another with disfavour, muttering comments to their fellows and sniggering, doubtless insults and unkind jokes. Soon enough voices would rise, someone would take offense where offense was most assuredly meant to be given, and then fists would fly.

Sighing, Estinien looked at Varshahn. "You see if you can soothe the ruffled feathers among the Host," he murmured. "I'll speak with my blockheaded countrymen. I swear, I am not the only open-minded person in all of Ishgard."

Varshahn smiled. "Well do I know it, my friend. If need be, offer them the hospitality of the palace; mayhap that shall sweeten their temperament."

"Careful, or every Ishgardian will expect such royal treatment should they come here," Estinien chuckled, and moved towards the table full of glowering Elezen.

"Gentlemen. My lady," he greeted the gathered men and one woman. "Tis good to see fellows so far from home. Might I treat you to a round?"

They turned their attention from the Au Ra to him, and their eyes widened. Estinien was out of armour, so he didn't necessarily expect to be recognized, but the woman leapt to her feet and pointed at him. "Heretic! ‘Tis the corrupt Azure!"

Too late, Estinien saw what he'd missed beneath the table - hanging from her girdle was a sigil every man, woman and child in the Holy See would recognize instantly. It had been a symbol of terror and oppression for far too long.

The Halonic Inquisition.

Cursing, Estinien stepped back out of weapon's reach as the whole group scrambled to stand and take a protective formation around the Inquisitor. No, Inquisitors, plural - two of the men also wore the symbol, whilst the rest sported the gear of regular ecclesiastical guards.

Estinien's hand went to the small of his back, where the haft for his lance should have been, but he'd not anticipated trouble this eve. It wasn't his habit to go armed for dinner at the meyhane.

"Cursed traitor," one of the men spat at him - literally spat, a glob of liquid landing on Estinien's tunic. "You betrayed Ishgard! You, her most sacred guardian, turned to dragon worship, and now the beasts roam the streets in the heart of the Holy See!"

Well, that was one way of interpreting events. "Your doctrine is proven false," Estinien reminded them through gritted teeth. "Even the Church now admits the truth of our history."

"Lies," the woman accused. "Filthy lies, one and all. That misbegotten patricide killed the Archbishop, and drove out we few faithful. Now the Church is populated by monsters and boot-lickers, spouting the heresy fed to them by their new Dravanian masters."

The scathing comment about Aymeric did more to boil Estinien's temper than all the rest of the nonsense combined. With a snarl, he warned them, "Your beliefs are your own, and unlike you I do not seek to force mine upon others. But you shall guard your tongue on the matter of the Lord Commander, or I shall not guard my fists."

"Is it true, then?" The remaining male Inquisitor spoke for the first time, in a surprisingly mild tone. He wore a sword at his hip, hoplon on his back, and the full plate armour of a knight. "There is an unholy union 'twixt the Azure Dragoon and the Lord Commander? I had given the rumours little credence, but now I see I dismissed them too soon."

The light of fanaticism burned in his eyes. The other two were the type who'd become Inquisitors for the power of the position, and now raged at the loss of that power. He was the dangerous one - the True Believer, whom naught could sway.

He wasn’t the first to accuse Estinien and Aymeric of being ‘unnaturally close’, and doubtless would not be the last. As if unrelated men could not love one another without also being lovers. Half the reason Estinien even now avoided any hint of his ‘deviancy’ getting out was because he knew people would take it as proof that Aymeric must be the same.

"Is there a problem?" Varshahn sounded reasonable, even friendly, if one did not know him well enough to sense the steel beneath his sweet tone. "Please, my friends, let us have peace in the meyhane. This is not a place for arguments and battles."

"Silence, cur," the woman snapped. "We shall not hear the lies of Dravanian scum such as you. Your words are but wind to our ears, howling and empty."

A thunderous clatter of armour and boots heralded the Radiant Host surging to their feet in protest. "You shall not speak to our satrap in such manner," the ranking sergeant, an Auri male, snarled. "Apologize this instant."

"Stand down," Estinien barked. The force of command in his voice, combined with the habit of obeying him now ingrained after weeks of training, made the would-be dragoons back off a step, but not far enough.

Worse, it betrayed his relationship to them. The first male Inquisitor sneered. "The truth comes out, I see. You serve the wyrm, and train his Host. Mean you to invade Ishgard? I doubt not the dragons would love to see the Holy See razed to the ground by our own sacred techniques."

"The dragons taught us those 'sacred techniques' in the first place," Estinien retorted. "The Order of Dragoons existed long ere King Thorden was but a gleam in his father’s eye."

"That is true," Vrtra agreed. "I fought with dragoons on my back in the war between Meracydia and the Allagans, some two millennia ere the Dragonsong War began."

"You're not helping," Estinien growled at him, but the damage was done.

The fanatic stared at Varshahn. "You fought with dragoons... on your back? And they call you satrap... you are the wyrm itself?" A smile stretched his lips, too wide and wild to be sane. "Brother, sister, it seems we have been granted an unprecedented opportunity. Far too good to pass up."

Years of finely honed battle instincts saved Estinien's life; he felt the aether gather 'round the female Inquisitor, and his hind brain shouted 'move!' ere his conscious could begin to understand what he'd felt. He shoved Varshahn out of the way and then leapt; the bolt of fire from the mage’s hand just missed the bottom of his feet as the woman aimed where the pair had been but a moment before.

With a backflip, Estinien landed on his feet on the far side of the Hosts' table. "Weapon!" he demanded, and three quick-witted trainees shoved their spears at him in an instant. He grabbed the nearest, then launched himself back up and forward, driving his lance point towards the mage's heart.

The shield of one of the guards deflected him, and then the meyhane dissolved in chaos. Patrons and waiters scattered, screaming, as the Host and the Church collided in the midst of the open area. Swords rang, shields clashed, and lances were everywhere.

At one point Estinien spotted Varshahn standing with borrowed sword and shield, protecting the last of the civilians as they fled. The avatar looked regal and fierce, and Estinien felt a shocking moment of pride that such a beautiful creature had taken him for a lover.

The instant of distraction let the male mage slam him with a stone spell. Estinien cursed as the battering ram of rock struck his side, unprotected by armour. He lashed out, but was again deflected. The low roof of the meyhane prevented him from using any of his usual tricks to plunge into the heart of the fight; he had to go through the outer ring of guards like anyone else, and they were well trained and well armed.

Shrill whistles sounded from the doors to the city; a moment later a much larger contingent of the Radiant Host came pouring in. Unlike the diners, this lot was fully armed and armoured, and they surrounded the Ishgardians in moments.

Facing overwhelming numbers, the Inquisition members looked like they'd prefer to keep fighting, but stood down one by one. The fanatic was the last, and Estinien almost hoped the bastard would keep fighting and give the Host an excuse to put him down. One less homicidal madman in the world could only be a good thing.

In the end, however, even the fanatic sheathed his sword and raised his hands in surrender. Estinien was somewhat disconcerted to also find himself inside that ring of pointed swords and lances. Did they mistake him for one of the Inquisition's group? Or did they know exactly who he was, and suspect him of siding with his countrymen in secret?

"Lay down your weapons," Varshahn declared, in his most commanding tone. He stepped forward to stand next to Estinien, and rested his hand over Estinien's on the lance haft, pressing lightly to indicate he meant Estinien to stand down as well.

The fanatic's lip curled as he eyed their joined hands. "Does your depravity know no bounds?" he sneered at Estinien. "You would lie not only with other men, but with a wyrm? Have you no shame? You are a dishonour to the title of Azure!"

"And you are a dishonour to Ishgardians everywhere," Estinien snapped back. He swung the lance into position at his back, but stood ready to jump again if needed.

"Your Excellency?" Nahbdeen moved forward, hand on his sword hilt though he’d not yet drawn the weapon. "What would you like us to do with these curs?"

Varshahn regarded the Ishgardians with the cold, distant gaze of a ruler who'd been wronged. The great wyrm that he was loomed large in his eyes. "Take them to Yedlihmad," Vrtra ordered. "Ensure they board the first boat off the island not crewed by our people. I care not where 'tis headed. They are not welcome here, now or ever."

"If I may," Estinien murmured. Varshahn glanced at him, and nodded. "See you the symbol several of them wear? Ensure copies of that design are given to the Host at the ports. None who yet cling to the ways of the Inquisition should be welcomed upon these shores. They can have no good purpose in this place."

"See to it," Vrtra instructed Nahbdeen. The general nodded, and gestured to several of the other men and women of the Host. Stalking forward, the muscular Au Ra snatched the sigil from the woman’s belt.

"You heard His Excellency," Nahbdeen said. "Take them to the port."

Though the Inquisition members protested and objected, they were dragged away. Was it Estinien's imagination that several of the Host gave him uneasy glances as they passed? He could not blame them. There was a time when he’d believed much the same as those in the Inquisition; that all dragons were evil, mindless beasts to be exterminated.

"Estinien." Varshahn's voice was low and intent. When Estinien met the avatar's gaze, Varshahn seemed almost... sad? "You are not like them. Nobody here doubts that."

Estinien's spine stiffened. Did he wear his thoughts upon his face like some callow youth? Or did Vrtra just have that much insight into him now that they'd shared pleasure? The latter thought wasn't much less disturbing than the former, though at least more palatable.

"You may not doubt it," he grumbled in return. "I'm not so sure of every member of the Host."

"Then they shall learn," Vrtra insisted, unperturbed. "As I have. You are a man of great honour, and none who know you can believe aught else."

To Estinien's astonishment, he felt his cheeks heat at the compliment. Like a maiden swooning over her knight, flustered and blushing. What in the Fury's name was wrong with him?

Slowly Varshahn smiled, a dark and wicked expression he'd never sported ere Estinien taught him about the pleasures of sex. "Since it seems we shall not be finding sustenance here, mayhap we should retire to the palace? I can think of several ways to prove my belief in you, if need be."

"I bet you can," Estinien replied with a reluctant smile of his own. "You've developed an entirely one track mind."

The avatar's eyes lit up with amusement. "What can I say? You are an excellent teacher, and I an eager student."

Nahbdeen coughed, but when Estinien glanced over, the man's expression was stern as ever. He was hard to read at the best of times, and seemed to be actively hiding his feelings now. Had he heard the murmured conversation between his ruler and Estinien, and divined its meaning? If so, did he approve, or disapprove?

Impossible to know. Estinien tried not to assume the worst, but if anyone was like to object to the satrap engaging in intimate relations with the infamous dragon-killer of a potentially hostile nation, Nahbdeen would doubtless head the list. Especially immediately after the Ishgardian Inquisition tried to attack the very dragon the man served with such devotion.

Vrtra might be insane enough not to hold a grudge against the man who killed his brood brother, but that didn't mean everyone would feel the same.

Chapter Text

Estinien's life fell into a pattern - a pleasant one, though certainly not one he ever could have predicted for himself. He trained each day, first by himself and then with the Radiant Host. If Vrtra had the attention to spare, Varshahn would come either to help with the Host, or for his own training afterwards.

Then, if Vrtra still had the time, they would seek dinner together, and oft passed the evening in each other's presence. A few times, when Vrtra needed his full focus on his work but still wished to share company with Estinien, the wyrm even invited Estinien to his throne room for the evening. Estinien brought along a book or tended to his armour, and they spent the hours companionably together.

Estinien surprised himself with how much he enjoyed that time in the dragon's company. What difference did it make whether he read alone in his own quarters, or with the dragon elsewise occupied in the room? He'd never been the type of social butterfly to need others around him always. Far from it, he preferred his solitude for the most part.

Yet he could not deny that there was a sort of comfort to be found in those quiet hours together.

And inevitably, when it came time to dim the lights and retire for the night, Varshahn would join Estinien in his bed for an entirely different sort of pleasure. Those hours could not be described as 'comfortable' or 'quiet' by any stretch of the imagination.

Vrtra also began to invite Estinien to all his councils of war, asking him to sit in on meetings with the general of the Radiant Host to plan maneuvers, discuss the status of the army, and other such martial tasks. Estinien couldn’t fathom why his presence was desired, but he gave his input and opinions when asked.

Mayhap Vrtra wished for the fresh perspective and new ideas that could only be provided by an outsider? Whatever the reason, Estinien didn't mind attending. Though such briefings had never been his favourite part of commanding the Order of Dragoons, he was well accustomed to them and even found a certain challenge in it. Orchestrating such a large force was no easy task.

Over time, however, suspicion began to grow in his mind. Estinien ignored the thought at first, certain his imagination was running away with him. As Vrtra drew him further and further into the wyrm's inner circle, however, Estinien had to wonder. Finally he confronted his companion about it one night over dinner.

"Are you grooming me to take Nahbdeen's position as head of the Radiant Host?" Estinien demanded, not bothering to dance around the issue.

Varshahn paused with his utensil halfway to his mouth, head cocked as he looked at Estinien curiously. "That was my intention, yes. Does the idea upset you so much?"

Putting down his own utensil with more force than was warranted, Estinien glared back, brow furrowed. "The man has been naught but loyal to you, and served you well. You would oust him for the sake of an outsider? That is no fit reward for all his work on your behalf."

"What? No!" Varshahn's eyes went wide, his expression distressed. "Of course not. I had initially hoped to entice you to consider Thavnair your new home, which you might return to between your adventures. By the time Nahbdeen is ready to retire from his position with all honour, you will be known and respected among the Host and my people, and mayhap ready to settle down as my general."

Well, that was a somewhat different, and certainly less offensive, proposition. Estinien wasn't certain what the lifespan of an Au Ra was, but Elezen were generally acknowledged to be among the more long-lived of the races. Nahbdeen probably had only a few decades of good service left in him at most.

At fifty or sixty, Estinien would be edging towards middle age, still far from ready to hang up his lance. He would certainly make an excellent general for the satrapy, did he consider taking such a position. He even had previous experience leading an army, since the Azure Dragoon was head of the Order of Knights Dragoon, as well as being Ishgard's primary defence against the greater dragons.

Of course, he'd left a great deal of that work to Heustienne, preferring to be out in the field. But delegation was an important skill for a leader, too. And mayhap by that age he'd be more willing to spend large amounts of time behind a desk.

"Tis not an unappealing prospect," Estinien acknowledged slowly, thinking out loud. "I've no intention of ever returning to Ishgard, but even I shall tire of wandering someday. If you would truly trust me in such a sensitive position, I would be willing to consider it. Based on circumstances at that time, of course. However, you said 'initially'? Have you changed your mind?"

"Not as such," Vrtra hedged. "I still intend for you to be my general, if you are willing. Of course I trust you. Someday I may even convince you of that."

"But?" Estinien prompted, because there was clearly a 'but' at the end of that sentence.

Varshahn smiled, an expression that might have been labelled 'shy' on another man. Did the First Brood even know the meaning of 'shyness'? "At the risk of scaring you away by voicing it too early, I rather hope you might be interested in a second title, by then." When Estinien made an impatient gesture, Varshahn elaborated reluctantly. "The title of 'consort'."

"Con... consort?" Now Estinien gaped for another reason entirely. "Are you mad?"

"There is a reason I did not wish to speak of it, yet." Varshahn heaved a mournful sigh. "Mortals. Always so impatient. I suppose I can understand why, with your mayfly lives, but..."

"That mayfly life is exactly why you are insane to contemplate such an idea," Estinien pointed out. "I'll be dead in scarce more than a century, and you left to mourn forever. I assure you I shall not consent to being eaten to 'keep me with you', as Shiva did with Hraesvelgr!"

Varshahn blinked, and gave him the oddest look. "Dead in a century? Surely you do not believe that. Though I concede your penchant for throwing yourself eagerly into nigh impossible battles may bring about your end sooner rather than later, that 'later' is not like to be any time in the near future."

"What are you talking about?" As so often seemed to happen between them, Estinien felt as though they spoke different languages.

Laughing, Varshahn shook his head. "If the literal end of the world was not enough to kill you, 'twill take a formidable opponent indeed to fell the last Azure Dragoon. I misdoubt such a threat shall appear any time soon."

"I'm not denying my prowess in battle," Estinien said. "But there is a condition we mortals suffer from, as you yourself just mentioned, and 'tis the opponent even I cannot defeat. Old age."

"But you have defeated it," Vrtra countered, as if 'twas the most reasonable statement in the world. "You hold the power of two eyes of a great wyrm within you. You are descended from those who drank deep of the blood of still another of the First Brood. Why do you think King Thorden and his Knights Twelve were so eager to do that? Why would they risk the end of a peace that lasted for two centuries, and spark a bloody war that reigned for a millennium?"

"Out of jealousy and greed," Estinien replied. "To prove their supposed superiority, and gain the power of the great wyrms."

"And what power would that be?" Vrtra said, like a professor leading his students to the correct answer. "Yes, the Azure Dragoon is far stronger physically than any other, but that comes of bonding with Nidhogg's eyes, and only one may do that. Two, if willing to share the eyes between them. What of the rest? Why drink Ratatoskr's blood?"

Estinien stared at him, mind churning. "I always assumed they, too, gained some measure of additional strength from it, but that the blood grew thin through the generations."

Not so thin that any child of Ishgard could drink dragon's blood and not be transformed, though. 'Twas Ratatoskr's blood passed down within them that caused the horrible transformation, they knew that now. What other power was there to gain?

"Immortality," Estinien breathed out, feeling foolish for not seeing it sooner. Was this why Elezen were so long-lived? Surely not every Elezen in the world could be descended from the Knights Twelve.

Even so, ‘twas true that when not killed in battle at a tragically young age, Ishgardians were known to live even longer than most. So long that ‘twas not unusual for the heads of the High Houses to step down in favour of their heirs and go on to have another career entirely afterwards.

"They sought immortality,” Estinien repeated, now certain of the conclusion. “Yet all of them are long since dead."

"Even those of the First Brood are not unkillable," Vrtra pointed out. "We can die, as you yourself proved with Nidhogg, and your ancestors with Ratatoskr. I suspect if you looked through the histories of your high houses, you would find the founding members one and all died in battle, not of illness or age."

"And the other Azure Dragoons?" Estinien still could not wrap his mind around this. "The average lifespan of my an Azure is mayhap two decades after taking up the mantle. But there are those who age - my mentor, the man who raised me, is much older in appearance now than when first he took me in, and he bore the eye ere I did."

"He gave up the power years ago, yes?” Vrtra asked. “There is your answer. Furthermore, none since Haldrath the Betrayer have borne both of Nidhogg's eyes, save you."

Estinien winced at the brutal title for the man he'd always known as Haldrath Dragonseye. It made sense the dragons would have a far less flattering nickname for the former prince. It also made sense that as the sole Azure to wield both eyes since then, Estinien would have more access to Nidhogg's power than his predecessors.

"And," Varshahn added softly, "you are bonded to Nidhogg far more deeply than even Haldrath. You've accepted my brother's power, not merely wielded it. Even with the eyes drained of aether and physically destroyed, you lost not one whit of your abilities."

Biting his lower lip, Estinien sat back in his chair, his mind and heart a whirl. "I... I always expected I would die in battle with Nidhogg," he confessed, the words a hoarse rasp. "At best, I'd hoped to take him down with me. I had no plan beyond that, and have drifted nigh aimless since. Now you tell me I may live forever?"

"Not forever." Varshahn shrugged. "Even we don't live that long, and though you hold my brother's power, you are not truly of the First Brood. But centuries, certainly. Quite possibly millennia. If you do not get yourself killed first, as I said."

"It's a lot to take in." Estinien shook his head, utterly lost. The world had turned itself upside down, and he didn't know which way was up anymore.

He'd felt this way only twice before: once, when he'd run to his home to find it shattered, his parents and younger brother dead; again, when he realized he'd survived Nidhogg's possession and final death, against all odds, and had now lost his defining purpose in life.

Since then he'd thought of himself as living on borrowed time, and vowed to cram as many new experiences into those unexpected years as he possibly could. Now to hear that he had all the time in the world to indulge himself... he didn't know what to do with it.

And that was without even dealing with the rest of Vrtra’s statement. "Consort?" Estinien repeated again, still baffled by the very notion. "You would wish to tie yourself to me for centuries together? You barely know me. You are doing what everyone new to romance does; mistaking the pleasure of sex for love."

Varshahn laughed, a low and sensual chuckle. "Oh, Estinien. If only you could see yourself as I see you. I knew from the start that you fascinated me. I realized very early on that I wished to make you mine, in whatever way I could accomplish that. Your power is stunning, your will breathtaking, but the more I come to know of you, the more I realize that your heart is the most magnificent thing about you."

Flushing hotter and hotter as Vrtra recited his litany of praise, Estinien felt his ears burning. "That's..." he started, but the wyrm wasn't done yet, and he didn't allow Estinien a chance to make the protest.

"For the first time, I understand why Hraesvelgr bound himself so deeply to Shiva, a mere mortal," Vrtra declared, as passionate as Estinien had ever seen him. "I understand why love for her prevented him from joining in Nidhogg's crusade for vengeance against your ancestors. He saw in her what I see in you. A partner. A match for his soul. And all of that came before you introduced me to the pleasures which can be found between us."

Breathless, Estinien stared at him, too stunned to think of a reply. Many and more had pledged their troth to him in the past, but they were mere hangers-on, people attracted to the power and prestige held by the Azure Dragoon, not to Estinien himself. He had no interest in such shallow 'devotion'.

This was different. For all that Estinien protested Vrtra didn't know him, the truth was that the wyrm arguably knew him very well indeed. He saw the darker side of Estinien, knew some of the worst of his sins, yet believed in Estinien's goodness despite Estinien's crimes against the wyrm's family. That Vrtra, of all people, could think so highly of Estinien as to wish to spend centuries by his side... 'twas unfathomable.

"I need to think about all this," he finally said, which was the understatement of the year. He'd had no idea nor plan for what he wished to do with the rest of his life when he'd thought he had decades remaining at best. He needed to first come to terms with the notion that he would have so much more time than he'd expected, then decide what he wished his purpose to be now.

Mayhap that purpose could indeed involve him staying in Thavnair in a more permanent fashion, but first he needed to figure out what he even wanted.

Sighing again, Varshahn rested his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands. 'Twas an unusually casual and vulnerable pose for the formal and self-assured avatar. "And this is why I did not wish to speak of it to you yet. I intended to woo you into desiring a life here, ere I enticed you to consider any long-term commitments. Now I fear you may not want to return at all."

"I am not a coward, to run from my problems," Estinien snapped, offended by the implication that he would bolt.

"I never said such a thing, nor would I ever accuse you of such," Vrtra countered. "Only that pushing too far, too fast, might quite reasonably drive you away instead. That you view it as a 'problem' at all saddens me. I wish I had not made that slip of the tongue."

Estinien wondered how long the dragon would have waited ere deciding 'twas safe to bring the topic up. Quite possibly decades. The great wyrms were known for their patience, when they were not maddened by rage as Nidhogg had been.

Drawing a deep breath, Estinien fought to steady himself. "I shall not run away," he pledged. "I only require some time and space to gather my thoughts and come to terms with this new reality. I never expected to have to plan for centuries of life. I do not even know what I want to want."

He grimaced for the poor phrasing, but could not think of a better manner in which to put it.

"Take all the time you need," Varshahn said, his gaze sad but unwavering. "I shall be here, waiting. No matter how long it might be."

Pushing away from the table, Estinien strode for the door, and tried to pretend his hands weren't shaking. He had a feeling Vrtra meant those last words very literally. The thought of someone who would wait forever for him was unnerving and overwhelming.

All of this was unnerving and overwhelming. He didn't even know where to start sorting it out.

The one thing he was certain of was that he'd never untangle it all while here with Vrtra.

Chapter Text

Estinien honestly wasn't certain where he intended to go, when he initiated a teleport outside Meghaduta. 'Twas dangerous to use the spell without a firm destination in mind, but he needed to get away and could not clear his head enough to focus. He trusted his instincts to bring him where he needed to be.

He was rather shocked when the spell resolved and his vision returned to find himself at the Zenith aetheryte, standing before the massive statue his ancestors had erected to celebrate their alliance with the dragons.

Tipping his head back, Estinien stared up at the monument to a bygone era, trying to figure out his purpose in coming here. He'd fully expected to end up in Ishgard looking for Aymeric, or mayhap in Garlemald to speak with Alphinaud, or even in Sharlayan seeking G'raha's counsel as someone who'd lived longer than they were meant to. Not here, deep in the home territory of the Dravanians.

Was it his guilt and conflict over the death of Nidhogg that drew him hence? ‘Twas in the forefront of his mind, and had been oft these past weeks, because he still could not truly understand how Vrtra could forgive him for the crime. Or the crimes of his ancestors, for that matter.

Without the manacutter, he was stuck on the ground and unable to travel far. Only back down the path towards the Dravanian Forelands, and there was no point in going there. Certainly no point in doing so by walking, rather than utilizing the aetheryte in Anyx Trine. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to teleport away to one of the locations he'd expected to end up in.

Grumbling under his breath at his own folly, Estinien travelled to the small floating island where he, the Warrior, Alphinaud, and Ysayle had made camp once before. The firepit yet remained, cold and empty but useable. He gathered enough wood to last through the rapidly approaching night, built a fire, then settled on a log to sit before it.

He had no rations, and had walked out ere he'd scarce begun his supper with Varshahn, but without his lance and armour he dared not go hunting in this hostile land. Indeed, 'twas beyond foolish for him to remain here, yet remain he did.

The rushing sound of mighty wings above made Estinien tense. He readied himself to teleport out if an enemy had come to engage him, but the massive creature that landed at the edge of the island was just far enough within the ring of firelight for Estinien to recognize him.

Hraesvelgr. Not technically an enemy, but not necessarily friendly, either.

"Whyfor comest thou to mine abode, child of Ishgard?" the great wyrm rumbled. After so many conversations with Vrtra, Estinien had grown accustomed to the strange way in which he both heard the sounds the dragon made, and also understood the words deep in his mind. It was as if Hraesvelgr spoke directly into his brain rather than into his ears. For the Warrior of Light 'twas the echo that allowed the understanding; Estinien thought mayhap 'twas the piece of Nidhogg he carried that gave him the insight as well.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Estinien snorted with derisive amusement. "I needed to clear my head and think, and this is apparently the destination my subconscious decided was most appropriate." Though he wondered now if he'd instinctively sought this very meeting.

He half expected Hraesvelgr to fly off again at the confirmation that Estinien did not come with hostile intent. What he did not expect was for the wyrm to inquire, in a not unkind tone, "What troubleth thee so?"

Staring at the dragon, Estinien tried to process the question. "Why do you care?"

Hraesvelgr made a rough coughing sound, which Estinien now recognized from Vrtra as a laugh. "Should not I care for thy wellbeing, when to save thee I forsook my vow to abjure violence, fighting against mine own kin? Should not I have concern for the man who holdeth my brood brother's heart, as my beloved Shiva doth ever hold mine own?"

The first part, Estinien could understand the logic of. Hraesvelgr had sacrificed a great deal to save Estinien from the shade of Nidhogg's wrath, and protect the city of his enemies in the process. The second part, however, made him sputter with horror and humiliation. "H-how do you even know of that?"

"Think thee my siblings and I speakest not among each other?" Hraesvelgr shook his massive head, a ponderous motion. "I know Vrtra not well, having long since come to adulthood ere first a crack breached his egg. Yet he is my brother still. When came he to seek my counsel regarding thee, long didst we speak into the night."

Vrtra had gone to Hraesvelgr to ask him about Estinien? When had that happened? What had they talked about? Estinien scarce dared to imagine how that conversation might have gone.

"And you condone this madcap notion he has, of me becoming his consort?" Estinien demanded. "After all I and my people have done to you? For all that you saved me and Ishgard, you've made your contempt of us quite clear."

Again that coughing laugh. "Was not mine approbation and forgiveness made clear to thee, when gifted I unto thee Ratatoskr's armour? Full well hast thou made use of it. The Scourge of Worlds, the End of Days, was defeated by thee and thine, and peace brought unto the universe at last."

Estinien cocked his head, startled that Hraesvelgr knew of the battle with the Meteia. "Did the Blasphemies strike even here in Dravania?"

"Thinkest thou there are not those among my people who despair and lose hope?" Hraesvelgr sighed deeply, the wind of his breath fanning the flames into a momentary blaze. "Aye, the disaster struck here, and full many perished ere the threat was dealt with."

Estinien wondered with a sense of awful horror what power a Blasphemy created from a greater dragon might wield. Had the Warrior of Light come here to subdue it, or had Hraesvelgr and his brood managed alone?

"Even so," he murmured. "To concede that I have mayhap earned some measure of forgiveness is one thing. Quite another to approve of me as your brother's..." He struggled to find the right word. 'Consort' still didn't sit right with him; that implied some sort of political figure. 'Lover' did not carry the right depth to it.

"His mate?" Hraesvelgr supplied, and Estinien had the distinct impression the wyrm teased him. "Truly, whom shouldst be the superior candidate? Thou hast proven thou shalt fight fiercely for the sake of those thou claimest as thine own, though the odds be surely impossible - and find method to triumph despite those odds. No better protector for his people couldst he find."

"And what of Vrtra himself?" Estinien demanded. "You speak of me being his general. That is not what he now proposes. I am no fit prospect for anybody as a mate of the heart. I am surly and solitary, and..."

This time Hraesvelgr's laugh was nearly a roar. "The wellspring of thy heart runneth deep and true. So deep, thou guardest it with fury and fervour, lest thy walls be breached - for once breached, thou shalt devote thyself with all passion to the one who hath endeared themselves unto thee. What more couldst any man - or dragon - hope for from a mate?"

Flustered by the depiction, Estinien floundered once more for a response. "I shall not consent to be eaten to be nearer him," he muttered.

"My beloved had not the benefit of thy connection to the power of a great wyrm," Hraesvelgr replied. "Even had I bestowed upon her one of mine eyes, 'twould more like have overcome her than prolonged her life. Full well didst she match thee in strength of character and will, but not in strength of body. Joining her soul to mine own was the only option for her preservation available to us."

It had always disturbed Estinien, how Hraesvelgr spoke as if eating the woman had somehow kept her with him. Now, with the fresh perspective of what he'd learned in the Void, he wondered suddenly if the wyrm's words were not the literal truth.

When Voidsent consumed one another, if the one eaten had a strong enough soul, it remained within the consumer and could even cause problems. Estinien saw for himself a case where one had become as much the eaten as the eater.

Did Shiva’s soul likewise remain within Hraesvelgr, forever a part of him? For the first time, Estinien believed it possible. Small wonder the wyrm had been so certain Ysayle could not possibly be Shiva reincarnated.

Even if it were true, never would Estinien consent to such a thing. His soul was his own, and not even for Vrtra would he give it up to join with the dragon, forever subservient. He would accept nothing less than being an equal, and the very power imbalance between their souls would make that impossible if he were consumed.

That the thought crossed his mind in the form of 'even for Vrtra' probably said a great deal, however.

"Will I truly live a wyrm's lifespan?" he demanded of Hraesvelgr. "Or does Vrtra cherish a false hope on that matter?"

"Doubtest thou the truth of that?" Hraesvelgr seemed surprised by Estinien's question, just as Vrtra had been. "Age mayst one day catch up to thee, in distant future; unlike we wyrms, thy power shan't continue to grow through the centuries. Never shalt thee reach my brood-brother's strength, no matter how long thou livest. But thou shalt have many centuries and even millennia yet to come, if thou spendest thy life not recklessly."

The confirmation was less disturbing than the initial revelation had been, though Estinien still felt lost when contemplating what he might do with all that unexpected time. Even if he accepted Vrtra's proposal, being general of an army at peace would not be enough of a challenge forever.

Then again, there was naught stopping Estinien from occasionally appointing a successor, allowing him to travel for a decade or two and find new adventures, ere he returned home to Thavnair to take up his post once more. Vrtra had the patience of all the great wyrms, counting the passage of time not in days and months, but decades and centuries. He was like to accept some 'short' time apart from Estinien now and then.

Again, the realization that it was so easy to think of Thavnair as potentially being 'home' struck Estinien hard.

Sighing, he scrubbed his face with one hand. "This is all a great deal to take in," he complained. "I scarce knew what to do with myself afore I realized I'd many and more years to plan for than I could possibly imagine. I am... overwhelmed."

Not lightly did Estinien make such an admission, and there were few and fewer he'd have made it to. That Hraesvelgr counted among that number bemused him. He'd have wondered when he'd come to consider a great wyrm to be a potential confidant, except Vrtra had done so far earlier.

"Glad am I that Vrtra does have you to count upon," Estinien added. "I'd gotten the impression only Azdaja had ever been there for him, and her lost to him thousands of years ago."

"Twas she who had the raising of him," Hraesvelgr conceded. "More mother to him than sister was she. 'Tis a great service to him, and to us all, thou dost in searching for her."

So Hraesvelgr knew of that, too. Not surprising; if Vrtra had spoken to his brood brother of his feelings for Estinien, he doubtless also had mentioned their trip into the Void that began it all.

Had Vrtra had mentioned the unusually... physical nature of their relationship? Estinien decided he did not wish to ask. If Hraesvelgr was privy to intimate details about Estinien's sex life, Estinien would frankly rather not know about it.

"Do you ever regret it?" he asked instead, though he knew he was treading on painfully private territory. "Loving one of us. Even aside from the issue of longevity, surely she could never truly understand you as another dragon would. We are too different."

"Never," Hraesvelgr rumbled, the word filled with such force of conviction the sound of it fair made Estinien's ears ring. "Never have I regretted my love, and never shall I. Claimest thou lack knowledge of Vrtra unlike any other's?"

Estinien considered that. He supposed they did have a unique sort of relationship - in more ways than just the physical. Vrtra was closer to mortals than any other dragon, great wyrm or otherwise. Yet his people could never truly grow so close to him, not when they all but worshipped him, and showed him endless deference.

In turn, Estinien was unusual among mortals in his understanding of dragons in general, and the First Brood in particular. Moreover, having a mortal - even a former mortal - consort would serve a similar purpose to the previous false satraps, giving the populace someone they understood and could relate to as a ruler. They would feel more comfortable coming to him about some problems than they ever could with a dragon.

Mayhap there really could be no better option than Estinien, for a dragon such as Vrtra.

The question was, could there be a better partner out there for Estinien? If so, he could not imagine who they might be. Not least because he'd just realized that he would now have to face the death of any mortal lover. Even without that factor, however, he was hard pressed to imagine someone who would be a better fit for him.

Vrtra made him laugh more oft in the last moons than mayhap in all his life since the death of his family. For the first time since that horrible day, Estinien found himself truly looking forward to returning to a place he called ‘home’. The Holy See of Ishgard had never been a home to him, only a headquarters of sorts.

The way they fought together, on the ground or in the skies… that sensation of effortless synergy and synchronicity was addictive. Not to mention the way it made Estinien feel when Vrtra started listing his supposed good qualities. Embarrassed, aye, but also cherished in a way he had not experienced in an age.

Growling, Estinien rubbed at his face with one hand. Overthinking things was not his usual wont. He was the type of fighter who reacted on instinct in the moment, not by planning everything out ahead of time. When faced with a choice, he usually went with his gut and his heart, not his head.

'Twas his head that caused him to flee, overwhelmed by the unexpected revelations, and the monumental choice before him. His gut led him here, to mayhap the only person in all the worlds who could give him meaningful advice on the subject, rather than platitudes.

So what did his heart tell him?

Chapter Text

'Twas well into the wee hours of the morn and heading for dawn when Estinien returned to Meghaduta. His conversation with Hraesvelgr played over and over in his mind. In the few pauses between, he replayed the discussion with Vrtra instead.

And over it all repeated the question: What did his heart tell him?

Though he'd fully intended to retire to his room, he found himself wandering the main halls of the palace. As he passed deeper and deeper within, he encountered more and more Radiant Host guards. None tried to halt him; they merely nodded as he passed, and one even saluted.

At last he reached the ‘throne room’ Vrtra used to receive guests as himself. Knocking on the door, Estinien called out, "Vrtra? If you are not occupied, I would speak with you."

"Enter."

Like Hraesvelgr, Estinien 'heard' the great wyrm's voice as much with his mind as with his ears. Although, unlike his brood brother, Vrtra spoke the same sounds with his physical voice as the mental one. It should have seemed a disconcerting echo, but Estinien felt it somehow permitted a deeper understanding instead.

Estinien pushed the door open, and found the dragon curled up at the far end of the room, where once he'd lurked behind a screen as his figurehead satrap conducted meetings.

Lifting his massive head, Vrtra swung around to look at Estinien with one great eye. "Thou art returned," he observed, and seemed surprised. "In truth, full well did I expect I would not see thee again for an age."

"I said I don't run from my problems, and I meant it," Estinien retorted, piqued that the wyrm thought so little of him.

"And as I said, that thou should view it as a problem is what saddens me," Vrtra sighed. From lungs larger than an entire chocobo came a wash of warm air to fill the room, setting Estinien's hair fluttering in the breeze.

Pacing inside, Estinien flung himself down on one of the couches meant for visitors. "I spoke to Hraesvelgr."

"In truth?" Again he'd startled Vrtra. The wyrm cocked his head. "And what wisdom hath my brother on the matter?"

"Well, first and foremost he confirmed your assumption that I am like to live for a literal dragon’s age," Estinien replied dryly. "We also spoke of his bond with Shiva."

"Tis rare indeed for my brood brother to speak of his love," Vrtra rumbled. "Even with us, rarely hath he been so open. He thinks highly of thee indeed."

"To my continued shock, so it seems." Estinien shook his head. "After all my ancestors have done to him and his, that he was willing to fight his own brother to save me yet baffles me. When he gifted me with the dragoon armour designed by Ratatoskr for her own troops, to replace the drachen mail made of wyrm's blood..."

"Is that how came thee by it? I had wondered." Vrtra shifted his front end closer, resettling with his head on his forearms, within touching distance of Estinien. "A fitting gift. She'd have been pleased."

"To see the man descended from those who slaughtered her under a banner of peace, carrying the eyes of the brother he himself killed, wearing armour she had crafted for her beloved dragoons?" Estinien eyed Vrtra, not certain he believed that could be possible.

"The man who brought peace to her rage-maddened brother, who ended a thousand year slaughter of all her beloved children, who rose above his own grief and anger to see the truth and act upon it. Who now risks his own life to save a sister lost in the Void for three thousand years," Vrtra countered.

If he'd been even slightly less composed, Estinien might have sputtered at the portrayal of him as some kind of noble hero. "You are romanticizing the matter."

"And thou art downplaying it," Vrtra replied. "Can not thou simply believe that my regard and affection is real? That I know thy flaws and faults, and not only respect thee, but love thee?"

Now Estinien did sputter. No amount of composure could have saved him. ‘Love’ was not a word he expected the wyrm to be throwing about so casually. Apparently now that the matter was in the open, Vrtra no longer felt any need to be coy about his true intentions towards Estinien.

"You really mean this..." 'Nonsense' was the first term to come to mind, but a rare moment of tact made him change it. "This declaration that you wish me to be your consort? That you think me a mate suitable to you as Shiva was to Hraesvelgr?"

"I do." Vrtra rumbled the words, so deep and forceful that Estinien felt them vibrate through his bones. He said naught else, which somehow made the impact of that simple statement all the more profound.

Sighing, Estinien rubbed at his temple. He got more headaches around Vrtra than ever before in his life.

Probably because the wyrm persisted in making Estinien think about things, instead of simply marching along his predetermined path.

"I care for you," Estinien admitted, and won a pleased noise not unlike a purr from the dragon. "And I cannot deny that in a bizarre fashion, there may be nobody better for either of us than the other."

"Then that is enough for now," Vrtra interrupted, ere Estinien could tack on a 'but'. "We need not rush into an Eternal Bonding any time soon, if ever. I ask not for thine unquestioning devotion, nor thy sole focus. So long as thou remain content here and happy to be with me, that is all I require."

Reaching out, Estinien laid a hand on the wyrm's head. It looked comically small in scale, like the tiny toy doll of a Lalafell child petting a Hrothgar's face. "I am happy to be with you," he replied, low and rough. "Mayhap that is what frightens me most."

Chuckling, Vrtra nudged closer still, prompting Estinien to stroke the curve of his brow ridge. The flesh there was not as rigid as it appeared, allowing the wyrm to show some expression. The skin was surprisingly soft, and Vrtra gave every appearance of enjoying the contact. Estinien could not quite believe he was petting a great wyrm.

"Am I so very terrifying?" Vrtra asked, tone gently teasing.

The answer ought to be yes. Even the smallest of the dragon's teeth were longer than Estinien's hand, and the giant tusks would gore an enemy past all hope of recovery. To say nothing of the massive horn at the tip of the wyrm's nose. Estinien bore scars on his body from more than one such set of natural weapons, despite the healing power of Nidhogg’s eye.

"Nay," Estinien answered the question seriously. "You are beautiful."

Never had he imagined he would say such a thing about a dragon, but 'twas true. Vrtra was stunning on the ground, and glorious in the air. There was something undeniably noble about the massive double set of wings, the sleek serpentine body.

Though the bare patch where Vrtra had denuded himself of scales was long healed, Estinien thought of it each and every time he touched his own warding scale. Yes, 'noble' was truly the correct word.

Vrtra seemed startled by the compliment, head rearing back, ere he resettled himself closer still. One wing extended, arching over Estinien and curving around him, encompassing the entire couch in a paradoxical mix of hard scales ending in soft feathers.

It felt like an embrace, and Estinien leaned against the wing as he resumed stroking Vrtra's brow. "Tis not you that poses the problem," he assured the wyrm. "I suppose I am not accustomed to peace, let alone happiness. Having aught which I could not bear to lose makes me nervous."

He'd lost everything once before, and had not allowed himself to be truly content with his life since. Even now, some two decades later, Estinien still at times had nightmares of finding his little brother's broken and bloody form beneath the rubble of Nidhogg's destruction.

"Thou could not bear to lose me?" Vrtra tried again to sound teasing, but a note of vulnerability crept through that surprised Estinien.

"You. This. All of it." Estinien shook his head. "I could see myself mayhap making a home here. That you would be willing to allow me still to roam at times helps settle my mind to the idea. As for being your official consort... I am yet undecided."

There were still so many issues to consider. He could only imagine the uproar that would result back in Ishgard, did the Azure Dragoon declare himself consort not only to a dragon, but a male dragon. The Inquisitors' reaction in the meyhane was an extreme example, but the general sentiment would be shared by many.

Would even Aymeric be able to accept such a thing? 'Twould crush Estinien to lose his old friend's regard. Yet it seemed all he need do was wait; eventually Aymeric would pass on, heartbreaking as that was, and Estinien would be here still. Then there would be none left in Ishgard whose opinion Estinien cared for.

Though, Estinien had a sneaking suspicion that once Aymeric got over the shock, his friend would embrace Estinien’s happiness without reservation.

And then the teasing would commence.

Vrtra sighed again, warming the air beneath his wing. Though his jaw did not move, still Estinien somehow got the impression the wyrm smiled. He wondered if there was something deeper to the mental communication used by the greater dragons, or if he simply knew Vrtra well enough now to anticipate his reactions.

Something shifted in the air, and the mood turned from sappy to sensual. Vrtra rumbled another purr. "Full glad am I thou hath returned. Many plans did I have for tonight, ere my unintentional revelation earlier."

" 'Tonight' is all but done," Estinien pointed out wryly, but a reluctant smile played over his lips. He truly had created a monster. There was nary a doubt in his mind what sort of plans Vrtra spoke of.
"There is yet time ere the dawn,” Vrtra coaxed. “Surely thou might skip thine exercises this once."

"Oh, I suspect I'll be exercising," Estinien chuckled. "Do you mean to seduce me thus, however? I enjoy your company in whatever form, but I confess I do not find your true body attractive, no matter how beautiful."

Though, there still was a tiny part of him curious about the sheer size of a great wyrm's cockstand... but he was fine with that curiosity remaining unsatisfied.

'Twas like to be larger than Estinien’s whole body, for one thing. What would he even do with it? Hug it? Hump it?

Shaking his head to clear it of the increasingly bizarre images, Estinien chuckled to himself. Doubtless the Inquisitors had pictured him lying directly with the wyrm, but some lines he would not cross.

"Nay," Vrtra agreed, and sounded amused as well. "Such would be enjoyable for neither of us, I think. Bear mine eye to the chamber beyond, and find mine avatar within."

Smirking, Estinien held out his hand next to the wyrm's cheek. He'd pried many a dragon's eye from their skull with his lance, and 'twas a grisly process. But this was no battle, and Vrtra could simply will his eye into Estinien's possession.

Cradling the precious orb like the treasure it was, Estinien carried it through the indicated door. Vrtra resettled behind him, taking a comfortable resting pose and closing his remaining eye.

The chamber beyond held two lounging couches, and resting atop them were Varshahn's bodies. 'Twas disconcerting to see them laid out so, unbreathing and unmoving, like corpses. Without the power of the eye within, even their biological components seemed to enter a sort of stasis. For the first time, Estinien was able to truly see them as mammets of a sort.

Moving to the adult body, Estinien pressed the eye against its torso. The orb sank into the flesh as if insubstantial, and a moment later Varshahn's chest rose as he breathed in. His crimson eyes, so identical to Vrtra's, opened.

"There you are," Estinien said, brushing a hand against the avatar's cheek. "Now this is a much more appealing sight - though I confess, 'tis unnerving to have the child lying there in such state."

Sitting up, Varshahn swung his legs over the edge of the couch. "Easily enough solved," he declared. His voice was entirely different from Vrtra's, even the diction and word choice bearing little similarity. Did Estinien not know them to be the same being, he would never guess. Which was the point, he supposed.

Varshahn stood and grabbed a sheet, then draped it over the unmoving child's body. It settled over the couch like a dust cover with strangely lumpy cushions beneath, and Estinien felt better. He'd still have preferred to return to his own quarters, but if they wished to have any fun tonight, there was little time remaining.

Perching on the edge of the vacant couch, Estinien admired Varshahn's sleek, muscled body. The avatar was naked, showing off a flawless expanse of skin and scales. His cock was yet flaccid, but Estinien did not doubt that would change ere long.

"So tell me more about these plans of yours," Estinien invited, stripping out of his long vest.

Varshahn's eyes gleamed as he prowled back towards Estinien. "I think I deserve a reward, for being so patient whilst you made me believe I might not see you again for an age, if at all," he pointed out.

"I suppose that argument could be made," Estinien conceded. With another partner he might have felt wary of the potential threat implied by that demand, but he trusted Vrtra. And he trusted that if the wyrm did aught Estinien did not enjoy, he need but say so and Varshahn would stop.

To his surprise, the avatar turned almost shy. "You said once, in the beginning, that you might consider allowing me to switch our positions," he reminded Estinien.

"I did say that," Estinien agreed. His cock perked up with interest in the notion, startling Estinien with the eagerness of its response. Normally he did not feel any particular urge to take that position, though he thought no less of those who preferred it.

Mayhap this was yet another effect of the trust between them. Estinien would allow himself to be vulnerable with Vrtra in a way he might never do with anyone else.

When he reached for the hem of his tunic, Varshahn moved closer and assisted. He also took the opportunity to caress Estinien's chest as 'twas revealed, still seemingly curious despite the number of times they'd now done this.

"Have you any oil?" Estinien asked, because he absolutely was not attempting this dry. If there was none to be had, they'd just have to wait for another time, and find some less satisfying way to sate one another tonight.

"Aye." Varshahn chuckled softly. "I may have taken to carrying some on me always. One never knows when opportunity might present itself, I've learned."

"When you might find a moment to pounce me in some inappropriate location, you mean," Estinien muttered, but could not manage to make it sound like a true complaint. Embarrassment aside, he enjoyed those spontaneous encounters far too much.

"Yes, exactly that," Varshahn agreed. He sank to his knees, reaching for the belt that held up Estinien's trousers. "Though 'tis not oft I can convince you to fuck me in such situations, I would hate to miss out on the rare time you say 'yes' due to lack of preparation."

Hearing the wyrm say such filthy things in that calm, cool tone always gave Estinien a little thrill. Vrtra could be the most intriguing combination of shy and shameless, subdued and seductive.

"You've corrupted me," Estinien told him. "You say 'not oft' but it ought to be 'never'."

Varshahn gave him a rather cheeky smile. "But think of all the fun you'd have missed out on. At any rate, if anyone has been corrupted by the other, 'tis most assuredly I who suffered such. I was innocent as a babe ere you got your hands on me."

True, though Vrtra would not long have remained innocent regardless, if all those flirtatious mortals had their way with him. Far better for it to be Estinien who introduced the wyrm to the world of sensuous pleasures, knowing full well who he seduced.

And was seduced by, for there was no question that Varshahn was a willing and eager participant in his own corruption.

Undoing Estinien's fly, Varshahn withdrew his cock from its confinement. He leaned in and ran his tongue along the length, making Estinien stifle a groan. The wyrm had no little practice at the task now; he could suck cock like a high paid courtesan, though he preferred to tease and take his time tasting.

As he did now, nuzzling and licking and all but purring in delight. Every few beats he would swallow just the tip of Estinien's cock, lapping at the slit to taste whether any fluid had yet leaked there. Varshahn appeared to enjoy the bitter taste as much as he did the spiced delicacies in the markets.

Though pleasant in the extreme, the taunting touches would take a long time to push Estinien over the edge. He basked in the enjoyment for a time, hand fisted in Varshahn's hair to tug in praise for a particularly pleasant touch. His cock grew hard and harder still, throbbing with unfulfilled need.

"If you're planning to take me, you'd best get on with it soon," Estinien finally warned, though reluctant to put an end to it. "We've not enough time for me to find release once and rest enough for a second, and I should rather be worked up and eager when you attempt the deed."

"Why do you think I am paying you such dedicated tribute?" Varshahn pulled back to ask, red eyes gleaming with sly amusement. "Not that I do not greatly enjoy the taste of your member, but I would much rather be in a rush at the moment."

"Ah, well. Don't stop on my account, then," Estinien invited him. Varshahn licked his lips like he really was thinking about diving back in, but in the end rose to his feet with a regretful lingering glance at Estinien's rigid cock.

"Someday I am going to properly take my time doing that," Varshahn threatened. "Not let you rush me into finishing when you grow impatient."

The wyrm considered his past tormenting forays into the delights of oral sex not to have been 'taking his time' with the matter? On second thought, Estinien oft remarked on Vrtra's patience and focus when dedicated to a task. The wyrm might well consider an entire night to be a brief enough period to tease Estinien for, given how dragons viewed the passage of time.

Estinien might expire out of sheer frustration and desire. But what a way to go.

Pushing his trousers and smallclothes off his hips and kicking free of the last of his garments, Estinien hitched himself up higher on the lounge. 'Twas as comfortable as any bed, and wide enough for their purposes.

Varshahn produced a bottle of oil from somewhere, and applied the slick liquid to his fingers. "This was part of my plans for the night," he declared. "I discovered there is a district at the very back of the market dedicated to matters of sexual pleasure, and several intriguing concoctions made by alchemists to serve this purpose in a much better fashion than our usual thin oil."

"Oh?" Estinien eyed Varshahn's gleaming hand with a hint of trepidation. In his experience, little though it was, such shops were not the most reputable. That oil might have anything at all in it, safe for the body or not.

Then again, this was Radz-at-Han, city of alchemists. If any place would have a dedicated brewery for oils intended solely for pleasure, 'twould be here. They would not risk the reputation of their most valuable exports by allowing the sale of unsafe potions.

With his slick hand, Varshahn stroked lightly over Estinien's cock. The liquid was thicker than their usual oil, and didn't sink into the skin as quickly, easing the friction far better. "That is nice," Estinien agreed appreciatively.

"Wait a moment," Varshahn said, eyes gleaming with mischief and lust. "And yes, I promise this is safe."

As he opened his mouth to ask why, Estinien realized he needn't pose the question. A tingling sensation swept over his skin where the oil lay, subtle but distinct. His breath caught, and his hips arched up in search of more of the stimulation, but of course the motion had no effect.

"Wh-what..." he sputtered, caught completely off guard.

"A most intriguing effect, is it not?" Varshahn seemed delighted with Estinien's floundering. He stroked Estinien's cock again, and the tingling increased with the glide of skin against skin. It felt like... there was nothing Estinien could possibly compare it to, and the only description he could find was amazing.

Every nerve in his cock quivered with awareness, hypersensitive. Then Varshahn trailed his hand down over Estinien's balls, cupping and rolling them briefly, activating the increased sensations there as well. The tingling seemed to reach into the depths of his body, balls drawing up tight in reaction.

"By the Fury," Estinien groaned, head tossing on the pillows. His thighs quivered, hands clenching in the sheets against the driving need to take himself in hand and stroke hard and fast. It might take but one thrust ere he finished, embarrassing himself and ending the fun after all.

He'd never felt anything like this, and Varshahn was far from done.

When the wyrm ventured lower still, Estinien parted his legs willingly, tipping his pelvis up to grant better access to the tight pucker of his hole. Varshahn was exquisitely careful of his claws, easing one finger inside.

Immediately Estinien could see why Varshahn had objected with uncertainty, the first time they'd done this. The penetrating sensation triggered an instinct to push out, and wasn't entirely pleasant.

Then the tingling started there, thoroughly distracting him from any hint of discomfort. Estinien panted as Varshahn pushed deeper, and deeper still, bringing a wave of prickling heat in his wake.

Estinien wanted more, and he wanted it now, but he suspected saying as much would only make Varshahn drag things out further. "We've little time," he reminded the wyrm instead, hoping to spur him on.

"We've as much time as is required," Varshahn countered, unhurried. "Who will scold us for holding a necessary meeting regarding our ventures into the Void? We've no superiors to report to."

Some might argue that Vrtra was the superior Estinien was meant to report to. That the wyrm did not view it thus spoke to the fact that Vrtra considered him an equal, a necessary element if Estinien were ever to consider a lasting relationship.

Which he was, if he was honest with himself. His heart did indeed tell him that this could be a place for him, that he might find something here he'd never expected and mayhap did not deserve, but which would be more incredible than anything he could possibly imagine.

Not just this 'place' as in Radz-at-Han, but right here. With Vrtra, and in Varshahn's arms.

Overwhelmed by the thoughts as much as by the sensations, Estinien reached for Varshahn's cock to distract both of them. He closed tight around the shaft, squeezing and stroking in encouragement.

It seemed to work, or else Varshahn finally took pity on him. Withdrawing his fingers - when had he added a second? - Varshahn applied more oil to his hand and nudged Estinien's out of the way to slick his cock.

Estinien could tell when the tingling sensation struck the avatar, because Varshahn moaned and tipped his head back, eyes half closing with pleasure. Even so, he was not deterred from his true task, gripping his cock to line it up with Estinien's entrance.

But instead of pushing inside, Varshahn then stretched up to kiss Estinien, shockingly soft and sweet. His tongue sought entrance, and Estinien granted it, upon which the wyrm seemed determined to stroke every last ilm of him.

Only when they had to draw back for air did Varshahn finally drive his cock into Estinien, with a force that left him gasping for an entirely different reason.

And as he thrust forward, spearing Estinien open, the wyrm declared "Mine," in a growling snarl that clearly came from Vrtra, not Varshahn. The look in his eyes was every bit as possessive as his proclamation, and Estinien realized he'd just been added to a great wyrm's treasure hoard.

Or mayhap he'd already been counted among those precious and irreplaceable items, and Vrtra was only now letting him know it.

"Mine," Estinien countered, gripping Varshahn's hair tight in one fist, tugging to let his insistence be felt. He was not a possession, and if this was to be a relationship of equals, Vrtra best understand that Estinien would not be submitting to the wyrm's dominance.

To his shock, instead of objecting or growling or any other negative reaction, Varshahn's eyes shone like Estinien had just handed him the most priceless and exquisite treasure of all. "Yours," the wyrm agreed without hesitation, and it sounded like a vow.

Ere Estinien could contemplate that any further, Varshahn withdrew and thrust home again. The tip of his cock must have struck that spot, because a jolt of deeper pleasure struck Estinien, making him groan.

The tingling sensation heightened his awareness of the wyrm's cock thrusting within him. Furthermore, the movement seemed to heat their bodies where connected, and Estinien finally realized 'twas the oil reacting to the friction.

"Vrtra," Estinien groaned, dropping his hands to grip the avatar’s hips, urging him to go harder.

"Yesss," the wyrm hissed. "Call my name exactly thus when you come for me."

It took Estinien's pleasure-dazed brain a moment to remember he'd used the dragon's true name rather than the avatar's. He usually did when in private - except in bed, he realized now. Though he knew 'twas Vrtra within, somehow he'd always thought of it as Varshahn who touched him.

"Vrtra," he repeated, because now that he'd realized it, Estinien intended to redress the issue. Varshahn was merely the tool that Vrtra used to bring him pleasure; 'twas the wyrm he should be addressing. "More, damn you. I'm not going to break."

"Be wary of your words; that sounded like a challenge," Vrtra replied, smirking.

"Twas meant to be," Estinien retorted. He hooked one leg over the avatar's thigh and forced him closer. "So fuck me already!"

Vrtra took him at his word, and reality dissolved in a haze of heated pleasure and tingling ecstasy that swept Estinien away on an inexorable tide. He dove deep and willingly drowned in the waves, sucked deep into a whirlpool that finally crushed him into oblivion.

He wasn't aware of coming so much as of the burst of extreme pleasure, grunting with the force of his release as Vrtra pounded into him. Estinien barely managed to remember the wyrm's earlier request, and choked out "Vrtra!"

As if he'd been holding onto control by the skin of his teeth, Vrtra cried out and found his own completion moments after Estinien reached his, spurting hot fluid deep within Estinien's body.

Vrtra collapsed atop him, panting. Estinien couldn't find the strength or will to complain about the avatar's weight, so he simply wrapped his arms around that strong torso, stroking along the spine and enjoying the differing textures of skin and scales.

Hard to believe he'd once thought he would find such features unappealing. Estinien couldn't now imagine looking at the adult form of Varshahn and not feeling desire.

"Thank you," Vrtra murmured, as shy as once he'd been when they started this whole escapade of ecstasy. Estinien knew the wyrm was not merely referring to being permitted to fuck Estinien instead of being fucked.

"Tis I who should be apologizing," Estinien muttered, lifting his head to brush a brief kiss against the avatar's lips. "I see you, Vrtra. Never doubt it."

"As I see thee in turn," Vrtra rumbled, more than a hint of the dragon in the avatar's usually smooth voice. The combination of Varshahn's accent and Vrtra's words created an appealing mix. "Behind the armour of unsociable reserve, beneath the layers of pain and guilt and sorrow, beyond even the caring and kindness and love; I see thee, my heart's match."

When the great wyrm declared his passion in such ardent terms, Estinien could almost bring himself to believe 'twas real. And more importantly, to believe 'twas aught he could truly have.

Chapter Text

Some days - or more specifically, some nights - Estinien truly wondered if he had gone insane. How had his life come to this? An Azure Dragoon not only socializing with a great wyrm, but fucking one?

Lying in his bed after a bout of enthusiastically sweaty sex, holding the avatar's body in his arms, Estinien couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment of his insanity.

Though it might be just as well that dragons found no physical pleasure in sex. As eagerly as Vrtra had tried everything else, Estinien thought the wyrm might indeed have been tempted to suggest experimenting in his own body if such a thing were possible.

Vrtra was like no other lover Estinien had ever taken. His innocence made him paradoxically shameless, because he had no idea why he should feel shame at all. He wanted to try anything and everything, and made absolutely no bones about how much he enjoyed all of it. Not just the orgasms, either. He was just as vocal about enjoying moments like this, when they lazed about together in the aftermath of pleasure.

'Twas a contagious attitude. This was already the longest relationship Estinien had ever indulged in, and he could not imagine wanting to end it. Though Vrtra had still not demanded anything from him in the form of commitment, the wyrm now oft described Estinien in terms such as 'my heart', or spoke of how he cherished Estinien.

Increasingly, Estinien found himself wishing to return the sentiment in kind.

A finger pressed between his brows, poking at the furrow there. He blinked and refocused to find Vrtra smiling at him in bemusement. "Such serious thoughts," the wyrm teased. Varshahn was lax with satiation, eyes half-lidded, but alert enough. "One might think I failed to satisfy you at all, let alone made you come so..."

As if a switch had been flipped, Varshahn’s expression went blank as the light fled his eyes, and he collapsed in the bed. Alarmed, Estinien bolted upright and shook the avatar's shoulder, but though the flesh was warm and supple beneath his fingers, the body remained limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

Ere Estinien could react further, an ear-splitting bellow shattered the peaceful night. The very foundations of Meghaduta trembled in reaction, shaking knick-knacks from the shelves to shatter on the floor, even dislodging tiles from the mosaics that decorated the walls.

An earthquake? No, that unholy outcry could have only one source: the unrestrained fury of a great wyrm's roar, which could travel thousands of miles through the aether to demand the dragon’s brood answer the call to arms.

Except Vrtra had no brood. Probably the only person in Thavnair who could hear that scream through the aether was Estinien himself, linked to the dragons as he was through the piece of Nidhogg that he carried within him.

Wasting no time on further worries or questions, Estinien threw himself out of the bed and lunged for his wardrobe. He hauled on trousers and a shirt at random, then stamped his feet into his boots and threw on his breastplate, but didn't bother with the rest of his armour ere snatching up his lance.

Less than a minute after leaving the bed, he rushed out his door into the hallway, still buckling straps as he ran.

Another roar split the air, making the palace shake harder still. Only long experience in fighting on unstable footing prevented Estinien from stumbling as he sprinted headlong through the hallway. Frantic and terrified shouts came from the rooms all around, and a few people managed to stagger into the hallway, calling bewildered questions that nobody could answer.

"To arms!" Estinien shouted when he espied a pair of rattled Radiant Host guards ahead. "The palace is under attack! Vrtra calls for aid!"

The Hyur woman and Auri man did a double take, then snapped salutes and went running off, hopefully to spread the word and gather reinforcements. Estinien couldn't wait for them, not when the second cry had sounded more agonized than angry. He bolted out the main entrance, then bypassed the stairs by simple expedient of jumping straight up four stories to land on the balcony outside the throne room.

The guards there didn't even have a chance to object to his appearance, let alone stop him, as Estinien slammed through into the massive space beyond. He found it empty, but the pull on his soul and the source of the cry seemed closer than ever.

Up, whispered something within him, though there was no 'up' beyond the vaulted ceiling of the palace. Estinien didn't question the instinct, just launched himself at the far side of the arched dome with all the power of the Azure Dragoon. If he was wrong, he'd apologize later for destroying the priceless art of the ceiling mosaic.

He burst through to the night air, and landed lightly on the curve of the remaining dome. A third bellow sounded, this time close enough for him to actually hear it, and the sound turned him in the correct direction.

At the back of Meghaduta, adjacent to the throne room, lay another building he hadn't realized was there. It was hidden from sight by the bulk of the palace, yet it was even more ornate and gilded than the walls that blocked its view. Vrtra's true lair, Estinien realized. It must be connected to the throne room by a hidden passage, known by only a few trusted guards and servants, and otherwise inaccessible except from the air.

Without hesitation he leapt from the dome and speared downwards towards the building. Some instinct guided his lance, and he plunged through the roof to stab straight into the heart of a person in a robe with a hood that shaded their face. Magic sputtered and flared as the mage cried out and collapsed, dead ere they hit the ground.

The hood fell back as the body landed, and Estinien was shocked to recognize the visage thus revealed. 'Twas none other than the female Inquisitor who'd attacked them at the meyhane some moons prior. How she'd gotten back into Thavnair was a mystery that would have to be solved another day, for Estinien had far more pressing concerns in the moment.

Cries rose around him as the woman’s comrades realized the wyrm was no longer the only threat in the room. Estinien took in the situation at a glance, seeing Vrtra pinned helpless by magical spikes driven through his wings and legs deep into the ground. Some of the spikes vanished with the death of the mage he'd landed on, freeing Vrtra's right wing, but the rest remained.

One of the male Inquisitors from that day stood by Vrtra’s head, wearing full plate armour and carried the sword and shield of a knight. The other, the fanatic, seemed to be the mage holding the rest of the bindings on Vrtra. The pair stared in shock at their fallen sister, but soon enough would shake off the grief and attack.

Surrounding the two remaining Inquisitors were at least half a dozen swordsmen and lancers in chainmaille and brigandine. No - not lancers. Dragoons, with their wicked spears designed to cause as much damage to a dragon as possible.

Estinien's veins ran with ice water, even as fury boiled within him. "You dare!" Estinien gave a roar of his own, and swung his bladed lance with the intention of beheading the fanatic mage. Alas, a swordsman got in the way, deflecting the blow and parrying, his technique good enough that Estinien couldn't simply swat him like a fly as he longed to do.

Worse, three more joined him a moment later. All of the opponents wore armour, where Estinien had naught but his breastplate to protect his body. It put him at a distinct disadvantage, but he wasn't worried.

After all, he had an advantage no ordinary mortal could hope to match. Leaning hard on Nidhogg's rage that always roiled within him, Estinien called upon the power of the great wyrm's eyes. He launched an attack too fast and furious for any of his opponents to hope to counter. In moments one was dead and two more badly injured, and the last opponent stared at him in panic.

"The Azure!" the man cried out. "Fury save us, 'tis the corrupt Azure Dragoon!" Cries of alarm rose around them, and yet more fighters turned from Vrtra to attack Estinien instead.

"Hurry!" the knight leader commanded, even as he too joined the fray against Estinien. "Get the beast's damn eye already!"

Estinien saw then when he'd missed in his initial assessment. Vrtra's head was pinned as well, glowing ropes of magic holding his neck against the ground no matter how he thrashed. One of the dragoons stood on the wyrm's head, lance poised to plunge into Vrtra's eye.

All too well did Estinien recognize the stance of that attack. The angle was meant to prise the eye from the socket, speared on the lance tip, depriving the wyrm of the bulk of its power. He'd used exactly that technique on Nidhogg in their fateful battle.

Estinien lunged, ramming the swordsman still before him out of the way with the sheer weight of his body, but more swarmed in to fill the gap and prevent him from defending the wyrm.

One of Vrtra's eye sockets was already empty, the eye embedded within Varshahn to give the avatar life. With half his power in that body and all his attention on what Estinien and Varshahn were doing, small wonder these knaves were able to get the drop on the wyrm. If Vrtra lost his remaining eye as well, 'twould be all too easy for the varlets to finish the job and kill the wyrm.

Though Vrtra beat his free wing furiously in an attempt to dislodge the dragoon on his head, the bastard managed to keep his feet. His lance plunged home, squarely piercing the massive eye, and Vrtra screamed in agony.

Cursing, Estinien abandoned his attempt to fight his way through the opponents to reach the wyrm's side. Instead he jumped again, launching free of the swarm, bursting through the ceiling once more to gain space to maneuver. Two of the dragoons were fast enough on their feet to jump after him, but they fell far short of the altitude he could reach.

Turning midair, Estinien aimed his lance point and gathered all his aether into its tip. Hurtling back toward the ground, he prepared his most powerful strike. The scrambling ants below had no hope of evading him as he plummeted to their death, and struck with all the power of the Azure Dragoon.

The shockwave killed several instantly, and his lance pierced through the armour of the dragoon holding Vrtra's eye as easily as if it was made of paper. The dragoon gurgled in disbelief, the power of the blow driving Estinien's lance straight through his body to lodge in Vrtra's neck.

He'd known that would happen, but there was no avoiding it, and such a glancing blow would be quickly healed by the wyrm once Vrtra had his eye back. Ensuring the protection and return of that aether-dense orb was Estinien's only priority.

Letting go of his embedded lance, he snatched up the enemy dragoon's as it fell from the man's now-lifeless grip. Pulling the eye free of the tip, Estinien turned with the intention of slamming it back into the socket where it belonged. His plan was foiled by the same two dragoons who'd tried to jump after him, now balanced on Vrtra's head and blocking his path to either socket.

Cursing, Estinien backflipped away ere their stabbing spears could pierce him. He clutched the eye tight to his chest with one hand, the other gripping the lance. The stolen weapon was far too light and flimsy to withstand even a single strike at Estinien's full power, so he was forced to hold back as he blocked and parried and struck at the enemy.

Once again he found himself at a disadvantage against the fully armoured fighters. Estinien dodged as best he could, hampered as he was by the inability to use his left hand and the weakness of his weapon.

He tried again to launch himself into the air, but this time the Inquisitor mage blasted after him with a magical ice attack. It clipped his leg, the force enough to spin Estinien in the air; he lost his intended trajectory and was forced to land once more. Immediately he was swarmed again. Slow but sure, he was taking injuries, and each one incapacitated him a little further.

Where in the seven hells was the Radiant Host? Surely at least some of the guards should have reached the battle by now. Estinien didn't know how long he could hold the line by himself. The wyrm's eye he held was nigh indestructible, but the more it was damaged, the longer it would take Vrtra to recover.

Worse, he spotted the leader now hacking at Vrtra's neck, trying to get his sword beneath the tough scales to sever the spine. If the Inquisitor succeeded in cutting the dragon's head off, Vrtra would not be able to recover with both eyes missing.

With a shout Estinien launched himself in that direction, allowing two of the enemies to land blows on his unprotected flank as he moved. Somehow he managed to get his weapon in place to block the blow that would have pierced the scales, but it came at the cost of the shoddy lance shattering beneath the leader's blow.

The Inquisitor took a swipe at him, and scored a long gash down Estinien's left arm. The sword tip came far too close to the precious eye in his grip, and Estinien grimaced as he leapt back. He tried to aim for Vrtra's neck where his own lance was yet lodged, but his foot slipped on the bloody floor and he didn't get enough distance to reach the lance.

He managed to land on his feet, but strength flowed from him like the blood that so liberally stained his garments and dripped down his skin. Vrtra lay still and quiescent, with barely enough power left to keep himself alive and none remaining to fight back.

Estinien couldn't run, or Vrtra would be killed, and 'twould all be for naught. If he stayed to fight he would eventually fall, and the damned Inquisitors would take the eye and flee. Hindered as he was, Estinien wasn't strong enough to simply kill them all. The best he could do was keep the enemy’s attention focused on him, not Vrtra.

He could not save the wyrm. He could not even save himself, not like this. His only remaining option was to save the eye at all costs, and pray that somehow Vrtra would find a way to recover even if his physical body was dead. Vrtra was of the First Brood, after all, and they were known for doing the impossible to survive.

Ducking beneath Vrtra's free wing, Estinien used the cover it provided to shift his focus internally. Trying to protect him, Vrtra stirred enough to slam the leading edge of his wing to the ground, cutting off the enemies from reaching Estinien for a crucial minute. Drawing a deep breath, Estinien pressed the wyrm's eye to his own chest, and concentrated fiercely on the thought of accepting it.

This was how Estinien had carried Nidhogg's eye, after he'd stolen it from the church's vault, and how Vrtra's other eye was placed within his avatar when the dragon chose to be Varshahn. A great wyrm's eye was something far more than a mere physical object, and could be merged with living flesh under the right circumstances.

Estinien wasn't bound to Vrtra's power as he was to Nidhogg's, so he didn't know if the trick would work. For a moment the eye resisted his attempt to push it home, but then his fervent prayers were answered, and it phased into his chest to rest within his body.

The sheer power struck him a moment later, like lightning frying through his nerves. It was every bit as bad as the first time he'd merged with Nidhogg's eye to become the Azure; mortal bodies were not meant to contain such power. Though Vrtra would never seek to overtake and corrupt him as Nidhogg had, still the pressure threatened to break him.

Estinien shuddered under the onslaught, his vision going dark as his legs gave way beneath him. He curled up on the floor, huddled against Vrtra's side, unable to even breathe through the pain.

His last conscious thought was satisfaction that at least he'd stopped the Inquisition bastards from stealing Vrtra's power for their own use.

Chapter Text

In a place beyond time and a time beyond place, Estinien opened eyes that did not exist and found himself next to Vrtra.

Not the great wyrm, nor even the avatar; only Vrtra, pure and intense. The power of his soul shone fit to block out the sun, had the sun existed in this place of nothing and everything at once.

"I know this," Estinien realized, his voice echoing and silent. "I have been here before."

"Indeed," Vrtra rumbled, and Estinien felt the words not in his mind, but in his soul. "Here did thee battle my brood brother twice in the past."

Yes. Briefly, once; when first he bonded with Nidhogg's eye. That had been a fight most fearsome, far beyond anything Estinien could have prepared himself for. In the end he'd emerged on the other side, weary unto death but possessed of the full might of the Azure Dragoon.

The second time he'd bided here far longer, trapped in the hollow nothing as Nidhogg possessed his body. Estinien had been aware of everything the vengeful wyrm did, but at one remove, unable to interfere save with soul-shattering effort to win brief moments of clarity.

Those battles had been against naught but a fragment of Nidhogg's true self. This was Vrtra in truth and in full, so much power that he could swat Estinien aside and take over without effort. Yet despite his traumatic history, Estinien felt not the slightest hint of trepidation in the wyrm's presence.

"I see you, Vrtra," he repeated the words he'd proclaimed when he acknowledged in truth that his lover was the wyrm, not the avatar. It felt like the right thing to say in that moment, somehow.

"As I see thee, my mate," Vrtra replied, and Estinien felt a torrent of warmth and joy and love, ineffable and undeniable.

The emotions caught him off guard. All he'd ever felt from Nidhogg in this place that was not a place had been fury. Endless, fathomless rage. This outpouring of affection was unexpected, but most welcome, drowning him in Vrtra's fervent passion.

Any doubts regarding his lover's devotion to which Estinien yet clung were washed away, impossible to hold in the face of incontrovertible proof of how the wyrm felt for him. There was no hint of distrust, not the slightest misgiving. Vrtra believed in him utterly, and loved him equally as much.

"My mate," Estinien echoed, acknowledging at last all that lay between them. He could no longer deny the truth of Vrtra's emotions, nor his own.

The second tidal wave of adoration was more expected, but no less staggering. Estinien hoped that Vrtra could feel his emotions in return, because the wyrm deserved that same confirmation and assurance.

As much as he wanted to stay and bask in this unique experience, they had more urgent concerns. "My intent was to protect you, not steal your power, but it may be what saves us," Estinien said wryly.

"That which is freely given cannot be stolen," Vrtra countered. "Take my strength, and together we shall defeat these varlets who seek to despoil our union."

"Together," Estinien agreed, and opened his eyes in the real world.

A sword descended towards his chest, intent on cleaving him in two, breastplate and all. With a roar that resonated in the aether like a great wyrm's, Estinien batted the blade aside with his bare arm.

It should have cut him to the bone at the least, if not severed the limb entire. Instead the sword clanged as if it met armour of adamantine hardness, and Estinien barely felt the shock of contact, with no pain at all.

Surging to his feet, Estinien leapt into the air - and didn't come down. Wings of pure power unfurled behind him, holding him aloft. When he held out his hand, a lance of crackling energy formed in it, wicked and deadly.

"Abomination!" the Inquisitor accused, pointing his sword at Estinien in the air as if he could channel his wrath through it like a levinbolt.

"By your standards, aye," Estinien agreed. "And not a drop of shame do I feel for it. 'Tis you who should be shamed, attacking the ruler of a peaceful nation for no reason but that he bears scales instead of skin."

"I will see you both put to the sword, traitor," the knight snarled. "Then I will take the beast's eyes and use its own power to destroy the rest of its foul kin."

"Aye," the mage Inquisitor agreed, the light of fanaticism shining in his eyes once more. "Your unholy union shall end here and now, heretic."

Further discourse was pointless. Neither would listen to reason; the knight was power-mad and would stop at nothing to obtain Vrtra's eyes for himself, and the mage cared only for his dogma, not the truth.

So be it. They’d been given a chance to come to their senses when faced with an enemy they could not hope to defeat. Now Estinien and Vrtra would wipe the putrid stain of their existence from the world ere they could carry their vitriol elsewhere to harm more innocents.

There was no need to flap his 'wings' to hover or change position; Estinien simply angled himself for an attack and aimed his lance at the knight ere he plunged from the sky with the unstoppable force of a falling meteor.

Sadly, the knight did manage to stop him regardless, absorbing the impact on his shield and redirecting enough of the force that he wasn't simply crushed. He tried to riposte, but Estinien leapt nimbly out of the way and came in for another sweeping attack with his lance.

They battled back and forth, Estinien easily dodging the attacks but unable to quite penetrate the knight's shield and thick platemail enough to disable his opponent. The bastard was quick on his feet and a damn good fighter, Estinien would grant him that much. A shame such an excellent knight chose to waste his potential in the search for personal gain.

Still, 'twas only a matter of time ere Estinien prevailed, and they both knew it. The knight was weighed down by his heavy armour and wearying quickly, whilst Estinien had endless strength and endurance thanks to the power of two great wyrms. The lance gave Estinien greater reach, meaning he could strike without putting himself in range of danger from the knight's sword.

Furthermore, whenever Estinien felt pressed he simply retreated to the air to catch his breath, then plunged into the fight once more. The knight had no such recourse, and ilm by ilm Estinien wore him down. Had this been a sparring match between allies, Estinien would have gloried in the challenge, but he felt only grim focus now.

"Brother! Help me!" the knight finally cried, frantic when a stab from Estinien nearly struck the eye slit in his helmet.

"Tis all I can do to hold the spells," the mage shouted back, and he did indeed sound strained. "This task was meant for two mages, not one."

"The beast's head is half off and it has no eyes," the knight snapped, executing a flurry of blows to force Estinien back for a moment. "The abomination is a greater threat. Help me!"

Cursing, the mage switched his focus, flinging a barrage of fireballs into the air. Estinien dodged them with contempt, his wings giving him speed and precision in the air.

Except the fire was not the true threat, he discovered when an invisible net descended upon him. Distracted by the flashy attacks, Estinien had not sensed the unseen threat above. He tumbled from the air as the bonds flared bright and restricted the flow of his aether.

The wings disappeared, and he felt weak as a newborn babe, limbs shaky as he clambered to his feet with effort. He could stand and move, but the bonds wrapped tightly around his limbs and body, holding his power within.

Was this how they'd disabled Vrtra so quickly, the wyrm could not even use Varshahn to warn Estinien of the attack? Blast and damn.

The mage seemed fully occupied holding the spell, so Estinien need fear no further magic attacks, but there was still the knight to contend with. Estinien now had no more power than any other mortal - and no weapon or armour.

The knight lunged, nearly skewering him ere Estinien could dodge to one side. The blade missed his heart, but cut a bright line of blood across his upper arm. It stung fiercely, and did not heal itself at all, which meant it would be a further drain on his stamina.

Cursing, Estinien dodged again, throwing himself into a roll that brought him up next to one of the fallen Inquisitors. Sadly 'twas a knight, not a dragoon, so there was no lance for Estinien to steal. He scooped up the sword and shield regardless, because any weapon was better than none.

Unlike most Temple Knights, Estinien had not trained in both sword and lance ere deciding on a final path. He'd been raised by a previous Azure after the death of his family, and spent his teen years fully absorbed in learning everything Alberic could teach him, determined to become the next to bear Nidhogg’s power.

Upon his recruitment to the Knights, they'd been so impressed by his skill they'd assigned him to the Knights Dragoon immediately, rather than going through the basic training. So he'd never learned aught of fighting with a blade beyond the obvious 'pointy end goes into the enemy'.

The best he could hope for was to hold off the bastard long enough to reach one of the fallen dragoons, then pray the shoddy weapon would hold up against the knight's well-forged blade. He could not hope to beat the Inquisitor at his own game.

I can.

The whisper from deep within made Estinien's eyes widen. It seemed that though Vrtra's power was bound by the mage's spell, it had not severed the connection between them. Vrtra yet remained in his mind, a part of him.

And Varshahn had proved himself not only a powerful dragoon in the Void, but an excellent paladin.

Without a moment's hesitation, Estinien gave himself up fully to Vrtra's soul. He faded into the background, watching events from the place of nothing, whilst Vrtra took control of his body just as Nidhogg had once done.

Shifting his stance, Vrtra twirled the sword in his hand, a gesture that did nothing except show off to intimidate an enemy. It worked; the knight's eyes widened, recognizing the sudden competence 'Estinien' now displayed when moments before he'd held the weapon with all the grace of a raw recruit.

"I am of the First Brood," Vrtra declared with grim satisfaction, voice Estinien's but now lilting with the Hannish accent. "You cannot hope to best me. Surrender now, and I shall show you mercy."

That 'mercy' was more like to come in the form of a swift death than release; Vrtra had granted these varlets a second chance already, and was not inclined to offer a third. Estinien fully agreed with the sentiment.

"Blasphemous beast," the knight spat, and raised his sword and shield. "I have the Fury's righteous power on my side. I shall not fall to the likes of you."

"Then let us find out who has the right of it," Vrtra invited, and lunged forward.

Sword clanged against shield, then blade against blade, a lightning exchange almost too fast to follow. Vrtra engaged and disengaged with impossible speed and grace, darting this way and that, feinting and parrying and riposting.

Estinien wished he could see it properly, from the outside, because it must surely be a thing of beauty to behold. He'd been too busy with his own cares to properly appreciate the sight of Varshahn fighting in the Void.

The knight fell back and fell back again, giving ground against the furious barrage with no opportunity to level his own offense. No fight could be won with purely defensive tactics, and Estinien had already worn the bastard down with his own attacks.

Finally the Inquisitor made a critical mistake, parrying a blow with his shield and using too much force, causing his shield arm to swing wide whilst his blade was tangled with Vrtra's shield on the other side.

His body was wide open for one instant, and an instant was all Vrtra required. Like a striking cobra, he darted his blade forward and sideways, sliding into the uncovered weak point at the knight's armpit.

Vrtra sank the sword all the way home, wrenching and twisting to ensure it would strike as many vital organs as possible. With a gurgle the Inquisitor dropped his sword and shield from nerveless hands, then fell to writhe on the ground in the throes of death.

"Brother!" the mage screamed. Fury and grief granted him extra power, and he tightened the bonds on Estinien until they restricted him in truth, squeezing his chest so tight it could not rise to draw air.

In a seamless maneuver, Vrtra and Estinien switched places once more. Estinien ‘struggled’ convincingly against the restraints, holding the mage's attention. Meanwhile Vrtra peered through his eyes - and used the view to target his own attack.

The great wyrm's head rose, massive maw gaping open to show every last vicious fang that lined his jaws. An instant later they snapped closed again, with the top half of the mage inside and bottom still without.

A faint scream sounded from inside the wyrm's mouth, and blood sprayed everywhere. Moments later the mage joined his fellow Inquisitors in death.

With a contemptuous toss of his head, Vrtra spat out the mouthful of mage. "Paugh," he exclaimed, the deep rumble of his voice filled with revulsion. "I shall still be tasting the foul flavour of madman a week hence."

Freed of the mage's spell, Estinien's 'wings' appeared once more, and his body was reinvigorated. Any injuries he'd taken healed instantly, and the lance of energy crackled to life in his hand once more.

Hidden doors burst open, and the Radiant Host surged into the room at last, weapons at the ready. They milled about, trying to ascertain whether any threat remained, and gaping at the sight of Estinien in all Vrtra's glory.

"About bloody time you lot arrived," Estinien growled. "Where in the seven hells have you been?"

"There was a magical barrier 'round the entire building," Nahbdeen declared solemnly, stepping forward. "We have been unable to enter until just this moment."

Raising an eyebrow, Estinien regarded the fallen Inquisitor mage with a sort of disgusted respect. To not only hold a spell designed for two mages to contain a great wyrm, but also maintain a barrier around such a large space, was impressive by any measure. The mage had been as excellent a warrior as his knight brother. What a waste, in both cases.

Turning, he surveyed the Host, who yet held their weapons at the ready, even Nahbdeen. Estinien took in the scene as it must appear to them: Vrtra with both eyes missing and Estinien's unmistakable lance still buried in his throat; a veritable horde of Ishgardian Elezen scattered about; and mayhap most damning of all, Estinien clearly possessed of the wyrm's eye and power.

Surely now would come the protests, the suspicion, the rejection of him as an outsider and a danger to their liege.

Yet Nahbdeen made no move to attack, instead sinking to his knees before Estinien. He laid his sword before him, placed one hand atop the other on the ground, then bent to touch his forehead to his hands in this country's bow of reverence. "Your Excellencies. My deepest apologies. We have failed you in your time of need. Our shame knows no bounds."

Every other member of the Host followed suit, a clatter of weapons and armour against the wooden floor as they dropped to prostrate themselves on the ground in an even deeper form of the bow.

Jaw agape, Estinien stared at the sea of backs, unable to process what was happening. If naught else, that plural on the title would have left him floundering. Turning to Vrtra, he demanded, "Did everyone in this bloody city know your intentions towards me ere I did?"

Vrtra made his coughing laugh. Though his sightless eyes gazed at nothing, still he swung his head to face Estinien in turn. "I said naught in so many words, yet no more did I make effort to hide my feelings for thee. Nidhana at least surely hath divined the truth."

Since she'd been the one to instruct Vrtra in the basics of 'pleasurable non-procreative intercourse', Estinien had to acknowledge that was likely true. And he already knew Vrtra told the woman exactly with whom he intended to engage in that intercourse, since Nidhana also warned the wyrm that Ishgardian cultural norms might not match her explanations in full.

Naught stopped the woman from gossiping with great delight about her liege's romantic entanglements. Doubtless ‘twas all over the palace by now, if not the whole of the city.

Furthermore, Nahbdeen's use of the title for Estinien implied acceptance of the idea. Vrtra had proven beyond a doubt that he truly did accept Estinien despite the bloody history of the Azure Dragoon; now it seemed the Radiant Host did as well.

"Oh, get up, all of you," Estinien snapped, disconcerted to find his fears had existed nowhere but in his own mind after all. "I shall never demand such obeisance of you, and I misdoubt Vrtra much enjoys it either."

"Indeed," Vrtra agreed solemnly. "Rise, my friends and fellows. You have naught to be ashamed of."

Slowly and with clear reluctance, Nahbdeen clambered to his feet, and his subordinates followed suit, but all kept their eyes down. Estinien understood their dismay at being rendered unable to perform the most important and vital duty they'd been charged with.

"Yes, you failed," Estinien told them, harsh yet not unkind. "Now learn from the mistake and use it to protect Thavnair better in the future, rather than depriving us of our best warriors by resigning in shame. Understood?"

He realized only after the words emerged that to say 'depriving us' implied acknowledgement of his own role as their new co-ruler. Too late to take it back now - and despite his chagrin at the notion, having accepted his place in Vrtra's heart, he couldn't now protest the so-called benefits that came with that.

Even if Aymeric would never stop laughing when he found out that Estinien, who'd fled Ishgard to avoid being treated as some kind of celebrity hero, had now taken on a position as a ruler of any kind.

Turning to Vrtra, Estinien held his hand out to the empty eye socket that gaped closest to him. Concentrating his focus, he separated Vrtra's power from his own and willed the eye to reform in his hand. The great orb rested heavy in his palm a moment later, though he could still feel the connection between them.

"Take it back," Estinien urged. "This power belongs to you, not me."

Vrtra rumbled. "Mayhap I should insist it remain in thy possession," the wyrm declared. "That way I may protect thee better."

"But that would leave you without a free eye to grant Varshahn," Estinien murmured, low enough not to be overheard by the Host. He let a teasing note of affection enter his voice. "I would greatly miss his contributions to our relationship, wouldn't you?"

"Thou hath a point most excellent," Vrtra chuckled. The eye floated from Estinien's hand to return to its rightful place.

Health visibly returned to the wyrm, the unnatural grey colour of his flesh returning to its usual hue. The weapons buried in the great body clattered to the ground, wounds sealing in their absence. Estinien caught his lance as it fell, grimacing at the sight of Vrtra's blood on the blade, but swung it into place on his back. He'd clean it later.

Frowning, he realized he could yet sense Vrtra within him, distant but unmistakably present in the back of his mind. "All of it, Vrtra," he scolded. "We must remain separate if this is to work. If we are of one mind, to any degree, then I cannot serve properly as your right hand to balance you."

As much as Estinien valued the experience of being showered in Vrtra's love, it was not a tenable situation. Vrtra's aether was simply too powerful, threatening to overwhelm the lesser strength of Estinien's sundered soul, no matter how strong his will. It might take decades or even centuries, but eventually Estinien would lose his sense of self and become subservient to Vrtra's will, mayhap not even realizing when it happened.

Hraesvelgr held Shiva within him, and her presence soothed the wyrm's aggression and anger towards mortals. That did not entail argument and dissent, only emotion and love.

Vrtra needed Estinien to be something different; a check and balance, cautioning him when he strayed towards disaster, and that required Estinien to remain entirely his own self. Nor would Estinien accept being influenced in his emotions, even unintentionally.

All of this he communicated to the wyrm, not in words but ironically using the very emotional connection he urged Vrtra to sever. Heaving a great sigh, Vrtra bowed his head, and a moment later Estinien's sense of the wyrm fade into naught.

"Thank you," Estinien said softly. He'd felt the effort it took Vrtra to release him, when the wyrm's instincts demanded he protect and cherish Estinien in every possible way open to him. But this was the most important way of all for him to show his devotion, by granting Estinien his freedom.

One hand resting on Vrtra's brow, Estinien turned to face the Host again. Nahbdeen regarded them with a smile playing over the normally stern man's lips, despite the lingering guilt in his eyes.

Seeing their regard upon him once more, Nahbdeen saluted. "We'll scour the grounds and ensure there are no further knaves lurking about anywhere, and post sentries here with you just in case. I'll have the masons and artisans begin repairs come the dawn."

"I suppose thou shalt insist on guards inside my private rooms now," Vrtra sighed.

"Twould have prevented or at least alleviated this disgraceful situation," Nahbdeen agreed. "I will choose only the most discreet and trusted people, Your Excellency."

"Very well." Vrtra rearranged himself more comfortably, and laid his head on his crossed forearms. "For now, I must rest and recover. Estinien should do the same as well."

"I'm fine," Estinien replied. "More than fine. Your power healed me fully."

"The power drain shall strike thee soon enough," Vrtra replied sternly... yet there was a distinct glint of amusement in his eye. "I strongly suggest thou return to thy quarters ere that occurs."

His quarters. Where Varshahn awaited, presumably revitalized now that Vrtra was no longer bound and distracted. Estinien bit back a smirk, discerning the wyrm's true intentions.

Well, after that immersion in Vrtra's feelings for him, Estinien was rather eager to reconnect in a different fashion as well. He nodded. "As you say, then. Nahbdeen, we leave the rest to you." Nahbdeen saluted again, to Estinien this time, and turned away to organize the matter.

As Estinien left the wyrm's lair - through the doors this time, not the roof - he couldn't quite contain his wry chuckle. What had his life come to? How had he ever reached this point?

Not for a moment did he regret a single thing. He could not imagine ever doing so in the future, either.

Vrtra was a reward Estinien did not deserve, but he would cherish this precious love with everything in him, through all the centuries to come.