Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Violet is reawakened by the smell of sheep. 

She really hopes it’s Xaden’s, because he brings the best sheep, and when she trots to it, it is. Hatchlings are so rare, and her parents—mighty Tairn and fierce Sgaeyl—had two successively. Violet isn’t sure when that was last done. 

As such, her parents took them out of the nursery when they could. Because of course they did. Still, Violet enjoys life here more: being called “Daeyla” by her parents and “Violet” by Xaden, and getting to explore the world (though she currently isn’t allowed to leave their cave in the Vale). 

Violet eats her fill of the sheep before curling next to Tairn and falling back asleep. It’s too early for much, she thinks drowsily before losing consciousness. 

“He’s being mean,” Violet chuffs, trying to nudge Tairn. She’s way, way too small for that, of course, and Tairn doesn’t pay her any attention. 

From the other side of the cave, Sgaeyl purrs, “Daeyla.”

“Dam?” Violet tutters over to where Sgaeyl lays, unsteady on her feet. 

A low rumble builds from Tairn’s throat. “Don't go soft on her,” he warns.  

“I'm not.” 

“You are. You never act like this with Maís,” he refutes. Sgaeyl’s tail launches out behind her, swinging violently, but Tairn pushes on. “Daeyla is just as precious to me as to you, chèile. But she must learn the real world.”

“Psch,” Sgaeyl scoffs, but she still wraps her tail gently around Violet’s scaly body. A soft blow of air has Violet struggling to escape Sgaeyl’s task. “Maís, play nice,” Sgaeyl growls lazily. 

Violet’s brother nods his snout once, pressing it closely to Violet’s own. “Hi,” he breathes out, and Violet giggles. But Xaden leaves just as quickly, dropping yet another sheep at Tairn’s feet, waiting for approval. 

Tairn’s massive morningstartail lashes out in approval as his black scales glisten. Xaden’s own, reflective blue—tinted deeper than Sgaeyl’s, as if representing Tairn’s scales—are no match to their father’s. 

Violet is a gold feathertail, as much as she hates to admit it, but her parents were never as good about following the Empyrean’s rules as they should be. Violet and Xaden had been hatched with the other Hatchlings but had been raised by Sgaeyl’s side in their homely cave—not this one, which was a substitute. 

“Soon, you’ll have a Bonded,” Tairn’s voice echoed throughout Violet’s head through their familial bond. 

“Tairn,” Sgaeyl chided. “No, he won’t.” 

Tairn’s head swung to Sgaeyl as he hissed, “And you badgered me in the Hatchling Den when you were a feathertail! Then, you went and bonded once you were matured.” 

“And he died,” Sgaeyl reminded. "Maís will not go through that.” 

Sgaeyl and Tairn have these conversations, things that they speak through mental bonds that Violet will supposedly develop. 

Xaden chuffs air gleefully when he sees her expression. “What, Violet, sad you can’t understand them?” he says. 

Violet pouts, as much as a dragon can, that is. Xaden—or Maís—can speak in the Unspoken Language. Violet, as Daeyla, is too young. 

“No, Maís!”  

Soft air blows over Violet’s scales. 

Officially, they are Maísarugadh and Daeylanach, Sgaeyl and Tairn’s hatchlings, but something feels so right when she calls him “Xaden” and her “Violet” that they don’t stop, even with Sgaeyl’s disapproval. 

It amuses Tairn. 

Anyways, Violet can hear things if they are directed to her specifically, like Tairn’s “soon you will have a Bonded”. If it is sent through a familial link, she cannot understand it, and she is too young to send her own messages back. 

Xaden gloats in this fact. 

Still glaring at Tairn, Sgaeyl says, “Perhaps I’ll take Maís hunting with me.” 

Violet sees Xaden’s nose wrinkle. He’s been hunting today, at least twice. 

Tairn scoffs, gusty air filling the cave. “He’s been thrice. Take Daeyla.” 

They go silent, and Violet knows they’re talking privately, probably Sgaeyl, around the lines of “I won’t take her out of the cave!” 

“Dam…” Xaden is cautious. 

Sgaeyl twists, so her front scales face more Xaden than Tairn, “Maís?” 

“Can I hang out with Daeyla?” he asks convincingly. 

A harrumph from Tairn. He says something Violet can’t hear. 

There is something else in the air, something else Violet cannot place—something ready to explode. 

That afternoon, Violet and Xaden play in the sunlight streaming into the cave. 

When Xaden awakes near dusk, his parents are arguing. He can’t doubt it; their anger is slipping into every crevice. Tairn might be larger and more foreboding, but the dragon his scales are modeled after—Sgaeyl—can be frightening beyond measure. 

They’re probably arguing about Sgaeyl and how she treats him and Violet, if Xaden had to guess. He’s seen Sgaeyl in action, multiple times. He’s seen how she leaves only the strongest alive; you must fight for what you earn. 

The human expression, he believes, is “An eye for an eye.” 

Yet with them, she’s so much more caring. It wouldn’t be a wild guess for Tairn to be scared they aren’t being prepared correctly for the wild that is outside the Vale. 

Xaden can’t pick. He appreciates being Maís and being trained by some of the most cut-throat dragons around (Tairn and Sgaeyl…not Codagh, unfortunately), but he appreciates being her Maís, the one that Sgaeyl cares so much about. 

So he says nothing. 

They always sort it out, in the end. 

Their happy little family. 

Even if Tairn ends up being called by Codagh to discuss the fact that he has one hatchling and one offspring nearly ready to bond monthly. There’s only two black dragons around: Tairn and Codagh. Codagh really wants another—he’s pinned his hopes on Violet apparently—and just because Codagh doesn’t want him… 

Well, Xaden will prove him wrong. He might be a blue dragon like his mother, but he’s a damn good one, and his ferocity will one day become his father’s, he swears it. 

And Maísarugadh? Xaden is a dragon of his vow. 

He won’t let his Violet down. 

Chapter Text

“You know, Maís…” Sgaeyl was saying. It was multiple days later from their original argument, and now Xaden was determined to bond this year. 

He had a calling . 

It was a little string that if he tugged too hard on, it would disappear, but it was there. 

“Dam?” Xaden is tired of hunting. It’s all he does, nowadays, aside from the small flight there or here. That, and Violet—Daeyla—likes it when he hunts. Says it gives her something else to think about. 

Something in Sgaeyl’s eyes shift. She sighs, soft air filtering through her scaled nose. “You miss Daeyla,” she said observantly. As a fact, not a question. 

“...I miss the fact that we aren’t doing it together ,” he corrects cautiously, afraid of Sgaeyl’s temper. She would never hurt him or Violet, but she can keep them apart, and that’s enough of a punishment. “It’s driving me crazy that she’s going stir-crazy trapped in the cave.” When his dam ’s eyes darken with suspicion, he backtracks, “It’s a very nice cave!” 

She makes a soft noise that Xaden identifies as laughing. More soft air blows. “She’d like that…” Sgaeyl shifts so she stares over the mountains. “Maís…it’s not like I wish she wouldn’t ever Bond…or you, even. I don’t wish for this season and your bonding, but even for the next, I’ll accept…did I ever tell you about my first?” 

“First bonding?” Xaden says, “no, Dam.” 

She rests her large snout between her front limbs, blue scales glinting in the golden sunlight like water on a warm day. “His name was Ueno Mistaf .” 

“ Ueno ,” Xaden tried the name on his tongue. 

“Yes.” Sgaeyl gives a short nod.  “I Bonded with him as a young Blue. I went against my Den Leader’s orders as well—got myself into trouble. It wasn’t worth it. He died two years later. I only Bonded my second time twenty human years later.” 

“He died too?” Xaden asked curiously. 

Sgaeyl pauses, as if it’s information she doesn’t want to mention. “He…yes. For a noble cause, though.” 

“A noble cause?” 

The pause is heavy in the air, and Xaden regrets asking. Eventually, his dam says, “the humans were trying to rebel against each other. He died, though he left an heir and his mate. Then the mate married his brother, and that was that.” 

Xaden is almost terrified to ask. “Have you had any other riders?” 

When Sgaeyl shifts her snout to face him, Xaden realizes how tired she looks. It can’t be easy, taking care of him and Violet and dealing with her Den Leader and Tairn. Not to mention riders. “None since. But I do what I want, when I want.” 

She stretches out, her large, blue cobalt wings shimmering as they covered the sun from his eyes. “I’m thinking of bonding this year,” she admits. 

“Would you…be mad if I do?” 

She sighs, the air filtering through the clear mountains. “Yes.” 

“But…” he edges on. 

Xaden sees the small curve to her smile, fangs bearing slightly. “But I won’t be too angry. After all, I did the same.” 

Xaden pulls himself higher, but Sgaeyl cuts him off, “Still, don’t, Maís.” 

And it’s a plea. 

When Violet’s Dam comes back to their cave with a significant lack of Xaden, Tairn rises and immediately goes over to Sgaeyl as she rubs her snout over his scales. He whispers, “chèile, chèile.” 

Violet pointly looks away. 

Sgaeyl laughs, extracting herself from Tairn, “He is out,” she informs him, “I let him loose to fly for a bit.” There was something in the way she said it that Violet couldn’t place. 

“Is that so…” Tairn’s hum is low. 

“Besides,” Sgaeyl purrs, “I wanted to talk about letting Daeyla out of the cave.” 

Violet bounces to her feet with excitement. Tairn spares her an amused look and they go back to conversing in the Unspoken Language, leaving Violet alone… again. 

Really. 

It’s not that hard, she just wants to explore a bit! 

Explore all the little spaces, the places that Xaden has gone without her, so he can’t say he’s better than her. 

So she can finally beat him in something. 

Tairn sighs. “I’ll go, I’ll go,” he mutters. 

Violet bounces up to him, trying to climb onto her father’s wing. He shakes her off, a bit amused, huffing, “I need to go see Codagh.” The last word is said in a snarl of sorts. 

Violet frowns. “But—” 

“Daeyla,” he warns, “stay with your mother.” 

Sgaeyl draws Violet close to her, holding onto her hatchling by her tail. When Tairn finally lumbers out of the cave, Sgaeyl sends Violet a toothy smile. “You said you wanted to explore, hatchling?” 

Violet brightened. 

Of course Violet wants to explore! Who doesn’t? She needs to catch up to Xaden so he won’t leave her behind. She needs to explore every cave, scale every hill, do everything there is to do in the Vale. 

A fond sigh from Sgaeyl draws Violet out of her thoughts. 

“Where to, Dam?” she asks, the perfect picture of brightness. 

“Let’s try those mountains,” Sgaeyl says, jutting her snout in the direction. 

Sure. The “mountains” look more like little hills to Violet, but if it means she gets to explore—well, she’ll do just about anything. 

Sgaeyl abruptly goes to the air, flying in large hoops around Violet’s head as she waits for the hatchling. 

It’s embarrassing, because Violet struggles. She barely manages to lift herself in the air, having to focus on the heavy beating of her wings to finally create enough air pressure. 

If Violet didn’t know her dam, she’d say that Sgaeyl was emotionless, but there was a downwards crease around her eyes that indicated worry. 

But she knows Sgaeyl—at least somewhat— so she knows that it’ll be okay. 

Violet manages to get enough power and she soars after Sgaeyl, slower but happily. 

Now Violet understands what Xaden means when he says that flying gives you the greatest freedom. It felt like she was on top of the whole world, able to keep on flying and flying and flying without stop. 

(Why had she doubted Xaden? …when had he ever lied to her…?) 

“Relax.” Sgaeyl’s howl enters Violet’s thoughts, a sharp, meaningful look. “Relax, Daeyla.” 

Violet did her best to relax her muscles, letting them fly without sparing thoughts. Only then did she realize how tightly wound her wing was, how it was dragging her down. 

How everyone’s mood was being dragged down in the cave. 

With her mind made up… 

“Dam…” Violet asked, “what’ll happen if Xaden bonds this year?”  

Chapter Text

If he’s being honest, Maís doesn’t know what to do. 

As a hatchling, he’d begged his dam for stories about her first mating. About her first Bonded, about the way that the feeling of Knowing felt. Yesterday, he’d gotten more information than he had for so long. 

Sgaeyl’s first rider was called Ueno, Ueno Mistaf. Apparently the strange-sounding name wasn’t that weird—Ueno came from a small town in the frisks of the western province of Luceras, and his culture was very unlike the one of the humans around the Vale. 

Xaden isn’t sure. Humans are weird. 

But back to the topic at the forefront of his mind: Bondeds. 

Xaden knew the basics—it’s a human you stick to, share a mind and soul with. They’ll die without you, but you won’t die if they die. However, if too many of your previous Bondeds die, you’ll also die. 

That’s why Xaden knows very, very well that you must pick your Bonded to be someone special. Someone you connect to. 

And Xaden had felt the song in his mind, pounding through his heart. He felt it whisper in his ears in the late hours of the night; he felt the song seep between his scales; felt it dance along his tail. 

Ta… it taunted… ta!  

He said nothing, soaking in it’s beauty. 

Vis, it yelped with glee, Avis!  

His eyes were almost closed (Tavis) . 

But then, the song stopped. 

So suddenly. 

Without a care. 

And Xaden couldn’t stop the resentment filling his wings, weighing him down as he flew. He couldn’t help himself when he thought, Is my dam the fault of this? Couldn’t think that maybe, just maybe, him telling Sgaeyl of the song was his dying blow. 

Would Sgaeyl be so cruel as to try that? 

Would she try to approach the Elders and cancel the song? 

Would she? 

Would she dare? 

Would she dare? 

Because it wasn’t as if the bond stopped. It felt blocked , as if someone had shoved a different dragon in front of it, as if he was the back nook of a beautifully busy cave. 

It made him feel ugly, second place. 

Would she dare? 

It’s so ugly , to think his dam could be capable of such a thing. 

“—aden. Xaden. …Maís?” the last word is tentative, as if it doesn’t belong. 

Xaden knows it’s Violet— Daeyla. “Here,” he whispers, his breath coming out in a short puff against the night air. It’s not cold yet—they haven’t reached winter—but the weather is chilly enough for Violet to shift to his flank, relaxing in his warmth. 

“I was saying your name for a while, y’know,” she mused carelessly as she looked up at him through slightly hooded eyes. 

“...sorry.” 

He feels awkward, somehow, as if he’s at fault. He feels too big, like Violet is something small that can be crushed under his feet. 

Violet’s snout—pure gold—shoves against his deep blue scales. “Whatcha thinkin’, silly?” She only gets this relaxed with her words at night or during the morn, when her mind doesn’t seem to function. 

Xaden contemplates the pros and cons of telling her the truth, but eventually says a half-lie, half-truth, “Bonding.” 

Her eyes had been about to close right there, he knew it. But they blinked open the moment the words left his lips. “Dam thinks you won’t,” she said matter-of-factly. 

He laughed, not unkindly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks.” That, at least, was a truth. 

It didn’t matter what Sgaeyl thought. The Elders—of her and Xaden’s nest and of the entirety of the Vale—had the final word. 

“...right.” Violet is less than convinced, but she changes the subject. “Do you think you’ll find your chèile? Ever?” 

“Maybe one day,” he says, and this is also a ‘truth’. “Our years are long. The world is longer. Why should I not ?” 

“Mmmm,” Violet doesn’t look mad at his answer. 

Tairn is the one that finds them the next morning, Xaden’s wing around Violet and her breathing into his scales. Comfort.

Violet stares at Sgaeyl and Xaden’s retreating forms. They’re off to a meeting with the den, Xaden had patiently explained.  

Whatever. 

Violet didn’t care. 

She was just a golden feathertail, weak, wasn’t she? 

And thaaaaaat’s your pessimistic side, she laughs to herself. 

“Daeyla.” 

Violet startles from her perch at the mouth of the cave, her wings spreading in alarm and her feathered tail lashing. She almost calls him her “dam” —and how awkward would that be?—but she can feel his amusement radiating from the end of the cave. 

“Come.” 

She stands on slightly shaking feet, wings pressed tightly to her flank as she walks into the cave, away from the warm sunlight. 

Tairn pauses. Inspects her. Pushes his snout into her scales, as if checking for something she can’t see. 

“Tairn?” 

He ignores her in favor of sniffing a bit more. When he pulls away, Tairn looks mildly impressed. “Your scales are tinted darker.” 

“ Really ?” Violet can’t stop the excitement of the thought. Even if she wants to be like Xaden (and Sgaeyl), with beautiful blue scales, Tairn’s scales are awesome. They’re black! And it’s not like Violet wants to be exactly like Xaden anyways, so she won’t complain if she ends up developing black scales. 

“Yes, really.” Tairn hides his smile. He’s still ginormous—towering over Violet, in fact—and even Sgaeyl isn’t close to his size, and she’s big. Violet can’t wait to be big, too, to not be a feathertailed hatchling like she currently is. 

Violet beams. Her smile lights up the cave—which is mostly dark and damp, the exception being the small beams of sunlight that filter in—as she looks at Tairn with happiness. “Finally!” she tries not to crow, really, but Violet’s been waiting for this day for ages. Finally, she’s grown old enough that she’s going to get her colors! 

Tairn stays quiet. It’s in moments like these, when Sgaeyl and Xaden are both gone, that Violet remembers that Tairn isn’t just Sgaeyl’s mate, but the second-fiercest dragon in all of the Vale, in all of the humans’ continents. He’s not talkative. He’s fierce. Only Codagh—Tairn’s only denmate and his den leader—is bigger than him. 

Most humans would reach Tairn’s ankle. Violet—as a dragon, of course—reaches his mid foot, with Xaden reaching his stomach. Sgaeyl reached half-way of his flank. Except for that, Tairn was big, black, and menacing. 

The cave is quiet, not just Tairn and not just Violet. 

“Tairn…” Violet starts, giving him the biggest eyes she can (the ones that Xaden melts to. Listen, Violet knows her stuff.) “Can we please—” Tairn gives her a look. “Can we please go outside?” 

Violet waits. Tairn stares. Violet waits some more. Tairn stares, his eyes narrowed. “Daeyla.” 

“Pretty please?” she asks again, “Puh -lease?” 

“Daeyla—” 

“Please! I won’t bother you for the rest of the day,” she tries to bargain. 

Tairn continues to stare as Violet starts mumbling about what she will and won’t do. 

“Daeyla,” he finally interrupts with finality, his words ruling hers. “Think about what just happened.” 

Think about what just happened? 

She’d just…asked him if they—really, if she—could go outside, right? Nothing out of the ordinary. She was always begging to be able to go outside and play in the sun.  

Come to think of it, hadn’t Tairn been staring the entirety of the conversation? 

Hadn’t he been trying to get her attention—for whatever reason? 

“I dunno,” she says at last, a series of smoke puffs in front of her. Oh. oh. “I did it, didn’t I?” she asks Tairn excitedly. 

He wears a fond smile. “Yes.” 

“That is so cool,” she gushes, chasing her flying tail with childish ease. She’s managed to finally speak in the Unspoken Language, not aloud like a baby, and— and. Xaden not here. Neither is Sgaeyl, she realizes, her stomach sinking a bit. 

It’s fine though, because her scales have turned dark and she’s discovered the Unspoken language. 

And she’ll be able to surprise Xaden (and Sgaeyl too, she supposes) when he comes back from their den meeting. 

“Daeyla,” Tairn says. If Violet dares to assume, he’s sporting a small smile. Aw. 

“Tairneanach?” Violet takes pleasure in the words, rolling each one around in her mind, as if terrified that tomorrow, they won’t exist. She’s never been able to say Tairn’s name like that; she’s always felt inferior, in some ways, without this method of speak. It’s most common among dragons. 

It means she’s not a hatchling. 

And Tairn mostly spoke to her like this, careful to stay away from any other types of speech. Her dam had to—after all, she was the dam —and at the end of it all, Violet knew that Tairn had to be at least fond of her, considering he’d agreed to raising her and Xaden instead of leaving them in the Hatchling Den. 

“Shall we go outside?” 

The offer feels like an olive branch, a peace offering. 

Violet is smiling when she nods furiously, “Yes!” 

And if Violet rests just a tad closer to Tairn, their bodies barely separated and his morningstartail just barely bordering her in comfort, that’s no one’s business but theirs.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know what to do. He stood there, unmoving, asking the black silence, what should I do? 

His heart pulled on the only thing it knew, a small, golden string connecting himself to his heart to the ground. 

Who am I? He asks. 

Who am I? 

Who am I? 

He tugs on the string once. 

It breaks, and he nearly falls down the cliff. 

“Help!” he yells. 

No one, nothing, responds. 

“Please!” he yells to the void—again, no answer. 

The string is gone and he’s going to— 

“—avis? Tavis? Garrick!” 

“—Bodh? Where am I?” 

Garrick looks around in confusion, his eyes narrowing on Bodhi’s. 

His heart lurches. 

Bodhi looks so much like— no. 

He’s not going to think about it, not going to think about who he’s lost or who he hasn’t saved. 

No. Not today. 

“Bodhi?” Garrick repeats. 

The brown boy nearly topples over in surprise. “Gar!” he yells out with relief, “Imo, come quick!” 

Bodhi then turns around to inspect Garrick, who is still staring at him. 

“I had the most bizarre dream…” he begins, but Bodhi shushes him. 

“Wait till Imogen gets here,” he tells Garrick sternly, “and we’ll get a healer. Stay still.” The demand is funny coming from Bodhi of all people, someone who Garrick has known for his entire life. 

Garrick watches as Bodhi busies himself in where Garrick guesses is a makeshift infirmary. 

Quietly, he asks, “Bodh, what day is it?” 

Bodhi freezes. “Soon,” he mumbles. 

Some might see the “soon” as an indication that Bodhi was going to tell Garrick soon, but Garrick knew better. 

His whole life was going to shake soon. 

“Is it…?” his voice is surprisingly raw. 

Bodhi nods, and for the first time Garrick notices that Bodhi’s eyes are a startling red. 

Stomach sinking, he repeats, “How long?” 

“We’ve been here for a week,” Bodhi says, “now quiet. Imogen is on her way.” 

Garrick and Bodhi sit in silence for a minute. 

Eventually, Garrick hears a faint thump thump thump and Imogen emmerges. She’s wearing something that can only be described as a tunic: wrapped around her shoulders loosely and flowing, the piece of cloth is dirty beyond belief. 

Her hair is short and raspy like it was purposefully chopped off. She smiles a little at the sight of Garrick. “Dumbass,” she greets. 

“Hi, Cardulo,” Garrick mumbles back in reply. “Bodh—” 

“Garrick—”

“Imogen, it’s a week before Parapet. It’s not like their healer is actually going to heal us. Me. ” 

For the first time ever, Garrick watches as Imogen wilts underneath his gaze. “I know,” she murmurs, “but I can hope.” 

Garrick changes the subject. “Is Commander Sorrengail still  up on the plan?” 

“Yes,” Bodhi nods. “But there’s been complications. Murmurs that they’re going to…try to annul the agreement.” 

“They won’t—” Garrick tries to say before stopping. “He’s…gone…” his voice is thick with grief. “There’s nothing stopping them, is there?” 

“No,” Imogen said gravely. “We’ve been trying to say to wait until you wake up.” 

Bodhi nodded. “Thank fucking goodness it happened now, otherwise, they might’ve gone ahead and not let me talk.” 

“They don’t respect you?” Garrick asked. 

“No,” Bodhi shrugged. His eyes still darkened though, Garrick could see it. “I’m ‘not a Riorson’, as they said. I’m something else, as if they know my blood better than I do.” With each word, his voice grows more and more bitter. Garrick agrees whole-heartedly. 

“What difference do I make…?” 

Imogen is the one that responds, her eyes stormy. “You are a Tavis, dumbass. They see you as a supporter of—Bodhi. None of the others that are supposed to go to Basgaith have as much of a sway as you do. Depends on which side you choose, it’s like Him all over again.” 

Fuck.

Garrick just woke up. Why can’t he just rest? 

Imogen sighs. “Listen to me, Tavis. You feelin’ good? Great. Ya feelin’ shitty? Fan-fuckin’-tastic, that’s all of us. We’ve all barely gotten a grip. We just need to secure our lives and then we’re freed…into Parapet. We knew our life would be like this after the whole fuckin’ mess.” 

Bodhi picks up where she finished off. “The question is, do we let our lives—and all the other Marked ones—end now, or do we keep fighting for a chance to survive?” 

Garrick felt his neck nod. “We keep fighting for a chance,” he says firmly. “Always.” For the young ones, he adds mentally. 

Bodhi smiles. “Always.” 

And Imogen is last. “Always.” 

Garrick glances at Imogen cautiously. His mouth is parted slightly, like he’s going to talk, but he says nothing, the question only burning in his eyes. Now? 

It’s Bodhi that answers, a soft mumble of words Garrick barely catches. “Soon. And you.” 

The unexplainable pit in his stomach deepens. Riorson, he thinks, before replacing it with other names: Tavis, Cardulo, Durran, Mairi, Telery, Mairi, and then he switches to first names. Garrick, Imogen, Liam, Bodhi, Soleil, Sloane, Julianne, Masen, Eva. 

All of their lives are now on his shoulders, not anyone else’s. 

Garrick takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

The change is immediate. The room grows colder, stiller, as if they’re expected and unwanted arrivals. 

There’s a long table, like one for a feast, and the different heads sit. Garrick’s eyes are drawn to Lilith Sorrengail immediately. She stands tall, but Garrick can see the faint ring of black around her skin. She’s probably been working to the bone. She’s exhausted. Faintly, Garrick remembers she still has a daughter who is two years younger than him. Can he use this? 

“Welcome,” she greets, her eyes glittering with shards of broken glass. From outside the room— cellar— the sound of rumbling thunder can be heard. 

Melgren sends her a look, as if to say, control yourself. 

Garrick thinks the sound is pleasant, like white noise. A constant background. 

“Garrick Tavis,” General Melgren says. 

Garrick doesn’t flinch. He focuses on Melgren’s hands so he won’t see the dragon that caused the death of everyone he cared about. Fuck my life. 

“Commanding General.” It’s a battle he barely wins, a battle to keep his voice steady. 

Someone squeezes his hand—Soleil. She’s the only one who stands next to him, just a step behind, to show that he’s the one they’re talking to. Imogen and Bodhi, that nursed him back to health, are standing just outside the door, probably with Eya or Masen. 

Sorrengail tilts her head back, “And Soleil Telery.” Soleil doesn’t flinch, but Garrick can feel her arm squeeze his palm once before letting go. No weaknesses. 

“Commanding General,” Soleil repeats. 

The words sound wrong on Soleil’s lips, like a tainted poison. 

Melgren’s eyes flash at Sorrengail. The woman that ordered the executions—and also gave them a chance to escape with the “Riorson Pact”. 

“Following the death of Tayrg Riorson,” Commanding General Melgren says. Garrick’s heart squeezes painfully. The name leaves a bitter taste in Garrick’s mouth. “The Riorson Pact between General Sorrengail and Tayrg Riorson is void. Tell me, Garrick Tavis, why should we not sentence you to a traitor’s death?” 

Garrick takes a deep breath, in and out. He can almost feel Soleil’s support, radiating through the dark hall. 

“Why?” he whispers quietly. 

Why is a big question. 

Why is he here, instead of Tayrg? Why is he here, doing something he can’t, bargaining for people’s lives? 

In Sorrengail’s eyes, something changes. 

“Why can’t we have a chance? You know we’re not going to make it. I know we’re not going to make it. But at least—give people a show. And if we somehow do make it…that’s more riders loyal to you. For a chance at life.” 

The last bit isn’t true but it’s a bribe. It’s a well-known fact that riders die by the dozens in the Rider’s Quadrant. If they shove in all the marked ones, then it can even out the odds. While Garrick is fairly sure most of them can survive and live in the Quadrant, the Navarrian leadership thinks that there’s no way a noble dragon will mate with something like Navarre’s traitors. 

Yes, Garrick isn’t sure his gamble is going to work. It probably won’t. He doesn’t know dragons well enough to tell anyone anything. 

Sorrengail nods. She glances at Melgren, as if to say, we need to talk. 

Melgren frowns but beckons. 

Sorrengail, too, frowns. Is she bad at being bossed around? 

“Why not?” she asks, “Commanding General Melgren, if I may. They’re children. They haven’t been trained because of the war. They’re likely to die anyways. Dragons will be more wary of them—not as many will be bonded. If anything, this gives Navarrian riders a better chance. And if they do somehow manage to make it…well, they’d be loyal, like he said.”  She jerks her head in Garrick’s general direction. 

He gets the feeling that this is her way to stand up for them. 

Melgren’s eyes are stormy. Eventually, he nods slightly. “Very well. Make a deal— the Tyrrish way, to bury it in.” He lets her go with a final warning: “ You are in charge of Basgaith, Commanding General Sorrengail.”  

It’s a warning that even Garrick understands. A quiet, if this goes wrong, it’s your fault, that echoes through the chamber. 

So. 

It seems that Navarre’s leadership isn’t as united as they try to make it, Garrick now knows. Melgren threatening Sorrengail…

“Come, Tavis,” Sorrengail rises. “Let us commence the deal.” 

Chapter Text

Maís reaches for the tiny rabbit and with a satisfying crunch, he feels the bones dissolve under his teeth and he grins, his snout curving around sharp teeth. 

“Xaden! Xaden!” 

The flavor of rabbit has slowly started to disappear by the time he turns around to face Daeyla. “Vi,” he greets, “what’s up?”

She smiles back at him, a far cry from when she was still the tiny, golden feathertail that despised his guts. Now, she had shared with excitement, she was growing in her colors. Black, for one. Maybe a dark, dark blue, but anyone—specifically Maís—could see what she really wanted. 

To be like Tairn. 

“Dam wants you in,” she says, walking forward until she can press her snout into his wings’ scales. “Pretty please?” 

Another surprise. 

She was developing the ability to bond through the Unspoken Language, something that suited Xaden just fine. He didn’t need to worry about Sgaeyl hearing their “Xaden” and “Violet,” which she hated. 

“I’m coming.” 

He follows her back to the cave, taking one last, forlorn look at the summery sun before sinking into the cool air of darkness. 

It always surprises Maís how impressive his parents look together. Sgaeyl is still the beautiful blue who only looks more terrifying with Tairn reared behind her, as if ready to strike. 

“Maísarugadh.” Tairn is the first to talk. 

Maís bows his head slightly. “Dam.” To Sgaeyl. There is no technically “correct” way to refer to Tairn, so Maís says nothing. 

“Daeylanach,” Sgaeyl says a bit fondly. 

“Dam!” Violet jumps over to Sgaeyl, rubbing her snout into Sgaeyl’s scales. It seems like that is Daeyla’s new favorite activity now. He can’t blame her. For a while, that was all Maís had done, until Sgaeyl had stopped entertaining him and he learned that life was cruel. 

“So?” Maís asked cautiously. “Is something wrong?” 

“So,” Tairn says, for once holding Maís’s gaze, “there will be a new dragon coming around soon.” 

Violet pauses. “New dragon?” she asks. “Is she…like…me?” A feathertail, she meant. Xaden paws the ground uncomfortably. Is she? Even if she is a feathertail—is she as annoying (and endearing) as Violet? Because he didn’t know if he could survive two Violets. 

“Sort of,” Sgaeyl continues. “She is also a feathertail.” 

“Why haven’t we seen her before?” Xaden demands crossly. 

Tairn’s huff of air causes Xaden’s head to go backward and he retreats one step. “The Elders were still thinking.” 

Right. So the elders thinking was what was going to ruin Xaden’s family. 

He hated the powerlessness. 

“Is she coming soon?” Violet asks in excitement. 

Maís feels himself sicken. 

He doesn’t want her to come. No, not now. Why does she have to ruin it for him? 

It seems that Sgaeyl understands his hesitance, because her eyes narrow. “Maís,” she chides, “you are no longer an adolescence. Grow up, or I shall send you to Fàs’s den for a month. We shall see how you enjoy that.” 

Fàs was another blue dragon. 

Maís said nothing, making sure no steam left his snout so he wouldn’t be chided for “disobience.” 

Daeyla, naturally, had none of that fear, and bounced, “Who is it? When are they coming?” 

“Her name is Andarnaurram. She’s coming…soon. Cloineach will give her the ‘go’ signal and then she will join us.” 

“Here?” Maís does his best to keep disgust out of his thought, but the thin, blue-colored thread connecting him and his dam shimmers and starts to fade. 

She was shutting him out. 

Steam erupted around Tairn. “Here. Problem?” 

“None.” 

“...hey.” 

Garrick shifted to turn to Imogen, letting out a long sigh when he realized just who it was. “Hi.” 

“Nice up here?” 

“Not much,” he admits. Gone are the teases, and it’s almost jarring. 

They’re climbing up the Parapet tomorrow. How ruinous is that? He doesn’t want to. 

He guesses, more correctly, he’s climbing Parapet. Along with the other six people in his year (he wants to say there’s eight of them in all, but Tayrg is gone—)  

Imogen is not. Neither is Bodhi, or Eya. 

Fuck, he feels so powerless. 

Imogen—she’s only here for the night—it’s her last. They got the Riorson Pact done. “How is your back?” 

“Fine,” he mutters. 105 scars on his back. Is it worth it? He can only hope. 

Imogen nods, satisfied. “Morgane was worried.” 

“Isn’t she always worried?” Garrick says with raised eyebrows, rubbing together his hands as he referred to the blonde, brown-eyed girl. Something in Imogen’s eyes flashes. Oh, yes. Garrick can deal with it. “She was always better at spreading her legs than—” 

“Enough!” Imogen rises. 

Hook, sinker. 

“You have to climb tomorrow,” she says with a meaningful look, “go get some fucking sleep, or I swear to Malek…” 

“Eh,” Garrick shrugs, following Imogen down the stairs from the roof. “He might claim me by this time tomorrow.” 

“Don’t talk about it like that!” Imogen’s face is furious. 

Garrick smirks. “I’ll talk about what I want, who I want, whenever I want.” 

“Fuck. You,” fuming, Imogen leaves. 

Garrick’s sleep doesn’t come easily. 

He dreams of a girl who is under him, with him, and then gone; he dreams of Tayrg reaching out to him as he falls of the Parapet, twin expressions of horror and need echoed on their faces, of Tayrg disappearing into a dark mist, of nothingness filling his empty body; he dreams of death, of being hugged in Malek’s arms. 

Then, he dreams of nothing at all. 

Xaden lays in the quiet of their cave. 

What his dam and father said… 

There’s no coming back, if that’s what they wish. Maybe Violet doesn’t see the struggle here, but he does. 

He knows what it means. 

A puff of air leaves Xaden’s snout. 

Or maybe he’s Maís. 

Xaden can never decide, plagued by memories of a different life. 

He wonders if Violet realizes—if she has the same dreams. (Maybe she just humors him.) Or does she think that he named her after a color? Yet his name is so random… (so is the other world). 

His eyes slowly close as he curls his wings around himself. 

Some things are better left unthought and unsaid. 

And some things shouldn’t be brought into this world at all. 

There is a finicky balance in the universe, one that may cry of injustice bought yields it later, and there is a fine line between love and hate.