“I’m glad you’re gratified,” Kaln snapped. “And yes, I am being glib, but also genuinely. However, I asked you a question to which I need an answer!”
Tiavathyris’s smile faded. He could feel the shifting torrent of emotion in her… And after a moment’s consideration, deliberately backed away from that perception. Kaln was willing to leverage his power when he needed to—and in dealing with beings who were phenomenally powerful in their own right and also shockingly immature at times, it inevitably transpired that he needed to—but he did not want it to become a crutch, or his default approach. So he retreated to give her the privacy of her own feelings, and waited for her to gather her thoughts. This was something deeply important, and he could not claim to respect her if he didn’t let her determine how to address it.
“I have waited for such a long time,” she finally said. Her voice was quiet, and her gaze distant, fixed on the wall at a point far above his head. “I know the patterns of history. There is no such thing as an absolute power. Actions create reactions; the greater the exertion of force, the greater the ultimate backlash. When unassailable power rises, it sows the seeds of its own demise. The appearance of invincibility is only that. Nothing is indestructible, nor eternal. Tyrants and empires fall. There are no exceptions. So I waited.”
He also waited, now, while she paused to think. Still she was staring at nothing. Kaln gave her time.
“And waited,” Tiavathyris repeated quietly.
She fell silent again, and after another moment, Kaln tentatively opened himself to her, trying for control; concentrating on limiting the amount of input, not to delve deep but just to get a sense. He felt…more calm from her than before, as if the act of talking about this was helping her process it. Thus reassured, he withdrew again, letting her take her time.
“When Atraximos came upon me, I was at…something of a low point,” she said at last. “What occurred next… Well, in human terms, I’ve no doubt you would consider it an atrocity. And rightly so, had the same transpired between two humans. As you get to know us as individuals, Kaln, it’s worth bearing in mind that for all that people are fundamentally similar in many ways, there are things about dragons which are different, on a deeper level than cultural difference can account for. I am explaining this to make the point that my grudge with Atraximos was not personal. Our relationship was…satisfactory. It was normal, for dragons; each of us got what we expected, and wanted.”
She inhaled deeply, and for a second, Kaln thought she was about to spit flame, but instead she slowly released the breath, her expression darkening.
“That is not to say I did not know what he was, nor what my place here made me complicit in. So I watched, and waited.”
Tiavathyris began to rise, uncoiling herself with a smooth, precise motion.
“I waited, and watched, because I knew that the longer his depredations carried on, the more certain his comeuppance became. Nor did I wait passively, Kaln. I prepared. In the course of what are entirely ordinary hoarding activities for one such as myself, I was easily able to conceal my acquisition of a very specific set of armaments. Slowly and carefully, I acquired weapons and armor, rare tinctures and spell scrolls, charms and enchantments… An arsenal designed toward the singular purpose of destroying a dragon—one so specialized in self-protection that even ordinary anti-dragon measures would not suffice. The world is old enough that I doubt anything any of us does is truly original, but still, I suspect there have been few dragons willing to do what I did, for the very prosaic reason that a dragon who assembles a ready-made dragonslaying kit risks having it used on them. I thought…” Her huge chest expanded, then her shoulders rose once, wings briefly spreading in a shrug. “Well, if that was how things ended, fair enough. No one is truly eternal, and I know the weight of my complicity here.”
She turned, one mincing step at a time, and began to pace in a circle around the very edge of her huge central sleeping/training pad. For such an immense creature her movements were amazingly precise, almost delicate.
“What was more difficult was training my daughter. There is an art, a specific style and technique, to the close cooperation of mortals and dragons in battle. It was a challenge to achieve this without her father noticing, but Vadaralshi is trained to fight alongside mortal companions ranging from a solo hero to small parties. She knows how to fly to provide the best position for archers, mages, or armored vanguards either riding on her back or held in her claws; she has been coached in providing areal support for ground units up to and including armies. Everything I could think of. She was never strong enough to face Atraximos herself—if I had not that strength, it could never be asked of one so much younger—but I made her ready to provide support, interference, and everything necessary to give the inevitable mortal champion the best chance they could hope for.”
She was growing more animated as she spoke and paced, now, baring teeth and increasingly lashing her tail as her agitation increasingly leaked out. Kaln held his position and watched her; that angrily flicking tail was not approaching him, and he knew she was too controlled to strike him accidentally. It wouldn’t matter even if she did.
“And so I waited. And waited. I watched, while in the first century, they came in waves. First armies, and then as those were depleted, parties. They stooped to attempting assassinations. Bit by bit, the efforts trailed off. The knowledge and strength and numbers of the Vale folk waned. I held my peace, trusting they would find a way. Because I have so often seen mortals prevail against preposterous odds. Because I know that all invincibility is illusion, that in the end all that would be necessary was for one contender to get the right lucky hit.”
Tiavathyris growled, scraping her claws against the invulnerable Timestone next to her own less enduring construction.
“I waited, and watched. And they kept growing…thinner, and weaker, and more infrequent. I began assembling my arsenal; I could not risk Atraximos’s attention by seeking out or actively courting hostile mortals. All I needed was for an individual or party to contest him and survive, to show the resilience or cleverness or luck to keep trying after a defeat. But the very few who lived to tell the tale…they only fled. In just the last century, when I had my Vadaralshi, I looked for someone who at least showed the promise. The skill and the will, the boldness just to poke around Dragonvale and seek an opportunity.”
She came to a stop, now glaring at the wall, wings half-spread as if she were thinking of taking off.
“No one. Nothing! And they didn’t… These latter day kingdoms did not continue to fail, to grow weaker. No, they began to recover, to rebuild the strength their ancestors had squandered against Atraximos’s scales. And instead of gathering for another strike, they…”
Trailing off, she stopped. Still she was gazing at nothing, but now here expression was not so much angry as haunted.
“They adapted,” Kaln said quietly.
Tiavathyris closed her eyes, bent her neck to let her head hang. After a moment she opened her eyes again to gaze down on him.
“You must have seen it, even as briefly as you were in Boisverd. You are attuned to people, Kaln, and trained for civic administration. There is no way you didn’t notice.”
“It’s everywhere,” he agreed. “In everything, every detail. From the culture to the architecture. They are…discreet, surreptitious, fatalistic.”
“They won’t fight,” she said in a whisper powerful enough to ruffle his hair. “They gave up. Learned to live under the tyrant.”
“That’s what humans do. It’s a great strength. Even if it wasn’t the one you were looking for.”
She narrowed her eyes, but Kaln stared back without flinching. His instincts screamed against it, told him to assuage her feelings, agree with what she said and comfort her. But he knew that wasn’t what she wanted. This was. To be told the truth she didn’t want to hear; to be stood up to.
And again, after a pause, she lowered her gaze again, nodding.
“It is. I remained cautious, wary of provoking Atraximos, but… I am sure I could have done something more. His paranoia never waned, I had little freedom to move without drawing his attention, but I am neither helpless nor inept. Surely there was some option I could have found, some means of seeking out or even cultivating the opposition I needed for him. But… I did not. I trained my daughter, I prepared the support I could give to that increasingly hypothetical future hero, and… I grew bitter. Frustrated. Even as I told myself it was unjust and irrational, I blamed these descendants of Valereld for not being the mortal companions I was so proud to have fought alongside, long ago.”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Her head rose, nose pointed at the ceiling, and for just a second she shivered in a brief, bitter laugh.
“And then, you came. And now here we are!”
“I’m—”
“Husband.” Tiavathyris snapped her head back down to gaze intently at him. “I want you to know that I hold no blame or bitterness toward you—none. On the contrary, you ended the reign of Atraximos the Dread in exactly the way it deserved to end: in an improbable, absurd repudiation of everything he was. You denied him even the dignity I would have given him, of a final struggle against a worthy foe. He was a beast and a monster and he perished as a joke, and that is so much more fitting than anything I ever had the capability to arrange that I will never be able to show you enough gratitude for the vindication. You have done me no wrong even in the slightest and there need be no tension between us over it.”
She lowered her head fully, until the tip of her nose bumped against him—sharply pointed in the context of her long face, but at her size sufficiently blunt that it didn’t even poke him as she nuzzled ever so gently at his torso. Kaln reached up to caress her scales with a whole arm, and she closed her eyes.
“No… There’s no fault on your part. Only mine. That my preparations went for naught is just…one of those ironies the world likes to throw at us. That I ended up accomplishing nothing toward his end is purely my own failure. And now…” Her lips drew back, baring fangs as long as his legs, close enough for him to touch, and yet Kaln felt no fear. “And now you… You want me to face them? Even just one of them… Every day, here in my own home! To look her in the eyes, knowing what I’ve done to generations of her people, what I failed to do even to mitigate my offense. I can’t… Kaln, husband—”
And he understood, now, why she had been so inexplicably angry. It hadn’t actually been anger—only the appearance of anger, a mask to protect herself from the real emotion. A mask even one as wise and noble as she had needed, for there was nothing more brutal to carry in one’s heart than shame.
“Change,” Kaln ordered.
The enormous dragon before him dissolved, and the woman who appeared in her stead would still have stood a head taller than he, had she not almost immediately crumpled. Kaln caught her before she could fall fully to her knees, wrapping her tightly in his arms. She clutched him for dear life, claws digging into his back as he cradled her head, burying her face against his neck. The muffled sound she made wasn’t a sob, or a wail, or a groan, but some agonized hybrid for which his language didn’t bother to have a word.
Yet another way in which she was a challenge to all his habits: Kaln’s tool of choice had always been words, and he was good with them. He knew exactly the right things to say and every instinct he had wanted to say them. But he also knew that was wrong—not here, not now, not with her.
Instead, he did what she needed and held her. Tiavathyris clung to him; she wasn’t crying, but there was labor in her every breath. Slowly he stroked her back, from between her horns to the middle of her spine, over and over. For long minutes, until some of the tension had gradually melted from her, and she was just holding him in return, not relying on him to stay upright.
Only when time had passed, spent in simple warmth and sharing, did he speak. He knew she still did not respect words as much as actions and never would, but there were things here that needed to be said.
“I can’t judge you,” Kaln whispered. “I don’t…have the kind of training or education to render moral judgments on complex cases, and even if I did…I suspect this one would stymie me. I’ve no idea how to even begin tallying up all these actions and consequences, choices and mitigating factors and intentions. Not on that scale, over that time frame. It’s just utterly beyond me.”
He stroked her hair one last time, then began gently to pull away. Not completely separating, but delivering a signal which she understood and acted on, pulling back in turn just enough that she could see his face, with their arms still around each other. Her green eyes had reddened, but she still hadn’t wept. Having straightened up in the process, she was now looking down at him.
“So I refuse to condemn you,” Kaln said quietly. “And by the same token, I can’t offer you absolution. What I can do is be with you and support you. Your history is yours to live with, love. I’ll be here to share the weight, but your shoulders are stronger than mine to begin with.”
She swelled slightly in his arms as she took a steadying breath, and then nodded.
Kaln shifted his grip so he could cup her face with one hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb.
“I know you understand strategy, so…here it is. Our material need is to stop Princess Percy from telling anyone in Boisverd about our situation. The option I’m leaning toward is keeping her here. The other two options are to kill her, or to send her to Rhivkabat under formal diplomatic asylum, as she originally requested. I do not have to explain why the first one is not on the table.”
Tiavathyris nodded again, her face calmer now, gaze intent.
“The second is problematic. The fact that Izayaroa didn’t even bring it up with me validates my hunch that it would breach the important separation she keeps between her role as absentee Empress and her life here. Somewhat more relevant for our purposes, it would introduce complications in the form of other people Percy would be interacting with, every one of them an information risk. It would also create diplomatic problems between Rhivaak and Boisverd, and worst of all, create a trail of breadcrumbs leading anyone who’s curious enough straight back here. Exactly the thing we don’t want.”
“She’s staying, then.” Her voice was calm, now. Accepting.
“Almost certainly,” Kaln agreed. “I have to settle a few things with the others, but unless something incredibly surprising pops up in the next hour, that will be my decision. I understand, now, why having her here is going to be difficult for you.”
This was it. This was so hard. He wanted to soften the blow, to soothe her…present everything in the best possible way. At this point he knew that was the wrong thing to do and he knew why, but by every enumerated heaven he so wanted to.
“And you’re a big girl,” Kaln said firmly. “You need to suck it up.”
Her physical control was absolutely amazing. He couldn’t have articulated or even identified any change in her posture—even in her expression. And yet, very suddenly, he found himself acutely aware that she was a veritable pillar of muscle and claws under that oh so pleasant feminine softness.
“Believe me, I’m aware how ridiculously arrogant it is to compare my lived experience to yours,” he continued, carefully keeping his tone even and firm but not aggressive, “but I’m about to anyway, so I’ll just have to hope you forgive me. When I first snuck into this place, it was with the intention of getting my hands on something that would help me get even with those who have wronged me, elsewhere. When you and the others first made me your…offer to stay here, well… I certainly can’t deny the immense appeal that had inherently, but there was a large part of me that was thinking that a hoard and three dragon wives would be great assets to use against my enemies. And it is so weird to me to think that that was just a few days ago. Because sometime in the meantime, completely by accident, it’s gotten through my head that none of that is worth doing. It’s so much more important—so much better for me, personally, to be here, to focus on you. I mean…you, collectively, but also you in particular…well, you know what I mean.”
That got him a smile, finally.
“And I have a feeling that’s a lesson you fully absorbed long, long ago,” Kaln continued, smiling up at her in return. “I know what it’s like to get a painful thought lodged in your head and forget all about important things you already know. But it’s still true: the past is written in stone. The path only goes forward. We all have to make whatever peace we can with what’s happened, and pay attention to what’s in front of us.”
He shifted his hand, slowly stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. Then with the palm. After a moment, she let her eyes drift closed and leaned into his hand, like a caressed cat. He took time, a few rejuvenating seconds, to just share that little intimacy, because what he had to say next…
“So Percy is going to stay here,” Kaln said firmly, “and you are going to look her in the eye and be kind to her. If she has any questions or accusations about what any of us have done in the past, about Atraximos or anything else, I will expect you above all the others to handle that with grace and compassion. I really do believe this is in your best interests as well, Tiavathyris—as a way forward. If it is not, consider it penance. Either way, this is how things need to be.”
She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, straightening her spine. Kaln gently pulled back, giving her a bit more space.
When her eyes opened, it was to the accompaniment of a small but warm smile. She bent herself forward in a deep nod that curved gently into a shallow bow.
“Very good, husband. As I have sworn, I belong to you and will obey your will. And…now that you have explained your thoughts, I believe your decision is the right one.”
Kaln stepped forward again, reaching up to touch her face. Once more she leaned into his hand, but this time he slipped it around to cradle the back of her head again, pulling her forward and down.
Tiavathyris tilted her face to receive a kiss, but instead, he pressed his forehead to hers and gently nuzzled at her in the draconic equivalent. A warm smile blossomed across her face and she reciprocated, gently moving her head in turn, rubbing her nose alongside his.
“You are…and this is very strange to me to realize…I think the best thing that could have happened to me. I don’t just mean because you got rid of Atraximos for us. You’re just… You are good for us, husband. For me.”
“I will certainly do my best,” Kaln agreed. “Let me support you, and I have faith that your strength can accomplish anything we need.”
This felt so very nice, but…his responsibilities were not fully executed yet. After another indulgent moment, he pulled back, letting his hand fall. She reached out to lightly caress his own cheek with the backs of her claws, but otherwise allowed him to retreat.
“Now I have to go resume squaring away the details of expanding our very peculiar little family. I will be very much looking forward to spending more time with you when I’m free of immediate duties.”
“Mm…yes, husband, you do have duties to me, as well.” For someone who disdained doublespeak and innuendo, she certainly didn’t lack the ability. “And I will look forward to hearing more about these enemies of yours.”
Oh…crap.
“I think I would rather not,” Kaln said with great care. “They are their own problem now, and I have better things to do.”
“We’ll see.” Hells, he should not have said that. This was one of those accidental little slips that was going to have consequences, he could tell. After resolving to ignore the Entity’s advice and keep his wives out of his past, he had to go and involve the most warlike of the three—and with an inadvertently tantalizing little hint that would entice anyone to pursue it. This was what happened when he didn’t get to plan and manage his conversations! “Success in your endeavors, then, husband. And…thank you. For hearing me out, and knowing what to say. I appreciate you, Kaln.”
He studied her face for a second, then smiled and decided on impulse to just tell her the simple truth, since she liked that so much.
“I love you, too.”
Kaln greatly enjoyed her surprised expression in the last second before he turned and strode out of her lair, toward his next task.