Oh look, another prompt-fill. Dear oh dear, it seems I am on fire (for once). And another one about birthdays. Neat. Usual stuff applies, I own not the game nor the characters and own only these specific interpretations of the Hero (here, Riese/Rie the Dragonlord) and the dragon (Andre/Andy). Reviews are always appreciated.
A Party of One
(1)
It was his birthday today, which meant that today was the most important day in the world. The sun was shining, the grass was growing, and everything was warm and bright and wonderful. It was a perfect day and it was only going to get better because today, at last, his wish was finally going to come through. He's already wished it on stars, of course, though it hasn't been granted yet (stupid stars).
But today was his birthday! Birthdays were meant for wishes! Which meant that, of course, his wish would finally be granted today, on his birthday. It was just common sense. He hops up and flies expectantly onto the ice block. His Dragonlord was the only one left inside. The others had managed to leave already but she was still inside. Such a lazy girl.
(He sorta does wonder about Warlic, though. They were friends, weren't they? Why didn't he take her with him? Oh well)
"Aren't you supposed to break out now?"
No response. Typical. Stupid lazy heroes.
"Come on," he says expectantly. "It's my birthday! Didn't you promise we'd go to the beach on my birthday? Well it's my birthday now. Come on, you lazybones! Up and at it!"
He waits for the telltale crack of ice splintering, for the almost musical sound of its shattering. He's been dreaming of this for so long and he just knows that today's the day. He can feel it in his bones. All he has to do is wait and he'll see it.
"Rawr!"
He's not very patient.
"Rawr! Rawr rawr rawr RAWR!"
His claws are sharp.
"RAWR! RAWR! RAWR!"
His breath is pure elemental fury.
"RAUGH!"
Regardless, the ice remained undamaged.
"Honestly..." he mutters. "Stupid ice."
Oh well. He can wait. He's a dragon. He has all the time in the world. He can be patient if he has to.
"Though I've been patient, already!" He makes sure to yell at the ice beneath him. No response. He sighs.
Nothing for it. He tucks his wings into his sides, curls up onto the chunk of ice and settles in for a long wait.
(2)
It's his birthday today.
It was his birthday when they first met, wasn't it? Yes, he can recall. He can still remember it, of course. His memory is, like the rest of him, flawless and, anyway, even the dumbest dragon out there couldn't forget the day they found their Dragonlord. That flash of instant connection the moment they'd first met, when he'd first hatched, wings still damp from his egg's shell was as unforgettable as it ever was. He didn't see her then, not really. He'd been a hatchling, eyes milky with film and sensitive to the light. But, and he knows this was the same for her, he knew her the moment he'd been born. He'd known her. He knew she was to be his pet, his human, his Dragonlord. And he was to be hers. The two of them had been together since the day he was born.
Until the ice came along, the two of them had been inseparable since the day he was born.
He levels a glare at the block of ice, still pristine, still unmarked, still standing after all the hours (days/weeks/months) he'd spent trying to chip at its surface. His fury only intensifies at the sight of the familiar absent figure within its depths.
"I know you're alive, you know!"
He hacks at the ice with blazing claws. It does not break.
"I can feel you in there! Wake up, already!"
He blasts a pulsing beam of white-hot fire at the ice. It does not melt.
"It's my birthday! You promised!"
He bites and scratches. He slices and lashes. He blasts and burns. His claws crackle with fire. His breath is pure elemental flame. His whole body burns with heat, anger, and elemental rage.
The ice remains unscathed.
His eyes flash red and he growls, long and low.
Stupid, idiot hero!
"What is wrong with you?!" he yells. "It's been two years! TWO WHOLE YEARS!"
His burning jaws slam into unmelting ice.
"You're supposed to be out already!"
His flaming breath splashes harmlessly over its frozen surface.
"We're supposed to be celebrating right now! Together!"
He rams at the ice with all his might, body burning with heat, and receives nothing but cold vapor as a result.
"You're supposed to be stronger than this!"
His blazing claws reach for the figure trapped inside and are stopped cold by the crystalline prison.
"You're not supposed to leave me," he pants, glaring furiously at the ice and at the person it kept from him. When he tries to peer into their connection, all he can feel is cold. "We're supposed to be a team. Always!"
The crystal glitters silently in the afternoon sun. No one answers him. There is no one able to answer him.
That fact only enrages him.
"Fine! Be like that!"
He launches himself into the air, glaring at the ice as he flew above it.
But his Dragonlord does not respond.
His glare only sharpens. With a huff, he flies off far, far away, each wingbeat shaking off the frost that had crept over his wings over the course of his trying to free his friend. Stupid hero. Stupid ice. Stupid everything.
She could just find him on her own! That'd show her! It was his birthday. He wasn't going to spend it trying to free an idiot who couldn't be bothered to do it herself!
"When she finds me, I'm going to yell at her," he mutters to himself as he flies farther and farther away, the ice now a speck in the distance. "That'll show her. That'll show her."
Oaklore, the cliff, the ice, he leaves it all behind him in a rush of furious wingbeats.
(3)
It's his birthday today. It should matter (a lot) but he hasn't really celebrated it these past few years and, in all honesty, he hasn't really felt like celebrating it.
There's no one to celebrate it with, after all.
Well, okay, that wasn't quite true, he amends. There was Elysia, of course, back in Sunbreeze and Twilly, back in Falconreach. That wasn't even mentioning all his legions of fans and worshippers from around the world, as he was due as the Dragon of Legend -
But she wouldn't be there and what was the point if she wasn't there to celebrate with him?
His mood sours.
He just wishes she could just bust out of there already. That's all he wants, promise. That's really all he wants...
He's done everything. He's made wishes on stars and birthday candles. He's prayed to deities he's never even met. He's searched and searched for things to melt that infernal ice crystal. He's spent hours trying to chip at an ice that never seemed to melt.
And now...
He did this.
"It's not going to work, is it?" he asks himself, staring at his reflection on the mirror from his place on the bed. The bed is cold; it hasn't been slept in for a very long time. The room is messy and disorganized, and every available surface has been covered with paper cranes, all clumsily folded. "So there's no point in visiting, is there?"
No one is there to answer him. He curls up into a ball on the cold, dusty pillow and breathes in a fading scent.
"There really is no point."
He tries to peer into their connection, long-since quiet, and feels nothing but a screaming cold.
"I shouldn't bother. There's no point."
He snuggles into crumpled, unslept-in blankets, eyes open in the darkness.
"No point at all."
There were a lot of other things he could be doing, he thinks. He could go see Elysia, again. She did promise to set aside something nice for him, when his birthday came. He could go play with Twilly. Hide and seek was always nice. Hunt the moglin was always fun. He could even go hunting. It wasn't like there was anyone around to really treat him on his birthdays any more and he did feel a bit hungry.
(but he could also go back there. And stay there.)
"There's no point," he reminds himself with an irritable shake of his head. "It's not going to work!"
(but it's not like she's dead. He knows that. He can feel it. Just as he can feel that frost at her end of their connection, he can feel that she is still alive)
((for all the difference it makes))
Anyway, it's dangerous, going there nowadays. The Rose outpost in Oaklore was only growing more powerful and there was a guard watching over the ice not too far off. Those guards don't like him. He can handle them, of course, but even Elysia's warned him about doing anything dangerous by himself.
(and he really was all by himself these days)
There's no point and it's dangerous. So he shouldn't go. He really shouldn't. He mustn't.
But.
But.
But today was his birthday and his third since she'd been stuck here. If there could ever be a better time for a Dragonlord Hero like her to break free from out of the ice aside from immediately after getting confined, it was on a day like this. Third time's the charm, right? And he'd finally just finished folding all those paper cranes, too.
If third time's the charm and the paper cranes story was true, then today just might finally be the day. He hopes so. He just...
Maybe it was going to be pointless. Maybe it was dangerous.
But he just.
He just hopes.
He sets off not a minute after.
(4)
It's official. He hates ice.
Fire was way, way better. It was the best. It was the greatest. Who needed ice, anyway? He doesn't need it, that's for sure. Heck, maybe it was a sign that fire was the first element he was attuned to. Fire was the opposite of ice, wasn't it? Heat and cold and all that? Maybe it was a sign that now and forever, he would always, always hate ice.
He hates it. He does.
He hates it. He hatehatehates it.
He hates how it feels, how it smells, how it tastes. He hates how it looks, how it sounds, and everything, everything about it.
And he hates her most of all.
He's always known (though he's always hated to think it) that, someday, he would have to live without her, that she would die millennia before he, that the time would come when she would have to leave him, but it wasn't supposed to be now. He's too young, she's too young, they're both too young to be separated, not yet.
And yet they are. And he hates her for it. Hates her and the stupid ice witch that did this to her. Hates her and that stupid pyromancer that broke out and left without her. Hates her and that stupid blue mage who was supposed to be her friend and yet left without taking her with him.
He hates them. He hates everything. He hates her.
It's not like she's dead. If she were, he'd - he'd have to accept that. He'd - he'd get that. He'd - he'd prepared for that years and years ago. But she's not. She's alive, he knows it, he feels it, he can feel her pulse beating in time with his own even after all these years. She's alive. She's just
Just asleep. Or something. Freezing or something. He doesn't know. He doesn't care.
She's not here. That's the big part. She's not here when she's supposed to always be and that's the biggest, worst sin and mistake she's ever made.
He hates ice. Despises it.
He hates that its keeping him away from her.
And he hates her.
He hates her.
He does.
(or at least he's been trying to)
(because at the end of the day, at the end of all days)
(he can't)
But he tells her he does as he strikes at the ice, on the eve of his fourth birthday since she's been here. He repeats the words until the sun goes down and his claws, jaws, and wings have all gone numb with cold and he has to rest once more at the ice's side.
(5)
A lot of things have happened over the past few years.
Ash has become a full-fledged adventurer. Town's gotten a lot more crowded. The weather has become gloomier all year-round. More and more old friends and allies have set off for parts unknown. A lot has happened. A lot has changed.
And yet the only change that matters to him has been the one that hasn't happened.
He tucks his wings in as he curls up by the ice block, staring at the uprooted trees in the distance.
"I won't forgive you, you know."
His voice is quiet. She is, as she has been these past five years, unresponsive.
"It's been five years. Get out already."
The sun sets in the distance. From his perch by the ice, he can see another of his fellow dragons fall to Rose arrows. He makes no move as to leave his place by her side
"Falconreach is in trouble again."
Birds are flying for shelter over head. The winds blow strong. He can smell rain in the breeze. A storm was coming.
"A lot of your friends are going through a lot of trouble these days. They need your help. Our help."
He closes his eyes. His body is numb with cold and exhaustion. He feels cold and exhaustion at the other end of their line.
"There's this Rose thing that's been going on. You're not going to like them. I don't."
He rests his back against the cracks in the ice - too small for anything to come out of them and the only fruit of hours (days/weeks/months) of labor.
"A lot of the folks back in Falconreach don't. Our family, too."
He reaches for presence at the end of their bond, feels for the now-familiar all-encompassing scream of cold and embraces it as proof that at least she was not dead.
"You might be able to help them. If you were here. If you get out."
Despite the cracks, the fractures, the marks that marred its once pristine surface, the ice remains solid, unbroken, and unyielding. And the person inside remained unconscious.
"... it's my birthday, you know."
The rain is falling now, the sound seeming endless now that is has begun. He hears it as it beats at the roofs at Oaklore, at the treetops over head. He hears it as it sounds against the ice by his side. He only curls up tighter in response, eyes remaining closed, leaning his head against the damaged-but-whole ice block. Without quite meaning to, his voice drowned out by the thunder rumbling overhead, he speaks, even as flashes of lightning sear his eyes through tightly shut eyelids.
"I wish you escape soon."
No one answers.
