I really would like to add some kind of witty AN here about how I reread the books a gazillion times because the Seraphina wiki is pathetic or how Rachel Hartman sucks at describing her own characters or at the very least an apology because I wrote the last section even though I can't even remember most of these characters' names . . . but there's really only one important thing I'd like to say.
I AM SO SICK OF THIS THING OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN SITTING IN MY DRAFTS SINCE DECEMBER 16 2015 HERE JUST TAKE IT I DON'T EVEN CARE IF IT'S AWFUL I'VE SPENT SO MUCH TIME ON THIS THING
*shoves oneshot forcefully at you and runs away*
Word count: 7,646!
Disclaimer: I don't own Seraphina.
1.
Eskar circled over her friend's home, growing closer to the ground each time. Linn had wanted her to come, she knew, but she didn't say why. Still, she wasn't concerned. While Linn could be startlingly human at times (she'd been excised when she was only forty-four and was due for another if anybody bothered to report her), she wouldn't call Eskar here unless it was important.
A dark shape shot around the mountain. Eskar recognized it at once and she flapped her wings, struggling to get out of its path. Unfortunately, she wasn't fast enough. Linn careened straight into Eskar and the two tumbled downwards, hitting the mountains and rolling. Eskar let out a screech. "Stop flapping!"
Linn, who'd been clumsily trying to get back into the air, stopped. Eskar swung her tail around and dug her claws into the snow. When Linn rolled past her, her head snapped forwards and grabbed at the other dragon's tail. Linn hissed and scrabbled at the rock. Once they were both steady, Linn said eagerly, "You came!"
Eskar cocked her head. "Of course. You insisted it was important."
The smaller dragon nudged her friend. "Come on." She flapped her wings and leaped into the air. Puzzled, Eskar followed her lead. As they flew, Linn spoke as softly as she could. "Remember the flute?"
Yes, of course Eskar remembered the flute. How could she not. It hadn't been that long ago, and she'd urged Linn to turn it in.
Despite not hearing a reply, Linn continued, "I figured it out! It wasn't all that hard and— well, I'll show you."
She began losing altitude, dropping closer and closer to the ground. Eskar stayed above her, knowing that Linn's landings could use some work. As she'd expected, Linn merely tumbled to the ground, rolling until she was able to stop herself. Exhaling, Eskar landed beside her. "You should practice that," she said.
Linn shrugged, leaping towards a crevice in the rock. Eskar lingered behind, trying to think of a logical reason for deciding to go in there. She didn't have a choice. Linn melted down, her wings and tail and scales vanishing as she collapsed into her saarantras. Linn's saarantras was pretty enough, with long wavy hair and pale skin. She turned around and gestured at her friend. "Come on, Eskar!" she shouted, "You can't fit otherwise."
Reluctantly, Eskar went into her own saarantras. While she wasn't in it often enough to care, she hated her hair. It wasn't long enough to tie up and a rather large clump hung inconveniently in front of her left eye. She tried to pull it behind her ear and failed miserably. Shivering — she assumed that meant she was cold; why couldn't humans be more cold-resistant? — Eskar ducked into the crevice after Linn. As they walked, teeth chattering and feet numb, Eskar asked mildly, "W-why are we h-here?" She brought her hands up to her face, mildly interested in the bumps that were rising on her arms.
Linn said eagerly, "You'll see!" If she was excitable as a dragon, she was nearly intolerable as a human.
They had to squeeze through some narrow cracks now, and one of the rocks sliced a narrow line on Eskar's leg. The silver blood felt warm as it dripped, although it did nothing to ease her shivering.
The ceiling abruptly sloped upwards, and Eskar straightened her back, feeling the ache in her spine lesson. The feeling was pleasant and she rolled her head on her shoulders, feeling a pleasant sensation that came with a series of popping sounds from her bones. Linn grabbed her friend's hand and pulled, speeding up their pace. Recoiling from the her touch, Eskar hissed, "L-Linn. We're g-going to f-freeze t-to d-d-death."
Linn, surprisingly, wasn't stuttering. She grinned and promised, "We're almost there! I've got warm clothes stashed in the last chamber."
Eskar's limbs were starting to go numb, and she was sure that wasn't a good thing. Luckily, Linn was pushing her down into a sitting position and dropping heavy furs over her shoulders. Teeth chattering, Eskar protested, "You've left these clothes in the snow, Linn. They're just as cold as I am."
Linn rolled her eyes. "I believe I'm feeling exasperation, Eskar."
Eskar cocked her head. "I d-don't see why." She fell silent, though, because Linn had pulled the last cloak over her own shoulders, revealing a long stick wrapped in cloth at the bottom. Linn easily pulled the wrapping free, revealing the flute. Eskar narrowed her eyes.
Linn held the instrument to her lips and released a shrill tune. Eskar sucked in her breath. The first time they'd found the instrument, Linn had tried it. She'd been terrible and had barely been able to make a single sound. But now? The sound that came from the flute could only be described by one word: music.
A feeling rose from Eskar's depths, and she bit back a soft gasp in response. She couldn't help it; the emotions were too raw, too startling, too real. She'd never felt things like this before, for dragons didn't need to feel emotions like this. Whatever the emotions were, she struggled to pin them down because they would affect her decisions.
She couldn't name the emotions, but they were ugly, dark and throbbing. They made her pulse race and her hands curl into fists. She wanted suddenly to grab the flute and throw it against the wall or to turn Linn in to the Censors to be excised. And suddenly Eskar became aware that, more than all of these, she wanted to be Linn, to be able to so effortlessly create the elusive art.
Later, once she knew more of humans and their fickle emotions, she would realize the names of these emotions. Jealousy. Anger. Pride. She would realize how the words humans had to describe emotions failed to encompass the full spectrum of the symptoms and thoughts that flashed through her head at that moment.
Linn dropped the flute to her lap, her eyes sparkling. Shyly, she breathed, "It's not perfect yet, but I'm practicing. I think—"
Eskar leaped to her feet, words spilling from her lips like a bucket that had been filled with water. "It's ridiculous!" she cried, all of her anger and frustration exploding outwards in a geyser, "You're a dragon, Linn! You're not human and you'll never be human! What's the point of trying to learn this- this thing? You'll never get it!"
Linn looked taken aback, and then her brows drew low over her eyes. Her lower lip quivered and tears started to form in her eyes. She sniffed. "What is this?" She rubbed her eyes. "It's . . . sadness, isn't it?" Her eyes met Eskar's dark ones. "I- I just th-thought—"
"You never think!" Eskar snapped, "You always feel!"
Linn bowed her head, her shoulders shaking. Eskar stayed standing for a couple more seconds, her heart thundering in her ears. Through her anger, though, she recognized the danger. Her emotions were threatening to overtake her, to overthrow her reasoning and cripple her. Eskar stiffened and shoved her emotions down, locking them away and throwing them into a pit.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a lungful of freezing air. Her heart slowed and she opened her eyes again. "Linn," she said coldly, "Stop blubbering."
The crying saarantras covered her face with her hands. "I-I'm trying! I d-don't know w-why I-I'm doing it!"
Eskar no longer felt the cold. She knelt by Linn. "Let's go," she said simply, "We need to get warm again, and we can always come back later."
Still crying softly, Linn nodded.
Eskar added, "If you do discover how to use it properly, it will make for an interesting series of experiments."
Linn suddenly cried, "Oh, Eskar! You've missed the entire point! I'm not doing this for science or- or anything! I'm just trying to prove that emotions aren't bad. The humans create things that we can barely dream of!"
Eskar had to forcefully lock down her emotions again. "Linn, you're a dragon. We think, we learn, we experiment. We don't create, not like the humans to. It's not in our natures. Let's go."
Tearfully, Linn obeyed. Eskar led her without looking back. She was sure that, given time, Linn would realize. She would realize that Eskar was right and that music wasn't something she could ever create.
2.
Eskar tried to stand as still as possible, but the wind made her cloak shift uncomfortably against her skin and her bell jingle. The sound was irritating at best and she felt faintly sick. She wasn't used to being in her saarantras, and the loss of her sight, hearing and sense of smell gave her the sensation of being trapped. The sudden sensitivity of her sense of touch and taste was disorienting and she felt as if she might explode any moment.
She'd joined the Censors without knowing that she would be in her saarantras so often.
Somebody grabbed her arm and she tensed. The feeling was terribly intimate and almost painfully precise. "You're the saar that wanted to find Ben?"
Eskar turned and glared at the speaker. He jumped back and hastily released her, swallowing hard beneath her harsh gaze. He was just the runner for the inn, not anybody important. "Yes," she said shortly.
The boy — man, she thought vaguely, because these humans aged so quickly — shifted his feet uncomfortably. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you want with him? He's not bad, for a saar."
Eskar didn't mind, but it was illogical to tell him her reason for being here. After all, the Censors would surely disagree with her giving away sensitive information to any random passerby. And so she lied: "I do mind."
The human looked taken aback, and a flash of fear shot through his eyes.
(Was her glare really that terrifying?)
He stammered, "S-sorry. Ben lives down the road, in the house with blue walls and brown trim."
She nodded and turned to leave without bidding him goodbye. It wasn't reasonable to waste time on such superficial customs. As she left, she heard him mutter, "Stupid saarantras."
Eskar nibbled her lip, resisting the very human urge to sigh. She hated Goredd, but she hated it's people most. They were all close-minded and foolish, unable to understand the basic principles of life. She would dearly love to teach them all a lesson, but that was illogical.
Ben's house was, luckily, the only blue house on the block. Ben was, of course, an alias for the dragon Berkund. Berkund had come to the attention of the Censors because he bore an unprecedented attachment to a human child. The child was under his care, for reasons that Eskar didn't care to know.
She knocked on his door, because that was what humans did. She cringed upon feeling the sharp pain in her knuckles; if she had scales, she could've knocked thrice as hard without any pain. What inconvenient creatures humans were.
There was a distant crash somewhere within the house, and the door flew upon. For a second, Eskar was convinced it had opened by itself. But then she heard a bright voice two feet lower than she'd expected. "Hello!"
Eskar's gaze dropped. A little girl held the door upon, her gap-toothed grin wide. She'd clearly just run from dinner; there was a fork clutched in her left fist. ". . . .hello," she said slowly. The girl's grin widened and she waved happily.
Footsteps came sounding after the girl and she turned to grin at a man that appeared in the hall behind her. "Hi, Daddy," she said.
The man met Eskar's dark eyes. His eyes widened and he tensed. "Risere," he said, voice taut, "Go into the dining room."
The little girl's fair brow furrowed and she looked between the man and Eskar. "Why?"
The man put a hand on her shoulder. "Go." She pouted but darted into the house. His full attention turned to Eskar, his every muscle prepared to flee. Voice strained, he said, "All in ard. May I ask why you're here?"
Eskar, still startled by the innocent intelligence the child had had, hastily collected herself. "You are Berkund?"
He was; his angular face and sharp eyes gave away his draconic nature. But there was something unnaturally human about him, perhaps the way his emotions flashed across his face. He placed himself protectively in the doorway, blocking her from entering. "Why do you need to know?"
His hostility, too, was so very human. Hostility was unreasonable; she wouldn't bite unless he gave her good reason to. Expression utterly blank, Eskar said, "You have been brought to the Censors' attention, Berkund, for your attachment to a human child."
Panic flashed across Berkund's face, but he disguised it well. "For the child?"
"I presume so," she replied.
He swallowed hard. "I am not attached to Risere. She is merely under my care until she is taken in by a proper family."
Eskar didn't know what to say to that. How could she? She'd seen dragon mothers with their hatchlings. Surely a human parent would be just as protective of their young. Such strong maternal bonds were built deeply into every creature. Why shouldn't they form between a human and a dragon?
Because it's not natural, she thought forcefully, Because feeling is wrong.
But then why did she feel so much? Was it normal to have so many feelings so often as a saarantras?
The saarantras added, his thick brows twitching, "I don't need to be excised."
Eskar forced herself back to the task at hand, although her fingers began to fidget with her belt clasp. Thankfully, he couldn't see beneath her cloak. "I'm afraid that is not for you to decide. I ask that you come with me willingly."
Something she couldn't recognize sparked behind his eyes. "I won't," he snapped, "because I don't require it! I hold no affection for Risere, although she may for me."
Eskar noticed the little girl lingered at the corner. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open slightly. Berkund, following her gaze, hissed. "Risere! I told you to go!"
The little girl stepped forwards, her mouth trembling. "Daddy? Are you going to leave?"
He shook his head, although his fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against his thigh. "No. Risere. Go."
Eskar felt something rise in her chest. Recognizing the way it ached, she struggled to lock it away. She was a second too late; the emotion spilled over and filled her, expanding to fill her entire skin.
She had to bite back a whimper. She didn't want to excise Berkund, not now that she'd seen the relationship he'd formed against all odds. She felt horrible, painfully aware that she was the villain in this situation. She didn't know what this emotion was, but it was painfully real and painfully logic-crippling.
Berkund must've sensed her weakness, for he pressed, "My entire life is built around the child's schedule. She's an inconvenience at best, but how am I to return if my memories are excised?"
Eskar swallowed hard. Something hot pressed against the back of her eyes, and she struggled with it. "I- I must insist you come with me," she managed feebly.
Risere's eyes widened and she grabbed the saarantras' arm. "No!" she shouted, her own fear and panic plain in her voice and face, "You can't take him! He hasn't done anything bad, promise!"
Eskar held back a gasp. She needed to breathe. She couldn't do this.
Berkund pushed Risere away, but murmured softly, "You understand. I see it. The Censors have it backwards."
His words brought back her senses, and she lassoed all of her emotions, bundling them into a ball and locking them away. It wasn't as simple as it had been before; it required an incredible amount of effort, and it left her breathless. When she had succeeded, however, she found she could examine the situation in a new light.
Berkund was a threat to the order that she had to keep. Risere was merely a minor inconvenience. Impassively, she asked, "You will not come with me willingly?"
Berkund stood up straight, his chin rising. "I don't believe I need an excision."
Eskar's hand settled upon her sword hilt. The cool caress of the metal soothed her; it reminded her of her scales. In a fluid motion, she drew the blade.
This was why she had been sent. There was a reason Eskar was known as the blade of the Censors; she was unexpectedly good at sword-fighting.
Risere screamed. Eskar's dark eyes flicked briefly to the girl. The remorse she'd felt earlier didn't even shift. She saw the girl for the irritating pest she was.
Calmly, she said, "Berkund, I require you to come with me."
The saarantras' eyes were huge, but he bowed his head submissively. Voice shaking, he said, "I understand. I'll come."
Risere let out a wail. "No! You can't take him!"
Berkund looked sorrowfully at her. "I'm sorry," he said softly.
Eskar spun her sword in a circle, loosening her wrist. "I'm not waiting much longer."
Berkund stroked the girl's hair one last time. Then he turned and walked towards Eskar. Voice bitter, he breathed, "I'll come willingly. There's no need to use that."
Eskar saw that he was telling the truth. He wouldn't want her to endanger the child. Love is nothing more than an inconvenience. She sheathed her sword and began to walk up the street. Berkund's footsteps crunched behind her, sharply framed by the shrill scream that rose in the night. Risere, lingering in the door way, sobbed and wailed for all she was worth.
Eskar ignored her and walked on.
3.
Linn,
Please. You've forced me to resort to begging. Come to your senses. You can't just leave. You're a dragon, Linn, and no human man is going to change that. You need to come back. Orma's torn up and your father is furious. Won't you think of them? Won't you think of me? Just please— return. You belong with us, Linn. Please.
—E
Eskar paced back and forth in her room, her tail snapping with every turn. Her emotions were rising again, in a tumultuous wave that crashed and consumed.
By now she'd spent enough time among humans to recognize this emotion as frustration. There were other parts too — namely anger, grief, and fear — but frustration accurately summed up the majority of her troubles. She'd heard the news of Linn's abandonment only the other day, and she was unbelievably conflicted.
On one hand, she wasn't surprised. Linn had always been very human for a dragon, and she'd grasped emotions more easily than she'd ever grasped complicated equations. If anything, Linn would be happier among humans.
But Eskar couldn't believe that Linn had actually run away. What had possessed her to flee at such a time? Eskar let out a frustrated sound, puffs of smoke rising from her nostrils.
The anger rose suddenly and unreasonably. Eskar opened her mouth and released a cloud of smoke in lieu of fire, as she was indoors.
Eskar almost bit off her own tongue.
Completely done with her emotions, she gathered them all up and tied them away someplace in the deep depths of her mind. As always, it was a difficult and exhausting task, but she settled her breathing and wrestled her emotions away.
With them gone, she was left blissfully numb. Every time she felt, she forgot how easy it was to just think. While feeling was confusing and inconvenient, thinking had no downsides.
Eskar rose. She would deliver her letter to the quigs; they would get her message to Linn.
After she did that, she would finish the paperwork for her most recent excision (this, of course, was a choice based purely on logic and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she would start thinking of Linn if she had nothing else to do).
In the end, Eskar never got to the quigs to deliver her letter. As she walked, her thoughts accidentally turned to the bundle of emotions she had.
To her dismay, they began to writhe again, desperately trying to get free. She tried her best to keep them contained (surely other dragons didn't have as much trouble as she did?) but enough leaked out to leave her shaking.
(Surely she wasn't supposed to feel as acutely now as she did in her saarantras?)
Terrified of breaking down now, with other dragons passing her in the hallway, Eskar sped up. She had to get somewhere where she couldn't be seen so she could thoroughly lock away her emotions.
Linn, why did you have to do this?! she thought desperately, unable to form any other coherent thought.
The crowd around her thinned and, relieved, Eskar turned down a hallway that looked completely bare. Once she realized that nobody could see her, she flattened herself against the wall, closing her eyes, her sides expanding and contracting as she tried to meditate. Unfortunately, her mind remained resolutely unable to be tamed.
Eskar opened both eyelids, giving up but deciding she was calm enough to pass. She must've taken a completely wrong turn in her panic earlier; she had no idea where she was now. Confused, she turned her head, trying to discern any landmarks. Nothing.
The hallways she sat in was rather bare, unadorned save for a door at the very end. It was the same door they used to keep prisoners in, although she hadn't known that any prisoners were held on this level.
Curious now, she padded towards the door, nostrils flaring as she sniffed. Dragons came through here often, which was peculiar. Prisoners weren't normal given this level of attention.
The door clicked.
Something snapped in Eskar, perhaps the lingering guilt over her dilemma with Linn. Either way, she launched herself at the wall, her body telescoping neatly into her saarantras. Once foreign, her saarantras was now as familiar as her natural form. She pressed her bare body against the wall, desperately hoping that whoever was coming out wouldn't think to look around. Thankfully, the door swung open at an angle so as to hide her.
Two dragons came out, expanding from their saarantrai to their natural forms as they did. The door slammed shut, but they didn't think to look around. She caught snippets of their conversation in between their transformations.
"Yes, I do believe she should cooperate a bit more if we do that."
"Would she survive it, do you think?"
"Of course. She's rather resilient, you know."
"I wonder what part of the human-dragon combination led to that trait?"
"Who knows? Once we complete our experiments with her, we can breed more half-humans and repeat them."
Eskar stared, eyes wide, as the two dragons turned the corner and vanished from her view. She couldn't have heard that right. Half-human? That was an abomination.
Trembling with anticipation, Eskar grabbed the little window placed into the door and pulled it open. Inside of the cell sat a bald girl dressed in a horrid suit of furs. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, sobbing pitifully into her hands. When she heard the window open, however, her head snapped up.
Eskar's blood ran cold upon seeing the desperate look in her eyes.
This girl — half-human though she may be — was sentient. Her eyes held such a fierce intelligence that Eskar snapped the window shut again, her heart hammering in her ears. Faster than she ever had before, she shifted into her natural form and flew down the hallway. She needed to talk to the quigs. She needed to ask them questions.
The panic that rose from her stomach was easily squashed; she had more pressing matters to take care of.
4.
Clutching a cow in her claws, Eskar circled, her eyes easily picking out the cave that she and Orma were camping in. She dived downwards, allowing herself some small pleasure as the wind roared past her ears. At the very last second, she shifted her wings so that she didn't slam into the ground. Hot wind buffeted the grass below, and she released the cow. She'd barely touched the ground for three seconds before she'd telescoped into her saarantras.
Limbs still tingling from her flight, she called, "Orma! I brought food."
He appeared in the mouth of the cave, his nose buried in one of the few books she'd allowed him to carry. She waited patiently, her human eyes noticing the nuances of his attitude that her natural eyes never did. His fingers — long and spindly — closed the book, sliding one into it to mark his page. His eyes rose to meet hers.
He blinked owlishly upon seeing her, and Eskar uncrossed her arms. He'd seen her nude before, of course, although for some reason he was acting as though he hadn't. His eyes roved up and down her body, lingering on her breasts, pelvis and face. His eyes snapped to hers, clearly abashed and confused about it. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he smiled. It wasn't a strained human one, but a smile that belonged on a dragon placed on a human face.
Eskar's cheeks grew hot, although her blush was barely visible beneath such pale skin. She felt strangely bare, although she had never minded being naked in front of others before. In an attempt to smooth over the moment, she said, "I brought a cow."
He nodded, eyes crinkling in a hidden smile. "I can see." He put down the book and padded towards her. She felt his hands before she saw them, fingers that touched gently upon hers. She brought up her hands to meet his so that they held them flat against each other. And then Orma traced his fingertips along her palm and down the length of her fingers. To a human, this wasn't an intimate gesture.
But to a dragon, accustomed the the unfeelingness of scales. . . .
Eskar tilted her head to the side, her eyes sliding shut. She wasn't sure why it felt pleasant, only that it did.
His fingers left her hands, roaming up her arms. Eskar's eyes snapped open, and she looked at him questioningly. He was looking at her, knowing that he was crossing lines he never had before. She dipped her head, the tiniest of nods. His eyes lit up and his fingers — shyly at first, and then bolder — trailed whispers along her skin.
When his thumb touched the corner of her lips, she discovered (happily) that human lips were much more sensitive than than human hands.
An emotion swirled beneath her skin, and this time she didn't try to pin it down. Most of the other emotions she felt rose in overwhelming storms, vicious and cruel, from her heart of her stomach. This one was softer, but no less intense. It seemed to emanate from every part of her body. Instead of staying confined in her head, tearing apart her mind, it somehow found its way into everything, the way mist found its way past doors and locks.
It took control of her mind, her limbs, and her heart.
Whatever this emotion was, it was asking her brain.
Eskar grabbed Orma's hand, pushing up his sleeve and tracing her own fingers up his arm. He let out a sound that would've been a purr on a cat. Unfortunately — unlike her — he was completely dressed. Frustrated with that fact, she bit her lower lip, still trying to put up at least a minor fight against her emotions. Orma muttered, "What are we doing?"
They'd drawn close during their exchange, the cow lying forgotten. Breathlessly, (she wondered vaguely where her breath had gone) Eskar replied, "I don't know."
Their eyes met, and Eskar's lips twitched. She had a feeling. A good one.
Orma added, tone rather matter-of-fact, "Humans like to put their lips together."
Eskar didn't wait to be asked. She pressed her lips to his, eager to feel him.
The kiss was clumsy and unprofessional, and they broke apart. There was a moment of silence, and then Orma's lips curled upwards and he laughed — actually laughed! It was a low chuckle more than anything else, and she flushed. He leaned in again, and their lips touched again. It was just as awkward as the last one, but it sent an exhilarating thrill down her spine, goose bumps rising in a rippling pattern across her skin.
Another emotion, one that was all too familiar, suddenly punctured the blissfully warm one spreading throughout her body. This emotion was cold and terrible, harsh and bright. She pulled away, and, at his questioning look, averted her eyes.
"We can't do this," she said simply, and then again, "We can't do this." Her voice grew stronger as that cold emotion banished the warm one. "You're in danger, Orma. It's not reasonable to do this now."
He looked away. Was that hurt in his eyes? The cold feeling pulsed, and she grew irritated that he didn't feel it too.
"Orma. We'll have time for this, whatever this is, later. For now, let's focus on staying alive." Her mind was clear, painfully so. Despite the anger — or frustration? — in his eyes, Orma nodded.
5.
Comonot lay crouched on the mountainside, his sharp eyes bright as he looked up at the sky. Eskar, beside him, was looking at the same place. The Old Ard were perched high on the mountain, and there were easily twice as many of them as there were exiles.
The exiles were lying nearby as well, all of them under the cover of an outcropping of rocks. The dragons were tense, waiting for the signal.
If they'd bothered to feel it, there would've been fear in the air. Contrarily, there was nothing but cold resignation and the fiery knowledge that what they were doing was right.
Perhaps that wasn't so different from the elusive emotions that the humans felt.
Eskar's eyes were fixed upon the Old Ard. She recognized most of them. After all, she'd been with the Censors for years. Anticipation fluttered in her stomach, but she didn't consider the emotion strong enough to try and banish it. Comonot shifted beside her and she tensed, her wings rising slightly to prepare for takeoff. The Ardmagar's eyes met hers and she blinked at him.
He bared his teeth in a snarl and took off.
With a deafening scream, the exiles followed.
The Old Ard saw them and, with an answering roar, dropped from their perches.
The two groups met halfway, talons screeching across scales and teeth snapping at wings.
Eskar prepared her fire, feeling it heat up in her stomach. She didn't fight however, instead ducking around dragons — Old Ard and exiles alike — as she followed the Ardmagar.
That was her job: to make sure Ardmagar Comonot made it to Keramaseye. He flew with a strong, powerful wing strokes, weaving around the fighting dragons. Though smaller than him, she was quicker and leaner. A dragon noticed him and attacked, teeth ripping at Comonot's wing.
Eskar released a fireball that flew at the dragon. It hit him squarely in the face. The Ardmagar twisted out of the way and bit the enemy's neck. The other dragon roared and struggled to summon a flame. Eskar screamed, "Ardmagar!" Comonot threw himself away and she released a stream of fire. The dragon, bleeding from the Ardmagar's bite, let out a scream and fell to the ground, rolling, to try and extinguish the flames.
Eskar turned her flames to the dragons nearby, clearing a path for Comonot. He flew towards Keramaseye with a new determination, perhaps because he saw that the bodies that littered the ground didn't just belong to the Old Ard. The two continued their mad dash, Eskar trying to catch her breath after the flames. She ran into another dragon and clawed at his tail. The dragon screamed and spun around. Burning flames encompassed her and she flew blindly forwards, crashing into him. The two dragons grappled in the air, her frantically trying to escape. She could feel the pain in her wings and her spine spikes — the thinnest parts of her flesh and where she would burn first. A rush of panic swelled in her chest and she wrapped her wings around herself, dropping like a stone. That brought her out of the flames, although she'd lost the Ardmagar. Her assailant wasn't through with her yet; he had followed her, screeching.
Unfurling her wings, Eskar crashed into the snow. The cold hurt after such intense heat, and she sprung up. She took her attacker by surprise; he let out a startled roar as she came out from underneath him. She bit as his neck, tearing at his wings as she did. A shape descended from the battling cloud of dragons overhead. Eskar released the dragon and dropped to the ground again. The shape slammed into the dragon, sending them both pitching towards the ground.
Abruptly recognizing Comonot, she leaped back into the air. "Ardmagar!" she screamed, "You need to get to Keramaseye!"
He looked at her with sharp eyes, no doubt assessing her for damage. Releasing the dragon, he flapped his wings, gaining height again. She darted after him.
She never got there. Teeth clamped around her tail and pulled. She roared in fury and the Ardmagar turned. Seeing her predicament, he made to turn back. She roared, "Go!" He deliberated for a second and then nodded.
Eskar turned and released a stream of flames. The dragon roared but didn't let go. He was flapping his wings to keep her from going after the Ardmagar, keeping them both close to the ground. An emotion — inconvenient and unwanted — bubbled beneath her scales. Anger and fear, pain and shock. Her flames scalded both her own tail and her assailant, but burns could heal.
She dropped completely, relying on gravity and her body weight to crush her assailant.
Realizing what she was doing, he let go and tried to get out of the way. She shot a ball of fire in his face, blocking his exit. She tumbled on top of him, teeth bared and claws ready. They fought like a pair of wildcats, if wildcats could breathe fire and were the size of small houses.
The panic and anger overrode any sense she might have had. Despite her entire basis for choosing her path — for avoiding war — Eskar was fighting to kill.
With a road of fury, she bit down on the other dragon's neck. Flames surrounded her front limbs and she tightened her jaw. She heard the satisfying crunch of scales breaking and felt the blood that gushed around her teeth. Eskar jerked away and flapped her wings, propelling herself into the air. Below her, the dragon didn't stir.
Tiny flames licked at the corners of her mouth and flickered from her nostrils. The spots of blood still in her mouth popped and burned as they caught fire, and she spat them out.
A low growl rumbled in the back of her throat as the flew over the mountains in the general direction of Keramaseye, searching for the Ardmagar. Anger half-blinded her, and so she nearly flew into three batches of Old Ard. It was only when one tore a gash in her side did she come to her senses.
Screaming flames, Eskar darted into the sky, flying as high as she dared to. Curse emotions, she thought furiously, and curse whoever said they aren't still there when one leaves their saarantras!
Meditating in this form — so high in the air — was infinitely more fulfilling than it was as a human. The cold air seared her lungs and flames exploded from her mouth with every exhale. Perhaps that was why she found it so easy to pin down her emotions this time. She found to her relief that she didn't simply have to bundle them away and hide them; this time, she could put them away under lock and key securely. Exhaling another cloud of smoky gas, Eskar dove back beneath the clouds. Heart no longer pounding, she was easily able to pick out what was going well and what wasn't. The exiles fought admirably, but they were outnumbered. Her eyes turned towards Keramaseye, where she saw Comonot, fighting two dragons. Eskar dove towards him. After all, it was her job to protect the Ardmagar.
+1.
Eskar linked her hands and stretched, breathing a soft sigh as she worked out the kinks in her bones and muscles. She was exhausted, although that was a fairly normal feeling these days.
There was also a buzz in the back of her mind, an inability to sit still and just think. For it had been months since she'd last set eyes upon Orma, many of which had been spent worrying.
She twisted her hands together beneath her cloak. None of the people passing her in the streets could see the nervous gesture, but they noticed her. They quieted and melted away as they heard her bell, undoubtably remembering the recent war.
Her thoughts turned briefly to her egg in the Tanamoot. Unlike her mating with Orma, her relationship with the Ardmagar had been formed purely on logic with no emotions attached: a relationship in a strictly draconic fashion.
She sighed again and sped up her pace. Not much further. Once inside the castle, she wouldn't have to endure the stares and the whispers and she'd be able to find Seraphina.
Whispers reached her ears.
"Look! It's one of the saarantrai!"
"Wonder what side she fought for."
"I wonder if she even fought!"
"You know, she looks like one of those Embassy worms."
Eskar's head jerked towards them at the word Embassy. She didn't know what had happened to the other ambassadors or how they had fared during the war. She suspected that they wouldn't have remained in the city during the whole debacle with Jannoula unless they'd already been enchanted before they could leave. With the way things had been, saarantrai hadn't been safe in the city.
She mentally shook her head. Orma first, embassy after.
Funny, how they assumed things about her. She heard the jokes and the whispered insults, heard every jibe and ignored every glare. They all assumed she was emotionless and monstrous. How little they knew about her constant struggle with emotions — emotions she hadn't felt until she'd started living among humans.
That's not true, she reflected. She had first started feeling when Linn had first met humans, when Linn had brought love and happiness and anger and sorrow home.
Eskar was in the castle now, her bell jingling with every step. The servants buzzed as she passed, although they were significantly warmer.
"Oh! Eskar!"
Turning at the sound of her name, Eskar spotted the golden-haired princess — no, queen. Glisselda looked more shocked than anything else to see the saar here. "Are you here for Orma?"
Eskar tilted her head, considering. She'd been under the assumption that it would be wiser to speak to Seraphina first, considering Orma's current condition. "Can I speak to him?" she wondered.
Glisselda nodded, her expression lighting up in a warm smile. She looked much more mature than she had months ago, although Eskar was pleased to see that her eyes held their familiar, all-too-human warmth. "He's in Seraphina's quarters, learning to play again," she explained, "I just came from there, but I'll be glad to show you there!" The young extended her arm, and Eskar obediently linked elbows with her. It made her cloak bunch up oddly, but she found she didn't much care.
As they walked, Glisselda chattered about nothing at all, more than happy to fill the silence with otherwise meaningless words of lace and sunshine.
In her presence, Eskar got even more stares, although these were considerably less hostile. She didn't smile or laugh at any of Glisselda's clumsily crafted jokes, although the queen seemed to have learned since she was still a shy little princess who tripped over herself at the sight of dragons at her party. She seemed to understand that, while Eskar wouldn't voice it, she was happy enough in Glisselda's presence to allow her to touch her.
Glisselda stopped just before a door, slipping her arm from Eskar's. Her smile fadedmaway as she looked seriously at the saar. "You know what we're going into, right?" she asked.
Eskar's eyebrows twitched. "I believe so," she replied evenly, as she had no way of knowing if anything new had occurred in between her last correspondence with Seraphina and now.
Glisselda's lips twitched, and she agreed, "Fair enough." Her cheeks flushed a little bit and she mumbled something about Seraphina and Lucian before sighing loudly and throwing open the door. The sound of a harpsichord welcomed them into the room, although it fell silent almost immediately.
Eskar sucked in her breath in a sharp gasp. She'd known what to expect of course. But it was still horribly painful to see the blank indifference in his eyes when he looked at her. Seraphina's eyes widened and she exclaimed, "Eskar!"
Orma reacted upon hearing her name, flinching and turning back to the harpsichord, his hands settling over the instrument. He didn't play, however, and merely sat there.
"Greetings, Seraphina," Eskar said, not without warmth.
The half-dragon girl smiled hesitantly, clearing her throat and smoothing her dress. "It's nice to see you again."
Eskar paused for a moment to consider her emotions. They were surprisingly easy to control. She tried to name them. Sadness? No, that wasn't right. It was a little colder than that, a little more bitter. Anger? No, she'd run out of that a long time ago. Fear? No, because there was nothing to be afraid of here. Orma was here, and he was alive, and they were going to fix this.
Eskar stepped forwards, pulling up a chair and sitting at Orma's side. To a human, the space between them might appear horribly large, like the space between two strangers. But to a dragon, it was a comfortable space. A space close enough that promised I'm here and far enough to say Take your time. "Play me something," she said simply.
Orma started, clearly shocked. His eyes flashed to hers and then looked away guiltily. Later she would learn that he knew her name from Seraphina, and knew of his relationship with her and felt bad for it. But for now, she merely twitched her lips in a slight smile, reassuring him. She felt horribly raw in that moment. Had he refused — had he explicitly showed her his unwillingness to whatever was between them now — she would have stepped away. She would have given him the space he needed and waited, perhaps forever, for him to return to her.
But he placed his hands over the keys and began to play. Although she had no knowledge of music, Eskar knew Orma. She saw the hesitance in his motions, the way he held his breath before realizing that he needed to breathe and sucking in a long gulp of air. Both Seraphina and Glisselda hovered in the background, watching silently, their expressions unfathomable. Slowly, Orma began to grow more comfortable, his movements loosening as the music flowed more naturally.
Eskar tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes. It was just as hesitant as Linn's music had been, way back when they'd all be children. But it held the same power, the same thirst to learn.
They were going to fix Orma.
Despite that fleeting thought, Eskar found that she could name the emotion that she was feeling.
Content.
Because, despite what had happened and what had been lost, they were all alive. Even if they couldn't find some way to restore Orma's memories, that didn't mean they couldn't make new ones together.
Eskar opened her eyes, her lips curling into a small smile. Orma's brow was furrowed in concentration, the tip of his tongue visible just beyond his lips, his fingers rippling across the keys. She didn't tie down her emotions or lock them away or try to banish them. Emotions were fine. After all, she wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for emotions.