Disclaimer: Everything I used here belongs to Nintendo. This goes for every installment in the series.
Characters: Nergal, Aenir, Nils, Ninian.
Pairings: Nergal/Aenir.
Warnings: Spoilers for FE7, from chapter 19XXE onward.
Author's Notes: I have been meaning to start this series for a while now. We know Nergal as a ruthless and heartless Dark Druid we've come to hate throughout FE7, but those of us who have looked further into things know he wasn't always like that. I know it's probable that this has been done before, but I have no intention of copying anyone- I only mean to fiddle around with the man Nergal was before the Scouring destroyed his life. Sadly, we all know how this series will end...
He fell forward, landing in the snow, unable to even catch his own fall. His tome landed next to him with an unremarkable thud, useless to dispel this foul, cold hell. Nergal knew right then and right there that he was going to die, bested by the ruthlessness of Ilia's blizzards. To make matters worse, what little light he had in his dying hour was soon obscured by an enormous shadow. As he forced himself to look up, he recognized the vague outline of a dragon… calling out was no use, the majestic creature would not hear him over the howling winds.
At least being crushed to death by a dragon would be a swifter, more merciful end than slowly freezing, he supposed.
...
...
...
When he regained consciousness, the first thing he realized was that he was warm. He was no longer face-down in the snow, but on his back in a warm bed. He forced his eyes to open, but it wasn't until he found himself looking at the white ceiling of a room that he realized he was alive. Neither the dragon nor the blizzard had killed him. "Oh… you're awake." He looked to his side, where he saw a tall, slender woman. She looked quite unusual: she was pale-skinned and boasted long, ice blue hair that she had stuck behind her rather large, pointed ears. She looked at him with a pair of red eyes, showing concern and relief.
"Are you the one I saw on the mountain?" he asked her, although it was rather obvious that she had to be. From her appearance, it was obvious that she was no human. If she wasn't human, she had to be a dragon, and the odds of someone else having come along were slim. "I must thank you for saving my life."
She crossed her arms, more shyly than defensively, and fiddled with her necklace. "I only did what any ice dragon in my position would have done, sir…" Taking her hand off the necklace, she made a gesture in the air that Nergal realized served to fill the gap between her starting and him giving her his name.
"Nergal," he offered, unwilling to give her more. His attention had been drawn to her necklace, and he could clearly distinguish what hung from it: a black ring, inlaid with what had to be a ruby. It was a remarkable item from which he sensed a faint trace of magic, but he didn't want to pry into the possessions of a stranger, no matter how his scholarly nature drew him to them.
He was woken from his thoughts by the dragon's voice. "Sir Nergal… I hate to pry, but whatever compelled you to leave your home in this dreadful blizzard? It's one of the strongest of the year… even most ice dragons don't venture outside unless we absolutely have to. So what was a human without protective gear doing on the mountain?"
He hesitated, not really wanting to tell her any of it. But she had saved his life… the least he could do was explain why she'd had to. "I hail from the village to the south. On the border of the plains, actually. Well, used to live, I suppose…" He put his hand to his forehead, in frustration over his inability to put his situation into words properly. He chalked it up to him still being woozy from hypothermia and tried again. "The authorities in my villages and surrounding ones have started a witch hunt. As a practitioner of Dark magic, I had to leave home or risk execution. I had no idea a blizzard was raging up here."
"I see…" the dragon put her hand to her mouth. "You are THAT Nergal, then… the prodigy." He suppressed a groan. Even here, his name was known. It was true that he was a talented dark mage and quickly memorized what he read, but was the title 'prodigy' really necessary? "But I digress… this means you cannot return home, doesn't it?"
He held up one hand, knowing what she was going to say. "I would hate to impose."
"Don't be so prideful." He looked up at her after she said that. "Humans are always like that… the last two travellers that said things like that were found days later frozen to death." She stepped closer to him, putting her chilly hand to his forehead. After concluding that he had no fever, she stepped back again, fiddling with the ring on her necklace again. "It's not precisely an inn, but you can stay here if you want."
Nergal wanted to refuse, but he knew she was right. He figured he could stay until the blizzard had subsided. He tried to argue one last thing: "I have no wish to involve you," but she held up her hand and smiled.
"I mean no insult to your race, Nergal," she said, "but I don't think the kind of people sent after you would be able to put a scratch on a dragon." This was true. Nergal knew, not from experience, but in theory, that it was almost impossible for humans to do harm to a dragon. He flustered at the thought that a woman would have to protect him, which provoked a laugh from her. Evidently, she was aware of the same thing. "Think of me as a dragon rather than a female," she said, "if that makes it less embarrassing to you." Turning around, she shook her head. "You humans and your silly pride…"
Embarrassed, Nergal averted his gaze and saw that his robe was neatly folded on the chair next to the bed. However, he also immediately saw that the tome he had dropped upon passing out, was not there. "Miss," he said, pointing to the robe, "Did you perchance find my tome?"
"Call me Aenir," she said, but immediately started pondering. "And no, I don't believe there was a tome with you when I found you. Although in fairness, your possessions weren't my first concern at the time… where are you going?"
This was a fair and logical line of thought of the benevolent creature, Nergal thought as he got up from the bed, but he needed that tome back. It was a rare volume, and it had cost him many years and a lot of gold to obtain it. It was one of the few tomes that had posed an intellectual and magical challenge to him, but he had started making progress on its translation. For dark magic and for himself, it was of utmost importance that he retrieved it. "That tome is one of a kind," he said to Aenir, "I must have it back."
"You wish to go back outside? I admit you had fairly little choice in the matter the first time, but you now know how dangerous this weather is." She walked over to him, giving him a shove in the chest to push him back on the bed. "You were fortunate the first time, but if you go out now, you will freeze to death. I promise you there is no one outside to steal your book right now. Once the blizzard subsides, we can go out and look for it. For now, I want you to stay in bed where you're warm, while I prepare the guest room for you."
Her voice betrayed that she would tolerate no arguing. Nergal sighed, giving in to the woman. He knew well how stubborn dragons could be, so he wouldn't try to deter her. "I will bring you something to eat once I have the room ready," she said, before turning back around and gathering what appeared to be bedsheets. "You should probably try to sleep until then."
After she left the room, Nergal pulled the sheets around him once more. She was right. There was nothing to be done about the Ereshkigal tome, and he had to conserve his energy for the moment he could finally go to look for it. Fortunately, it did not take him long to feel drowsiness setting in and to fall asleep, trusting that his pursuers would not hazard the blizzard only to cross a protective ice dragon.
Additional Author's Notes: I can't guarantee when this will update, both because of my proofreader's questionable availability and the fact that I don't have a lot of installments prepared. I will try to update somewhat regularly, but no promises.