A few slight liberties were taken with the Fane of Raman, and how the spheres are protected, just because... it is more interesting than just having them hidden in treasure chests (what was stopping gharnef from just opening the chests himself with keys and taking them in the game ? (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋ ) -

Thank you for the favs, follows, etc across FFN and AO3... it is really overwhelming, in a good way, so thank you!

Fractured Pride

After Fafnir's defeat in Altea, he had escaped and returned to Doluna as Medeus had ordered him to. His condition, however, had been far too dire for him to withstand any of Medeus' or Gharnef's questioning at the time, and he had collapsed on the floor in the throne room not long after his return. Though even with the severity of his wounds, he outright refused the help of any chirurgeons; his pride had already been cracked, and to require healing by someone else's hand would have only served to further shatter what pride he had left.

So here he sat, upon a dusty old cot in one of the many rooms of the castle. His robes had been ruined; sullied by blood and dirt, burned by fire, and cut by steel. Surprisingly, Medeus had supplied him with new garb—delivered by one of his underlings—which Fafnir had left neatly folded on the foot of the bed.

The dingy, musty air of Doluna Castle was less than pleasant, and the castle itself was far from an ideal place to nurse one's wounds. Doluna was already the last place Fafnir wished to be, and he loathed it. This loathing, of course, was also wholly exacerbated by the agitating skeleton at his side.

"How unimpressive," Gharnef criticized as Fafnir re-wrapped a wound on his forearm. "A haughty Divine Dragon such as yourself cannot even put a stop to some child prince and his pitiful army?"

A sneer tugged at the bridge of Fafnir's nose as he shot Gharnef a glare up through his eyelashes. "Quiet, you banshee. You know nothing of which you speak."

With a snort, Gharnef tilted his head back to glare back down his nose at the wounded manakete before him. "Is that so? I am the uninitiated, and yet between the two of us, which one is here licking their wounds?" A smirk carved into Gharnef's face as Fafnir's expression further contorted in silent anger. "That's what I thought. I have told you before to hold your tongue—you have no right to talk back to me, failure."

A growl laced Fafnir's breath as he exhaled, and yet before he could speak, they were both interrupted by a commanding voice.

"That is enough."

Gharnef turned to face their visitor, and Fafnir spared the elder manakete a glance out of the corners of his eyes.

"Lord Medeus," Gharnef greeted.

Medeus only spared Gharnef a glance before shifting his attentions to Fafnir, who had continued wrapping the rest of his arm.

"I see your injuries are healing," Medeus observed, his tone flat.

Fafnir's hand twitched and the fabric of his bandage wrinkled between pinched fingers. "You would be correct."

The silence that fell between the three was heavy. Medeus continued to watch Fafnir with critical, uncaring eyes. Finally, Fafnir finished wrapping his arm, and he glanced up towards the Emperor.

"Is there something you wish to say?" he asked, his tone mixed with barely the hint of a pleasantry.

The corner of Medeus' mouth ticked upwards into a faint smirk. "Your lack of situational awareness is quite entertaining," he half-complimented. "No other manakete would dare snip at me as you have, and though I have threatened you once, you continue to push boundaries."

"Glad to be a breath of fresh air," Fafnir muttered, clearly unamused by Medeus' words. "… Obviously, you didn't come here to throw me half-hearted praise. What is it?"

He had been in no mood to fake any sort of kindness or praise for a king that he, quite truthfully, cared nothing about. Medeus was only a gambit that Fafnir wished to take advantage of during his time in Akaneia.

Medeus' smirk faded as his expression returned to one more serious. A hardened, calculated gaze held Fafnir's own, and the older manakete's eyes narrowed further.

It was clear to them both that they each had their own agendas—and though Medeus' was quite clear from the beginning, he doubted the validity of Fafnir's own intentions. What was it that Fafnir was after, and why?

Medeus' eyes slipped shut as he let out a slow, rumbling breath. "Though the Altean Prince is still alive, it is of no consequence to me."

That piqued the surprise of both Fafnir and Gharnef alike. "It is of no consequence?" Gharnef repeated, quite curious.

With a sound of agreement, Medeus reopened his eyes and his gaze bore into Gharnef's. "You heard correctly. The Prince is not dead. However…" his eyes trailed to Fafnir, "Discord has been sown. Doubt has found its place in their hearts. Things will unravel, regardless."

Fafnir's eyes squinted for a split second before his expression returned to normal. "… Medeus," he started. "What is your end goal? Just to take over the world… or what more is there to it?"

A rough snort indicated how little he thought of Fafnir's question. "This world belongs to dragonkind. We reigned supreme over the land, seas and skies before humankind came to be," Medeus said. "And that is the way it must return. The spirit of humankind must be crushed, and what remains should be made to serve us, or die."

His words carried the weight of his anguish and hatred, each syllable laced with venom and spite as he hissed them between gritted teeth.

Fafnir could not help but find it all pointless. "I see," was his response.

This drew a disapproving scowl from the Emperor. "You seem unmoved by my words," he said.

"I've heard them before," Fafnir muttered monotonously as his eyes closed. "It was simply the response I expected, is all. Pardon my lack of unabashed enthusiasm."

Yes, he had certainly heard those words before.

"They are below us! This world was made for our kind alone!"

"They only bring us death. Surely you understand this now, do you not?"

"They wish to claim this world for themselves and use the knowledge we bestowed upon them to destroy us."

"You would turn your back on your own kind to live a life of neutrality?! After what they have done?"

"Her head was hung from our gates as a promise of what is to come. Surely you cannot stand idly by and betray us—betray her?!"

Fafnir's teeth ground together behind clenched lips, and his chest burned with fury as voices—echoes from a thousand years past—roared in his ears. Medeus' eyes narrowed at the sight of Fafnir's ever-darkening expression.

"No matter," Medeus grunted. "I see you have your reasons for your jadedness. So long as you fulfill your promise to me, and my cause, then we shall have no problems, and you may do what you wish with your own world."

"… That was the plan anyway," Fafnir said as he glanced up towards Medeus.

After a few long seconds of silence, Medeus looked to Gharnef. "Gharnef. You know of the Fane of Raman, yes?"

Immediately intrigued by the mention of the ancient temple, Gharnef smiled. "I certainly do. What of it, Lord Medeus?"

"I expect the Altean Prince and his army will proceed that way next," Medeus answered. "The Fane of Raman is said to be the resting place of the sacred spheres. If the prince were to have any hope of defeating you—and by extension, me—he would need those spheres."

Fafnir listened in interest. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are these "spheres"?" he questioned.

Gharnef spared him a glance. "The spheres are the Starsphere and Lightsphere. Together, their power creates a tome that undoes the power of Imhullu. It is Imhullu's only true weakness."

Fafnir hummed in understanding, and Medeus continued, "However, there is magic guarding these spheres. Only those of Divine Dragon blood can open the seals which hold them… meaning that the princeling's plight would be for naught."

At this, Gharnef grinned. "Interestingly… there is a child Divine Dragon there, in the Fane of Raman. Her name is Tiki."

Fafnir's breath momentarily caught in his throat. A child Divine Dragon?

"I do not wish for the Starsphere and the Lightsphere to be freed from their slumber… so if you wish, I may bewitch the girl into turning on the young Prince when he arrives," Gharnef said. "That way, they could eliminate each other. Or… at the very least, eliminate Tiki, so that the seals may never be broken."

"I accept this idea," Medeus grunted. "Gharnef, I leave this task to you."

Gharnef seemed pleased. "With pleasure. My return to Thabes will simply come after. I will happily do this for you while this worm is stuck here, licking his wounds and cowering," he jabbed snidely.

Almost instantly, Fafnir attempted to shoot up to his feet, though a sharp pain in his shoulder stopped him partway and he grasped at it. Gharnef only laughed.

"You look like death warmed over," the sorcerer added. "Perhaps you should recognize your own inability like Medeus has and sit back down."

A hiss, fueled by anger and agony, escaped Fafnir's throat as he sat back down and glowered at Gharnef. "You…"

"Enough," Medeus interjected. "Gharnef. Go. Now."

"On your word, Lord Medeus," Gharnef said as he bowed his head. He shot Fafnir one more amused glare before he stepped away, and darkness consumed him as he exited.

Neither Medeus nor Fafnir said anything for a time. With closed eyes, the younger manakete merely listened to the sound of the wyrms in the skies, flapping their wings and roaring over their dominion. Fafnir, having expected Medeus to leave after Gharnef disappeared, simply chose to wait in silence for the inevitable conversation that Medeus was planning to have with him.

Medeus, however, first took the opportunity to examine Fafnir. Now that they were within close enough proximity, he could sense every twist and churn of the younger manakete's energy as it enveloped him; everything was almost as Medeus would have expected, but off by just a hair of a degree. He had certainly been telling the truth about his otherworldly origins—however, even with that in mind, there was something remarkably unmistakable about his power that Medeus could only recognize as something that must have been universal.

With a grimace, he pushed aside his observation. "I must speak with you, now that we are alone."

"I figured. You seemed eager to make Gharnef leave," Fafnir muttered. Though he had responded quite casually, the fact that he was still wounded and stuck with the Emperor alone, put Fafnir on edge.

There was a slight uptick in the corner of Medeus' mouth once again—he must have noticed Fafnir's tension. "I wish for you to go to the Fane of Raman."

Taken by surprise, Fafnir tilted his head up to look towards Medeus. "What? Why the Fane of Raman? You just sent Gharnef there."

"You are correct," Medeus responded as his eyes bored into Fafnir's own. "I want you to go there after Gharnef departs. Alone. And bring to me both the Starsphere and the Lightsphere."

Fafnir recoiled slightly, momentarily startled by the request. His brows knit as he frowned. "That doesn't make sense. You said yourself that only those of Divine Dragon blood—"

Fafnir's words caught in his throat and Medeus' smirk only widened at Fafnir's obvious realization.

"… I am only half Divine Dragon," Fafnir spoke slowly, his tone dangerous. "And from another world, no less. You realize your plan's chance of success relies solely on taking this… rather large gamble?"

Medeus tilted his head back, as he found the trepidation in Fafnir's response interesting. Perhaps Fafnir himself did not completely understand what Medeus was able glean from his energy just moments prior.

With that in mind, Medeus could not tell what was more prominent: Fafnir's god complex, or his insecurity. With a rough laugh, Medeus bared his fangs in a grin.

"I would like for you to attempt it, nonetheless," Medeus growled. "Know that I have alternative plans if this does not work."

"… To kill Gharnef, you mean," Fafnir said. "That's why you want these spheres in the first place, isn't it?"

"You are sharp," Medeus said. "Surely, you can see the nature of our relationship. Though we work together—as you and I also do—I would never trust a man such as he. At the end of it all, even though he is an abomination, he is still a human. One who weaves nefarious, underhanded plots and manipulates others on a level they could not even hope to comprehend, all for his own personal gain. What would stop him from simply trying to do the same to me once I use my power to overwhelm the rest of Akaneia?"

Fafnir said nothing as he narrowed his eyes. There was certainly a point to be made—Gharnef was a vile individual, human or not. It had been something Fafnir could sense from the very first moment he and Gharnef met in Thabes. That Medeus would also see this so clearly, and even plot to undo the man that was essentially his second-in-command, made Fafnir both impressed and disgusted.

People and dragons would never change. They would always trample one another—even their own kind—in the struggle for dominion. It was a song and dance he knew well.

After all, he had been a witness to it for over a thousand years by now.

Electing to keep those thoughts to himself, he decided that now would be an opportune moment for more insight on the nature of this magic. Carefully, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he laced his fingers together. His braid dangled beside his head as he held Medeus' gaze.

"… Fine, I'll bite," Fafnir responded. "However, answer a few questions for me, first."

Medeus' silence marked the go-ahead, and Fafnir shifted just enough to lean more weight on his less-wounded arm. "We've established that the… Starsphere and the Lightsphere have the power to destroy Gharnef. He mentioned something about a tome, and Imhullu—explain this to me," Fafnir asked. "I know that Imhullu is a powerful tome. That much I had been able to learn via your land's history books before I even met Gharnef. However, those did not answer everything. What is it about Imhullu that makes him impervious to anything else?"

"A good question," Medeus half-complimented, and his eyes closed. "As you are from another world, I am going to assume there is nothing there quite comparable to Imhullu. It is a powerful tome, as you know. It was created by the Darksphere—and as you can probably tell by the name, the Darksphere is of a similar vein to the Starsphere and the Lightsphere. For the sake of completion, there are also the Geosphere and the Lifesphere."

"Yes… I had read of these. Created by the god Naga—or, the one whom you call a witch. So, they had these spheres originally," Fafnir muttered.

"Yes. The Divine Dragon tribe once possessed all five spheres," Medeus responded. This confirmation immediately piqued Fafnir's curiosity, though he did not show it.

"Regarding Gharnef… Imhullu was created by him, with the power of the Darksphere as its fuel," Medeus explained. "The Darksphere is immensely powerful… the sphere alone will protect its wielder from all harm. The only way to counteract that, is by using the Lightsphere to negate its power."

Though Fafnir mouthed to begin a new question, Medeus raised his hand to halt him.

"However. Now that the Darksphere has been used to forge Imhullu, the tome has properties of its own," Medeus said. "While the sphere alone can be negated by the Lightsphere, Imhullu's only weakness is the magic of Starlight, a tome forged from two spheres: the Lightsphere, and the Starsphere."

Fafnir remained silent and stared out of one of the loopholes on the far side of the room as he allowed the new information to process. The sky was still muddled by dark clouds, and the silhouettes of dragons as they soared by were the only figures to break the monotony.

Finally, Fafnir muttered bitterly, "When I first met Gharnef, I could tell his soul was long gone. So then, I suppose this magic is also what's given Gharnef the capability to live as a husk for what seems to be hundreds of years, defying death. Is that right?"

"You are correct," Medeus confirmed. "By using the Darksphere so… his soul was consumed by it, eternally trapping him in its darkness in exchange for immeasurable power."

Fafnir's gaze flicked upwards towards Medeus in interest at that and he brought his still-entwined fingers towards his lips to use as a rest. "… I see," he murmured, his gaze sliding away again as he considered the usefulness of this new information.

"These spheres are sealed by magic that only Divine Dragons can unlock, and they are held in the Fane of Raman because of their power. The Divine Dragon clan never wanted their power to be in the hands of humans, or any other clan of dragon," Medeus grunted. "Yet that old Divine Dragon… Gotoh, the fool, lost the Darksphere to Gharnef after failing to protect it. Now, I will force him to assist me in killing Gharnef, to finish what he started."

Gotoh. That was a name that Fafnir had only heard once or twice, in passing, during Gharnef's ramblings. "Gotoh… and you expect him to help you, why?"

Medeus smirked. "To Gotoh, it would be clear who the lesser of the two evils are. Gharnef would be invincible should he get his hands on the other spheres… or should the spheres be lost to obscurity. He would have to lend me his power if I were to hold both spheres needed for Starlight."

With a hum, Fafnir straightened his back again. He had learned quite a bit of important information. Though Medeus' plan made sense enough, Fafnir could not help but feel that it was still risky—if even one thing were to go wrong, it would all completely unravel.

However, he was certainly in no place to criticize the Emperor before him. All Fafnir could manage was a curt nod as he pressed his palms into the fabric on the bed beneath him. Carefully, he pushed himself to his feet.

"If you truly think that this… plan of yours will work, then I will entertain your request," Fafnir grunted as he straightened. He tilted his head to look up towards Medeus.

Amused, Medeus grinned. "'Entertain'? You make it seem as if you have a choice," he responded.

Medeus was right—something Fafnir loathed to admit. What little pride Fafnir had continued to crack under the pressure of his current situation, and his right hand twitched. Without Medeus' shelter, Fafnir would be in a much worse situation as he tried to recover from his recent loss in Altea.

Unfortunately, he owed the Emperor. He clicked his tongue as he closed his eyes.

"… Understood," he said. "Then… I will go to the Fane of Raman. Just tell me how to get there."