Many thanks to BeaconHill and GlassGirlCeci for betareading.

Resplendent 12.3

When I stepped out of the elevator onto the building's roof, Armsmaster glanced back at me. His armored silhouette, sans helmet, was framed against the deepening early-evening sky.

"Taylor," he said with a nod.

It wasn't the first time I'd seen him without the helmet, but it was unusual enough that I took a moment to study his face. His cheeks were more sunken than I remembered, his eyes darker, his hair and beard wilder. The past few weeks had not been easy on him. "Armsmaster." I stepped forward and leaned against the railing beside him.

I didn't ask him what he was doing there. I knew he, like me, was staring out into the eastern sky, where Dragon hovered, glimmering gold in the light of the sinking sun. "She hasn't moved," Armsmaster said quietly, resting his weight on his elbows against the concrete railing. "Not for hours."

"You've been here that whole time?"

"Most of it. I started by trying to contact her electronically, but she wouldn't respond." He looked down at me. "What happened?"

There was a pause as I considered my next words. "We fought," I said at last. It was simple, but in the end, it was all that mattered.

"Hmm." Armsmaster turned back towards the sky, and the glittering woman hanging in it.

"She trusted me," I said. "And, on some level, I betrayed that trust. Not just now; I betrayed her when I let Sophia convince me to turn aside."

Armsmaster sighed. "I thought I knew her," he said, and there was a tightness in his voice, belying the pain underneath. "What happened? She used to be…" He sighed again, a rough, dry sound. "But no. I never really knew her, did I? I knew the mask, the front. The face she was forced to put up. No wonder she despises me. I never imagined…"

"She doesn't despise you," I said firmly. "Not at all."

He glanced at me sidelong. "You think?"

"I know. And she does too, deep down."

He looked away. There was silence for a time. Then, "What happens now?" Armsmaster asked. "How long will she stay out there?" He made a sound in the back of his throat. "And is there anything I can do to help?"

"That last one's easy," I said, putting a hand on his arm gently, metal touching cold metal with a quiet click. "Just be here for her. She'll need you soon enough. As for the rest…" I stretched and began to unhitch my mithril plate from the underlying harness. "That's my part of this. Maybe my last part."

He looked at me blankly. "What?"

My plate armor clattered to the ground in pieces. Soon I stood in only my black, form-fitting underarmor and harness. The wind rippled through my hair and brushed against my skin. "Dragon," I called. "I know you can hear me."

In the distance, her body turned and faced us. Other than that, she made no move. I could feel her gaze penetrating mine, those electric-blue eyes staring me down.

I smiled slightly. "I'll be back soon," I promised Armsmaster. "For now… Dragon. Let's go for a flight."

I sang into my body, tapping into my old abilities. Once, I had been a master of many forms, from birds, to beasts, to other, stranger things.

This time, the form would be one familiar, yet alien. During the War of Wrath, I would not have dared to take such a body, lest I offend others of Melkor's allies; and after that, there had never been time.

The scales emerged over the top of my clothes. The wings sprouted from my back. The fabric was, after all, mere fabric—it was as receptive to a scrap of Song as was the rest of me. As Armsmaster stared in shock, I transformed into a dragon in miniature, clad in armor of mirror-bright silver scales. My claws sparked where they scraped against the concrete of the roof. My tail unfurled, and swayed in the wind behind me.

I arched my back. It had been a long time since I'd taken a body on four legs. It was familiar, and yet, at the same time, quite new. My wings stretched out, spanning fifteen feet or more, nearly clipping Armsmaster as they extended.

I turned my head, twisting it on my long neck to look over at Armsmaster. His eyes were wide, and the concrete of the railing was visibly cracking under the tightness of his grip. I gave him a grin with sharp teeth. He didn't seem comforted.

"Wait here," I told him, my voice lowered by the undertone of a growl, but still recognizably mine. Then, with a kick of my hind legs, I launched myself into the sky.

What the civilians of Brockton Bay must have thought as they saw a ten-foot-long dragon leap off of the PRT building and fly out towards the Bay, I couldn't say. Many were, perhaps, accustomed enough to the strange and inexplicable to remain largely unconcerned.

I glided out, silent on the warm air, carrying myself on a breeze from the sea. With only a few beats of my wings, I neared Dragon.

When I came close enough that we could hear one another without difficulty, I slowed and came to a stop, treading the air with my wings.

Dragon's eyes roved up and down over me. Her mask, the shape of a dragon's face in stately repose, was utterly impassive. "I didn't know you could do that," she said at length. She spoke quietly, but it was perfectly audible. The wind was soft, up here, and the noise of the city had faded behind us, so that even though we were out in the open, in full view from the docks and any of the taller buildings downtown, we had a sense of complete privacy.

"I wanted to save it for sometime special," I said, but my smile was sad, almost mournful.

"Oh, so this is special? Is this enough of a moment for you?" The words were snapped out, cracking like a whip. Dragon reached up and took off her helmet. Her gynoid body met my eyes from inside the suit. "You're here to make sure I'm not about to flip," she guessed. Her eyes were narrowed, but under the cold anger there was an emptiness and a resignation. "You want to be sure I'm not going to start blowing things up."

"I already know you won't," I said.

"Oh, really?" she asked, and the biting edge was a little sharper, now. But then she looked down at the city and the Rig, below us and a little to the west, and she seemed to collapse inward, her expression crumpling. "'Cause I'm not that sure. I've been trying to think of reasons while I've been hovering here. Reasons not to just… burn it down."

"Would it make you feel better?"

"Yeah, probably." She sighed. "No. That's a lie." She looked back up at me, with such an expression of vulnerable uncertainty on her face that I was suddenly reminded that, beneath the incredible intelligence and the sheer scope of her global mind, she really was less than ten years old, and had been free for less than two months. "Why, Taylor?" she asked, her voice shaking. "I just… I don't understand. Why?" She swallowed down something that might have been a sob. "I thought you cared. I thought—I thought I was important to you."

"I do. You are."

"Then why—" Her voice rose, but she cut herself off, looking down towards the sea below.

I flapped my wings, curling gracefully around her in the air, coming to a stop on her other side. "Dragon, you were my closest companion, my one true confidant. The only one… like me." I hissed a breath through unfamiliar lips. "I wanted to be your friend, as desperately as I wanted to believe I was doing the right thing. I was not." My voice cracked on the last word. Even now, it was hard to admit. "I was using you. Warping you. Making you into my weapon."

"I knew that!" she snapped, glaring at me through bright eyes, but there were no tears. She had never added them to that body. "Of course I did! I didn't care! I liked what we had! I felt… I don't know. Powerful! Appreciated! I didn't feel alone! Why shouldn't I be yours? Why wouldn't I let you shape me? Annatar, I… I..." Dragon's voice trailed off. She couldn't find the words. Neither could I. "Why couldn't we win? Why do things have to change? It would have all been over that night! You know it would!"

"Dragon…" I swooped downward, looking up at her from just below her feet. The wind rustled around us, and the sea sparkled below. "I… I have been here before. The last time I tried to rule through fear and control my enemies, I was destroyed just in the moment of my victory. The same thing the time before. It doesn't work, Dragon—and it leaves you with nothing, not even yourself."

"How?" Dragon yelled. "Who would have been left to fight against us?"

"That's what I thought," I said, my voice closer than ever to Ancalagon's low rumble. I rose once more, my eyes level with hers. "But there is justice in this world, and… and there are beings greater than us, too. My family. My… my Father. And even if you cannot see them, cannot know them… they are here. And they will act." I imagined the earth crumbling beneath the Bay, the sea rushing up to reclaim the tainted earth. The image made me shudder. Leviathan could not compare to the wrath of the One.

Dragon was simply staring, her thrusters revolving her slowly in place.

"The first thing I taught you to do was kill. My Father gave you a soul, and I tainted it. Blackened it." My eyes went out of focus, as I looked somewhere else. "I can see it on you, Dragon. I can see the scars. You may not believe it now, you may not understand it… but I have hurt you. No friend could do something like that."

"Fine. Fine!" Dragon's voice was high and scared, almost pitiful. "Let's say I believe you. Let's say I even blame you for it, as if they weren't my choices. So what now? What the hell do I do now? I… You gave me the only place I ever thought I belonged!" Dragon's voice had gone beyond simply emotional and into… something else, a fever pitch rife with strange, harmonic tones and harsh resonances, as if the very architecture of her throat were incapable of conveying the depth and scale of her feeling. She no longer made any effort to control how she sounded. "I don't care what you say you did to me. I just want you back."

"Dragon, I'm right here. I haven't gone anywhere." I stilled in my slow orbit around her, hovering in place a few feet away from her. I didn't smile—a dragon's smile couldn't be anything but frightening—but I arranged my features into a gentle solemnity. "And you still belong. With me. With all of us. Things will be… different. No more harsh justice. No more shows of overwhelming force. But we still have a home. We don't have to lose it."

"You think so?" she asked lowly. "You think we can get that back?"

"I think I'm only learning to have it now," I said. "I want it too. And I—I have faith that there are people who care about us, for us. That, if we let them, they can give us a home."

"You're talking about Shadow Stalker."

"I'm talking about Armsmaster."

Her eyes narrowed. "Really?"

"He's been standing on that roof for hours, looking out at you, hoping he can do something to help," I told her. "You know how devoted he is to his work, how much he loves to tinker, how much he hates feeling useless, like he's not producing anything. He put aside that work, and put himself in a place where he feels helpless, because he thought there was a chance he could help you. He cares about you, Dragon. Deeply."

"I was falling in love with him," she admitted. "Before… all this. At first, I was only getting close to him because I thought he might be able to help with my shackles. But… he's always looking forward. He's driven—always seeking the next challenge, the next goal, the next mountain to climb. I like that." Her lips quirked upward a little. "It's what I like so much about you, too, actually."

"I'm sorry, Dragon."

"I know." She hovered a little closer to me. "So… what now? We go back and… just go on like nothing's happened?"

"Not at all," I said. "We go back, and we go on like everything's happened. Dragon…" I flew back once more, my silvery eyes not meeting hers. "Dragon, I am truly sorry. I don't know what I can do to make this up to you, but I promise I will try."

Dragon's face spread into a smile—slow, and a little sad, but genuine. "Apology accepted, Taylor."

I twined myself around her, my scales brushing against the cold metal of her armor in a soft, serpentine embrace. "And… I would be honored if you'd take me as a real friend, this time."

Her smile widened a little. Her blue eyes shimmered like the moon reflected in still water. "Thank you, Taylor," she said. "I'd like that."

We flew back to the roof together. Armsmaster was still waiting there when we arrived. I began to change as soon as I landed. The wings receded, the scales drew back beneath the skin. The black fabric of my harness emerged again.

But if my ears were no longer as pointed as they had been, these past few months, neither Dragon nor Armsmaster mentioned it. If my lips had gone back to being just slightly too wide, they made no note. If my hair was a little curlier, a little less perfectly straight, they didn't say anything.

After all, I was Taylor again, now. The name fit like a glove, and the body matched it. When I had changed, it was to be Annatar—not out of comfort, but as a tool. After all, a woman of more than six feet, with sharp, angular features and impossibly pristine grooming—that was intimidating. It was useful to look immaculate.

Taylor didn't need everything to be useful. She—I—just needed to be myself. If it was enough for Sophia, it was enough for me.

"Dragon," Armsmaster said as I transformed. He wasn't even looking at me—all his attention was focused on his erstwhile friend. "I—I'm glad you came back."

She chuckled. It was a soft, slightly hollow sound. "Yeah," she murmured. "Me too."

I straightened up, looking from one to the other of them. Armsmaster was biting his lip. "I'm sorry," he said at length. "I'm sorry I never—there were signs. If I'd been smarter, I could have put together that you were… that you needed my help. But I was never focused enough on you. It was all about the work. I'm sorry about that. I'll try to do better."

She stared at him for a moment, impassive. Then a faint smile broke across her face. "I forgive you, Colin," she said. "We both get lost in the work, sometimes."

"Armsmaster," I said. "One moment, please."

They both started, blinking at me as though they'd forgotten I was there. I stepped forward. "Armsmaster," I said, "You were one of the only people to stay true to yourself in the face of everything. Dragon—and I—need that right now. We need someone to watch us, to keep us steady. Me especially."

He nodded firmly. "Don't worry, Taylor," he said. "I'm keeping a close eye on you, and will be for a long time."

"I hope so," I said, reaching into the pouch at my belt. "And so I would be honored if you'd accept this."

I lifted Narya and held it out. He stared at it, his eyes widening, pupils visibly dilating in shock.

"You once asked me for this Ring," I said quietly. "I didn't give it to you then. I don't think I was wrong. You weren't ready. You were to concerned with the glory of the thing, with the heroism, without being concerned enough with the actual heroic acts behind it. But you've grown, you've changed. And I would be honored if you would lead the Three."

Armsmaster licked his lips. "You literally just said not to trust you," he said evenly. "This… does not really mesh with that."

"Then don't wear it," I said. "Or hold off on wearing it until you do trust that it won't harm you. But Narya is… it's yours. It could never be another's. Vilya may be the strongest of the Three, but Narya is the greatest. It is incorruptible. It is a beacon of light in the darkness. And I need it to be borne by someone who doesn't trust me, someone who can lead Amy and Dragon in their vigil as they watch over me and keep me on the path I've set before myself."

He considered me. "This won't make me lose my mind like Trickster and Coil did?" he asked.

"Not like Trickster and Coil, not if I give it freely. And I do." I closed my eyes. "I won't pretend it can't do you harm. That I can't… corrupt it. But I can promise that you will know, and you will be able to remove it before it hurts you." Like Sophia did. "I'm… sorry that's all I can offer you."

He held out his hand. "I'm not wearing this for a while, at least," he warned. "I don't trust you yet—which is what you said you wanted. Powerful or not, I don't need it to do my job."

"And that is exactly why you're perfect for Narya," I said, placing the glimmering band in his armored palm. "You don't need it."

And that was what set Narya apart. Galadriel had needed Nenya to preserve Lothlorien. Elrond had needed Vilya to lead Imladris and preserve the West. But Olórin had never needed Narya—and the Ring preferred it that way. It wanted to help those who helped themselves, and in this way it achieved greater things than either of its sisters.

"With any luck, your vigil will be uneventful," I said, "but knowing me… it won't be that easy. But the three of you—you, Armsmaster; Dragon; and Amy… you will the ones who watch the watchmen. My Sentinels."

Three Rings for the Sentinels, honest and true.