Artist Comment 16th July 2021:
Hey guys,
I'm really grateful for the favourites you leave every now and then on my old project here at Fanfiction,
but the way this website was changed in the last years in terms of navigating while posting stuff - especially on mobile -
I finally must tell you, that the support for Primogenitor won't continue here.
-c-
~Of course you can still read the original version at this place; I won't delete it.~
-c-
However, feel also free to come to: ArchiveOfOurOwn
(I cannot post links in here - another NoGo for Fanfiction - thus you'll have to google my username and that website's name)
and take a look at the four chapters I edited a while ago in favour of correcting some grammar-mistakes plus adding additional details.
That's also the website where I plan / hope to post the next new chapter - YES, I have an almost finished thing waiting for release because I'm getting absolutely distracted by plans for some new remixes / art ; hopp over to my YouTube-account and you'll see what I mean. :helplessly chuckles:
-c-
Thanks for reading.
Primogenitor
Chapter One
A mortal child.
So, she stood right in front of him.
He had not ever met one of her species before, but she resembled his own race noticeable.
Such a small creature she was; simultaneous careful and quickly in her movements like a butterfly. He would later learn, that one-hundred-fifty-eight centimeters were not at all tiny for a woman of her race, but now, this mortal was like an insect in his opinion.
Yet, a pretty little earthworm, as the curves underneath her robe were visible smooth and her scales colored in the pale white like shells possess.
She must have a good balance, because her thin tail with this graceful tip was compared to her body conspicuous long. Probably, these horns, which were presumably her ears, worked also properly; they were similar to those of sea-dragons.
Her long hair flowed with the shine of metal in the moist air. It was very bright, yet no cold silver, as it appeared to be minimal yellow. This impression was strengthened through the golden peaks of each strand; making the hair white-golden in the light of the sunset.
Here and there, he could see her skin, clearly. Rosy was her flesh everywhere; lively color in contrast to her decent scales. Not pale; not sickish, as much as he knew mortals. As much as he knew the five races that occupied Eorzea. She must be a healthy being. With lips reflecting the light like wet peach-petals in his lake did once on a beautiful day of spring...
Yes, she was pretty through all these facts.
Maybe the prettiest mortal he had ever seen standing so close to him.
But nothing of these things could actually be compared partially to her striking eyes. Heterochromia; that was the word mortals used to describe this phenomenon. Odd-colored irises. And the girl owned even three different colors.
Her left eye was a blue so bright and clear like ice. But it didn't look up to him with such coldness. Pure wonderment lay within the crystal. This, and pity. A strange sadness could be found in the iris while she watched his corpus. Never did he imagine to see one of another race grieve for his death. Not even his own children showed the vulnerability that loomed in her eye in this queer moment. Yet, the emotion was there; was real, and he silently questioned, why. Didn't she hate dragons like all the other mortals nowadays...? Those, who weren't 'heretics'...?
Warmth lay within the other open window. It had a disturbing color – as red as his own were once, although as dim as all mortal eyes. But it shimmered gentle like a firefly at night; appealing to him even if he didn't want to feel this way. Luckily, the iris was framed with a second color, so it wasn't completely draconian. Dark gold bordered the red; turning her eye into a jewel. He could never fancy some worthless stones like her kind did – like all mortals did, but this was a piece of jewelry that even he would accept.
But oh Hydaelyn, why did she come to visit his grave?
Why came an innocent maiden like her? She was so painfully young...
It didn't even matter, later, when he learned about her state as an adult with twenty years. To him, she was a child; a baby, perhaps. Someone who must be shielded from the evil of the world...
It was better, to scare her away; now. Whatever she wanted here, he was sure she wouldn't find it. Not in a place like this. Not in his ancient, physically dead company.
And after all, she was a mage. An archmage, how she called herself proudly, which he would later hear more than once from her. The girl had a preference for all magic in the world; at the most white-magic. She knew, what fighting meant. Knew the danger.
Just one look at her weapon told him, that she wouldn't leave when nobody chased her off.
His voice rose for the first time after fifteen years of silent death:
"Who treadeth now upon my bones and waketh me from slumber sweet?"
The girl didn't seem to be surprised about his awake spirit. A mortal who wasn't afraid of dragons; this was new to him. She didn't even jerk, when his eyes glowed in their original color. Crestfallen; that he should be about this missing reaction, if there wouldn't be some kind of curiosity emerging within his consciousness. He wanted to test her limits. See, how far a 'banter' would go.
It wasn't hard to free himself from his dead body and take a spectral form.
When he was materialized like that – a blue, shining ghost – he said: "Thou hast forgotten the face of thy lord. Remember, mortal, and fear me." Again, she didn't even show the tiniest sign of fear. Not even a draconic roar seemed to scare the little worm. He wouldn't shoo her away, obviously. So, hopefully this mage was as tough as her weapon gave him the impression she could be.
When he attacked the mortal, her little face beclouded with disapproval. She dodged the fire and shielded herself following with a barrier in order to strengthen her defensive, he presumed. However, he hit her already a few seconds later; confident of victory as she took lots of damage. But oh, OH, the maiden was indeed a true healer! With amazement he watched, how she healed all the wounds with the blink of an eye. Albeit he was even more amazed, when he heard suddenly for the first time her voice; soft and gentle, yet stern: "I didn't came here to fight you."
'I am certainly aware of this. But why did you came, maiden?' he thought puzzled for another time; not addressing this odd opponent formally in his mind.
While the girl struggled and fought him with Stone- and Aero-magic, he realized she must be governed by the Mothercrystal; at least partly. There was a free will in the way she ran and jumped, but his sixth sense told him she relied too much on Hydaelyn. This mortal sought for the guidance of an existence who she could probably never serve well.
Such a small, vulnerable being should not only wear a robe. An armor would suffice much better, albeit he couldn't imagine her honestly in such a cluster of metal. As she was a healer and magician, nothing heavy would fit her idea of a fight. Plus, her staff was indeed no toy. It was a relic-weapon, but much stronger than it should have been. The Thyrus had gained new powers. And he could tell, that his visitor was the reason for it. She had given the object light and probably also a soul.
With the same sternness he saw in her eyes, the Whitemage attacked and healed until she was finally able to destroy his spectral form. Her patience and stamina were remarkable, wherefore some kind of reward seemed to be necessary. And in the end, he wanted to know, why she was here. Nothing had made him so curious in the last centuries like this girl.
He stated: "By Her gifts hast thou earned a moment's reprieve. Speak, mortal, and I shall listen." Sighing almost not audible, the girl told him shortly yet precisely, what had happened recently in the city of the sworn enemies of dragons. "... And that's why I'm here. I was asked to see, if you are the one who sang the song. If your resurrection was more than a myth. The other Warriors of Light are busy with planning the defense of Ishgard, but I was always somebody who wants to look over the edge of a plate. When I heard what the gleam of the star meant, I had to see you myself."
Patiently, he payed attention to every single word she spoke; a docile being. "Guided by a star...? Heh heh heh. My people have heard the song. Ishgard shall burn." he asserted with the gruff humor of an old man, since he refused her kind affability. But it was still sad, that the girl was just a mortal. He had been flattered by her last words – and yet was. The sound her voice had made revealed, what no inhabitant of Ishgard would ever dare to think; not even as a child.
She felt sympathy for him. A dragon.
His rough explanation let her bite this shimmering underlip. The girl gazed with deepest frustration at him. Ah, did she knew it? That his kind would redeem the sin which mortals had committed...?
"Sons must answer for their fathers' misdeeds. We do not forget. We do not forgive." he answered the wordless accusation of her eyes. It was just the same with mortals. They never learned anything. Not from the past; not from the antiquity. Never.
She shook her head and said: "This can't work when we are completely different compared to such almost-eternal creatures like you dragons are. So I'm begging you: Put an end to this silly war before it fully begins!" Oh, it was futile to beg him... He hadn't called for the massacre.
He indirectly responded to her pleading: "Seven children did I sire. One now singeth of retribution. I rise to join in the chorus. Thou art powerless to silence us, mortal. Yet thou shalt not live to labor in vain. Thy reprieve is at an end." It was just logical. Ishgard had caused all his seven children pain – and hence they should pay for it.
Now it was the girl who surprised him: She made one step into his direction – emitting a blue light so significant bright he knew instantly to whom it belonged.
A hint of exasperation got him: "Hrmph. Trickery is thy shield. This frail, ignoble creature is not gifted, but chosen... Hearken to me, Hydaelyn! I remember... and I consent." He couldn't believe it, still... Hydaelyn had given this fool a gift with more importance than the girl deserved. It couldn't be the Mothercrystal's will to lend her now above all even his own force...
Meanwhile, confusion spread over the Whitemage's face.
"Fear not, mortal... I shall not harm thee..." he spoke lowly to her.
Just when he had finished his second sentence, he fired a yellow beam into her corpus; right there where her heart lay. He 'took' the Echo within the fragile, finite being with just a simple movement of his force away. It amused him to observe how she recognized the change immediately.
"Heh heh heh. Mayhap thou thinkest me an oathbreaker? Thou art mistaken. If thou comest to harm, it shall be by another's hand, not mine. I did but strip thee of thy mistress's feeble blessing. Thou didst profit much by Her grace, but no more." he explained his action to the girl.
As her eyes – these open windows in different colors – let him see bewilderment like he had never seen before, he stooped to spirit the mortal; indirectly: "Feeleth my claw deep inside of thee, abject worm. It doesn't take the gift Her Grace gave thee. But it locketh thy talent deep inside of thy heart. Do not lament – who knows, when thy power would hast vanished by itself. In the beginning, Hydaelyn granted me protection and light. I am not entitled to arrogate her choice. But thou art after all weak; a mortal. Foolish and young."
Then, his spirit took once again a steady shape – but not again a spectral one. Now, he was so tiny like a baby-dragon; probably as helpless as such a newborn. For the first time, he really seemed to surprise the girl, as she stared up to him with a priceless expression. Smiling inwardly, he flew down to her and studied in-secret-excited the mortal at close range.
He tried to help her grasp this wondrous, unexpected appearance: "This is a piece of my own body. A part of my soul rests within this one. He will accompany thee. What his eyes see, so do mine. What his ears hear, I hear." The mortals eyes wandered over his small head with these ridiculous large eyes and long ears; over his slender upper-part of the body; the round hips beneath; tiny legs; pointed tail and bat-like wings, at last. Yes, he was in this shape indeed like a toy; a puppet.
Flying slowly in circles around her head, the dim eyes of his disguise never let her face unobserved. Once more he assured the girl: "The covenant binds me to thee. I shall watch... listen... and wait. Fight and struggle, if it is thy will. Man hath ever coveted that which lieth beyond his grasp. If thou art more than a bearer of borrowed powers, thou can destroy my seal. I drink of Her body, and thence doth mine own find new life. When it hath grown whole, the loyal and penitent shall rejoice. Though, not for this war. It is not my own. The Dragonsong heraldeth a beginning... and an end. Soon, the decision is made."
When his words were spoken, he came again closer to the girl; waiting for a reaction.
But seemingly, she was the one who surprised the other, as she walked simply away from him.
"I have to report on the events within the Agrius." ,she said without looking back, "Come with me, if you insist on it. But don't stumble on Garlean soldiers. I'm not sure if I would protect you now." Ah, so she WAS angry about him. He had wondered, if this mortal was even able to feel anger. "Garlean soldiers, thou say...?" "Don't tell me, you wouldn't know when they pillage the wreckage. They are making noise wherever they go." the girl responded with abhorrence. He chuckled lowly, before he caught up with her: "The fortunes of mortals are hard to follow if one is dead."
She stood abruptly still and gazed irritated at him: "If that's true, then how could I, of all things, wake you up?" "Thou art chosen. I presume, this is the specific difference." he answered sincerely. "Hm, you are a strange dragon, Midgardsormr." she addressed him for the first time by his name.
He raised his brows and stated partly coy: "I have forgotten my manners..." "What do you mean?" "Thy name. I am bound to thee. I should know how thou art named." While he spoke, his eyes glowed for a moment in their original color. The girl watched this and answered: "I see... Well, perhaps I don't want to tell you how people call me. Maybe, I don't know what I should think about this odd company you have suddenly become."
"Thou ART cross with me." he assessed; confirming his conclusion aloud.
"Partly. I had no access to the echo before I came to Eorzea. So, it's not like I'm that used to it. Albeit it was at times very essential; that's true." the girl clarified, before she started walking again. "Whimsical..." he mumbled while he flew next to her. She smiled – a beautiful sight in his opinion – and said suddenly: "Ceci." With confusion, he studied her face. "My name. It's Cecilia Shirone. Friends call me 'Ceci' or 'Cec'. Use the term which you prefer." Cocking his head, he questioned: "Now I am a friend of thee...? Did I miss something thou speaketh?" "Hehe, not used to mortals, dear Midgard?" ,she said giggling, "We can be mad at someone and still see a friend in him. Perhaps you ancient things could learn at least one trait from us."
He alighted on her shoulder; not speaking a single word, while she went down the Agrius. Sighing, he watched the night-sky spreading over the horizon, whereas Cecilia's feet moved onto a rowboat. In the moment she paddled to the shore, the landscape made his heart clench, as his once beautiful, lively Silvertear Falls had truly turned into a desert of crystals.
