Primogenitor
Chapter Three
The beams of the sun glided gently over his skin.
But it was not for them that his consciousness returned to his body.
Midgardsormr let his tired eyes shut, while he listened to the soft sound which filled the air.
Cecilia was talking to someone. He presumed, that it could be an employee of the tavern. It must be this way, as the man responded short-spoken; business-orientated to everything she said to him. Somehow, the dragon could imagine, that it was surely similar to the dynamic between himself and the odd archmage. She was talkative – he was silent.
He wondered, if she would wish for more words coming from his muzzle.
After a few minutes of small-talk, she saw the stranger off; his sign to open the eyelids slowly.
The magician was just turning around to his direction as his blurry gazes found her delicate body. But the pleasure he felt at first vanished two seconds later thanks to his clearer vision. Knee-jerk, Midgardsormr straightened up and stared with dilated irises at her appearance.
"Good morning, Midgard!" she greeted him bubbly – obviously not knowing, that her clothing was embarrassing in the opinion of an ancient Methuselah. His gazes wandered jumpily several times up and down her corpus, while he had trouble to hide his abashment. She truthfully wore not much – not when it came to his understanding of appropriateness.
There were long, black boots made of leather, in which Cecilias feet were buried, and short gloves; glowing with a strange turquoise light on the outside of the leathery darkness. Her legs were mostly covered with something like a black pantyhose with an half-open plus way too short skirt, wherefore he could see her briefs. Especially, because the dark briefs were the complete opposite to the purple cloth on the skirts inside, they were perfectly visible. And although it contained a hood, the appendant top was nothing else but a black bikini-top.
He knew the word, how mortals described such outfits nowadays.
And albeit he found it an awful way to name something, it was true: She looked... sexy.
His unsettledness didn't seem to reach her: "Black does suit me well, don't you agree? However, since I reached for now my limits as a Whitemage, I thought, it wouldn't be bad to return for a while to my skills as a Summoner. And the Metalworks alias Garlond clothes are perfect for this job, although I partly prefer it to let them appear in the shape of a dancer-outfit." While her explanation filled the atmosphere, the Raen smiled plus waved an extraordinary looking grimoire. The book was way too thick as if it could be a short novel, and was on the outside decorated with several long, feathery wings in white color. In the second she opened it a little, transparent plumes rose magically from the pages. This was a weapon which only Arcanists plus Summoners used.
As a response to her words, he nodded quickly a few times – unable to take his eyes off her.
There was more rosy skin – were more white scales, than he was until now used from the maiden. She resembled his kind in an extant he hadn't imagined. Actually, she looked so much like the child of a dragon and a Hyur; like the perfect hybrid. Cecilia even smelled this way, when she passed him in order to open the window. He felt like being in difficulties, as his instincts were unable to cope with that foreign mixture. And it wasn't only the rough part. The girl's scent drove him mad, especially, because she owned the decent aroma of peach-blossoms...
Midgardsormr suppressed a frustrated groan.
Why must she smell like his beloved lake did once in spring...?
Eyeballing her, while she watched some birds on a tree, he couldn't help but hating himself. If luck, fate, Hydaelyn or the universe had expected him to be grateful about his wondrous companion: NO, he wasn't glad about all the possibilities how the girl made unknowingly fun of him! He didn't like the mental plus emotional weakness he developed under her influence!
She was like a bad joke...! Mocking him constantly...!
"Are you alright? You look unhappy..." she stated and gazed at him with her jewel-like eye.
Midgardsormr hissed in displeasure; not knowing, what else he should do in that awkward situation. The girl sighed and smiled unperturbed about his reaction. "It's okay, really. You're for sure nervous to be all the time so close to your sworn enemies – or rather their relatives. It must be hard to see and hear them whenever you wake up." Furrowing his brows minimal, the dragon thought: 'If it just would be that simple... But they are not the reason why I am unsettled. The reason is you.'
Cecilia closed the big window again after five minutes of absolute silence.
And he watched attentively every single movement of her body.
Yes, she was deriding him... Like light ridiculed the moth.
Central Coerthas was as cold as he remembered from yesterday.
But at least the atmosphere was windless – and the sky was cloudless, too.
Sitting on Cecilias shoulder, Midgardsormr studied the environment while Edgar transported them to their destination. Every mortal creature he saw – no matter, if it was man or monster – seemed to handle the low temperature good enough to live in this land instead of abandoning the icy desert. Usually, he wouldn't be surprised about that fact, but as he was currently trapped in the tiny shape of a baby-dragon, it was admirable how the short-lived existences outmatched him.
A sharp gust from the north blew over them – making him shake like a leaf.
Indeed, he was still vulnerable to abrupt fluctuations...
"Thou art not freezing?" he casually asked, when he noticed that his companion did not even minimally flinch under the unpleasant airflow. The dragon had expected Cecilia to regret her choice of clothing in the moment they would reach the snowy landscape, but his gruff – rather spiteful sense of humor wasn't rewarded with any mortal unease. "Not a tiny bit. I could wear only a bikini and wouldn't freeze just because of a little ventilation!" she responded laughing and pushed a strand of her white-golden hair out of the smiling face. Looking instantly away from her, he tried to block all imaginations considering such an embarrassing, ridiculous situation out.
There it was once more... Man's foolishness. He was already sick of it...
"Am I again making fun of you...?" she suddenly wanted to know with a serious facial expression. "W-What hast thou...?" His shorttaken reaction seemed to be proof enough, as the maiden stated: "Although I can't read your mind, it's obvious to see it... You don't like being with me. I'm too odd – too young for being a good company. An ancient creature who's similar to a god should better travel with someone as old and wise as Louisoix Leveilleur was. A Methuselah filled with so many memories and knowledge shouldn't be forced to waste time with a youngster like me."
Her crystal-eye didn't look at him, but he saw the sadness within it at once.
Oh Hydaelyn, he disdained it how guilt preyed on his mind when it came to this mortal...!
Carefully, he nudged Cecilia with his tiny right 'hand'. "Thou hast just... startled me. Antediluvian; that's all I am. How am I supposed to take thy traits in stride, when I have not met another creature of thy generation ever before? Thou art... so new. Yet, thou art a better choice for being my escort than these human beings I just saw in the last hours. I do not regret traveling with thee."
She turned her whole face to his direction – watching him with these invaluable eyes.
Her shy smile that appeared now was like a tiny piece of an unknown heaven.
Inadvertent, the dragons 'hand' leaned stronger against her warm neck.
Gazing into the distance in order to distract himself from the mess within his mind, he could see Camp Dragonhead already. But why men called this place 'a camp' was truthfully a mystery to him. It was no mere settlement – rather a small fortress in the midst of the rocks. The stone-walls loomed into the sky with the typical pride of Ishgards stone-cutters. Sentinels patrolled along the street; looking for heretics as well as dragons. Several people passed them – only those were allowed to go or to enter without examination, who were familiar to the guards. The others had to endure a check; whether they liked it or not. A taste of depression lay in the air under this view.
He breathed a sigh of relief, when Edgar passed the sentinels without any reaction of them.
If the mortals had stopped the Chocobo and asked the girl, what the thing on her shoulder was...
He wouldn't have known, what to do. Would he even have lost control; attacking them, at worst?
"Don't fear. I'm popular here in Central Coerthas. So, they are used to me carrying minions, dolls, puppets and small animals around all day long. In their eyes, you are another 'toy' of mine. Nothing, which they have to inspect." the soft voice stroked his ears – calming him and his skepticism. Cecilia gave him an all-knowing smile when he gazed at her; not looking like a foolish child to him, but a woman adept of the contact with other beings – other species.
While she led the white Chocobo to a specific construction, Midgardsormr felt chilly.
But not because of the temperature, no. It was thanks to her; this enigmatic maiden.
To decipher mortals had been once so easy, but she was different in many ways.
Inside of the building, there were several knights as well as a group of adventurers.
The dragon detected instantly, that all of these 'outsiders' were blessed by Hydaelyn with the Echo. Hence, they must be the other Warriors of Light. Although he wouldn't bet on all individuals here. Their granted talent was not equally distinctive within the specific beings, wherefore he doubted, that any of them would be so 'lucky' to have a vision of his true form. He had dreaded such a chance in secret, but now he was no longer worried.
Cecilia was welcomed by her comrades with nodding as well as friendly words.
Obviously, the warriors were a bunch of differing personalities – different races, too.
When he let his eyes wander over them, he recognized that female commander from Ishgard – conversing with a male Hyur. Lucia was in comparison to that man talkative like mortal females regularly were, which seemed to be a rare occasion for this serious woman. However, the man was obviously nobody who would waste often time with talking; a typical wielder of the battle-ax. Presumably, that woman must be a personal favorite of him, that he made such an exception for her. At least, there was no other reason the dragon could imagine. But on the other hand... It was strange how the Hyur didn't smile and had only severe gazes left for his environment.
"You stare a little bit too much." he heard Cecilia whispering so muted, that only he could notice it. "Pardon me... This man just caught my attention as he talked to thy commander." It wasn't correct, to call Lucia 'Cecilias' commander, but in his eyes she was the Au Ra's supervisor when it came to the projects of Ishgard. "Ah, good to know. Then, it's not only me, who has the feeling of him being clearly too reserved around us. Sure, he's a lone wolf, but something must be wrong." Cecilia said and sighed lowly. He wondered, how she could claim, that she didn't know which kind of thoughts dwelt in his brain, when she guessed so awfully often correct.
Midgardsormr asked quietly: "Who is... this man?" "He...? He's our chef, if you want to label him. We call him 'Erik', because he refuses to tell us his real name. For a while, we honestly tried to live with that weird quirk he got, but after two months or so, we were too tired of not addressing him. That's how we came up with that simple nickname." the maiden explained. He nodded minimal, while his irises examined this adventurer. Although the dark-brown hair and the face itself seemed acceptable alias likable enough when it came to mortals, these eyes weren't sympathetic. Steel-blue, they owned an expression which told Midgardsormr how narrow-minded the man might think about the war between Ishgard and dragons. This 'Erik' was no ally of draconic kind.
"Hey, Alphinaud!" the maiden greeted suddenly with a sweet voice.
The adventurers looked to the room's entrance and followed smiling her example.
"Commandant Leveilleur of the Crystal Braves." Lucia added in a polite manner, while the Elezen walked directly to Cecilia. Midgardsormr snorted lowly under this view, because he hadn't expected her Scion-friend to be more teenager than anything else. Of course he had recognized yesterday Alphinauds young voice, but the boy was not even as large as the Au Ra was. He was at least several centimeter; a half head smaller than her.
While the mortals were happy about the young leader being attendant, the dragon eyeballed him with severe disdain. This Elezen had snow-white hair; partly open in short cut, partly in a braid. Probably the style was neutral, but the soft facial features reminded more of a girl than a boy. Alphinaud had even eyes with a female expression, as their dark-blue was gentle and framed with long, dark lashes like Cecilia owned. It was difficult to think of him as a commander.
Silently, Midgardsormr watched the way how the mortals interacted with him.
Nobody seemed to realize it, but the boy was presumably a little tense; rather nervous. Waiting for a yet missing adventurer, before the meeting could officially begin, made it obviously even worse. Although the Warriors of Light were his friends – and he an important person – the Elezen acted mostly eloquent plus poised because of the pride they gave him; instead of real self-confidence. Midgardsormr had seen fools like him often enough to identify this. Starry-eyed, proud individuals, who hid practically their worries behind lovely words and exquisite manners.
Alphinaud was like a house of cards. Vulnerable to the core.
Therefore, it frustrated the dragon, how affectionate Cecilia talked to the boy.
It might be only a negligible chat in her opinion, but he saw very well, how her docile nature affected the youngest Scion. Relaxation flowed through the child a fortiori the maiden payed only attention to him instead of her comrades. Alphinaud seemed to have also a preference for her, because he barely skipped for the others a topic when she still had something to say about it.
Keeping a growl down, Midgardsormr didn't approve the way, how sugary her voice sounded whenever she conversed directly with Alphinaud. Did she fancy him truly that much? Or was she only belittling him, as he could be a younger brother for her...? Whatever it might be: The dragon didn't like the sweet pitch that was only reserved for this sapling.
As the last adventurer alias Warrior of Light made it finally, the real conference began.
Before Lucia would commence the exemplification of the newest schedules Ishgard had developed, Erik rose to speak at first. Together with three others of their assemblage, he had yesterday battled against an Ascian. That identity had been nobody else the dangerous Nabriales. Cocking his head, Midgardsormr couldn't pretend to know this name, but the fraught reaction of the other adventurers revealed enough of the possible endangerment to grasp the situation.
With a mixture of pride and sorrow, Erik declared, that they had made it to defeat him.
All mortals but him and his three allies rejoiced, wherefore the general enthusiasm abated quickly. Inhaling deeply at first, the Warrior's leader explained then, that Nabriales had attacked Minfilia; threatening to kidnap the Scion's head. The allies had tried everything to defeat him with the help of an invention allowing them to use a blade of aether. But the goal had been beyond their power; there hadn't been enough energy to overcome the strong Ascian.
Erik became silent, so one of the female Warriors asked, how they could make it nevertheless.
Fastening the big-mouthed, impatient woman with his steel-blue eyes, the mysterious man stated, that Moenbryda had sacrificed herself in order to let her invention prevail over Nabriales. Blinking, Midgardsormr remembered irritated, that he had heard that name already the day before yesterday. Cecilia had greeted someone with this appellation while she was paced through the Rising Stones... To think, that a mortal had created a weapon for destroying the Ascians... just in order to lose following her life in exchange... The dragon was confused by this.
"So that's the reason why he behaved colder than I'm used from him..." Cecilia whispered doleful. Staring perplexed at her, there was nothing else which the dragon could do. Self-sacrifices were something he hadn't experienced with men. "Erik liked Moenbryda a lot..." ,the maiden mumbled, "She had been someone who fascinated him truthfully. There aren't many people he really adores. It's a miracle that he gets along with us other Warriors of Light."
The dragon closed his eyes slightly humming: "That's understandable... I do not automatically like other dragons, either." "Although they are your grandchildren, strictly speaking?" she asked. Midgardsormr opened his lids minimal; eyes piercing-red. "Yes. Thou expected something else?" "But they are your family, after all. Doesn't this count...?" the Raen questioned naively. "No, it does not count..." he mumbled tired; letting his lids again sink down. There were too many descendants, as if he could care for all of them with deepest affection. It would be too destructive...
His heart wouldn't take losing one of them in the war against Ishgard.
Lucia explained the next steps Ishgard planned in order to defend themselves.
It was clear, that they needed the help of the other cities of Eorzea, but mostly Ishgards people hoped for the support of adventurers in general; not only the Warriors of Light. Every helping hand was more than welcome to them. According to Alphinaud, who had already talked to the heads of the city-states, there wouldn't be much help of the military, wherefore their success depended practically on the number of adventurers they could mobilize, so that Ishgards sympathy had chosen just the right fraction. It was obvious, how frustrated the Elezen was about that part...
When Lucia had ended her report, Erik took directly the lingual lead over.
The goal for all the participant adventurers was simple: It would be the defense of the Steps of Faith as Ishgard's champions on the front-line. Erik wouldn't tolerate any cowards or hotheads in this pact, wherefore he as the leader expected from his fellow-Warriors to chose wisely their allies. Anybody, who brought aforesaid nuisances to the battlefield, would later pay the price for this misconduct. And nobody should trust that a merciful punishment anticipated pantywaists.
When Erik coordinated their exact assistance alias the positions they should use on the battlefield, Midgardsormr gazed with a harsh expression at the Hyur. That man was the only Warrior of Light who wasn't in any way likable. The gruff, short-spoken attitude of the Marauder alias Warrior chased sensitive creatures easily off and these steel-blue eyes made one feel uncomfortable as hell. Not even the attendant Paladin-Roegadyn had such an unpleasant mannerism... How had Cecilia just befriended this unfriendly man? And why was he the head of the Warriors of Light...?
'If I should ever become mentally weak...' ,Midgardsormr thought, '...I would rather protect the girl with all her stupid characteristics, than this armored fighter who is the bare spleen in person... Tss, the purgatory would freeze before I would even consider shielding this Erik...'
After the men had finished their tactical conversation, they continued again with the small-talk. Growling muted on her shoulder, the dragon gave his best to mime Cecilias well-behaved little pet. The plan seemed to work – until the moment when Erik decided to converse directly with her. Obviously the Hyur was a brave man, because he looked with the full awareness at Midgardsormr, that the Raen's companion disliked him uttermost. Ignoring yet the soundless warning of the dragon, the Marauder cozed suddenly with Cecilia as if he would be a close friend to her.
"You got a new buddy." ,Erik stated suddenly, "I'm no dragon-fan, but he's for sure a nice replica." Midgardsormrs ears twitched backwards, when the Hyur reached without announcing out for him. As if he would allow that man to pat his head...! Lickety-split, the dragon spat a trifle of blue fire at the outstretched hand – to Cecilias negative surprise. "What are you thinking...?!" she shouted, while Erik laughed unperturbed by the dragons doing. "Oh boy, that's for real a charismatic minion. I like such playthings." he noted grinning. The maiden answered his smile for a short moment, before she gave Midgardsormr a goring stare with her blue eye.
The dragon didn't care for her disapproval and looked simply away.
If he would want to, he could seal Hydaelyns gift within Erik, too... But the unnecessary exhaustion, which that doing meant, prevented him from following his impulse this time. Above all, he was not interested into assisting the Hyur in any way. Much less would he want to reveal himself to Erik. There was no reason to include another mortal in his 'task'.
A knight of the royal house Fortemps appeared in the room.
Obviously, that Elezen was here to join the fete instead of announcing anything, as a warm welcome in lieu of questioning gazes followed to his arrival. Named Haurchefant, he was a son of nobility, which Midgardsormr eavesdropped quickly amongst the conversation that some of the adventurers conducted with him. The Elezens father was the current lord of Fortemps. Yet, this didn't affect Haurchefants personality, since he seemed to be a very warm-hearted exemplar of these long-eared, usually exceeding mannered creatures. Somehow, it was unbelievable, that he should be related to Coerthas' elf-like race... Because he smiled. Widely. Sickening blithesome.
The young man with gray-blue hair was obviously a good friend of the Warriors.
Well, rather a great fan of them... But the dragon couldn't handle humans idea of popularity, anyways. He just judged because of the visible things he could comprehend. Like the attentiveness which Haurchefant demonstrated. The knight listened with pure interest to the adventurers words – never getting tired of anything they spoke. Their stories must be audible gold for him.
Nothing seemed to fascinate the Elezen more than the Warriors. Except for one...
Although he treated all of them with equal attention, Midgardsormr realized soon, that this wasn't the incontrovertible truth behind the knight's interactions. Haurchefant HAD in fact a preference for one of the adventures. Mortals may not see the admiration slip through his enthusiasm and comity, since he acted obviously usual for his standard... But it was there.
The dragon didn't know, if he should think of it as a bad joke or as a bagatelle.
What did he actually know about... puppy love? Fanaticism? Could it become a serious thing? Something, which was more meaningful than the way how Cecilia spoke to Alphinaud? Or rather, was it something which would one day make the Au Ra utter Haurchefants name with that softness Midgardsormr had only heard when she called the teenager...?
While the dragon found it unintelligible, that the knight had of all things a preference for Cecilia, the feeling seemed clearly to be mutual. Whenever they conversed with each other, this Elezen had her undivided attention, too. Haurchefant might embarrass her obviously with his praising words, but apart from that, she enjoyed his presence. The knight must be one of her favorite friends – whether she used that specific tune or not. The man was dear to her; like her stupid Chocobo was.
Sighing, Midgardsormr glared at the maiden with confusion because of his own thoughts.
Just like yesterday, he was again jealous of another creature which she adored.
He wondered, if this would never stop... The girl – making a fool of him.
The Warriors of Light seemed to have a routine when it came to this kind of job.
While the local military-representatives seemed to be nervous; almost headless because of the yet unknown number of helping hands, Cecilia and her companions were using their friend-contacts plus linkshells to other adventurers like there was no tomorrow. While the group phoned nonstop in the yard of Camp Dragonhead, Midgardsormr used the time in order to overhear guards who walked through the settlement. He was curious, if there was new information...
"The heretics are a pack of fraidy-cats!" ,one of the men complained, "The scouts say that only several dragons are on the way to Ishgard. Obviously, the beasts send skilled fighters, after those who betrayed us have destroyed the first barrier. Seemingly, the traitors dare to leave the dirty part to their beloved pangolins!" "Have you expected something else? The insane guys prefer killing us from the inside in sweet disguise, while the direct strikes are too risky for them! Even this Iceheart made sure to avoid direct contact as much as possible and let the dragons do instead the tough jobs! Probably, they are not the 'poor pawns' but rather the ones who we should eliminate first."
Shaking his head, Midgardsormr lost interest in the guards.
While he climbed on the Nirvana, he wondered, how Ishgard could still exist, when such fools inhabited the city. After all, they were on the edge of war! If they owned no unity, it was for sure, which fraction would win in the end. A nation of idiots... A folk with false pride and wrong history. Nothing seemed to be worth the trouble the Warriors of Light had gotten themselves into.
"Ceci, you wanna eat?" Eriks annoying voice disturbed the dragons thoughts.
Smiling embarrassed, she responded: "Would it be okay? I haven't convinced a single companion until now to join us..." "And? Neither did I." ,the brown-haired guy stated, "But the others have. Therefore, it's important to have a filled stomach. Don't think the dragons will take forever to reach the Steps of Faith. You can still phone buddies after you have eaten. We should be soon ready."
Erik handed her following a sandwich over – a delicious smelling exemplar.
"Oi, it's brilliant! You excelled yourself again." the girl praised the food after taking the first bite. Shrugging, he answered: "Nah, it's nothing. Hadn't time to cook something proper. But I tell that in every situation like this one. Can't believe you guys find my excuse-noshes still good."
Cecilia giggled, which let the steel-blue eyes of the Hyur sparkle in content.
When the man patted her head slightly, Midgardsormr finally grasped why she saw a friend in him. Erik was like a big brother for this gormless creature – and he surely thought of her as a little sister, since he wasn't as grumpy to her like he was to his other allies. Or friends? Family...?
If the Warriors of Light were some kind of family, then these two characters were surely the center of the younger generation. That Paladin-Roegadyn would mime a perfect father with his calmness and the Bard-Miqo'te – on the contrary – could play the mother's part with her confidence. Also, their Blackmage-Elezen plus the Whitemage-Lalafell would be the uncle and aunt, while the others were in charge for representing the cousins. This 'picture' seemed to be the ideal analogy to the way how mortals tended to address a bunch of people who were related to each other.
Midgardsormr pitied mortal's narrow-minded understanding of life.
The adventurers thought they could protect Ishgard from the judgment of dragons... Just because 'heroic deeds' were their day-to-day-business. Just because they were companions who fought since a longer while together against Primals, Ascians and this Garlean Empire. Just because they had decided to interfere in an issue that was older than they were. And just because they felt this stupid, useless sentiment of relatedness which wasn't caused by kindredship.
When they mounted their Chocobos in different colors, Midgardsormr was convinced...
There was no warranty that this random cluster would even partly survive the combat.
And taking a seat on the Au Ra once more was no sign of his enthusiasm, neither.
'Vishap...!' the name echoed unstoppable in his mind.
Midgardsormr had expected many dragons who he knew by their appellation, but not him.
This grandchild was a huge exemplar. Not directly the most powerful type, but the perfect fighter for the front-line thanks to his endless stamina and determination. His giant feet could trample mortals as if they were withered weeds on a field. And as the outside-barrier of Ishgard had just been crashed to pieces thanks to the heretics actions, Vishap alone could break through the others until the city was an open target. The smaller dragons accompanying him were mere accessories; distractions for those who were now in a hurry to protect the remaining shields.
Clawing into Cecilias shoulder, Midgardsormr was in two minds about the confrontation.
He WANTED Ishgard to burn. He WANTED to see the sons pay for the sins of their fathers.
But he COULDN'T stand the thought of the girl dying while she healed and supported her allies.
If he knew something for sure, then it was the guarantee, that the archmage invested her existence for those who she wanted to save from harm. She protected rather even the unknown adventurers, before she would let her life become top-priority. He had already guessed via her light-gathering, that she was that version of a docile soul, but now he had the final proof for that.
Even in this situation, she acted like a perfect Whitemage. Brave. Dutiful.
But still she was a stern, naive creature. Not laying a single hand on the dragons.
The only time, when the Au Ra attacked 'pangolins', were the moments in which she pushed them via water-magic away from her fellow-adventurers as well as Ishgard's knights. But Cecilia never, truthfully never tried to harm one of them. Tss, a 'fine murderer' she was... He wouldn't be surprised under different circumstances, if she had been a dastardly person who had allied with the heretics... Waiting for the right moment to betray Ishgard. But he knew she wasn't like that.
Cecilia Shirone was a shield.
Enduring all kinds of harder damage – physical and emotional ones.
She was a creature loyal to life itself; probably more than the rest of her gang.
Vishap, who led the assault in lieu of Nidhogg, would surely never come to realize how precious that tiny, 'annoying' healer under his moving feet could be. Surely she resembled an embodiment of obstinacy and foolishness, yet she stood by her decision to guard those who were in need. An insect, that was determined to stave fire-salvos and other draconic attacks off via her body without armor. Someone, who meant to Midgardsormr simultaneous frustration as well as delight.
Well, actually she meant to him more nuisance than anything else...
Because she even payed attention that he wouldn't get hit by the all-present fire.
"Thou must not shield me." the dragon hissed irately, while he looked at the fresh burn on her arm. His red eyes glowed piercingly in the moment they wandered to Cecilias face; accusing the maiden of absolute foolishness. Interestingly, her irises were answering his gaze at once; with an expression harder as stone. Her voice was only a distant whisper: "You really think I would let you get injured? With that vulnerable body of a baby-dragon? Dream on, Midgard."
This was all she said to him. Only this. And it was enough to make him furious.
'I hope my descendants will eat you up after the battle is over.' he thought; pride wounded.
But this moment of hatred towards Cecilia was only fleeting. He needed not more than her usual, continuous routine as a healer: Looking at first after the others before taking care of herself. Worried, he couldn't continue being mad at the maiden, when she sacrificed her health so willingly. All the other adventurers didn't concern him – especially not the knights of Ishgard. But she was... regrettably important to him. More, than a tolerable business-orientated concern would allow.
The dragon couldn't stand the imagination of her death, indeed.
Closing his eyes – blending the whole fight out – he touched her neck with his 'hand'.
"Thou must promise me to take better care of thee..." the words left his throat reluctantly.
He felt her gaze on his face; this questioning windows to her soul. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you afraid that Vishap or the rest of the troop could knock me out?" she asked disbelieving. Sighing, he wondered, how she could be 'funny' in such a situation. As if she tried to ignore the fact, that the dragons had to kill her instantly after Erik and the other full-armored men would be erased. Healers were in every war one of the first targets. She knew it, too.
Jaws clenched, Midgardsormr responded: "I do not want to watch thy end."
When he opened his eyelids minimal, he saw her widened irises reflecting the torment on his face, which this concession to her had caused immediately. Although she looked quickly away from him in order to focus at her allies, it was like she owned full awareness about the inappropriate avowal this dragon here had just committed... The crystal and the jewel confirmed this notion.
"I didn't know, that you tolerate me a bit more than an ordinary escort..." she mumbled shyly.
His 'claws' dug into the skin of her neck. Wasn't it obvious enough, that this was wrong?
After all, he spoke to her. Listened to her. He had even approved food from her...!
How could she believe, that he did only 'tolerate' her presence...?
He ACCEPTED her... That was the shameful truth.
His gaze fluctuated, while he watched the unbelievable scene together with Cecilia.
Seemingly they were not the only ones, who couldn't grasp what their eyes located now.
But it was no illusion: Vishap fell. The reserves of the big dragon had reached their limits.
Several Dragoons of Ishgard were on the spot to execute the final death-blow just when the 'beast' hit the Steps of Faith with his enormous body. There was an earsplitting roar coming from Vishap, before the whole atmosphere became nothing else but a silent void.
Midgardsormr stared at the corpse of his grandchild without even blinking.
Then, he looked at the unknown descendants who lay motionless on the floor.
They all had decided to battle until the very end. There was nothing to regret, as they had fought because of their own free will. But who would have guessed, that they would fail...?
Shouts of joy began to enliven the silence.
The men grasped their victory now. Good for them...
When gloom poured out of his suppressed emotional core, another tune caught his attention.
"Midgard...? Are you... okay?" the worried voice of the maiden caressed his ridiculous big ears. Probably, he looked more wrathful in her opinion than he truthfully was... "I am not... angry." ,Midgardsormr tried to express his emotional state, "There existed only two options, how the battle on this day could end. The victory of Ishgard was implausible, yet it was possible. And it occurred, in the end. So... How could I condemn thee for protecting the city? It was thy mission."
Looking up to her face, he realized, that he partly tried to convince himself with these words. Although it counted only for the last words. In fact, he convicted the men of slaying all the dragons who were now lifeless chunks of flesh on the Steps of Faith. He damned Ishgard at the most; followed by that unbearable-annoying man named Erik, before the other adventurers were accurst. Only the girl who served him as a seat was spared. But only because she hadn't murdered.
Apparently, the intention of his last sentences was clear to the archmage.
"You don't need to lie." ,she said with a harsh expression of the irises, "I know you hate us for this. There's no reason for that sugarcoating." "I do not hate THEE." he snarled with compressed lips. Ignoring the loud ecstasy of mortals in the background, they stared at each other with burning eyes. "Sounds like another falsehood." Cecilia stated bluntly. He mildened his gaze: "But it isn't..."
"Why should I believe you? After all, animosity must eat you away in this very second."
Under her mask of severity, he saw the compassion which this girl felt in the moment she spoke.
Barely audible, Midgardsormr sighed and shook his head. "I might be crestfallen, partly... But no, animosity does not ruin me – not now. However, thou must stop thinking, that I would hate thee. Thou art... no murderer of us dragons. Only thou art not. I can't refuse thee. Only thee."
At first Cecilia inhaled the air. As if she wanted to scold him.
But then, not a single sound escaped. She only held her breath instead.
He widened his eyes in wonderment, when he watched her cheeks discolor to a delicate pink. Also, she pulled her lips for several seconds into her mouth, so that they reappeared with a glistening, moist coat that emphasized the rosy tint they had. Cecilia had reacted in a similar way before – when Haurchefant embarrassed her – but this was no fitting comparison...
Because this time, she was unable to utter any kind of response.
Midgardsormr didn't know, how he should handle that. His words must have been inapposite, correct...? Probably they had been formulated in a way the girl found abashing...
With a muted tune, the girl regained her voice: "I assumed... you think it's weak when somebody doesn't kill dragons while he or she fights for Ishgard. That seemed to be after all an unwritten rule in this endless battle... People and dragons fight until one fraction on the battlefield is dead."
"Well, thy opponents are slayed, aren't they? But it was not thy hand which killed them. And this... is something which relieves me; I must confess. The battle filled me with rage for Ishgard, but... that's nothing I would call a 'novelty'. Rather, I am amazed... because of thy stubbornness."
The maiden looked with a snippy 'Pppffft!' away from him; sulking like a huffy child.
Yet, he couldn't bear down the smile which spread over his face while gazing at her.
She might not realize it, but he enjoyed her presence sufficing in order to endure...
Cecilia helped him to watch the war without losing control over himself.
