Primogenitor

Chapter Eighteen

"Looks like everybody's here now. Lucia, would you please explain the situation...?"

Alphinaud gazed patiently at Aymeric's right hand, who sat with a serious mien next to Cid and Haurchefant on a seat-bench. Following the scholar's request, the female Temple-knight stood up; same counted for aforesaid men, who quickly welcomed the Warriors of Light as well as 'Midge'.

Once this demonstration of good manners was done, Lucia gave them a short yet precise summary of the last night's events: "The Lord Commander had a... temperamental argument with the Pope. When Aymeric made clear, that he wouldn't be willing to follow the curia's teachings any longer – that Ishgard deserved to know the truth – Thordan commended the Heavens' Ward to imprison him under suspicion of heresy. Resulting, they threw the Commander into a cell in the Vault's gaol and allow since that moment nobody but authorized healers to approach him."

As long as she spoke, Estinien stood like an imperceptible statue in one corner of the Machinist Guild's workshop. But once the Hyur's report was complete, the Azure Knight stepped forward and opened his mouth: "If you ask me, that's the final straw. Long enough were Ishgard's politics plus believes restraining Aymeric, but now it's ultimately time to sweep them off the desk. And we better do that now than later, because Thordan's lapdogs are pretty eager to decide the verdict and get rid of my friend."

To Alphinaud's left, Tataru shivered as the Dragoon uttered his last sentence. "Are they really able to execute him like a regular civilian...? I mean, his case can't be compared to the indictment we had to endure..." While the Scion's secretary fell silent, 'Midge's' pity for her emerged. She was still unable to combat in reliably manner and seemed to suffer under this circumstance even more once the topic of Ishgard's judiciary came up... The teenager in her reach shared his sentiment, as Alphinaud compassionately patted the Lalafell's shoulder.

Estinien let an ugly chuckle escape his thin lips before he responded: "If you mean, that they won't give Aymeric any chance to prove his innocence in Halone's eyes, then you're right. For Thordan, the illegitimate son was always a dirty stain on his otherwise pristine-white career. Surely he has nothing personal against him, but there exist no fatherly feelings which could save Aymeric's life in the current situation. Furthermore, all high-brasses in the Vault would happily cut the throat of a Lord Commander who cares too much for Ishgard's plain population. So, I'd say the case of you and Alphinaud was a small-timer compared to Aymeric's 'crime'."

"This is madness." a familiar voice quietly noticed.

Augustine appeared in the workshop's entrance; obviously aware of the entire situation, as her face was a mask of suppressed terror. Melancholy wafted in her eye's depths, that looked especially dull and tired once she came closer to the group with audibly heavy legs. Her cheeky personality seemed completely smothered by great agony... Haurchefant stepped at once to the Raen's side and embraced her for a moment; followed by Cecilia who caressed Augustine's left cheek.

"Were you able to go to Aymeric? How is his condition?" the Fortemps-knight asked worried while he cautiously held his friend's shoulders. Good, the two of them had already tried to somehow help the Lord Commander... Sighing, the Astrologian replied: "Well, indeed the guards let me see him when I claimed to be his personal healer... But you really don't want to know what they did to him... My spells were hardly able to ease his pain."

A tune of abhorrence escaped Erik.

"We have to save him." ,Lucia declared as calm as she could, "If they don't even try to be mindful of his rights, then they won't wait very long for giving him the final punishment. It's now or never." "But how do you plan to accomplish that? It won't be easy to get Aymeric out of the cell without a good distraction for the guards." Cid put an objection in the discussion; earning audible approval of the Warriors of Light.

Nodding, the female knight answered: "We primarily have to put pressure onto Thordan's shoulders. If the Pope is attacked by capable fighters, then the Heavens' Ward can't focus on patrolling through the prison. With a small group-fragmentation, we should be able to save the Commander without taking larger risks to challenge his father. Also, there won't be as many sentinels as usually present, because Haurchefant successfully asked a few civilian friends for help."

Said elf smirked right on cue and gently patted Cecilia's back when she eyeballed him with concern. "They won't make too much trouble, don't worry. A little bit disorder here and there will totally suffice to keep several Vault-swordsmen busy. After all, the Temple-knights have today a workout-excursion and won't be accessible in the next hours to support the curia, right?" the Elezen mischievously blinked his eyes when he glanced at Lucia. She grinned amused while a muted chuckle rolled in her throat. "Yes, the curia must operate without our help, unfortunately. Sometimes, even the highest elite needs an excessive training to keep their standard exceptional."

The group laughed almost lighthearted – a glimmer of hope spread through their hearts.

"The two of you have prepared a neatly plan." ,Alphinaud noticed enthusiastic, "Well, I'd like to offer my support for Haurchefant's comrades. I'm not as qualified as the Warriors to storm the Vault, but focusing on the strengths I have might nevertheless be the best way to help Aymeric. Therefore, if the havoc caused in the Foundation is organized by me, I promise you the optimal nuisance to keep the knights busy." Haurchefant smiled grateful: "That would do us a favor, indeed! Probably, we can even mobilize a few more helping hands when you coordinate the undertaking. Many people respect your intelligence since the moment they realized you're not as arrogant like the majority of Ishgard's scholars."

While the teenager scratched embarrassed his ear, Tataru eagerly stated: "I'm joining Alphinaud! There are surely a few tavern-acquaintances of mine who will come with us when I ask them for help! Maybe I can even convince a specific Dark Knight to 'play' with one or two curia-sentinels. This Xaela isn't that much into caring for the affairs of others, but surely he won't ignore the chance to annoy those who he scorns." Augustine frowned as a result to the Lalafell's words. "Are you sure about that? I know Sidurgu – he's a hard nut to crack if you want his help. Above all, he's more of an antihero than a generous knight..." "Ah, it'll be fine! If I promise him a few self-cooked meals, he won't say no!" the Scion's secretary trilled.

Erik impolitely coughed in order to draw attention: "Uh-hum, can we all now discuss the main-split of our group? If you don't mind, I'd like to keep my team the way it is. There's no chance I'm going to face Mister Archbishop alias Pope without a waterproof crew." Midgardsormr was surprised to notice some hecticness in the Marauder's voice. Were they meanwhile so close to the one moment he had always wished to change...?

Lucia nodded comprehensive: "Of course you stay together. You adventurers are the best choice for challenging the Heavens' Ward. While your group conquers the Vault, we – the Azure Knight, Haurchefant, Mademoiselle Valentia and I – are more than enough people to free Lord Aymeric." "You can add me to the rescue-team." ,Cid stated, "In case that one or two tools are needed to get him out of the cell, I can provide them."

Estinien clicked his tongue disprovable and shook the head. "We're this time not visiting Abalathia." ,he grumbled, "Any man who can't fight with a real weapon should not even reflect on going with us to the Vault. You'd be nothing else but a millstone around our necks."

Provoked by the Dragoon's dismissive words, the wolfish engineer immediately snarled: "Spare me your cynicism! I will borrow a gun from the Machinist Guild in order to be useful enough for possible combats. After all, I am still a Garlean. We already learn as children how to shoot targets. So better watch out to not hop into my bullets."

Before the Azure Knight had a chance to reply, Erik impatiently stopped the discussion: "Alright, you will go with Lucia and do whatever you can do for our elf in distress. And Estinien won't argue anymore about that topic – in case he enjoys living without an axe in his spine, that is."

After a few seconds of speechless staring passed, the Elezen folded his arms in peaceable manner. "And I thought MY mood would be on a level below zero..." the Dragoon mumbled; being just as 'Midge' convinced of the gruff man's unusual aggression.

However, while Estinien only noticed Erik's lack of composure, Midgardsormr had more insight into the Warrior's leader. It wasn't simply for a friend being in danger, that the Hyur acted the way he did. If the Methuselah was allowed to make a guess... Could it be, that Aymeric's safety truly was the central aspect of the Dragonsong War?

After all, Erik had mentioned in a conversation with the Lord Commander, that darkness would swallow Aymeric altogether and extinguish his soul in the very process. A Holy City without this elf might be a place where no hope for peace between humans and dragons remained... At least from his current point of view, the Primogenitor doubted another man in a high position would try to erase Ishgard's illusions.

"Hm, that case being closed, I think we are good to go now." ,Alphinaud drew meanwhile attention of the rest of the troop, "Tataru and I will meet the distraction-team and maybe grab more helpers before we start our part of the cue. I'll call Lucia per linkpearl once all preparations are done, so all of you should wait in the Pillars for the right moment to enter the Vault. … Haurchefant, can I have the names of your friends who have already promised to help us?" "Let me escort you to them – that makes things less complicated." the Fortemps-son suggested; earning an approving nod.

Tammy subsequently added: "And we pick a nice spot next to the cathedral while you're initiating the small rebellion. I can't wait to see when these snobbish sentinels realize they got to do some work today, hehe." "Yes, that's going to be fun." Annika giggled with a soft smile; a hint of sadism sparkling in the not-so-innocent-Lalafell's light-brown irises.

When they departed, Midgardsormr watched Erik for a moment, whose fists were fiercely clenched and eyes glistened in suppressed tears. His mask of carefreeness and ignorance appeared to crack under his true sentiments... Only, when Cecilia cautiously grabbed her personal brother's right arm, the Hyur seemed to snap out of whatever was occupying his brain.

With a gentle smile on his lips, Erik caressed her head and declared: "I'm okay. Because I know we'll save him if all of us work together. I pray for success with my whole heart, since nothing exists that we can't do when we just give our very best. … I absolutely trust you, Ceci."

Ah, that was right... In his eyes, she was a key to change the world's destiny.

And according to her earnest mien, the maiden knew this opinion.

~C~

The Vault was... an impressive building.

Any other cathedral appeared like a pitiful shack compared to the massive construct. This counted not only for the outside, but for the inside as well. It was a masterpiece made by humane hands – even more due to perfect use of tiny water-gimmicks plus several plants and flowers.

Had they not been busy with constantly fighting against the knights remaining within the walls, Midgardsormr would have marveled each piece of stone or glass they came across. After all, Ishgard's architecture was rooted in the friendship humans and dragons had shared once...

The first appearing member of the Heavens' Ward interrupted this silent sightseeing.

Sir Adelphel was a swordsman and accompanied by three sentinels. Aforesaid henchmen provided not much of a challenge, but their direct-supervisor turned out to have abilities very similar Ysayle. The power to give oneself the shape of a Primal via nothing else simple prayers. The awareness to conduct this changed form. And the skill to get the most out of it.

As a knight with the size of huge marble-statues – or rather, a walking armor bravely holding its giant sword – Adelphel was much stronger than any average Paladin. And even though they had lots of experience with battling many kinds of Eikons, the Warriors of Light were clearly struggling to beat this foe. Since he possessed much more control over his power-up than the self-proclaimed reincarnation of a goddess, this follower of Thordan was even without support a dangerous man- creature, by now.

Had Cecilia and Annika not constantly healed the group, 'Midge' doubted they would have made it to defeat Adelphel within an acceptable interval of time. Albeit he needed to silently admit, that the victory wasn't a satisfying one... The enemy – having regained his humane body – fled before they could use the chance to kill him. An occurrence the Methuselah regretted, partly, because he would have loved to impale one of the persons in charge for the everlasting war with his own cursed spear. Thirsting for humane blood was an instinct the wyrm normally suppressed since the day he became Hydaelyn's servant, yet he couldn't pretend it wouldn't exist.

Several immense chambers and nescient sentinels later, another chance emerged to punish one of the people who preferred to continue Ishgard's treachery plus disavowal instead of searching for a righteous solution. Though... If the first example had already been a nuisance, then the next member of the Heavens' Ward was a catastrophe.

An axe-bearer just as Erik, Sir Grinnaux was not less dangerous than his curia-predecessor and above all even more reckless than said knight. His attacks either hurt immediately – a LOT – or were designed to dish out delayed damage. The intensity of each blow reached furthermore a whole new level of dreadfulness once he, too, obtained the shape of a Primal. It was a fight that demanded from the adventurers their very best...

For Midgardsormr himself, the battle was once more a proof of the realization, that his companions deserved lots of respect for combating with such vulnerable bodies. A draconic corpus might endure lots of agony, but a mortal shape...? 'Midge's' spine, at least, protested aloud when he was catapulted against a wall; feeling each bone crack under the forceful impact. Fortunately, Cecilia had cast a regenerating effect on the whole group just a moment ago, thus the damage was attenuated by her Astrologian-magic. Without the maiden's mindfulness plus Annika's immediate treatment, he could have suffered from this moment on – in the worst case – under a permanent paralysis...

Grinnaux was in the end beaten by Tammy's arrows and Carlos' black-magic, yet teleported away in his regular form before the adventurers could deliver the final blow. Visible frustration glided over the Warriors' faces, albeit their leader seemed resigned due to the battle's outcome. A part of him was surely not happy to follow the flow of time he assumed to be the correct one... At least Midgardsormr imagined, that it must be a burden for the Hyur to roughly have awareness of every single event while simultaneously being unable to change them – as his goal was the occurrence of a specific moment. To knowingly make sacrifices or give chances up for several occasions couldn't be good for any psyche in this situation; no matter how insensitive Erik appeared to be...

The combatants they faced from now on were harder and harder to knock out or slay.

While 'Midge' could not claim per se to be very hesitant about taking lives of the curia's servants, the soft spot he had once again developed for mankind regretted the violent tour through the Vault. There was sentimentality in the back of his head which trilled nonstop requiems and dirges in draconic language – originating from the long-lost age when mortals were good friends of his kind. The agony in his heart was so far not as strong as it had been in the battle against his grandchildren, yet it was still there. Still loud. Still consuming.

He hated what mankind had done to him and his descendants. Hated the distrust they had injected into the dragon-race. All the pain they suffered – both species – was a shared emotion they weren't allowed to show each their 'enemies', albeit exactly that weakness might be what they truthfully needed to recover...

When 'Midge' killed a young Elezen, a tear glided from the disguised wyrm's face.

The guilt in his chest got a little bit numbed on the Vault's spire by encountering a third member of the Heavens' Ward: Sir Charibert. Under the reddening afternoon-sky, this master of fire-magic immediately took his Primal-form once he spotted them; being obviously the last stronghold between the adventurers and the Pope. His arrogance outmatched the uppishness of his comrades – and deservedly so. The whole arena appeared to be drenched in flames plus explosions he created by his own as if using such power was a bagatelle. Now and then, the Thaumaturge even summoned supporters in shape of walking horse-statues, which tried to crush the 'rebels' thanks to their weight when they marched over the burning ground.

Even as a drake, Midgardsormr wasn't blessed with fire-immunity, albeit his flesh had of course never been directly exposed to any blaze like it was the case right now. His mortal vessel did not own scales – and even an acceptable Lancer- or rather Dragoon-armor like the one on his corpus couldn't mime the defense he once had possessed. Tioman and his other grandchildren before had already pushed the Primogenitor's humane shell to its limits while Nidhogg almost broke his mind, but Charibert was ironically even worse than real dragons.

Coughing, 'Midge' held his throat when a chain of flames was released from his neck.

While his weakened vessel went down to all fours, he realized to be not in the condition to activate this time a Limit Break, hence Tammy took that part over and unleashed the shared force once it was powerful enough to beat the Thaumaturge. Afterwards, she almost made it to kill the enemy with a fast combination of well-aimed Bard-skills, yet Charibert's teleport in the very last second prevented her from destroying the perilous knight.

Getting up on shaky stilts, 'Midge' thanked the Miqo'te for doing his job – and apologized for being useless in the final moment. A smirk occupied Tammy's mien as she corrected him, that he had done more than enough on their whole trip today, so that she was just returning the favor of beating a foe. Her honest opinion was admittedly a welcome relief...

Following, the Bard made an amusing joke about the marching statue-supporters, which brightened the disguised wyrm's mood. But right before Midgardsormr felt tempted enough to make a hoax, too, Erik reminded them of their task, whereby they stopped all messing-around.

In the moment Cecilia and Annika had successfully cured everybody's remaining, serious injuries, the adventurers set out at a high pace.

~C~

Thordan slowly walked to an airship as the group reached him.

"Not a single step further, Pope." Carlos said and caused a warning blast between the old Elezen and his vehicle. Frail feet stopping their motions, a tired sigh came from the Archbishop who seemed to have expected them... He appeared entirely collected when the weapons of the Warriors made suspicious preparing-noises – and did not even turn around once the sound of several more new-arrivals filled the air.

Midgardsormr noticed an eased grin sneaking over Erik's lips.

The Marauder gazed with undeniable gladness at Haurchefant, Augustine, Estinien, Cid and Lucia, who had a weakened yet alive Aymeric in tow. Holding his left arm, the Lord Commander barely made it to walk without help, yet seemed determined to do whatever was necessary in order to end the Dragonsong War. His will was unbroken.

"Father, please...!" ,the elf uttered with a firm voice, "We have to seek for peace with the dragons. At least now, as Nidhogg is no longer alive. The cage of falsehoods can't continue its existence!" Shoulders sunken, Thordan replied without looking at his son: "Foolish boy... Do you even know what you are demanding...? The people of Ishgard can't abandon their believes after one-thousand years have passed. With so many sacrifices having been made, it's too late to take another path... Will you carry the responsibility for telling our nation, that their families and friends were murdered because of a war that WE have caused? Can you accept the sin our ancestors committed in the past as your very own crime from this day forward? I, for one, cannot do that."

Glancing at the group over his left shoulder, the Pope continued: "The dragons will not forgive us. It's their right to condemn our kind for killing Ratatoskr and taking Nidhogg's eyes away; I can't deny that. But I refuse to let innocent people be judged and killed for something they haven't done. So, I will end this war – with a sword of justice in my hands, I and the Heavens' Ward shall embrace the burden of erasing Ishgard's enemies for good. For only the death of dragon-kind can bring us once again true peace and freedom."

"That's not right! And you know it!" ,Cecilia's indignant voice cut through the air like a blade, "Humans have not more or less meaning than dragons! We're not entitled to annihilate their race! NONE of us!" Afterwards, the maiden dressed in that typical snowy-owl-robe clenched her fists and made a big step into the Pope's direction; danger looming in her very presence like a carnivore...

Thordan shook the head in resigned manner and gazed once again at his airship.

"Child, I admire your famous sense for equality. But you are at least nine-hundred years too late for preaching of absolution. You and you're friends are simply too late." "Only in your limited world-view, old man." the Warrior's leader stated self-confident as he and his comrades began to approach their foe just as the Au Ra was already doing.

When Cecilia was only one meter away from him, the disillusioned Archbishop gloomily mumbled: "I hoped you good souls wouldn't interfere..."

In the second Midgardsormr realized, that something was entirely off about this place's atmosphere, his instincts failed to warn the mortals in time. A pulse of strong magic was thrown right between the group; immobilizing all including 'Midge'. The spell forcefully drained aether from their bodies – leaving them entirely without a backup of healing-power, as the three women couldn't cast anything when they lacked the necessary energy-reserves.

For the disguised, weak dragon himself, who had not even the power to cast the tiniest flame-spell, the process was an additionally painful torture... His vessel felt like cracking on the inside apart and being choked until almost all oxygen was gone from his lungs. If his shell hadn't been paralyzed- quasi glued to the spot where he stood, he would have fallen like a stone to the ground.

Nevertheless, the father of dragon-kind recognized, that Erik's face was a mask of entire fright. More panic, in fact, than the expressions of all the other allies... And Midgardsormr witnessed, when a member of the Heavens' Ward appeared on one of the rooftops – shooting a large beam at the one person who was the closest threat to Thordan: Cecilia.

He couldn't regain control over his corpus. No matter how much he tried, the disguised antiquity couldn't make his shell move and jump between the precious maiden and the deadly attack. Expecting the worst, he watched in slow-motion, as she hardly turned her head around in order to directly stare into the blue blast. Shaped like a spear, it soughed lickety-split through the air for dissecting her vulnerable neck. His heart stopped all motions once her widened, anxious eyes reflected the beam's light to the point where all color was gone from her irises.

Midgardsormr couldn't breath.

… … …

A loud noise – energy hitting metal – brought the Methuselah back to his senses.

Somehow, Haurchefant had managed to overcome the paralysis, thus he fought with all might against the enemy's assault to protect the dear maiden. For a short moment, it appeared the elf could be successful, but then his shield suddenly broke under the magic's pressure. With deep shock, 'Midge' beheld the very second in which the good knight willingly stayed where he was; aware of all consequences as the beam crashed into his chest. Haurchefant gladly rescued the girl he loved more than anything else, even when that meant to embrace the punishment of death.

Thordan witnessed this moment – sadness lingering in the old eyes, albeit he reservedly trod onto the airship when the swordsman fell to the hard ground. "We take our leave. Let's go to Azys Lla." the Pope commended the present member of the Heavens' Ward next to him at the wheel and looked one last time at the over-strained group before the machine slowly took flight.

Aymeric was the second to recover from the paralyzing spell they all had been victims of. As fast as he was allowed to move with an abused corpus, the elf sprinted to his old friend. Kneeling down, the Lord Commander carefully placed him onto his lap, so that the Fortemps-son's back didn't lay anymore on cold stone. Cecilia – who was equally strong-willed enough to shake off the restraint – went to Haurchefant's side, too.

She tried to heal their friend, but all her remaining powers weren't enough to annul the damage done to his organ, since her very own body hardly could afford any aether. The girl refused to accept this, though, and shook her head wildly. Forcing herself, she continued, while Augustine's muted crying behind them was already indicator enough for the unchangeable destiny Haurchefant had chosen.

No mortal spell in this world sufficed to stop the Elezen's internal bleeding...

As all life gradually slipped from his eyes, the good knight was nevertheless visibly hurt by witnessing Cecilia's torment. Therefore, he gently took her hands from his chest and held them tight in his own. "It's fine... Don't be sad... A sad mien doesn't fit you... You're so much more beautiful... when you smile... or when you're angry..." he mumbled; trying to grin for the Raen with mischief while his grip slowly pulled her to his face.

She understood his intention, but didn't struggle as Haurchefant searched for contact with her cheek. Her missing resistance seemed to surprise him, but what truly overwhelmed the elf was probably the moment her arms entangled his neck.

"I don't want you to go..." she whispered with a desperate tune piercing deep into both heart and soul of the audience. Emitting a pull stronger than any magnet could ever cause...

The others approached them – men with guilty miens plus heavy shoulders; women with hardly suppressed tears. 'Midge' came closer as well, albeit he didn't know, if there was anything left which he could do for the precious girl as well as the good knight... Even if his vessel hadn't been hit by the draining-spell, it was entirely useless in consideration of casting magic...

Behind the maiden, the disguised dragon stopped all motions and hesitantly glanced down at Hydaelyn's chosen child. He felt pure desperation within her – raising more and more to a level that frightened him... She started sobbing as her forehead leaned against Haurchefant's...

Being a gentleman, the Fortemps-knight softly touched Cecilia's face at first – and only dared to go this time further, when the maiden's expression assured him of her approval. When he knew, that he wouldn't steal something once again, but obtain a touch because she wanted to give it to him...

Watching the second kiss they had ever shared, Midgardsormr felt no jealousy.

There were only pity and pain in his chest... So unbelievable- cruel, how destiny might emerge over and over again. This Elezen... He could have been her Mister Right... The special person by the maiden's side, forever. And now... there was not even a chance left, that he might successfully capture her heart one day in the future...

Sky-blue irises full of affection, Haurchefant beheld the Au Ra one last time when their lips parted. His right hand fondly caressed her cheek, but glided powerless to her shoulder a fortiori his eyelids sank down. The drum in his chest paused more and more often, yet the smile on his face remained true and peaceful. Eventually, he inhaled – made sure to not waste his endmost moment with her:

"I regret nothing, Cecilia... I just wish... I could have been... your prince... I love you..."

She broke down in tears when the knight's final breath fell silent.

Her agony- terror crushed into 'Midge's' sentiments.

Holding his left temple, the father of dragon-kind was unable to cope with all these vast feelings that the Mothercrystal's pact made him able to sense within her child at this tragic moment. Mentally defenseless he watched, when chaos ultimately flooded the precious maiden to the point where her emotions almost burned him inwardly. "NOOO! HAURCHEFAANT...!" she screamed for as long as she could until her lungs caved.

Erik – considering his standards emotionally shaken in an impossible extent – visibly trembled while his lips barely managed to let a whisper escape: "This can't be... This is wrong...! It was never meant to happen like that...!" Although Midgardsormr wished to have time for paying more attention to these words, he couldn't, because in this very moment Cecilia aggressively hit the hand which Tammy had outstretched to comfort her. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" the maiden snapped enraged while she resembled the Primogenitor's kind so very much that even the old drake was afraid of her. Having a miserable expression on her face, the Miqo'te blew onto her limb's reddish, swollen skin before she compassionately mumbled: "Ceci... Please, I just want to help you..."

The Raen's arms started shaking as she toxically whispered: "I'm so sick of 'help'...! Spare me that! Why must always somebody sacrifice his or her life for me...?! I don't want to be the reason for any more blood-shedding...! I'M NOT WORTH IT!" She tried to reanimate her friend's heartbeat, but didn't have the slightest drop of magic left to cast any form of higher spells. Her face turned red through the mixture of anger and sadness; tears being now as large as pearls.

Augustine – keeping her emotions in check as good as she was able to do under the loss of a dear childhood-friend – hesitantly pulled Cecilia's hands away from the corpse, but earned a slap across the face when she nearly embraced her fellow Astrologian. Then, the girl with odd-colored eyes covered aforesaid orbs with that palm which had hit her friend; crying even louder than before.

Midgardsormr turned his gaze away in this moment.

He couldn't look at Cecilia, when she was so full of wrath and agony.

It wasn't his place to behold her suffering... Even though the Methuselah had never grasped, if she loved Haurchefant or not, he knew nevertheless for sure, that she always saw a treasured friend in the enthusiastic man. This alone was reason enough to let the Raen have all space she needed for outliving the loss – without him, who had been causing enough trouble for both of them because of the pretended relationship alias lie.

And maybe... she really... had loved the elf as the man he had been...

But when he heard her muted sniffs... The sound of a small, vulnerable child filled with anxiety... An angel mourning her friend with a heartbreakingly emotional voice... It stung into his heart. Deep and undeniable; freeing his imprisoned empathy whilst all rationality was caught by iron-chains. The plan to keep appropriate distance to his maiden got erased in a single second, as 'Midge' could no longer endure the solution his sanity dictated him to follow- He wasn't a lifeless stone, after all, that such logic could ever work in a moment like this!

Midgardsormr groaned in pain.

Then, he knelt down and entangled Cecilia; right under the gazes of all the mortals around them. For his draconic instincts, making concessions like this was an unforgivable act – especially, since he was this time the cause for a mistakable situation – but he cared not for any morale-issues or even curious eyeballs which expected lovey-dovey behavior from him... Rather, the maiden's probable fightback was something he knowingly payed attention to. 'Midge' expected the same reaction she had given Tammy and Augustine before – even worse, to be honest... Slapping, kicking, biting- The whole possible palette. After all, she had never concealed her real feelings when there wasn't any serious need to do so.

Thus, he was surprised when the opposite happened.

Cecilia turned instantly around and hid her face under his chin. She sought for shelter in the hug; arms clinging to his neck as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling into an abyss, while she once more cried aloud in desperation like a little girl.

Controlled by protective impulses, 'Midge' pressed her stronger against his armored chest – realizing once more, that she meant the whole world to him. He would put HIS girl above everything else, if necessary. The Mothercrystal, the planet with all its lives, even his own children. A nameless sentiment so dangerous, that he frightened himself how much it overtook his mind...

Yet, he couldn't reflect further on this topic.

The maiden sent a tremolo down his spine... when her fingers dug through the hair on his scruff. Cecilia's nails deeply clawed into his skin; leaving palpable marks there. Albeit it burned and hurt just as if important nerves had been injured, the Methuselah couldn't remember to have ever felt easement to such an extent about her indirect violence like he did right now. That was, because – thanks to their connection – he sensed with ecstasy, that she needed him.

Just to think of it... On a personal level, she truthfully needed HIM. And only him. Albeit he feared, that his presence brought her in the end only frustration and endless problems, in this very instant the maiden wanted nobody else but him to take care of her desperation. And this was more than enough to make Midgardsormr temporarily refrain from his protesting sense of draconic logic.

Carefully lifting his girl up like a princess, 'Midge' darted a pleading look at her personal brother in the sunset's warm light. Erik nodded and replied as calm as the current situation allowed him to be: "It's alright... Just take care of her... The rest of us will inform Count Edmont and his sons about the... newest events... We all meet tomorrow again; after a necessary snatch of sleep..."

When the drake began walking, both Estinien and Cid patted his shoulders. "You must also look after yourself, okay?" the wolfish engineer said considerate whilst the Azure Knight thoughtfully scrutinized Cecilia, who still hid her face under 'Midge's' chin. A short glance at Estinien's grey eyes underneath the scarlet-helmet revealed, that the Elezen – similar to Augustine – hardly swallowed the pain of losing an old friend down as long as the dearly-beloved maiden was in such an alarming, emotional state of exception, which was why Midgardsormr quickly continued his path. Doing this was no benevolent act, though...

He didn't want to care for anybody else but his girl, right now...

~C~

She stayed in this bad condition.

Once he had brought Cecilia to her guestroom in the tavern, she seemed to unleash even more terror and agony in the very second she sat on her mattress. Over-strained by this flood of emotions which rather matched his own kind than regular humans, he gave quickly up on trying to calm her down. Instead, he got rid of his Lancer-armor – wearing now one of the casual clothes she had originally made for Erik – and simply let her bawl in his arms as much as she needed to.

After a while, 'Midge' was astonished that she didn't struggle against his hesitant request to change her the equipment as well, albeit the maiden needed in spite of her cooperation a bit help to put the terry-cloth nightgown on. As soon as that was done, however, they lay entangled under her blanket; the girl's shape pressing as much as possible against his own while her hands clawed into the fabric on his back. She scratched him once more with her nails as she clenched uncontrolled on his flesh, but that didn't take him by surprise anymore. He endured the pain, since his maiden shouldn't care for some bagatelles like this one, and let her willingly cause tiny blood-drops on his skin without complaining about it. Patient like only his species could be, the father of dragon-kind cautiously stroked Cecilia and held her tight – waiting for her to mentally recover.

It was in the late evening or rather early night, that the girl was finally too exhausted for shedding any further tears. She slowly lost consciousness – therefore stopped the rough contact with his flesh, yet Midgardsormr didn't dare to slip too early out of their shared embrace when her breath sounded entirely quiet and soothed. Of course his stomach was empty plus demanded urgently required food, yes, but he needed to make sure, that leaving her bed wouldn't wake the precious maiden up... So, he stayed just in case a little bit longer.

Ten minutes after she had fallen asleep, the Methuselah carefully rose.

Caressing her head for one last time, the ancient dragon felt for a moment like crying himself, because his pity and empathy got the best of him. When he rather begrudgingly left her chamber, there was a discreet hint of headache; making him hold the left side of his shell's face for a moment. The misery was affecting him much more, than he normally would have allowed... But what should or rather could he do about it, anyways...

Midgardsormr had never seen- FELT so much distress within a mortal being before. Although...

It might only be because of Hydaelyn's pact, that he had so much insight into Cecilia's emotions... Perhaps it wasn't even right to assess her ache – in general manner – as something more noteworthy than similar feelings of other humans... He was an outdated thing, after all... Mankind possessed so many facets, which he could not even adduce in a single minute. But at any rate... he wondered, why she was so emotionally vulnerable when somebody protected her.

What had this Au Ra – at the young age of twenty – experienced in her short life, that she always reacted with this specific manner he almost feared...?

Midgardsormr knew about her spirit being not fresh as dew. As he walked, he remembered...

On the day Emmanellain Fortemps had needed help to escape the startled yet aggressive Vanu-tribe, she casually said to have been told, that her former life felt unconditional love for another being. Such emotion – as beautiful as it was – could leave deep impressions- if not scars on a spirit... So, even under the assumption of her prior existence being generally a good one, the maiden's soul could have taken nevertheless severe damage an immortal creature like him – with a relatively intact ghost and without undergoing the process of true rebirth – could not grasp in the slightest.

Hence...

If the problem itself should not be a memory, but a mark left from another life... Then, there was nothing he could do about it. Even with the early loss of her mother, at least, a part of Midgardsormr doubted, that all of Cecilia's experiences combined were able to awaken so much pain like the one he had right before witnessed within her. She was too young for being consumed like that... Consumed like... his own kind... An older adult of her race, maybe, would come close to the agony of dragons, but surely not a girl of her age...

When he reached the tavern's kitchen, the ancient wyrm got distracted from his haunted thoughts.

Erik was present. Well, his body, at least... The Hyur himself seemed devastated. He didn't notice 'Midge's' steps and stared statical at an onion in the middle of the cutting-process; holding the knife in his hand which occasionally shivered unregulated. For a second, Midgardsormr had the impulse to reach out for the gruff man, but then he stopped his arm's rising. Grasping, that a sudden touch might surprise Erik in the most incongruous moment – after all, no pity would excuse an accident – the disguised dragon made a step backwards.

To his surprise, Cecilia's personal brother suddenly muttered: "Sorry, I didn't want to scare you, gramps... But it looks like I'm less impassible than I thought..." Continuing with the knife's work, the Gourmet gave 'Midge' a wordless sign to sit down. "This won't be a very special dinner tonight, but you're probably hungry enough to not care for any redundant details. … I hope my sister was not too hard to handle?" he added once the disguised dragon had taken a seat.

"No, don't worry. Actually, she was..." ,words failed Midgardsormr for a moment while her marks along his vessel's spine hurt a little, "...emotional on a level I can easily comprehend as a dragon, albeit I don't know if this is a good thing since she's a mortal. Her... sentiments are too powerful for thy humane standards. In other words... I find them very familiar- identical once I compare them with my descendants. … She really could be my daughter."

Erik laughed muted once 'Midge's' last sentence had been outspoken with tired irony.

When the Gourmet had placed three minced onions into a hot frying-pan, he cautiously asked: "Say, do you want to hear by any chance, what this stupid axe-bearer here has on his mind...?" Inhaling the toothsome scent of freshly-added bacon, Midgardsormr replied: "Hm... It's unusual for thee to demonstrate any kind of politeness... Therefore, I suppose thy words could be meaningful enough that one should pay attention to them... Yes, I want to listen to thy thoughts."

Sighing, the Hyur broke open four eggs and stirred them with several spices.

"You know... The whole evening had been entirely different in my own world... Once we had reached Thordan... there was no aether-draining-magic. No assault on any of us. That means... Haurchefant did not have to shield anybody. He was save and sound... Alive..."

Taken aback, 'Midge' questioned: "Thou art implying... that our worlds are no longer matching...?" Erik looked helpless at him; a sad smile glided over the Marauder's mouth. "We had managed Aymeric's rescue in the same style you have witnessed today. However, that airship was wrecked thanks to our efforts, whereby Mister Archbishop alias Pope couldn't get away with his knights who were all convened. This allowed us Warriors of Light to directly fight against all their Primal-forms on top of the Vault. … Actually, Thordan's Heavens' Ward was also known as the Azure Guards in my own world. Funny, that this appellation isn't popular here..."

After Cecilia's brother had poured the eggs into his pan, he continued: "Together with Aymeric, Lucia, Estinien, Haurchefant, Augustine and Cid, we successfully defeated our foes. The false gods got killed, while all of us survived the battle. … Our tragedy, though... happened once the combat was over." Erik didn't speak further. His expression hinted great, suppressed pain, which was why Midgardsormr didn't consider to insist on a continuation of the report.

Closing the eyes, the dragon said: "Different worlds... mean different chances. We cannot rely on thy knowledge forever. Because... As thou hast stated once, in thy world existed no Cecilia Shirone. If she is a factor that has nothing to do with thy home, then there will surely be even more meaningful differentials. Thou only need to consider, what her presence alone has done to me."

The Methuselah heard Erik's gasp as well as a cooking-utensil falling down to the ground, whereby he opened his glowing eyes in skepticism. Something was obviously wrong. The Hyur made a face as if an airship had rammed him, after all. He must have developed a thought entirely new to him. Staring in wonderment at Cecilia's brother who replied with a shy smile, 'Midge' raised his brows for empathizing his perplexity. "Today's not my day, huh?" ,the Gourmet sheepishly joked and gazed back at the scrambled eggs, "But there's something you made me realize, gramps..."

Huffing, the Primogenitor gave Erik an unenthused look. Just when would this impolite man finally quit this nonsense to compare him with the other Midgardsormr...

Shallowly, the Midlander exhaled before he stated: "Maybe it's a sign... Haurchefant died today, but... We did not retrieve Nidhogg's second Eye at the Vault. In this world, Thordan still possesses that evil thing... So... Perhaps... this time, we won't experience the nightmare I have seen before."

The Marauder shuddered for a moment. "Aymeric hasn't touched the other cursed globe in order to keep Estinien from carrying the whole burden alone..." ,he continued, "With that, no darkness will befall the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, as the Pope's blood isn't on his hands right now. Means: The son will not be irrevocably consumed by anger upon Ishgard's lies; won't be corroded by guilt to have slain his own father, which salvages his spirit. So, nobody has to become a vessel- a puppet for the embodiment of hatred... We can still prevent this from occurring. We can prevent, that Estinien and we others are forced to accept the loss of our possessed friend."

Despite the simple yet wonderful-looking plus -smelling dish which Erik served him now, it wasn't for the food that 'Midge' had widened the red-glowing eyes. "Thou art telling me..." ,he hesitated to voice his implausible thoughts, "...that the Lord Commander in thy world has on this day fallen... for my son's temptation of vengeance and gratification...?"

"Yes." the Hyur's response followed plain-spoken; leaving Midgardsormr entirely speechless.

And as if this wasn't bad enough, Erik added: "By the way, before you're wondering about it... Yeah, I know, that the remnants of Nidhogg's soul are clinging to the Eyes. Actually, I even dare to say, that this shadow of him is not less dangerous than the 'healthy' variation before was. But to give you an idea of what I'm talking about..."

The Hyur sat next to the disguised antiquity down and attentively eyeballed him for a moment. Erik's graveness turned into nastiness, though, as 'Midge's' stomach acted on an own consciousness. It grumbled loudly, hence the gruff man did what his mannerless attitude seemed to understand as a proper reaction: He took the spoon and practically scooped a large portion of the scrambled egg – aiming immediately for the vessel's mouth. His care wasn't very polite and lacked clearly gentleness, so Midgardsormr had not really a choice but to quickly swallow down the delicious food in order to prevent suffocating.

"Stop treating me as if I would be thy so-called 'grandfather'... Should this be, how thou art showing others thy reckless affection, then I truly doubt thy world could have been saved anyways from whatever devastation thou hast experienced." the upset wyrm snarked without thinking much about his chosen words. The result to that carelessness followed of course immediately...

Grinning like a devil, Erik said: "Keh, and I tried to tell you the following in sparing manner... Possessing Aymeric's body, your kid had created so much destruction in my Eorzea, that it was just a matter of time for the next huge catastrophe to show up. The amount of darkness my world has seen on that day was TREMENDOUS – and your child was enjoying it all. He was so consumed or rather ruined by wrath plus desperation, that he happily perished in the success of the Ascians- only because he was allowed to witness how mankind got totally erased by it."

Shivering, the Primogenitor took now by himself a bite of the dish. Hearing these words hurt...

"This is sadly the very exact behavior that I would expect from my child, indeed..." he whispered and let the egg mixed with onion plus bacon glide down his throat. "Albeit that's just what my own, good old gramps told me, too..." ,Erik began with freshly folded arms, "...I really must ask you – since you're an alternate version – the subsequent question: Doesn't that concern you? At all?"

Taking time for another generous bite, Midgardsormr murmured after a moment of silence only filled by the ticking of the kitchen's clock: "It frightens me. Nidhogg is my son and in the very end only here, because Hydaelyn allowed our existence on this planet... Yet, he does not even try to give mankind a chance. My child has never done this; not before the nation of Ishgard betrayed us and not before the Allagan Empire had killed Bahamut. Seeking peace with thee was never something he would have tried to consider. Thy kind... is in his opinion inferior."

"Judging your words, I guess the Primogenitor wouldn't consider his race as superior?" the Gourmet curiously reckoned; trying not to mention the lost version of him. With a thoughtful expression, Midgardsormr licked over the bacon in his mouth before he uttered: "It depends on the situation... As Hydaelyn's servant, I would never dare to give in to pride like some of my descendants do. Yet... I don't know, if I would have the mental strength to stay noble without the pact binding me."

Erik smiled and stated: "But at least we know, that you wouldn't cause in similar fashion to Nidhogg a world-destroying catastrophe." Sucking on his lips, 'Midge' looked unsettled at the plate. His mind wasn't as optimistic as the Midlander.

'Do we surely know that...? When I was wrathful for the last time mortals had been in my reach – without divine chains keeping myself in check – the entire planet would be filled with oceans of corpses I left behind. As no one but me and the seven eggs within my body remained of our family, the decaying Dragonstar saw how cruel I truly can become once nothing is there to naturally soothe the savage beast that I truly am deep down...'

Albeit the humane vessel had never tasted a mortal heart before, Midgardsormr clearly smacked for a moment said aroma on his tongue – and wearily knew, that Nidhogg wasn't the only dragon to enjoy this bloody flesh. If it was for wrath and vengeance alone, nothing possessed a flavor as good as the organs of their enemies; nothing else could be as satisfying as breaking bones with the fangs in order to consume everything keeping a hated foe alive... Just remembering that part of his past- of himself made the ancient drake tremble in self-abhorrence.

Such violence was inconsistent with his current self...

~C~

Once he had helped to wash the dishes, 'Midge' went outside; seeking some fresh air.

His stuffed stomach needed a little bit movement, but in first place – probably – his brain considered a little break as a necessity due to all the mental exhaustion he had endured the whole evening long. Even for a furuncle like him, the events had been almost too much; at least when he considered the emotional flood coming from the maiden which was nearly shattering his sanity...

The Methuselah walked to Ishgard's Chocobo-stables.

Watching a bunch of man-sized birds trotting behind a fence had usually a calming effect on him – and with a specific mount being present, it felt not too lonely to stand in the dark; only brightened by street-lamp-light. Edgar was a lot friendlier towards Midgardsormr since the day the later had received a humane shape in order to save Cecilia, after all, thus the white Chocobo's presence comforted him now. Gently executed nudges against 'Midge's' shoulders were a welcome gesture, even though such beak wasn't the softest thing to touch with a fragile human-shell... When he patted the bird in return, a suspicious sound drew his attention.

Electric frizzling not far away from him made the disguised dragon turn around, while Edgar – being used to Primal-horses – went unperturbed back to his Chocobo-activities. For Midgardsormr, however, was the attendance of this specific quadruped a disagreeable surprise... Albeit it was also very questionable, why all mounts associated with the Warriors of Light enjoyed this fool's license to enter Ishgard whenever they pleased... To enter settlements in general, truth be told.

With a vexed grin on his face, 'Midge' approached the horse. "Thou hast the strangest humor I have ever witnessed..." Markab gave a high-pitched sound in response and turned then its gaze away; looking into the direction where the guesthouse was located.

"I heard in Central Coerthas, that the illegitimate yet exceptional Fortemps-son was killed by one of the Pope's henchmen. Is this true?" the Eikon within the purple horse asked thoughtful. Midgardsormr sighed gloomy: "Unfortunately, yes. And his death has left a deep wound within the maiden's heart." "Ah, what a shame... Haurchefant Greystone was one of a kind. Noble and generous. Deserving to be her friend. … Would you mind telling me the whole story? Even a wise, bearded men can't have his ears everywhere."

Despite his aversion for gossip, the disguised wyrm described today's events for Ramuh.

When he was done, Markab pawed the ground with its right front-hoof in nervous manner. Obviously, the animal's parasite was quite baffled, as he kept silent for several seconds. "Azys Lla... I didn't expect to hear this name nowadays." the Primal finally mumbled. Furrowing his brows, 'Midge' questioned: "Dost thou consider to enlighten me, why thou art that astonished?"

The quadruped neighed and shook the head as if he had uttered something ridiculous. Very similar to its master's reaction, actually, who happened to cough audible at first. "I know you had turned your back on mankind and closed your heart for them, but have you really forgotten one of THE Allagan Empire's so-called masterstrokes? I actually didn't think of you as a senile being..."

Midgardsormr would have growled in this moment, but since his humane vocal-cords allowed not such a thing, he settled for clicking his tongue in the same manner Estinien usually demonstrated. "If thou know something about it, I would be grateful to listen to thy wisdom. My own knowledge is limited, because the nation thou hast mentioned did many things I cannot all keep in mind, forever. An appellation means nothing to me, when it is overshadowed by countless crimes."

Ramuh hummed comprehensive and replied: "I fear my words alone won't be much of a help, anyways. You – as well as Thordan won't reach Azys Lla so easily, since it's locked and won't allow entry for every nonentity. … What you need... is the wisdom of a tribe living high up in the sky – they are known as the Vanu-Vanu. You have seen them before on your adventures, no? I suggest you as well as the adventurers seek for advice from a peaceful red-feathered clan, since the other two in blue color are aggressive towards humans and won't share their knowledge per will. Also, be aware, that their Primal Bismarck is still roaming the Sea of Clouds. It might be necessary to free Abalathia from his presence."

Slightly bowing down, Midgardsormr said: "I thank thee for thy guidance. Thou hast maybe solved a problem that might have rosen otherwise." "No need to thank me." ,the Eikon immediately stated, "Who knows, which difficulties may await all of you in the future. I doubt it will be an easy task to reach Azys Lla. Especially, after the 'honorable' Pope tries to take advantage of Zodiark's servants. Hydaelyn's chosen Warriors might be aware of this... 'teamwork', yet it's hard to tell, how much Thordan can stay on his own path without becoming a tool used by the Ascians."

The simple imagination turned 'Midge's' stomach upside-down.

As if the old Elezen alone wasn't catastrophic enough...

When Markab turned away from him, the Methuselah concluded, that Ramuh wouldn't stay tonight in Ishgard. Therefore, 'Midge' asked something he had been reflecting on since a while: "False god, how can a Primal like thee be so noticeable different once he is compared to every other Eikon? Thy Sylphs have summoned thee, yet thou art much more than their believes indicate. Could it be, that thou art actually not an ordinary mirage?"

The horse's head leaned into Midgardsormr's direction; empty eyes scrutinizing him with interest. "What else should I be, inquisitive Primogenitor?" an amused pitch slipped over Ramuh's voice when he finally counter-questioned – it was practically impossible to tell, if he was just laughing at the old drake or trying to conceal something. Nevertheless unimpressed by aforesaid reaction, 'Midge' bluntly allowed his suspicion to become audible: "A comprehensible embodiment in lieu of the divine shape one of the Twelves has; namely Rhalgr."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Markab started walking away, while the Primal chuckled with gentleness: "Heh, what a wild theory. I wish you a good night, Midgardsormr."

That was the least satisfying answer Ramuh could ever have given him... Such nuisance. Resigned, the dragon-father witnessed the quadruped's departure into the night's darkness, and returned afterwards to his originally planned Chocobo-watching-activity.

He didn't know, how much time passed from here on, but 'Midge' was anyways not considering to do anything else. His motivation for studying a few more pages of Astrologian-reading suffered under today's realization, that his corpus was doomed to stay useless in terms of magic, so the wyrm had no true reason for going very soon back to the tavern.

Probably hours passed until the vessel gave clear signs of desiring sleep.

Strolling as a result to that through almost deserted streets, Midgardsormr glanced with pitying eyes at a civilian dressed in poor clothes, who carried a yawning toddler to their humble home. The man looked very slim – almost sickish, yet pride covered his face as he beheld his little daughter. Reminded, that Ishgard's oh-so-noble ancestors were in charge for the fate this Elezen and his child had to endure, 'Midge' couldn't help but clench his fists. Had he himself been born as a mortal, destiny could have turned him into such helpless person without force as well – a thought nearly enraging the disguised antiquity. Only when he imagined, that he as well could have an adorable, innocent offspring in this situation, his ire calmed down.

Children... The one constant in his life.

His descendants had always meant everything to him.

While his feet carried him into the guesthouse's entrance, 'Midge' wondered, if mortals were feeling the very same sentiment he held in his heart when they raised their sons and daughters. Was a parent's love of their kind equal to his own devotion...? The Methuselah hoped so, at least, because this would be something he could grasp then on a very personal level. A humane corpus made him naturally one of them, yet his mind wasn't, albeit he really tried to see life with mortal eyes.

How might it feel like... to have a child of this species...?

The little girl created by his dreams... Such young Cecilia would surely be a wonderful example to take care of. Albeit he didn't know, of course, if her personality hadn't changed over the few years, which would make his illusion of her past version quite inaccurate... But there was actually another thought tickling his mind. One, that he tried to ignore...

Tataru had originally placed this negligible curiosity into his head, yet sometimes 'Midge' couldn't suppress the poking question, what might happen if the maiden had a child with-

No. No, no, no, no. NO.

Reaching the closed door of Cecilia's room, the ancient drake forbade himself to even think about it. Biting hard into his left cheek's flesh, he forcefully reflected on another topic – namely, if going into her chamber was even a good idea. His hand lay on the knob while he wrestled with this matter; being simultaneously afraid to risk her sleep and tempted to follow this strong wish to know how her current condition might look like. Oh, he was faltering a lot to make a decision...

Fingers twitching, 'Midge' ultimately came to the conclusion, that he shouldn't disturb his maiden, hence the disguised wyrm let go of the metal and went instead to his own room.

Closing the timber behind his back, Midgardsormr reminded himself with a sad smile on the lips, that he actually wanted to erase this construct of lies which Erik had created. It was meanwhile standing for too long, anyways... All the people close to the precious girl expected Cecilia and him to be a couple with a bright future – resulting to the nonstop behavior of a real pair. Said burden was slowly gaining too much weight for his endurance, since he felt even without mortal attention bad. Thus, sleeping in separate rooms was actually the first step to get rid of the falsehood...

Shivering, the Methuselah gripped several strands of his scrubby hair with the left hand as well as his shirt with the right one. Just why began his head to ache...? Why was his heart pounding in displeasure, when he only decided to stop that unnecessary illusion...? Each beat hurt the vessel's ribcage as if hit by canon-balls... Tsk, ridiculous. Even while he was accustomed to mentioned lie, he couldn't support it any longer. Wouldn't support it from now on... Basta.

If Haurchefant's death had taught him one thing today, then, that the young Au Ra needed to be officially free. Free... in order to find the one who was truly meant to be her partner; for the rest of her short life. The Primogenitor, on the other hand... had to follow the path he was meant to take. Acting as her protector and comrade – like a father-figure combined with a good friend, probably – was his destiny. With that, he shouldn't stay in her way. Rather, he must be the maiden's trustworthy shoulder to lean on. Instead of... the self-seeker he feared to be in the depths of his existence. Placing his selfishness very often over her needs in the last days was an unforgivable behavior- one that had to stop at all costs...

As 'Midge' put his pyjama on and lay down underneath the blanket, he nevertheless couldn't help but long for Cecilia's company. Long for... her... Nearly curling up to a circle, he intensely sighed before his doleful eyes slowly shut.

~C~

'How inconvenient.' the antiquity thought resigned and scratched the back of his head. Apparently, he didn't deserve an unperturbed sleep tonight...

Midgardsormr knew, though, that this here was a dream. He stood next to his room's door – without memories of leaving the bed plus walking a few steps, to be more precise. After his disguise had successfully lost consciousness, there was simply nothing until this moment here happened.

Also, instead of his green nightshirt plus -trousers, he suddenly wore his regular outfit. Naturally, the Methuselah was convinced to be no victim of sleepwalking, hence mentioned two oddities in combination with a missing light-source in his chamber were evidence enough for his assumption. Hands on the hips, the dragon caged in a humane shell wondered, why his subconsciousness was this time so uncreative to choose only the place where his real corpus was currently located. Commonly, his dreams were a little bit more special...

While he wondered about the nonsense his brain fabricated, abruptly a discreet knock on the timber became audible. Furrowing his brows, 'Midge' listened puzzled to the following silence without gaining any clues who his visitor might be, thus he finally opened the door.

It was the maiden.

She wore still that blue nightgown, but the upper fabric was drastically sunken from her shoulders. He frowned as the garment was threatening to reveal her chest. Obviously, she wasn't caring for appropriateness... However, he couldn't imagine, that something else than the loss of Haurchefant would put any version of hers into an ignorant state of the mind. Even though the Raen's taste was quite provocative, she had nevertheless a strong sense for not appearing disheveled in any way. So, he would only gently approach her with said matter, albeit there was strictly speaking no need for it as she was merely an illusion.

'Midge' tried to focus on her gloomy face as he murmured: "You shouldn't wander around like that in the middle of the night. Not even in my dreams..." "This is no dream, silly..." Cecilia replied with a forced smile; resignation written all over her odd-colored eyes. "It's not...? But I stood not up before you kno-" The wyrm trailed off when Cecilia stepped closer to him.

Seriousness conquered her mien. Following, both crystal and jewel appeared not only severe but weary – as if she was the oldest being of this world. He couldn't fight the feeling of intimidation as he stared into the artificial windows to her soul... Unbelievable, that this subliminal mirage was such perfect imitation of the real maiden...

"Can I come in?" his delusion asked straightforward; cheerless as well as impatient...

For an unknown reason, this phrase coming with that tune from Cecilia's mouth made him nervous. If they had been gender-swapped here, this sentence could also have the meaning of- No. Absolutely NO. What an absurd idea...!

"Of c-course you can..." he stuttered and made a few steps backwards. Not even in his dreams existed a chance, that Midgardsormr would allow himself dirty, carnal thoughts. Albeit it was... admittedly harder to suppress them within his own dreams than in reality, since the unconscious happened to be the most private place he could imagine...

She walked in and kicked the door shut. Frustration directed her very movements...

"Sorry for disturbing you now... But honestly...? There's something you have to tell me, urgently... It's driving me otherwise insane..." Oh, what an 'amusing' scenario. His brain was definitely a sadist to enjoy such settings. What might be the next step? An accusation? Some wrathful mentioning of his uselessness today? Words which put even more justifiable guilt onto his shoulders considering the Fortemps-knight's death...? He expected these from her, so presumably-

"Midgard, do you mind if I enter something else?" her earnest question hit his morale-nerve.

"I-I am not sure what you mean." the Methuselah mumbled and glanced for a second at the gown's improper position. She chuckled minimal; unequivocally knowing him enough in order to realize, that he just pretended to be nescient. "That." the maiden responded with a sad, almost pitying mien and needed only two steps to be right in front of him.

She grabbed the back of his head and pulled the ancient dragon quickly into her direction. Midgardsormr gave immediately a panic-fueled tune, but it was muffled when her lips recklessly crashed onto his own. Her tongue slipped in an instant into his mouth.

It wasn't like the cheeky hoax of Augustine. It was... more. Much more. Too much...

The Methuselah tried to free himself, but Cecilia didn't permit it. She gave him the kind of a first, truly intimate contact, which was a bit too rough for so-called newbies... Lacking romance in favor of stirring with passion. His face heated under the foreign emotions consuming his chest while a wave of attraction climbed up his spine. Eyes squinted, the dragon made room for her when she demanded easier entry, because he realized the hopelessness of fighting the maiden. His own needs, in other words... It was still a dream. HIS dream.

When she let go of him, he panted harshly with closed lids.

The words left his throat only in shaky manner: "I-I do not know what to say... Thi-this is just so-" Gulping, 'Midge' tried to regain control over his breath. Everything was spinning... In response to his struggle, Cecilia hummed compassionate and caressed his right cheek. Opening the eyes a bit for looking at her, the old wyrm sensed unsettled, how his blood started to boil as if he had a fever once his gaze found her. She looked beautiful – even more, than normally – as a smile steered by shy relief and blooming hope occupied her mien.

No, please no. Why must his own mind agonize him like that...?

"Since you watched me and Augustine back then together, you wanted to see for yourself... how it might feel like to be close to me. Especially after she had given you a kiss, you were yearning to experience such touch – not with her, but me. … Am I correct?" the Raen questioned imperturbable. His gaze flickered in response like small flames in a breeze; cheeks burning as if something was incinerating them. The trepidation in his thoughts was clear: 'Don't make me say it! Stop right now! I'm only going to lose all control-' "You can be honest, Midgardsormr." she tenderly added – causing him to shiver as she spoke his full name.

'Midge' could no longer contain the sentiments. His breath was like a piece of the desert's wind when he replied croaky: "Yes... There is in fact a lot I yearn for... A lot I NEED to know by myself... The desire is hardly bearable..." Once he had caved to voice the taboo, Cecilia grinned endearingly. "We can change that for a little while... Come, let me ease your suffering."

The maiden kissed him again, but this time she entangled his neck with her arms.

Midgardsormr tensed and quivered, yet his longing for her was stronger than all morales...

The unconscious had really done a great job to delude him with a moment he wished for so deeply – even though 'Midge' couldn't allow it when he was awake. However, he wasn't able to cling to valuable morales any longer, since nobody else but himself was now witness of his sinful lusting... With that, he gave in to the dream's temptation and answered the gesture.

Pressing Cecilia against his corpus with the arms folded around her back, he passionately imprisoned the unreal Au Ra with his mouth to the point where she became passive. For a while, they stood like this; completely consumed by the sensation to hold each other amongst his wild kiss. Midgardsormr had already lost all track of time, when he softly pushed the inviting female against the next-best wall in order to keep her in a more favorable position. One, that allowed him to dominate her further.

As the antiquity was old and knew how it worked between mortals, there was no shame when he touched her chest through the terry-cloth. Caressing her tongue more reckless with his own, 'Midge's' draconic instincts took him over as they demanded to take everything in accessible reach, because the maiden as a human would earlier wither than a child of his species grew up.

When Cecilia voluntarily welcomed his egoism – to rip her nightgown apart – with a generous kiss, he felt his whole corpus quaking. It made him moan...

Then, the bared girl held completely on to him, so that 'Midge' was now entangled by her silky legs. He drew shakily breath as her lips sought for his neck; delicate nails digging meanwhile deep into his back let him tense painfully. Afterwards, she firmly bit his skin with her teeth, thus he groaned in agonized pleasure. The warm tongue which subsequently licked along his hurt carotid-artery made the feeling of anguish vanish into nothingness. His noise become more ardent.

There remained little control over his motions, when the drake grabbed the left side of her soft chest and the round butt she had gotten. Thanks to the wall behind her back, he held the girl's body perfectly in check; punishing her tender for the initiative to harm him. He kneaded this smooth skin with eager hands and let his ahungered lips conquer her entire upper half of the body- showering the charming mortal with affectionate kisses that drew promising sounds from her throat.

Ah... Just why felt it so right to fondle this illusion...

Suddenly, her right hand wandered over his stomach- slipped underneath the pyjama's trousers. Cecilia's fingers found his most sensitive flesh without any difficulties; they touched him in confident manner as if this would be an entirely normal interaction between the two of them. However, her heartbeat-strengthening grip became quickly outmatched...

She stroked him. Caressed him with unbelievable passion. Made his blood gradually run down and leave his head entirely dizzy... whilst his entire body started helpless twitching because of her touch. That intense feeling alone... To experience her own craving... woke Midgardsormr up in an instant.

Eyelids ripped widely open, a part of him cursed his terrible subconsciousness.

How could he fool himself so much to hope for a miracle...?

Panting as harsh as if his throat was on fire, 'Midge' didn't manage to sit up with an aroused vessel. The humane corpus was entirely sweaty plus shivered like a leaf; being powerless in an extent as if the Methuselah had undertaken lots of exercises... That was by far the strangest sensation he could remember to have experienced since the day his spirit was residing in a mortal shape.

Tsk, pitiful and ridiculous...

"You see? It was indeed just a dream..." he whispered with glowing eyes; speaking rather to himself than to the dream-version of the girl. His realization – assumed it could be declared to be a novelty – was too much to stomach right now... His heart's naivety had been wishing for the whole time, that he didn't imagine things, whereby the resulting disappointment hurt him now... Yet...

On a 'lighter' note, who would have ever imagined... that his savior of once could find a rival in Midgardsormr's mind... Apparently, there were now two beings occupying his subconsciousness... The angelic, crystal-blue-eyed dragon, who had saved the Primogenitor's life... and the pretty, tender-hearted Raen, who was no longer a child within his dreams but the very same young woman 'Midge' saw whenever he was awake.

Looking at the ceiling, his chest heaved simultaneous in need and sorrow.

The drake would never dare to approach Cecilia with this hunger he felt- He refused to do that to a mortal girl. He couldn't abuse her; especially not her. But that hallucination pretending to be real... The simple idea, that everything he had seen and felt should be reality... Putting all prudery aside, 'Midge' had been too far in his very own illusion, as if he could have stopped himself from unleashing all the urges boiling underneath the ignorant facade.

His need was overwhelming... Even for an ancient dragon, the physical impulses were too strong... While he was awake, the Primogenitor banished the awareness of this altered magnetic pull into the deepest part of his mind, but when he slept, it seemed to influence him a fortiori he tried to forget it. Hah, what damnable misery...

Midgardsormr sighed intense. His vessel would only slowly accept the failure of that... occasion. With that, returning to sleep could probably take a longer while... A true challenge, in other words, to calm the strained mind... Burying his face in the cushion, the Methuselah huffed in frustration.

Could his heart not finally have mercy and stop its aching...?

~C~

She blinked. Her eyes still hurt a little...

But the candle's discreet light on her desk gave the chamber at any rate a more relaxing atmosphere. It wasn't as harsh as that bright wanna-be-chandelier, so keeping her lids open wasn't any longer a painful task to accomplish.

Taking a sip from the steaming cup in her hands, she didn't bother to push several tousled strands from the face's right half. Her hair might be chaotic, but the red orb framed by yellow saw nevertheless enough through that linty mess, whereby it appeared rather unnecessary to free the counterpart of her blue eyeball. Furthermore, her chosen sibling wasn't caring much for politeness, thus she allowed herself to look miserable tonight. With her body's left side being anyways turned towards him as well as the door, nobody had a reason to care for wild fuzzes.

But thinking about him... Cecilia unwillingly chuckled when Erik gave a loud grumble.

As the Midlander hardly got rid of the soot on his hands once he was done with placing more lumber into the chimney, it was undeniably amusing to watch his kinda aggressive attempt to wipe his fingers clean while he sat like a sulking boy on the floor. Mentioned tinge of laughter, though, hurt in her bones because all the tears before had consumed lots of her strength...

"Seems you're feeling a bit better." the Hyur noticed with audible relief.

A weak smile flitted as initial response over her lips. "Not really... I still feel pretty down... Also, waking up in the middle of the night has never been a reliable indication of my condition..." "Well, I suppose nobody who wakes up around that time can claim to be okay." ,her brother gently stated, "Anyways, I'm just glad I checked on you before going to bed. … You really look like someone who needs a hot tea whenever something terrible has happened."

Moving her bare toes in circles on the bed's left edge, the Raen hummed and bend her legs a bit more together, so that her back became less straight. She must resemble a child in this moment, no? Wearing this terry-cloth nightgown plus having Erik in her room in the current situation made Cecilia at least feel like a little girl who sought shelter in her big brother's presence...

What might this sibling think of her, if he would not only know a part, but all of her sentiments? Those which seethed underneath the loss of their dear friend, to be more precise... The feelings next to the suppressed wrath and recklessness in her heart... Would he still dare to consider her innocent, if he was aware of the emotional depths hidden behind this physical facade...? She possessed more cruelty, selfishness and even darkness than any average Au Ra of her age... Could he accept that?

Her brother was less informed about her than Midgardsormr, though. And even the Primogenitor didn't know everything about her, yet...

Drinking thoughtful the pleasantly hot liquid, she closed her lids as the Hyur stood up.

"I'm going to bed now. But if you need anything else, just tell me per linkpearl; I'll bring it to you. Day- or night-time doesn't matter. And if you want me to do that, sister, I even drag Midgard into your room." With half-opened eyes, Cecilia reflected for a moment on this offering as she stared into her cup, but then scrapped the idea in the end. Glancing at Erik who hopefully scrutinized her, she slightly shook the head: "I doubt he wants to sleep anymore in the same room in which I am... Your emergency-lie has meanwhile gone too far, you see. It makes him obviously nervous to have much pressure on his shoulders, when the others look at him with these pink glasses on their noses. Additionally... He and I still haven't figured out yet, on which terms our friendship is based of. We're... having a cultural difference, as it looks like."

Her brother made a long face once she had uttered these thoughts.

"Urgs, that sounds awful..." the Midlander admitted and approached Cecilia for stroking her back. When he carefully rubbed the strained bones, Erik added: "I am sorry for causing so much trouble... I really just wanted to help the two of you. Late consequences weren't on my radar, when I claimed back then that gramps would be your secretly new boyfriend."

Typical... The man's conscience was worse than his regular behavior suggested. "Don't feel guilty... I'm glad you were there for him; this hasn't changed." ,she mumbled before her tense shoulders started relaxing, "And don't blame yourself for today... Not even somebody like you could have foreseen Thordan's ace up his sleeves... … Whatever it is, what you want to prevent in this world from occurring in consideration of the Eye... We are still alive. It's not over yet."

She stopped breathing for a moment, when the memory of Haurchefant's sacrifice manifestly emerged in her mind. The loss was too fresh; too painful... Remembering his lifeless face and ultimately closed eyes opened the rift in her chest anew...

Erik immediately patted her spine and emphatically said: "We will avenge him. This time, he may have died much earlier than it happened in my Eorzea, but at least not by the hand of an evil force that was supposed to awaken today. In this world, Haurchefant had the freedom to choose his end – his death wasn't meaningless. He saved you. Never forget our friend did this because he loved you with his whole heart. For him, you were the most special girl to have ever lived, so don't lose hope and keep your head up high."

Deeply inhaling, she gave her best to stay rather optimistic: "Yes, I know... Thank you. And I think you're right... As long as that 'darkness' you told me about hasn't occurred yet, Eorzea is at least for now save. We'll find a way to protect our continent and with that the entire planet. We can do it." "That's the spirit." her brother nodded smiling and took her empty cup.

Afterwards, Erik seemed a little bit crestfallen to walk to the door – feeling obviously not happy with the thought of leaving her alone. But as Cecilia raised her brows, he quickly grinned and shook the head in embarrassment. "I know, I know. That would be pretty weird. We're not siblings related by blood, so probably nonstop cuddling in your bed is not even today a good idea. … Don't stay up for too long, Ceci. Good night." he smirked and closed soundless the timber behind himself once she had given him a thumbs-up.

When Erik's steps were no longer audible, Cecilia got ponderously up and went due to her exhausted body in tardy manner to the desk. Her fingers leisurely grabbed the leathery history-tome she had been reading since a while, but the Raen wasn't in a hurry to return to the bed now...

Slowly, her free right hand brushed the tousled hair-strands from her face.

As it was a dark night without any stars or the moon, the window-glass gave in the candle's shine a clear reflection. The partly grim, partly unhappy smile on her lips wasn't meant for the mirrored version of herself, though. She had come to a conclusion in consideration of her dearest friend...

An upshot, which didn't make the entire situation any less complicated, since Cecilia grasped the ancient being good enough to be aware of his personal struggle. Sure, she had gained the certainty, that she could fight for her privy wish, but that alone wasn't all she wanted. There existed more than simple desire caused by some hormones, whereby his diffidence hindered her determination.

While she had the will to give this bond a real chance, there was no assurance, that her feelings could be answered with more than carnal approval. And even though a specific actuality would easily compel the old drake to entrust her with his needs, manipulating him as plain or rather cheap as that was out of question. Cecilia wanted to know, after all, what was truly there in his heart...

The two mirrored eyes in crystal-blue color spookily glowed when she whispered doleful:

"It's never just a dream, Midgardsormr... My soul simply reaches out for you..."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Note

Yeah, it's that rare time again. But can you blame me? Tokyo Fanfest and the last story-patch for 4.x happened, so it's not that bad when I become a little bit more communicative and let you have some of my own two cents.

First things first, if you're wondering, why a new chapter is already out:

Before we got our final story-patch, I had been on a forced ingame-hiatus due to having no sub. That became soon a break-per-will as it allowed me to write much more text down, which results now in this early posting of this rather long chapter. (No idea, when the next one can be published, though. I have my countless notes, but not even created the document.)

Mentioned Fanfest, however, had killed some joy including writing-motivation, which is why I still feel guilty of wasting a good opportunity. To be precise, for a few days, I couldn't focus on Primogenitor, as my mind was occupied with Square Enix' news.

Let me think, how I should explain that for you...

I'm not mad per se, but surely crestfallen because of several aspects:

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

°°Dancer being no healer appears in my eyes rather silly – we have in theory enough DDs for now (in terms of variety), which should allow everybody to pick a good match. Plus, an imbalance of four tanks and three healers makes me worried once we consider the leveling-phase.

Not to mention, that healers are the only jobs that need not necessarily fixes apart from the general problem, that each expansion weakens us in terms of stats. I understand SE's wish to adjust the three existing classes in order to get them out of the current meta, yet in 4.0 my healers were the only ones that felt still whole while the other jobs were completely odd thanks to several changes done to them. I wouldn't feel well to experience with same a similar disaster.

°°Viera with a gender-lock hurts me. How am I – a woman loving them since childhood alias their premiere on good old GBA – supposed to still relish the fan-success, when it's just half of the bunch we get? I am a female and intend to play as one, but sitting in the rabbit-camp means to support the male-fans as well; my conscience allows nothing else.

Furthermore, if SE had (last year – unbelievable, their planning) at first decided to add Hrothgar, so that they needed to pick either the lion-ladies or the bunnies, I can't see any advantages by releasing Viera in Paris and the buff guys later in Tokyo; vice versa would maybe have helped to hold the hopes of the fandom on a low level. That famous lore for male Viera (which matches the one of Miqo'te-boys, who didn't exist in 1.x) has at least NOT sufficed to make people accept the situation's handling. My opinion: SE should have given one full race for 4.0 and now one for 5.0 – with that, they easily could have avoided the shitstorm.

Also, as a very new thought, I seem to see things in case of Rava and Veena, because the renders make my eyes notice slightly shorter plus rounder ears on Veena, although no comment I read over at Lodestone hints at others seeing that. So, I must imagine it because of different angles, huh?

°°Yoshi plays way too often coy. (Typical Japanese behavior. Say everything except for no.)

But even more frustrates me the general lack of courage. Getting a beastly species out of the blue (BluFever-pun, aye) after SE never instantly answered questions, where the male bunnies are, is in my opinion a problem. Without a clear NO, we hoped for two unnecessary additional months long, that bunny-boys could happen. I wonder, why SE doesn't seem to be aware, that the furious fans are especially so emotional, because nobody was able to immediately stop all hopes from blooming.

And to hide behind the lore-veil is no smart move, when we can clearly grasp through Mr Happy's interview, that the developers are since prior-to-Heavensward afraid to create male Viera who got no design from former games.

As I said in the Lodestone-forum: SE could simply make a design-poll (like they did for the XIV-fan-favorite-music-album) to get an idea, which type of bunny-man the fans imagine at the most – this would give them a clear résumé without language-barriers / way-too-much-chatting around each post. But well, I can't remember that anybody ever considered my statements to be helpful, which closes hence this part of the topic.

°°Giving us more information about 5.0's general features at the Fanfest felt interesting – until the patch happened. I can't find any logical reason, why this little piece of MS was delayed, because it feels to me much more incomplete than every other cliffhanger we had so far. We learned through the event more than within the game for several patches, which makes me wonder, if the sentiment of getting only limited things will continue with the expansion.

Having no proper conversation with the hooded guy alias G'raha Tia (You do not believe your healthy eyes? Check the dataminers, then.) was also a huge let-down for me. Not to forget these absolutely unpredictable credits out of the nowhere... Somehow, Tokyo's event managed to have the worst timing I can imagine, as all excitement it had almost created got nearly destroyed by a patch that offered in case of the MS nothing for me. (Praise the optional quests; they saved my Tuesday.)

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Well, these said things were keeping my head busy around the time when I was right in the middle of all the Vault-action; beginning with Aymeric's arrival. Fortunately, a lot of my notes after that one instant had already been written as more or less complete sentences, thus – apart from correcting stuff and adding here plus there phrases – my lack of enthusiasm considering the game had not really an impact on Primogenitor (apart from the delay).

BUT I also happen to get sometimes flashes of inspiration, when there seems to be no intelligible source for them – such as: A) Elezen are called Elves in the first world, which makes me simultaneously feel awkward (to address Estinien and the others as 'elf' sometimes) PLUS excited, as it could give us some "real-elf"-lore, which I would normally not connect with XIV's long-eared guys. (At least I can't see Elezen as your-clichee -neighborhood -elf-living-in-the-forest.) If that would happen, then the temptation to add a female Elezen from the First to the squad should grow to an unbelievable size; I can tell you.

And B) Lakeland had no battle of Silvertear Skies? When that 'trifle' is a noteworthy thing to tell us in the responding article, then... Am I suddenly RIGHT to presume, that other worlds have a Midgardsormr as well?! … That would be without question the oddest thing ever happening to this stupid hobby-author here. (Albeit I don't know, if I would like that. Correctly predicting stuff feels usually bad for me as I know SE gives Midgard not the attention I wish he would have.)

Also, I hate admitting it, but you owe SE the chapter's last part / passage.

The gender-lock-frustration had obviously caused above-mentioned, strange inspiration, hence this never-planned, optional text happened.

It was at first a spontaneous thought crossing my mind while continuing the writing-process, yet – as I generally tend to write such things as notes down – it grew on me to the point where I couldn't imagine to discard the little passage once I had roughly done the original chapter's end. Actually, this sentimentality has ruined my planning a little bit...

Truth be told: The first different-point-of-view-character should have been Erik in a much later part of the story. Cecilia had not even been on the list of possible candidates to replace that role, since this kind-of-mystery, which her thoughts are to Midgardsormr, shouldn't been 'normalized' for you. However, implementing the passage nevertheless can't be called an entirely negative thing, either.

Letting you glance behind the curtain isn't intended to be teasing or trolling – it's meant to serve as a proof, that several future-occurrences of Primogenitor were fairly early planned within the story's 'sketching-process'. As the 'author', I tend to forget, that readers do not have insight into my brain, whereby stuff appearing logical to me must not have that impression on others who miss details. That's why I decided to take some of the wonderment away in favor of giving a clearer picture.

Should I steal with that decision some speculations or excitement for the unknown: I apologize. Maybe the story's progress will make up for that 'demystification', but if not, feel free to quit reading this text-mass.

As it's appropriate to say that right now: Happy Easter.

P.S. Blame also my Eternal Wind Remix for the chapter-delay:

YouTube video-ID: JjsjKRF7iR4