It was nice to spend the night in front of a fire, for once.
Zoe sat at the table in the kitchen, waiting for Mrs. Brisby to return from putting her children to bed, watching the fireplace with a relaxed expression. She had undressed down to her bodice and her bloomers, having laid her dress over one of the chairs; both parts of her undergarments were a rosy pink in color and left her insectile midriff exposed, revealing the gold carapace that wrapped around her waist like a natural corset of armor. She watched the flames dance before her, as if hypnotized by their primordial tongues lashing through the air.
However, her mind was focused on a different sight, one that hadn't left her head the moment it had taken place: the sight of Mrs. Brisby openly hugging Spyro's snout back in the river, no fear in her body or heart whatsoever. The scene played in loop in her head, over and over again; had been ever since she had witnessed it…something she wouldn't have believed, had she not seen it with her own eyes.
For it was impossible.
The Rodentkin were afraid of everything with sharp teeth. That was a law of nature that even their enlightenment hadn't changed; being on the bottom of the food chain, the only way rodents could survive was to fear everything that even had the potential to harm them. They did not survive the Era of Titans and beyond it by playing it stupid; whenever something showed its sharp teeth, they fled and hid. That was how it had always been.
And dragons were among the largest and sharpest of teeth; the last remaining Titans of that long-forgotten age, the flame that devoured all. They and they alone sat upon the throne at the top of the food chain, a place that even humans and other sapient races were never able to reach, despite their delusions otherwise. The mere sight alone was enough to send even the largest and bravest of beasts fleeing for their lives, let alone their draconian presence amplifying all forms of fear they instilled in the hearts of all in range.
She knew that the mother mouse (Elizabeth, if she remembered what the old shrew had said) had felt the presence of the world's greatest threat. She surely must have. No one could get that close to Spyro without doing so. And being Rodentkin, that should've been more than enough to kill her on the spot from sheer fright, let alone send her running for the hills.
And yet, despite all of this, it happened: she outright embraced the young dragon as if he was one of her own, with no fear in her heart whatsoever, defying everything Zoe knew about the very order of nature itself.
And with that act, the Idea had been born.
It was a stupid idea. Perhaps the stupidest idea ever conceived in the long, long history of stupid ideas. When it first popped into her head, she immediately dismissed it out of sheer ridicule of it; it was outright laughable, what it was suggesting…but the more she tried to force it away, to abandon it entirely, the more it kept creeping its way back into her mind. Each time she tossed it out, it clung even harder than before when it returned. And the more she saw Elizabeth tend to her own children, the more the idea began to seem less and less stupid.
At this point, it was a matter of two questions: what other alternatives did they have, and what harm could come in the long run from trying?
And both had the same answer.
The very faint sound of footsteps behind her drew her attention from the flames; she turned just in time to see Elizabeth exiting the children's bedroom, putting out the candle to the room as she did so.
"I finally got them to go to sleep." She whispered as she approached, letting the curtain fall closed behind her. "My goodness, they were asking so many questions about you. I think they like you."
Zoe gave a small huff of a laugh. "We fairies have a natural thing for being good with kids." She stated simply. "Although I will say, my experience with kids tend to lean toward big, scaly ones with a breath as fiery as their temper."
Elizabeth giggled at that, making her way past the fairy to the cupboard; she took out a jug of some sweet-smelling beverage resembling wine, bringing it to the table, where she poured it into two wooden mugs, offering one to Zoe, who took it with a nod of thanks. The two then made their way towards the fireplace and made themselves comfortable on the soft rabbit-skin hearthrugs, where Zoe sampled a sip of her mug; it was simple and plain, unlike the fancy wines made by fae hands, but it was a nice beverage that warmed her stomach, nonetheless.
She glanced up above the fireplace, where a large painted portrait of the mouse family hung over the mantelpiece for all the room to see; a portrait of them sitting amongst the flowers before what must've been the recently completed home, the Lee of the Stone visible in the background. She recognized Elizabeth, who was several months pregnant in the image, along with a much younger Teresa, Martin, and Timothy gathered around, all with big smiles on their faces. There was also a handsome male mouse sitting next to her, with greyish fur much like Martin's, his hand entwined with hers while he bounced a toddler Timothy on his knee.
"I take it that's the Mr. Mouse in your life." Zoe stated, motioning her mug to the portrait.
Elizabeth nodded, her smile fading a touch. "My husband, Johnathan." She told her, her voice quiet. "He passed away just last fall, during a summons from King Nicodemus."
Zoe cocked at eyebrow at that: what kind of mouse must her husband be to be personally summoned by the King of the Rats himself? "So I heard from your aunt, when she berated me for playing tricks on a 'recently widowed mother of four…my condolences for your loss, for what little that must be worth."
"Thank you." Elizabeth whispered, taking a small sip of her wine. "It hasn't been easy, coming to terms with his death…and I fear for our future, now that he's not here to lead the harvest." Her smile turned a touch warmer, a warm look of love filling her saddened eyes. "But my children have helped me greatly with my grief."
The fairy remained silent at first, eyeing the way she glowed at the mention of her children. "…You truly love your kids very much."
Mrs. Brisby smiled warmly, the smiling faces in the portrait increasing the warmth within her heart; a very familiar sensation to the young mother. "More than anything in the world. They're the light of my life. I don't know where I would be without them."
Zoe nodded in agreement. "I am somewhat familiar with such feelings, thought the circumstances are a little…different." she stated, looking back at the dancing flames of the fireplace. "As a dragon fairy, my dragon is my purpose of existence. His will is my purpose, and that comes with a natural bias towards devotion." She smiled warmly, which glowed much in the same manner her own had. "But you've witnessed first-hand how kind Spyro is. Even with my magical bond, it's hard not to fall in love with such a pure soul, in spite of what he is."
A pure soul, in spite of what he was. That was a good way of putting it; of describing what Spyro was like. Large and fearsome to behold but possessing a warm heart under those amethyst scales.
"A Dragon Fairy…I've never heard of that kind of fairy before." She stated, taking a small sip of her wine as she eyed Zoe curiously. "Is that why you have horns like he does?"
"Yep." Zoe said with a nod. "And it makes sense you haven't heard of my kind before, because I'm the first of my kind to appear on Nimh in centuries. Dragon Fairies are fairies that are either born as or chosen among normal fae to become a Dragon's Familiar." She gave her a questioning look. "Are you familiar with the concept?"
Mrs. Brisby nodded. "They're like a wizard's magical pet or servant?"
"Simply put but correct." Zoe told her. "It is our very purpose, our duty, our very reason for existence to serve Dragonkind as their companions and servants. In my case, I was born an Autumn Fairy but became a Dragon one when Spyro chose me to become his familiar when I was a child." She tapped the base of one of her horns with her finger. "I wasn't born with these: they magically grew from my head when I first accepted the bond between us. The symbol of my eternal bond of servitude to my master."
"Oh…I see." The mouse murmured into her drink, a little unsure of what to make of that; the way Zoe spoke of it made it sound like she was more a slave to the dragon than anything else, and yet she seemed completely happy with that arrangement. "And you're happy being his 'familiar'?"
To that, Zoe's smile faded, her eyes going dark.
"More than you can possibly imagine." The fairy said with absolute certainty and resolve, her words as hard and unbreakable as steel. "I know what you're thinking: isn't being a Familiar the same as being magically-enslaved to someone? Whether it is or not, I couldn't tell you, but if it is, then I tell you this: I gladly accept the life of a slave to a kind master like Spyro over the life I had before I met him."
A heavy silence followed that statement, the mouse unsure of what to say to that, if anything.
The fairy then blinked, her dark aura disappearing almost instantly, as if she suddenly realized how that sounded. She coughed into her fist, awkwardly breaking the ice by continuing on. "W-Well, that being said, it's not always an easy life, let me tell you." She stammered, trying to force the conversation back into a friendlier mood. She then scowled again, though this time out of annoyance. "Mostly in part thanks to the sheer arrogance of my fellow Fae. Especially the idiot council!" She snapped bitterly. "I swear, for every step of progress I take forward with helping Spyro what he needs in life, those nectar-drunk fools drag us back ten-fold, always forcing their ideas of what they think is best on us without any chance for us to say otherwise! Acting as if they have any idea what it means to raise a force of nature given flesh…as if my horns mean nothing!" She took a hearty swing from her mug, downing as much of the alcoholic beverage as she could swallow in one go, gasping for breath afterwards. "Arogan ag òl eabar, ag òl gu h-ìosal..."
Mrs. Brisby wasn't sure what that meant, but she knew foul language when she heard it, and was glad she had chosen to speak it in a language the children wouldn't understand, had they heard her outbursts.
"Ah…Apologies for all that." Zoe coughed, clearing her throat awkwardly. "I tend to let my emotions speak themselves when not appropriate."
"O-Oh, It's no problem." She assured her, smiling a bit; she knew what that was like, after all. "We all have things we need to get off our chests sometimes."
Zoe smirked and raised her mug. "Well, thanks for being a gracious host in that regard, Mrs…Elizabeth, was it? I don't believe we've been officially introduced." She lifted her head back, gulping down the last of her wine.
"O-Oh, yes. It's Elizabeth Brisby."
*PPFFFFFFFTTTTTT!*
The mouse jumped as the fairy suddenly choked on her drink and wrenched forward, eyes wide and cheeks bulging with a truly powerful spit-take, spraying an arch of wine through the air. She was left coughing violently, struggling to catch her breath as the red fluid ran down her chin. Mrs. Brisby reached for Zoe, fretting over the ailing fairy. "Oh, my goodness, are you alright?!"
"Brisby?!" Zoe wheezed between coughs, looking at her with a truly shocked expression, despite her coughing fit. "As in Johna-…Johnathan! You said your husband was called Johnathan, right?!"
Mrs. Brisby blinked, confused. "Why yes. He was my husband." She told her, unsure of what to make of such a reaction to her late husband. "Johnathan Brisby."
Zoe stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Then she stood up and studied the family portrait, namely Johnathan, to see if what she had learned was true.
And sure enough, it was.
"Holy shit...holy shit!" She exclaimed as she turned back to the thoroughly-confused Mrs. Brisby, as if confronted with the most mind-blowing news in all of history. "You're…and your kids…Frith above, I'm in the home of and talking to the wife of THE Johnathan Brisby!"
Now it was Mrs. Brisby's turn to look surprised. "You know Johnathan?"
"Know him?! Lady, there isn't a soul alive, be they Fae or Rodentkin, who doesn't know that name! Your husband's a famous hero!" The fairy explained, motioning with grand, exaggerated hand motions as she spoke, as if trying to emphasize just how big this news was through body language. "Surely you must know about his exploits! The Sealing of the Unspoken One! The War against Efrafa! He was your husband, for crying out lo-!"
She froze, a cold chill going down her spine.
"…was your husband…" She muttered numbly, as if the very world had been pulled out from under her feet. "Johnathan Brisby…is dead?"
Elizabeth winced as the confusion was replaced with an all-too familiar and all-too great pain, squeezing her eyes shut as she braced against the ache in her heart. Afraid that she was going to cry if she spoke, all she could do was nod in confirmation.
"I'm sorry." Was all Zoe could bring herself to say, still struggling to come to terms with the fact herself.
"You did nothing wrong." Mrs. Brisby managed to whisper, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve; one tear managed to escape and roll down her snout, dripping off the end of her whisker. "It just…hurts."
Zoe didn't say anything, looking off to the side in regret. She retook her seat on the rug next to the sniffling mouse, staring into the fireplace with a downcast expression. A moment of silence passed before the fairy decided to speak again.
"Your husband was a great mouse." She told her softly. "He did many great things and changed the lives of many on Nimh for the better." She gave a soft smile. "He was Spyro's personal hero as a youngling: Spyro grew up on the stories of his adventures and wants to become just like him when he grows up…his tales of heroism made my dragon's life that much brighter, and for that he has my eternal gratitude and respect."
A soft sob escaped Elizabeth's lips, but she smiled with gratitude herself, all the same.
"Thank you…" She murmured, wiping the remaining unshed tears from her eyes. "…I-I knew he has some standing in the Rat Kingdom, since he worked for Nicodemus and all, but he never told me much about his life before the war."
Zoe shrugged. "I'm sure his reasons were good ones." She stated simply. "We all have parts of our lives we'd rather forget…still, it's just…wow." She breathed as she looked around her, now seeing this humble, little home in a much different light. Then the thought reached her, and she snapped her fingers in confirmation. "That's why he settled down in our lands! He was one of the only Rodentkin to be welcomed into Feywild following the closing of the borders, thanks to his history with our people! It's the perfect place to get away from all the potential dangers of being a 'famous adventurer turned family man', such as old enemies trying to hurt your wife and kids for revenge or something."
"So he brought us out here to protect us." Mrs. Brisby said sadly, looking longingly at her husband's image in the portrait. "Oh, Johnathan…"
"Still, out of all the places he could've set up shop in, it just had to be under Spyro's stone." Zoe chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "Imagine what it would've been like had you guys shown up here just a few days earlier; just a few days before we left for the realms." She chuckled to herself. "I can just picture him now: half his current size and having a crazy fan-attack over meeting his hero in person. He'd be popcorning all throughout the forest."
That brought forth a bubble of laughter from Mrs. Brisby, and she couldn't help but giggle at the mental image of the awe-inspiring dragon, mighty and ferocious, bouncing around and chirping like an excited furling in front of her bewildered husband.
Like a furling...
"How old is he?"
Zoe gave pause, looking at the mouse in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"Spyro. The Dragon." Mrs. Brisby repeated, shifting her mug nervously in her hands. "How old is he? He doesn't 'feel' like an adult; the way he looks and the way he acts is very…youthful." She looked up to the fairy with concerned eyes. "Is he…young?"
It was a question she felt that she already knew the answer to but needed to hear for herself.
An answer she was honestly dreading to hear, because if she was right…
Zoe remained quiet for a moment, contemplating the answer, before she ultimately spoke: "That's a little tricky to answer, due to how dragons age." she told her, pouring herself another mug's worth of wine. "As I said before, we found him just hatched out the egg about fifty years ago, but you see: Dragons have incredibly long lifespans, and thus age at a much slower rate than mortals do. In terms of counting how many winters he's endured, he would be fifty in a mortal lifespan…which, in terms of dragon growth, would make him about…" She paused, thinking it over silently, before deciding on a truly horrifying answer:
"Ten years old. Probably younger than your eldest furling, Teresa."
Ten. Years. Old.
Younger than Teresa. Not that much older than Martin.
A furling dragon, just as she suspected.
Covered in scars.
A sick feeling of horrified revulsion filled Mrs. Brisby chest as the thought rose in her mind like a dark cloud of icy cold: a child no older than her own, bearing the signs of wounds that only the most savage of wars could inflict in the first place, let alone the sheer number obtained by one creature. For a youngling of that age to possess any kind of wound from claw or blade, regardless of the fact he was a dragon…
She now knew why his eyes held such sorrow, for they were the eyes of a child who had been opened to reality: those of someone who had experienced the true cruelty of the world long before they had any right to.
A child robbed of their innocence.
"Allow me to tell you a story, before I turn in for the night." Zoe said softly, her gaze downcast. "A story about one Spyro the Dragon, and his thankless adventures in the Dragon Realms…
Spyro hatched in a small cave located in the Crystal Mountains of Feywild. No one knew how his egg got there; there were no signs of any dragons living in the area, and not even signs of a previous nest. His egg had just been sitting there, on the cold stone floor, with no sign of the parents anywhere. Many believe it was the work of thieves, trying to hide their goods, but others say that the parents abandoned the egg once they saw what color it was.
Yes, the color. For you see, Spyro is no ordinary dragon; surely, you've felt it for yourself. Even by dragon standards, no other dragon his age possesses such a powerful presence. That is because Spyro is a special breed of Elder Dragon born only once every ten generations: the 'Aetherian Safi'jiiva'…or as most mortals call them, the Purple Dragon. Whereas most dragons can breathe and wield a single element in their entire life, the Purple Dragon has the in-born gift to wield ALL the Dragon Elements at once. Fire, Ice, Lightning, Earth, Water, Wind, Light, Shadow, and so many more. This makes them one of the most powerful non-Titan beasts to ever soar the skies…and to many, the most dangerous creature to ever walk the earth.
But to the Fairies of Feywild, he was a gift from the Hollow itself. King Oberon saw his discovery as the destiny of his people foretold: he believes that Spyro's birth was their chance to finally redeem Fairy-Kind from the sins of the past and bring forth a new era of peace and cleansing to not just Nimh, but all of Tamrizeroth. All that was needed was to make sure Spyro grew up nurtured in an environment that encouraged him to become good and just, unlike the previous purple dragons before. So, he made a home for the young dragon here on Nimh, within the palace of Avalon itself, and closed off the borders of his kingdom to all who could potentially threaten him, even his former allies.
However, for all their efforts, the Fairies were falling short of what it meant to care for a dragon. Yes, they gave him all the food and shelter he needed, an extensive education that he could understand, and training with the elements they could provide, such as Nature, Light, and Magic, but even under the king's guidance there's only so much the tiny fairy-people can do for a beast of Spyro's size, power, and needs. Spyro had no one to truly form an emotional bond with; someone to imprint on and develop the necessary life skills and sense of empathy needed to exist in a world where Elder Dragons did not roam; his Dragon Fairy, his only form of truly-bonded companionship, was still no more than a mere Familiar, the lesser to his greater, and thus he was left in a world with no one to look up to.
It was clear they needed to try something else, and when the young dragon reached 40 mortal years of age, they decided on a plan: to send Spyro across the sea to the Dragon Realms, where he could be taken in and raised properly by his own kind.
When Spyro arrived in the realms, he was first taken in by the Elemental Guardians, four wise dragons that held mastery over the elements, and perhaps the only dragons in the entire realm to accept him. Over the course of a year, they trained him further in the arts of the Elements, teaching him to master Fire, Ice, Lightning, and Earth. The Fire Guardian, Ignitus, saw the potential in King Oberon's plan, and between days of training he would take Spyro to the different tribes of Dragons across the realms, hoping to find a female that would be willing to become his surrogate mother and raise him as her own.
His hopes, however, were all in vain.
Unlike the Guardians, the dragons of the realms knew only fear and spite for the purple dragon, due to the destruction and death the previous member of his species had wrought upon their lands. They viewed Spyro as another potential monster in the making and feared him as much as they did his predecessor. No matter which tribe they went to, no matter how much Spyro attempted to appeal to his own kind, he was met with rejection every single time, sometimes violently.
Yes. A few of those scars on his body were inflicted by the most violent of females; namely those with hatchlings of their own, who felt them threatened by his mere presence. In the end, there was none among any of the Five Tribes willing to take him in as their own, and he was cast out by all their elders.
Then, as if that wasn't enough, the Gnorcs attacked.
What are Gnorcs? They are large, orc-like creatures with bright-green skin, large tusks, and violent tempers. And Gnasty Gnorc, leader of the horde, was the most foul-tempered of all: for no other reason than petty insult, he cast a curse across the lands that turned all dragons into green crystal statues, leaving them powerless as the Gnorc Hordes invaded their lands, destroyed their homes, and raided them of their food and treasure.
The only dragon in all the realms that had not been transformed by the curse was Spyro, for his own magical power was greater than Gnasty's, to the degree that his mere touch was enough to break the curse over other dragons and free them from their prisons of crystal. Thus, Spyro came up with an idea: if he could free his other dragons and put an end to Gnasty Gnorc's reign over the Dragon Realms, he would prove himself a hero just like the legendary Johnathan Brisby. And then the other dragons would see that he was good and accept him as one of their own.
For Ten Years he embarked on this 'adventure' across the five realms, with only his faithful Dragon Fairy to accompany him. Ten Years of fighting off wave upon wave of gnorcs and other such monsters and freeing dragons scattered all over the world. Ten Years of enduring the horrors of a one-man war against an entire horde, tasting the blow of blade, spike, club, flame, lightning, acid, and so much more, all in the name of being the hero and earning his place amongst Dragon-Kind.
And despite all the pain he endured…all the horrors he faced by himself…all the nights spent wondering if he would live to see the sunrise…he won. He eventually freed all the dragons and defeated Gnasty Gnorc once and for all. He had done it. He had slain the bad guys, he had freed dragon kind, he had literally saved their entire world.
And they still cast him out.
If anything, his exploits only made them even more afraid: a single pup, not even half the size of a fully-grown adult, capable of destroying the entire Gnorc horde all by himself? It terrified them to no end. Even after everything he had done for them, many of them still cried out for his banishment…and just as many others called for his death.
It was not to be, though: Ignitus and the other Dragon Guardians, along with a small group of dragons that had come to favor him over his adventures, managed to sneak the young dragon out of the realms and back onto the ship that had taken him there all those years ago. By the time the Elders realized what had happened, and the guards sent out to obtain him, it was too late. Left with no choice, the Elders officially declared Spyro banished to exile on Nimh, the very land he was born, never to set foot on the soil of the Dragon Realms again, under pain of death.
The last anyone ever saw of that young, misunderstood dragon was his ship disappearing over the horizon...
…until he would arrive back to the land that he had left so long ago, a broken, scar-covered shell of his former self, his very world laying shattered at his feet." She finished. "And you know the rest."
Zoe leaned in to take another drink of her beverage, her throat dry from her tale, when she heard it; the soft, sharp hiccup of a gasp. She looked up just in time to see Mrs. Brisby drop her mug, spilling its contents across the floor, and grasp at her chest with both paws; she was outright gasping for breaths between the heavy sobs that spilled from her, accompanied by the large tears rolling down her face and dripping off her whiskers. It looked as if she was dying from sheer heartbreak.
Heartbreak of a mother for the suffering of a child.
"Are you okay?" Zoe asked, rightfully alarmed at the display.
"Why?" The mouse whimpered in a voice that was equal parts pleading and accusing. "He's just a boy…all those scars…his eyes…why?"
The fairy stared at her for a moment before giving a heavy sigh.
"Because the world does not forgive the son for the sins of the father." She said with complete contempt in her voice. "Simple as."
"It's so unfair…so wrong." Mrs. Brisby sniffled, still clutching her chest as the pain continued to gnaw at her heart. She looked up with pleading eyes, not even trying to hold the tears back anymore. "No child should ever have to look at the world like he does."
"I agree." Was all Zoe could say, taking one long, deep drink of her wine. "But at least one soul weeps for his suffering…and for that, you have my eternal gratitude as well."
Mrs. Brisby would've scoffed if her throat wasn't so tight from all the sobbing. What could mere gratitude do for a child that had suffered for so long?
"What do you plan to do now?" She finally worked up the strength to ask, wiping the wetness from her eyes and face.
To that, Zoe shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure." She admitted, setting her mug on the floor next to her. "When we first arrived home, the first thing Spyro wanted to do was to come back to the Lee of the Stone, once of his favorite places in all of Feywild. But that plan hit a road-block when we found you here instead." She gazed into the flames, the light reflecting in her eyes. "He's not going to force you to leave; he wants you to have your home, but with the Stone gone, there's not much reason to stay, but we also have no reason to leave either. We're kinda stuck on what to do now."
Elizabeth sighed sadly, the image of the dragon's tearful expression playing on loop in her mind's eye.
Spyro…his story was truly a tragic one. A hatchling who was born into a land far from his own, cursed with the color and power he never asked for, and doomed to carry the name of a lineage that the world as a whole feared. Whose only companions sought to use him as a means for their own ends, regardless of how benevolently they treated him or not. Who, despite everything he had done to prove himself more than just another monster of the dark, had still ultimately been cast out by his own kind, forced to return to the world that was never his.
Shunned by Dragon-Kind, objectified by Fae-Kind, and was going to be feared by Rodent-kind when they learned of his existence.
A soul who truly had no one to turn to. No one to take him under their wing and tell him it was all going to be okay.
She hadn't meant to make him cry; she had been just so happy to get Timmy's medicine back, and so grateful to the one who had made that possible, that she hadn't even realized she had hugged his snout until a moment later. Not that she hadn't meant to do such a thing either, though. He had saved not only her life, but had saved Timmy's life as well, all in one day. If it wasn't for him, she would've been devoured by those weasels, her children made orphans, and both she and Timmy would be joining Johnathan within the Tree of Life…well, as least Timmy would have. Horrible as it sounded to think, she doubted that someone who would've failed her family so much deserved to join them in a happy afterlife.
Which only made Spyro's selfless acts of kindness all the more important to her.
She wanted to return the favor…to return said kindness that had been shown. He deserved it, especially after all these years; he had done so much for the world as a whole and received nothing but spite for his actions. It was long about time he finally got something in return.
But there was little she, a small, mortal mouse like herself, could give to a mighty dragon...
...but perhaps, there was something she could share.
Something that was originally his so long ago:
"He could stay here." She offered. "With us."
The fairy looked at Mrs. Brisby with a surprised expression, though inwardly the Idea was starting to take root with those very words. "You're not afraid that he might harm you or your kids?"
But the mouse simply shook her head 'no'. "If he was going to harm my children, he would've done so when they first met. But he didn't." She stated. "If anything, I think he's helped them: when Johnathan died, we all felt lost, empty, with little to look forward to but worry for the future…but Spyro…he's given them some of their past joy back just by being there for them. Their days are happier and full of more laughter than they were a week ago, and now I know I have him to thank for that." She then wrung her hands nervously. "Besides, there's also the upcoming harvests: with Johnathan gone, there's no one to provide the strength needed to farm the corn. If he's willing to help, I would be more than happy to accept it."
Zoe rubbed her chin in thought. "Hmmmm…Spyro's elements of Earth and Nature could be used for farming, if he's inclined to use his powers for such things." She then gave Mrs. Brisby a serious look. "But the question truly is: can you accept him? Truly? You are Rodentkin. Rodentkin are mortal and fearful of all with sharp teeth, and a dragon's teeth are very, very sharp. Can you honestly look upon those teeth, and all the blood that drips from them, and say that you will not be afraid?"
There was a brief moment of silence before Elizabeth gave her answer in the most simple and honest way possible:
"I can."
It was said with such truth that Zoe was truly caught off guard, her eyes wide in surprise. She stared at Brisby for a while, unsure of what to make of this brave-yet-timid mouse, before ultimately chuckling to herself.
"Truly the wife of Johnathan Brisby…" She muttered aloud, before turning back to her. "It'll ultimately be up to Spyro whether or not we'll be staying, with he the master and I the familiar, after all. If this is what you truly want, you'll have to speak to him about it in the morning."
Mrs. Brisby nodded in agreement, standing up and dusting herself off. "Shall I show you to the guest chambers?"
To that, however, Zoe simply shook her head.
"I appreciate the offer, but I can't stay." She said as she stood up herself.
The mouse blinked in surprise. "You're leaving? But it's dark out, and the storm is still going."
"And Spyro's in the middle of it, with no one else to ride it out with." Zoe told her as she made her way to the kitchen table, taking her dress off the back of the chair and slipping it up over herself. "Don't worry about the storm. We have a shelter nearby: in the old wolf's den by the riverbank."
Mrs. Brisby knew of the den she was talking about; it had been a moment of concern for her when she and Johnathan first moved here, but he assured her that it had been abandoned a long time ago. And sure enough, in all the years she lived here she hadn't seen a single wolf in these parts. It would make the perfect shelter for a dragon of the same size as one, though she couldn't imagine it to be a very warm place to ride out a storm in.
She could just picture it. The poor beast, young and alone, huddled up in a dusty old cave in the middle of the raging winds and pouring rain.
"Let me come with you."
It was almost comical: the way Zoe's head popped out of the neck of her dress like a jack-in-the-box, her eyes wide with surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I want to help." She explained, holding her paws against her chest. "He's done so much for me and my family...He saved my life, he saved Timmy's life, he saved us all and he's out there…in that…with no one."
"You sure you want to go out there with me?" Zoe asked, not entirely sure it was a wise idea. "What about your kids?"
"It'll only be for a little while. I just want to speak to him." Mrs. Brisby told her, shaking her head to fight off any form of reluctance that lingered in her mind. "I-I can help him…Please…"
The fairy remained silent for a while, watching her mousey friend with a conflicted gaze as she finished dressing, adjusting her skirts around her lower half. Ultimately, she gave a heavy sigh before a reluctant nod. "Very well. The den is just down the hill to the south-west, just beyond the first row of trees and in front of the main river." She told her, giving her a conflicted look. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
If she was being honest, she wasn't sure what she was doing either. But she had to do something.
She owed him that much, at least.
There was no sign of the end of the rain. No light at the end of the horizon.
No end to the embodiment of his current mood.
Zoe had the fortune of being small enough to be invited into the homestead of the very mouse that had brought him the Warmth, able to sleep in a warm bed safe from the storm. Spyro, on the other hand, found himself taking shelter in a deserted wolf's den, just outside of the Stone's glade. He was tucked as far back from the entrance as the burrow would allow, coiled upon himself in an attempt to preserve warmth while watching the rain fall outside. It was somewhat damp inside the cave, but thankfully the wind blew away from its mouth, allowing him to stay moderately dry...minus the occasional drops of water that trickled down the roots above and pitter-pattered against the cave floor…and against him.
All in all, his current state was nothing short of the weather outside: cold, wet, and downright miserable.
Spyro hated storms. Completely and utterly. At one point in his life, he enjoyed the simple pleasures of rain: he enjoyed listening to it patter against the windows of the Palace of Avalon's upper floors, watching it trickle down the leaves and patter against the earth. But now, after his journey across the sea, all it brought to him were images of pain within his head: the roaring fury of the red-maned wizard's magic, and the crackling bite of the metal giant's buzzing ground.
The burns on his paws and legs flared every time lightning cracked across the sky, finding himself back in those wretched places every time a clap of thunder echoed through the forest.
Maybe it was a mistake not to return to Feywild. He had been frustrated and angry when he had first arrived home and wanted to distance himself from those who had ultimately been responsible for this entire mess. But now, caught in the middle of the first storm of spring and forced to take refuge in a dirty old den, all the while knowing there had been a roof over his head, cozy bedding, and warm food waiting for him back in with the Fairies, made him realize that acting on his violate emotions may not have been the smartest move.
All he wanted now, so badly that it hurt, was to go back home…but now, after everything he went through, home didn't feel like home anymore.
When he first returned, that day when the ship first entered the waters of Nimh, he had expected to go right back to that sense of warmth and happiness he had known before. That he would be able to just put all the pain, frustration, hurt, fear, and trauma of the past ten years behind him and return to the life he had left behind so long ago…only to find that said life didn't exist anymore.
What was once recognizable things that would've once brought him that sense of home felt so…different. Everything had changed. The smaller size of everything around him made him feel out of place, just as it did on the mainland. And the feeling of familiarity that he had longed for so long couldn't be seen anywhere, even in places he recognized, such as the Stone itself, now the home of someone else instead of him.
Nothing felt as he remembered it.
It had become cold in his absence. Bitter. Hard. Unrecognizable.
No trace of the Warmth that once made it home.
It was the light of his fairy's wings that altered him to her presence; just as he was about to drift into fitful slumber, the golden glow of Zoe's wings slowly creeped in around the corner of the entrance. That confused him; he had assumed she was spending the night at the house of the mice that had taken his stone. Why would she leave the warm fire and cozy bed for the cold and wet of the storm? He watched as the light grew until she came into view, her wings glowing with a brilliant yellow light. The fairy was using a large leaf as a makeshift umbrella, shielding herself from the rain.
"Thought you'd be here." Zoe stated softly as she stepped into the shelter of the cave, lowering her leaf, and putting it to the side.
Spyro was about to retort something back, only to realize that she wasn't alone: there was another being behind her, but who on earth-?
That scent.
It was her.
The dragon lifted his head off the ground, staring in silent, wide-eyed shock, as none other than the mother mouse gingerly stepped out from behind Zoe. She stared back at him with her own widened eyes, but they held little to no fear; only a small bit of cautious wariness towards the potential danger he could be. Her body language was completely different from before; no longer racked with the primal fear of facing a dragon, but far more relaxed and at ease than she had been when they first met in the riverbed.
She was here.
Why?
Why was she here?
It was amazing how much a little bit of context could completely change how one saw things in the world before them.
Where there was once a beast of incredible size and unparalleled might, Mrs. Brisby could only see a sad, long-lost furling in the form of a dragon. What were once mighty battle scars of an unflinching warrior were now the brutal wounds of a creature that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And what were once the burning eyes of the greatest of creation's creatures were now the sorrowful ones of one who could no longer see the world as he remembered it.
The so-called mighty purple dragon of legendary power.
Lost, alone, and longing for a life he believed he could never have again.
She knew exactly how he felt.
Grasping her hands together against her chest, she began to quietly approach Spyro, being as soft and non-threatening as she could make herself out to be (not a difficult task for her at all); it was as if she was trying not to scare him. Spyro gave a conflicted croon at this, as if he couldn't understand what was going on. Why this small, defenseless creature that once stared at him in complete and utter terror now gazed upon him with a saddened kindness.
She stopped, just shy of where his head had been lying on the ground.
And then she spoke:
"Hello, Spyro." She addressed him in a gentle tone; one that was not made out of fear, but out of tenderness.
Spyro didn't say anything; looking back, he wasn't sure he would've been able to in the first place, confusion and surprise wracking his brain like the swirling winds of a sandstorm.
His name.
She said his name.
To hear her say it...to hear him being spoken of by that beautiful voice…
In the end, all he could do was give a soft but audible croon of greeting, unsure of what else he could do without breaking down into another fit of emotions.
"I wanted to see you." Mrs. Brisby told him. "To thank you again. For everything you've done for me and my family." She took another step forward, but still found herself unable to reach the dragon's head, which he kept up well out of reach, watching her with wide, anxious eyes. "Can you come down here? Please?"
Spyro was frozen on the spot, a raging storm of anxiety and uncertainty making itself visible in the way the end of his tail quivered and how his hands tensed, his claws carving small grooves in the dirt. But, in the end, he ultimately obliged her request, slowly lowering his head back down onto the ground, to where the end of his snout was in arm's length of Mrs. Brisby. The young widow gave a warm smile as she reached forward and placed her hands against the smooth, scaly skin of his face, gently caressing it.
Her touch…it was softer than that of her children: her hands were smooth and uncalloused by comparison, a result of her life as a housewife before her husband passed. It was gentle…and warm…
He liked the touch.
"You're so gentle." Mrs. Brisby told him softly, her eyes carrying a deep sadness for the creature she stood before. "How could anyone think to hurt you like this?" Her fingers traced along a scar that ran across the bridge of his snout, just above his nostrils. To that, he pulled away a little, giving a soft growl of displeasure. Mrs. Brisby pulled back, looking apologetic for bringing the topic up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried…"
The dragon stared at her for a moment, eyes flickering with firelight in the dark, when he finally did what he had been wanting to for the longest time, but hesitated due to Zoe's advice not to:
He spoke to her.
"Thank you for releasing me."
Mrs. Brisby's ears perked up in surprise as the deep, magical voice washed over them, even though the dragon's mouth didn't move one bit to speak. It was as if he was channeling his very thoughts into words for her to hear. And just like before, the context of the truth changed so much: it was a voice that thrummed with the deep rumble of an earthquake, and crackled with the growl of a blazing forest fire, but it was the voice of a child, just shy of his teen years.
"W-What did you say?" She asked, confused.
"That's the only thing they ever did when I freed them from their crystal prisons." Spyro continued, his eyes narrowed and his tone bitter and spiteful. "They would say: 'Thank you for releasing me', and then they would leave. None of them offered to help. Only a few gave any advice or warnings, but none of them stayed." He coiled up on himself, as if trying to shield himself from the world, his burning eyes starting to steam from the water that built within them. "No help, no food, no magic, nothing! They just said those words…and then they left.
I…I was alone out there…" His voice wavered, the deep, draconian qualities quickly fading away, leaving only the pained whimpers of a child behind. "Everything was dark…and cold…and everything hurt…s-sometimes, I couldn't even move, because it hurt too much. I had to just laid there, and wait for the pain to go away…and they all just…left. All they ever did was say those words, and then they were gone."
Mrs. Brisby's covered her mouth with her paws, hiding the gape of horror and outrage, the emotions flooding her heart with a rush of righteous anger. She looked to Zoe, who glared at the ground in complete and utter contempt, confirming his words to be true.
The tears started to pour from his eyes, running down the grooves of his scales. His chest ached horribly, the Tight Emptiness at the strongest it had ever been before.
"What…what did I do wrong?" he asked, voice crippled with pure desperation. "I never met them before. I never hurt anyone. I didn't steal anything! I didn't do anything wrong!" With that enraged cry, he slammed his paws on the earth with dangerous force, shaking the den and causing dirt to rain down from the ceiling; Mrs. Brisby would've fallen over had Zoe not caught her.
But she wasn't paying attention to herself anymore; she didn't see the wolf-sized dragon before her.
All she could see was a heartbroken child, abandoned and alone, forsaken by the world.
"I…I didn't…I didn't mean to make them mad…I…" He rested his head back on the ground, shifting it to turn away from the two mortals before him, closing his eyes. "I-I don't know what I did wrong…"
There was a moment of dead silence, broken only by the rain.
Then Spyro felt another touch of warmth against his head, this time against his right eye-ridge.
He opened his tired, tear-filled eye just enough to see Mrs. Brisby crouched next to his head, just in front of his eye. Her expression was one of pain, but in a way that was for herself; she gazed upon him with truly sympathetic eyes. She gently stroked his eye-ridge with her left hand; such a small, simple touch...yet from it alone, the Tight Emptiness began to fade just a little bit.
"You didn't do anything wrong." The mouse assured him, her voice stronger than one would expect from such a small, timid creature. "You did so much for them, and they still treated you horribly. That is their fault, not yours." She reached down and carefully wiped a large tear from his eye with the edge of her cloak, soaking the cloth. "They refused to see you for who you truly are, and made a truly horrible choice…but you're safe now: you're home, with us, away from all who would hurt you."
Spyro blinked, looking up at the mouse in front of him with wide, outright-hopeful eyes. "With…with you?"
Mrs. Brisby nodded. "Yes. Here, at the Stone, with me, Zoe, and everyone else…you saved my life today." she told him, pulling away just enough to meet his surprised gaze with her own loving one, tears of happiness gathering in her eyes. "Not just mine, but my son's as well, and for that I don't think I can ever repay such a wonderful kindness to me…but if you stay, I can certainly try."
That was it for Zoe.
Any and all further doubt regarding the impossible idea had been completely and utterly erased when those words left the mouse's mouth.
She watched without saying a word as the dragon curled in on himself and wept, leaning his head into the warm embrace of Johnathan's widow. Not just the bestial groans of pain that she had heard him give off for the past ten years, but full-on weeping, like a normal child. It was a quiet crying; soft gasps that sounded more like reptilian growling at times, but the tears were genuine: the hate, pain, sorrow and wrong he had suffered for the past ten years finally bubbling forth and out of his system in the form of large, hot tears. And through it all, Mrs. Brisby held him the best she could, resting herself against the dragon's head as she continued to stroke him softly, humming a gentle tune to the lost child; just as she had done to her own that day not so long ago.
It was a stupid idea.
The stupidest idea ever conceived in the long, long history of stupid ideas; outright impossible, what it was suggesting.
But how impossible could it be, when she was witnessing it come into fruition before her very eyes?
She sat down in the corner of the den, content to simply let these two have their moment as she began to work out the future in her mind. It was going to be tricky. A lot of factors at play that could either make or break this whole plan, especially from outside sources.
One thing was for sure: King Oberon and the Council could NOT learn of this. The issue of a family of Rodentkin this deep into Feywild's borders was no longer the problem: being the family of the Johnathan Brisby would be enough to get even the most stubborn of the rodent-haters off their backs, as none would object King Oberon's word. But what she would be attempting to do no amount of 'friendship benefits' would save Mrs. Brisby and her children from the wrath of Fae Kind, whether Oberon ordered it or not.
So many ways this could all go wrong.
But as Spyro's quiet sobs continued to reverberate against the cavern walls, and the gentle, heartfelt song of a mother filled the air around them, she realized that all the what-ifs and potential wrongs could wait for the days to come.
For now, all she needed to do was sit back and rest, content knowing that her dragon had, after ten long, painful years, finally found his way home.