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The Dragon In The Dungeon: Echoes Of Sin

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Chapter One

"So what did you think of this Alia Silverrain?" Queen Kathlyn of Illandra posed the question to the black-plumaged gryphon who had been her companion for so long.

"I think she has an intriguing name," Krek replied. He was settled upon his haunches and seemed to pay more attention to the feathers of his right wing than he did the Queen and her questions.

"I'm sure you do," The Queen muttered as she settled upon the oversized bed. It was layered with colorful blankets and speckled with a few black feathers. As she got comfortable, Kathlyn hiked up her frilly blue skirt just a little bit. She gazed around the room at the top of the tower. Aside from the bed the room was adorned mostly with shelves and a variety of potted flowers and small trees. The room was the gryphon's residence when staying at the castle, just below the rooftop garden where the Queen went to relax. "I take it you think she..."

"Has the blood?" The gryphon finished her sentence, lifting his head as he folded his wing against his back. "Would be a waste of a lovely moniker if she didn't."

The Queen gave a sigh, shifting herself to lean up against the headboard. The ebony wood was carved into images of fancifully stylized gryphons in flight. For a little while, she gave her old friend a hard look, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. "Full of mysteries, aren't you."

"Life is nothing without a good mystery to solve, my dear." The gryphon extended his left wing, and began to preen it just as he had its twin. "And I've already divulged so many of mine to you."

The Queen folded her arms beneath her breasts, smirking a little at the gryphon. "I could order you to tell me the rest of them."

"You could," the gryphon said, dipping his head in a nod. "And I could climb right back up those stairs, take to my wings and never return." He clacked his beak, grinning.

"I could order my guards to put arrows in you," the Queen replied, her smirk widening.

"We both know I'm far too agile for any of your bumbling goons to ever hit with an arrow." He pulled a loose feather free, then smiled and tilted his head like a crow sizing up a shiny object. "Just as we both know you will always be my friend, yet never will be you be my Queen."

The Queen laughed to herself. "And that is precisely why I value your friendship, and why I trust you. You've no need for toadying, and no designs on power. You take my coin, yes, but I suspect you value my friendship more."

"Nonsense," the gryphon said, tossing his head and flaring his silver-edged crown feathers. "Friendship is a distant second behind coin. Third, in fact, if you count food and lodging."

"Be that as it may," the Queen said, laughing again. "I trust you precisely because you truly are my friend. Something I fear I cannot say for most of those who claim to support me and my throne."

The gryphon smiled at her. She was right about that. If there was one thing Krek would never do, it was betray Kathlyn. She held no power over him. She did not rule him. He was by no means an Illandran, and the gryphon would sooner die before he'd press his beak to the ground in servitude to any single ruler. Yet never once had Kathlyn even suggested such a thing. The gryphon respected her all the more for it and as such he was more than happy to serve her as her friend. Kathlyn would always be one of the gryphon's two greatest friends in all the wide world, and to both of them he would always be loyal.

"I think she makes an excellent Dragon's Warden," the gryphon said, then flared both his wings as if he suddenly felt they were in dire need of inspection by an awed set of eyes.

The Queen did not rise to the bait. Instead she made a show of examining her own carefully cut nails. She knew how to play the gryphon's games. "What are you babbling about?"

"Alia Silverrain," the gryphon said, folding his wings with a huff. "You asked me what I thought of her."

"Ah, so you've finally come around to the question at hand," the Queen said, ignoring his huff. "I half thought I'd have to put a leash on you and lead you back to the topic."

"You'd enjoy that far too much," replied The Black Bird, ruffling up all his feathers. "But, I think your guard was correct when he recommended she keep the job. I rather doubt she could be meek even in her sleep, let alone while on the job. She's bold, inquisitive, and far too incisive for her own good. Or at least, for my own good. Best I can tell, she's quite loyal to those she cares for. I suspect she's also quite determined to support them."

"How determined?"

The gryphon lifted his gaze to meet the Queen's. For once, the smugness melted from his voice, replaced by a harder, warning tone. "Determined enough that if you decide not to set her dragon free, I suspect she will take matters into her own hands."

The Queen pursed her lips, murmuring to herself in concern. She drummed her fingers against the thick green and blue checkerboard blanket that lay spread over part of the gryphon's bed. "That would be highly unfortunate, considering what law would require I do."

"As if you don't make the laws yourself."

"A responsible monarch does not twist and bend the laws of her realm to suit her own needs, Krek."

"Sometimes that is what the realm needs," the gryphon said, his voice silken and assured. "Is that not what this journey of yours is all about?"

The Queen dragged a hand over her face, sighing. She suddenly felt quite weary as though she'd been carrying the castle itself upon her back. "This journey is about changing the realm itself, Black Bird. For the better."

"You think it's possible, then?" The gryphon slowly padded towards the Queen. "Peaceful alliance with newly liberated and independent provinces?"

"You already know my thoughts on that, Krek." The Queen reached out and gently stroked the black feathers of the gryphon's cheek.

"I do." The gryphon nuzzled her hand, grinning. "But I prefer to hear you speak them with confidence, not trepidation."

"And I wish I had more confidence to offer you right now, old friend." The Queen patted Krek's head, then folded her hands in her lap. "Yes, Krek. I think it is possible. It will certainly not be easy, and it will require a great deal of sacrifice on our part. But I truly believe it is possible."

"We both know you believe it's more than possible." The gryphon tilted his head, and lay his beak upon the bed like a cat demanding attention. "What was it you called it the other day?"

"Necessary." The Queen took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She smoothed down the ruffles of her dress and then returned to stroking Krek's head. "I said I believed it was necessary."

"Yes, that's the word," the gryphon purred, nuzzling her hand. "Because Illandra is..."

The Queen sighed a second time, and closed her eyes. For a moment, she simply savored the soft, warm feel of the gryphon's fine, silken feathers beneath her fingers. Kathlyn knew what Krek was trying to do. Trying to lift her mood, bolster her confidence by getting her to speak her thoughts the way she had the last time this conversation came up. He already knew the answers but damn his skill at getting her to spit them right back out as though this was not at least the third time they'd had this discussion in the last week.

"Illandra is on the precipice of ruin." The fire began to rise in the Queen's voice as it always did when she spoke of her beloved homeland's fate. "The foundation upon which our empire has been built is beginning to crack. We are built upon old walls, and our mortar is crumbling. If we continue down this path, the collapse will be catastrophic. All empires fall eventually, Krek, and the signs are all there.

"Our army is overstretched." Kathlyn waved her hand in a sweeping gesture as if indicating a vast sprawl of land. "We occupy far too much land in far too many provinces. If our homeland were ever attacked I fear we'd never have the time to pull in enough troops to properly defend ourselves. And if we did, our provinces would be left naked and undefended in turn."

Queen Kathlyn balled her hand up into a fist. "Our economy continues to slide as our allies find themselves other trading partners, and our cities are burdened by more refugees then we could ever handle." The Queen grit her teeth, and smacked her hand against the soft blankets of the bed. "And it is our own fault, Krek."

Krek did not reply. Kathlyn reached out and idly stroked his feathers again as the gryphon waited for her to continue. "These are our sins we are reaping. We forced these people from their homes. All they want is work, and shelter for their family. They stretch our resources nearly to the breaking point and yet we are the ones who have pushed them to this. We pushed them from their homes and now half our cities won't even give them a reasonable job. If our people would simply hire the Aran'alians at a decent wage they'd have the coin to pay some taxes and help refill our coffers. Instead of helping them become a valuable part of Illandra, far too many of our citizens persist in marginalizing them. The pettiness of our own people causes the Aran'alians to become another part of the plague that has sickened our country for generations. To the outward eye, Illandra is as strong, healthy, and flush with coin as ever. But I can see the sickness."

The Queen's gaze grew distant for a moment. "Illandra is dying of self-inflicted wounds. Sick with a plague of greed we have brought upon ourselves. Illandra is weak, and the cracks in her armor are growing by the day. If I cannot heal my home, it is only a matter of time before Illandra will die. Whether it crumbles first from within, or our enemies finally invade when they sense our weakness, it will be the end of Illandra. Unless..."

The Queen trailed off, and at last Krek was ready to step in for her. "Unless you can make peace with your ancestor's conquests. Give them the freedom they desire and gain an alliance in return. Quell these attempted rebellions and in so doing integrate an entire refugee population into a healthy part of a healthy city. Working, living, paying their dues, helping your city rather then draining it dry." The gryphon smirked at her, and sat up upon his haunches again, flaring his wings. "Well that all sounds quite easy. Why didn't you think of that earlier?"

The Queen shot the gryphon a dirty look, then giggled to herself. "I should kick you in the stones for that one."

"You should, yes," Krek said, smirking at her. "But I'll be damned if I'll present them for you."

The Queen smiled to herself. She rose up from the bed, and walked to one of the windows cut through the thick granite stone blocks that made up the tower. Shafts of golden sunlight poured through the leaded panes of the window, splashing against the dark green leaves of the young fruit trees clustered nearby. She took one of the leaves in her hand, gently brushing a finger across the delicate veining. After a moment, she glanced back at Krek who remained by the bed.

"What do you think, Krek?"

"I agree. It is possible." The gryphon spread a wing, gesturing with it towards the unseen sky, far above the roof of the tower. "Everyone wants to fly free. Humans may not have wings, but they value their freedom just as much as gryphons. These rebellions, these attacks and hidden wars. They do not come about merely because of hatred. Hatred has become a part of it, thanks to what Illandra has done to these people. But they fight because they wish for freedom. They wish to rule themselves. Give them the chance to do just that, and I believe they will accept your agreement." He paused a moment, watching Kathlyn closely. She toyed with a fruit blossom before Krek went on. "But the alliance must be even."

"Hmm?" Kathlyn looked back at him again, unsure. "What do you mean?"

"I mean if you propose that in case of invasion into Illandra, they send troops to assist you, you must also propose the same to them. These people understand what it is like to be conquered. To be occupied. If you mean to withdraw and let them rule themselves, you cannot expect them to simply...blindly ally themselves with their conquerors. You must swear to them that if they are ever invaded again, Illandra will come to their aid. If you wish them to become your ally, you must be theirs, first."

The Queen chuckled to herself, nodding. "Wise words, my friend. And I have already thought of that. There are many benefits our countries could gain from open trade with each other. And with a mutual defense clause, we could each station our armies inside our own borders. We'd no longer be overstretched and yet we would still have protection in case of war."

"Quite right," the gryphon said, his voice growing oddly distant.

Kathlyn turned around to face the gryphon, furrowing her brow. "What's the matter, Krek?"

"I feel you should postpone your journey."

"Did you not just get through telling me you feel it's as necessary as I do?" Kathlyn wrung her hands in frustration. The gryphon was damn near unreadable sometimes. "Are you having second thoughts so soon?"

"It is not that," the gryphon hissed, narrowing his green eyes.

Kathlyn slowly walked over and ran her hands through the soft fur and feathers across the gryphon's neck. "What it is, my dear? Tell me what is on your mind."

"I fear they shall try to kill you," the gryphon spat out bluntly.

"I am a Queen, Krek," Kathlyn said softly. "Someone is always trying to kill me."

"This is different," the gryphon replied. All his usual smugness was now replaced with worry. "You are going to be vulnerable. You will be far from home, in a small convoy..."

"With dozens of elite guards," Kathlyn said, trying to assure him. "And an itinerary known only to my inner circle, and to you."

"You have appointments with the civilian Aran'alian leadership." The gryphon snorted. "In Aran'alia. You believe that all of them can be trusted? Nine of the ten may truly wish peace with you. But what good does that do you if the tenth member slips Death In The Night information on where best to strike you?"

"It is a risk I am going to have to take, old friend. I shall have to trust that if worst comes to worst my men can handle it. I have appointments to keep, peace talks to conduct. If I pull out of them now, how is that going to look?"

"How is it going to look to your son if his mother is murdered by rebel agents?"

The Queen froze. That would be disastrous. She and her son did not always see eye to eye, yet she knew the young man would be burdened by her loss. Worse, she feared it would spur him to take stiffer action against Aran'alians rather then leniency. Instead of peace, there would likely be open war as her son sought to stamp out all resistance at any cost. Whatever that cost may be, Kathlyn did not think Illandra could bear it.

Yet she knew she could not turn to another path now. "I am the only one who can do this, Krek. If I refuse to walk the right path simply because I fear where it may lead me, I would not be fit to rule this country one day longer."

"So be it, Your Majesty," Krek said, bowing his head.

Kathlyn gave him an odd look. "You never call me that."

"Yet it seemed so fitting, when you spoke as only a true Queen could."

"I shall take that as a compliment then." The Queen smiled, rubbing one of the gryphon's ears.

"As you should," the gryphon said. "For that is how I intended it." Krek went quiet a moment, looking away. Fear flashed behind his green eyes, unbidden and unwanted, yet there was a moment in which Krek could not hide it. "Kathlyn, I..." Krek lifted his paw, and gently pressed it to the Queen's hand as she stroked his ear. "I believe in you, and I believe in your vision for a better Illandra, but I do not want your idealism to the be the death of you. Postpone your trip."

Kathlyn saw the pain and worry in the gryphon's eyes. He so rarely displayed such things even to her. He was truly frightened for her. Slowly, Kathlyn wrapped her arms around the gryphon's neck, and gently hugged his head against her body. "We both know I cannot do that, Krek. Besides, what good would postponing do, if they wish to strike at me? All that would accomplish would be to give them more time to shore up their plans. And unless you know something you haven't told me this is just a fear, not a fact. As far as we know, our secrets are safe. And if they are not, we shall have to trust my security apparatus to protect me. This is not the first time attempts have been made upon my life, after all."

"If they come for you," Krek whispered against her chest. "I fear they will have a dragon."

The Queen stiffened. "A dragon? You mean..."

"She is their greatest weapon," Krek said simply. "If they learn of your location, if they discover a place to strike at you while you are vulnerable, it will not simply be with men. It will not be an assassin, sneaking into your carriage, nor an army battering down your guards..."

"Krek, you're just assuming..."

"She has fought for this unseen army, Kathlyn," Krek said, pulling his head back to glare at her. "Since long before Aran'alia fell. She may even lead them. If there was to be an attempt on your life outside the reach of Illandra, why trust it to anyone else? Your death would be the greatest victory her shadow army ever achieved. And do not forget, Kathlyn." The gryphon snarled, angrily thumping his paw against the floor. "You have her mate locked away in your dungeon. I assure you, Kathlyn, dragons do not forget these things."

Kathlyn stepped away from the gryphon with a heavy sigh. Her shoulders slumped. "I cannot imagine what it must be like to live so long a time, and carry so great a pain for so many years. But I did not tell her mate to attack the King, nor did I make the choice to put him in the dungeon." Kathlyn gave a bitter sigh. "If anything, I may find myself choosing to set him free some day."

Krek followed her, pushing himself up against her side as if offering support. "What you must realize, Kathlyn, is that she does not know you. She does not care to know you. To her, you are not Queen Kathlyn. To her, you simply are Illandra. Illandra murdered her family when she was young. Illandra drove her from the only home she ever knew, and Illandra conquered the only land she knew where humans called dragons friend. Illandra stole her love from her. Illandra is everything she has ever hated, and you, Kathlyn, are Illandra."

Kathlyn let out a long sigh, slumping down till she was leaned up against the gryphon. He lowered himself onto his belly, and let Kathlyn sprawl out against him. She needed the comfort, and the gryphon was happy to provide it. He opened a wing, using it to gently embrace her as though she were some fledgling frightened of the vast world outside the only home they'd ever known. Krek purred softly as if to soothe her, curling his wing around her to wrap her in warmth and comfort.

For a while, Kathlyn simply leaned against the gryphon. In that time she was not a monarch, and he was not a royal agent wreathed in mysteries and shrouded in secrecies. They were merely friends, as they had been many years ago. And as friends, they simply sat together, sharing comfort at a time of great uncertainty. Kathlyn let her fingers wander, and gently stroked the gryphon's foreleg. She let her face rest against his furred body.

"I must make this journey," Kathlyn finally said, her voice soft.

"I know." Krek's voice trembled.

"If the worst comes, and this dragon comes for me, we shall have to hope she will listen to reason." Kathlyn idly stroked the silver under-feathers at the back edge of Krek's wings.

"She is a dragon," Krek said, tossing his head. Krek shifted himself a little to curl a foreleg around her body, and hug her protectively against his chest.

"Then I shall have to hope my royal guards have it in them to slay a dragon," Kathlyn said, her voice distant. Kathlyn rubbed the fur on the back of Krek's black paw. Then with a little smirk, she added, "With your assistance of course."

Krek smiled at her. "I am glad to hear you think I am great enough to slay a dragon. And I assure you, I would give my last breath in defense of your life." Then he sighed a little, ruffling up his feathers. "Yet I fear this is one instance where I am not as great as I should like you to believe. That is a battle I am likely to lose though I would gladly fight it just the same."

Kathlyn pursed her lips. She did not want Krek to die, defending her or otherwise. In truth, Kathlyn did not even want this dragon to die, but if it came down to it..."This is bigger than her," Kathlyn mused to herself.

Then she looked up at Krek. "This is bigger than revenge, or winning some war. This is bigger than you and I. This is bigger than my ambitions, Krek. I must go on this journey because it is the only chance I have to save Illandra. I am willing to risk my very life because this is so much larger than I. If I survive and succeed, this will change the world for the better."

"Yes," Krek said, flaring his crown feathers. "It will. Very well, then. In the morning I must leave for a time." He lifted a paw and held it towards her as if cautioning her. "Please, Kathlyn, if I do not return soon, do not leave without me."

"I have a deadline to keep, Krek. Besides, you will know where to find me. I suspect I will have to keep you busy ferrying messages back to the castle for those few people I can actually trust."

Krek grumbled under his breath. "Oh, sure, make the gryphon do all the work."

Kathlyn gently stroked the soft fur of his foreleg. "In truth, Krek, you are the only one I can trust. I dare not trust any missives so important to a messenger hawk who might deliver it to the wrong hands."

"Very well," Krek said, nodding. "Whether you leave before my return or not, I wish you to have my armor prepared and waiting for me." He clacked his beak, and them smirked a little. "If I am to risk being torn apart by a dragon, I may as well make her work for it."

"I shall see to it long before I leave." Kathlyn smiled a little more, ruffling the fur upon the gryphon's shoulder. She wished they had more time to simply chat as friends. Sometimes it was ever so hard just to get her guards to leave her be for a little while. "Where is it you're going, anyway?"

The gryphon was quiet for a little while. Finally, he looked back at her, his green eyes burning. "To see an old friend."

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Chapter Two

Alia Silverrain did not pause in her descent down the long, narrow stone staircase. It seemed a little strange to her to think that it wasn't all that long ago that she made her first descent down that stairway, flanked by heavily armed guards. Thinking back, Alia found herself laughing at the fear that had clutched her heart so tightly at the very idea of meeting a dragon. Back then she'd actually been afraid the creature might harm her.

How wrong she'd been.

So much had changed since then. Even the stairwell itself seemed different these days. The first time she'd descended it, it seemed to take ages to reach the bottom. Now Alia was so familiar with the long, winding path and its two iron gates that the whole place seemed to pass by in a moment. Her legs no longer burned and complained by the end of each descent, either. And instead of fear for what awaited her at the bottom, there was only joyous excitement.

Her dragon awaited her.

After meeting with the Queen, Alia made only one stop before returning to Valyrym. She had first visited her own quarters to change from her highly formal, and slightly uncomfortable clothing into something more causal. Given that she may spend the night in the dungeon, Alia wanted to wear the sort of clothing she wouldn't mind going to bed in. Alia exchanged the dark green and highly official looking blouse for something softer, looser, and a bit more low cut. The blouse was a pale sky blue color. Blue and green had always been among Alia's favorite colors though black and gold were now quite high on that list as well. The blouse she pulled on was a simple thing, no laces or buttons or frills, just soft, sky blue fabric. Her new breeches were similarly suited more for comfort than looks. They were a bit loose-fitting and a pretty silvery color that reminded Alia of the way Valyrym described the rain in her homeland. Upon her feet she simply wore her favorite cloth sandals.

Alia carried a small wooden crate as she made her way to the bottom of the stairwell. Inside the crate a half dozen golden spotted apples were piled atop each other. Before Alia left the rooftop garden, she asked the Queen permission to take some of the apples down to Valyrym. Alia hadn't explained the full significance of the fruit, but she did make it clear it would be a very sentimental gift for the dragon. The Queen was happy to oblige. The black-feathered gryphon had huffed and grumbled that Alia should have been asking his permission instead. After all, he claimed the apples were his. Alia took that opportunity to seize one of the silvery plumes that adorned his head and yank it free before he could stop her. Now that silver souvenir rested in the crate with the apples and the black feather she'd previously taken.

At the bottom of the stairs, Alia glanced through the small side door with the chipped blue paint into the office she was still trying to organize. With the help of her crew of assistants she'd made some progress. Papers that had been spread haphazardly across the floor were now neatly stacked, if not exactly in any particular order. A decrepit set of shelves that had been falling apart was now replaced with a brand new bookshelf of sturdy walnut. She'd re-organized some of the books that had been sprawled around the room and placed them in rough order on the shelf. Still, a lot of work left to do. With a smirk, she thought perhaps she should make that Thomas' main job.

As Alia entered Valyrym's dungeon she cast a glance over the ornately carved double doors that marked the entrance to the dragon's prison. The doors were edged in swords and spears with ivy and roses twined around them. Decoratively designed dragons skulls topped the doors, and sprawled across them was an image of a spiny, stylized dragon wrapped in chains. There was a time Alia found the carvings beautiful. Later she found them disturbing. Now they just amused her. As if any dragon had claws as long as swords or an entire head wreathed in flames.

Alia passed through the doors and into Valyrym's prison. She glanced around, noticing a few more torches than usual. Valyrym must have visitors. Alia's eyes had already adjusted to torch-lit gloom thanks to the trip down the stairs, but the added torches were still a benefit. Alia walked across the massive underground chamber, its high ceiling supported by vaunted arches atop immense, fluted marble columns. Perhaps it was about time to make the extra sources of light permanent. After all, the Queen was going to visit. The least she could do was make sure the Queen got a full view of just how battered Valyrym's body was.

Alia found Valyrym sprawled out upon one of his ledges. Late afternoon sunlight dappled his dark scales with golden patches as they shone down through a few air vents. His location was not surprising, Val often lay out upon the ledges that lined one wall of his prison home. What was surprising however, was that Vatch was settled against the dragon, staring intently at a book Valyrym was reading from. Perhaps even more surprising to Alia was that Enric was there as well, leaning against the wall. The guard was not even in his armor. He wore a simple long-sleeved tunic the color of red wine, with golden edging along the sleeves, and a well worn pair of brown breeches sporting several slightly off-color patches.

Alia came to a stop before anyone noticed her arrival. She'd never actually seen Enric outside of his armor before, and she'd certainly never seen him visiting the dragon as a friend. It was a heart-warming sight, really. She feared as soon as Val realized she'd spotted them all lounging around together, he'd tell Enric to get stuffed and act as if he'd never wanted the man's company. She crept a little closer, trying to hear what Valyrym was saying.

"Close, Vatch," the dragon said, tapping a page on what looked like a rather large book. Perhaps even an oversized children's book. "The word is tree, not three."

"Is hard remember so many letters," Vatch said, glancing up at the dragon.

Valyrym rumbled. "That's nothing. You think it's hard learning to read in a second language? Try learning to read in a fourth."

Alia nearly dropped her crate of apples. Valyrym was teaching Vatch to read.

"And that word is climb. She climbs the tree."

"Climb?" Vatch scrunched his muzzle. "Is not with k?"

"No, climb is not spelled with a k."

"But is make that sound."

Valyrym chuckled, flicking his tail. His spines clattered against the stone floor. "Yes, I know it does. I'm not the one who created their damn alphabet, though." Valyrym turned his attention to Enric, glaring at him. "Why did you make it so damn confusing?"

"What?" Enric straightened up, then ran a hand over his short cropped red hair, laughing sheepishly. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because it's your alphabet." The dragon snorted.

Vatch nodded, tapping the book with a finger. "Yes! Is you alkabet!"

"Alphabet, you mean," Enric said, gently correcting the Urd'thin. "Hell, I dunno why it's confusing. I didn't make it." Enric swallowed hard as the other two just glared at him as though he were personally responsible for each and every confusing rule related to the common human tongue. Then he spotted a way to take the attention off himself. "Oh, look! It's Alia! Hi Alia!"

"What?!" Valyrym jerked his head up. He pulled the book away from Vatch, and hurled it across his chamber. "Stupid books! I hate reading anyway. This was your dumb idea, Enric, you do the teaching!"

Alia burst out laughing as Valyrym did all he could to deflect suspicion away from the increasingly sizable soft spot in his heart. Vatch jumped to his feet, yelping. "Hey!" He cried out as he ran after the book. "Is my book! Fat dragon better not damage!"

"...Sorry," Valyrym said with a little chuckle. He rose to all fours, and stretched himself out, splaying his front paws out in front of himself. "It was time for a break anyway."

Alia grinned as she watched the dragon stretch. "I half expected you to flash your balls at me and act as though you didn't know I was there."

"I would have, if Enric hadn't already ruined the surprise," Valyrym said, settling onto his haunches. "Besides, you'd enjoy that too much." He licked his nose. "I did not expect you to be back so soon."

"Soon? It's been hours, Val. Hell, it's been half the day."

"Oh?" Valyrym glanced up at one of the skylights. "So it has."

"I guess you were just having too much fun teaching Vatch to read." Alia smirked at him, standing far enough away to keep Val from easily seeing what was inside the crate.

Valyrym growled, flared his spines and snorted. "I was only doing him a small service because Enric suggested he learn to read as part of his new job."

"Actually," Enric piped up, still leaning against the wall. "Vatch suggested it himself, and Valyrym here quickly pointed out that as he'd taught a youngling to read before, he seemed the best qualified for such a job."

Valyrym's head shot around in an instant. He glared at Enric, hissing through his sharp teeth. "Snitch."

"Aww, Valyrym," Alia cooed. "I think that's very sweet of you!"

"Which is precisely why I did not wish you to know I was doing it." He glanced at Alia a moment, then snorted at Enric. "Who invited you, anyway?"

Enric only grinned at the dragon, folding his arms over his broad chest. "I seem to recall you asking me to teach you that card game I mentioned, when I had time."

"And I seem to recall liking you better when you knew when to keep your mouth shut."

"Five...four...three..." Alia giggled as she counted down.

Valyrym gave her an odd look, lifting his eye ridges. "What are you on about?"

"Just counting the moments till you tell someone to kiss your stones."

"Oh, get mounted," the dragon said with a snarl. "What's in your damn crate, anyway?"

"Nothing for grumpy dragons," Alia said, smirking.

"We shall see about that," Valyrym said, rising to all fours and slinking off the ledge. "Bring me that crate, Alia."

Alia took a few steps back, grinning. "Only if you stop acting like a brat, and apologize to Vatch for throwing his book."

"I already said I was sorry," the dragon murmured, glancing to the Urd'thin. Vatch had chased his book down and was busy dusting off its cover. "Oh, very well. I'm sorry I threw your book, Vatch."

Vatch looked up at the dragon. "Is okay. Is no damage. Is lucky, or you must buy Vatch new book!"

Valyrym growled under his breath. "Yes, I'm sure the value of Mary Climbs The Tree has plummeted greatly after being hurled across the chamber."

"Is not point," Vatch said, hugging the book to himself. "Is mine. I buy. With money!"

Valyrym watched him a moment, and then gave a little sigh. Guilt tugged at his heart, and he let his spines droop against his head. Must have been the first thing the little runt actually bought. The first time he'd actually had hard-earned coin to purchase anything with. "Yes, alright. I understand. In that case, I really am sorry I threw it. If it is damaged, Alia will buy you a new one. Or you can have one of my books."

Vatch smiled a bit as he walked over, perking his oversized ears. "No, is just dirty now, not damage. Dirt come off."

Alia smiled as Vatch approached. He was wearing one of his new outfits, and she had to admit, even an Urd'thin looked sharp in tailor made clothing. He wore a black tunic with several pockets in the front, as Paulson had learned Urd'thin loved to carry things around. Silvery buttons ran up the front of it in a line, and silver threading provided highlights along the edges of his sleeves, as well as the pockets. Golden Warden's Office emblems marked each shoulder. His pants matched the shirt, black with silver buttons and silver thread down the seams of each leg. They were of course cut special for Vatch to fit both his oddly jointed legs, and his tail. He even had a brand new pair of boots cobbled just for him, a soft gray leather that went well with just about any color clothing.

"Your clothes look lovely, Vatch," Alia said with a smile.

"Thank you," Vatch said, beaming. "What in crate?"

"Apples!" Alia said happily, answering the question for Vatch that she'd ignored from Valyrym. Much to the dragon's irritation. "Special apples, actually."

"Special..." Valyrym tilted his head, slowly flaring out his spines in interest. "...Apples?"

"They are exactly what you think they are, Valyrym," Alia said with a smile, walking over to her favorite dragon. "Or at least as close as you can get without a lot of silver rain to water them with."

Alia set the crate down, pulled an apple out of it, and held it out to the dragon. Valyrym just stared at it a moment. Alia could almost see the golden spots reflecting memories in the dragon's wet and equally golden eyes. Ever so gently, Valyrym parted his jaws and took the apple from Alia's hand with his teeth. He held the fruit a moment, letting the juices tease his tongue and the scent fill his nostrils. Then he tossed his head back and crunched the apple up in a few bites, giving a groan of delight.

"Oh," he crooned. "That is delightful." He swallowed, and then glared at Alia playfully. "Not as good as back home, though."

"No," Alia said, stroking the pebbly scales of the dragon's cheek. "I'm sure they're not. But they're the best I could do for you, so I hope you like them. I thought you'd appreciate the sentimental value, if nothing else."

"More then you can imagine, I suspect," Valyrym said, glancing away as his voice swiftly grew hoarse.

"I suppose that's the sort of sentimental value no one's going to want to explain to me, eh?" Enric grinned as he climbed down off the ledge and walked over to join the others.

"You'd suspect right," Alia giggled, scooping up an apple from the basket. "Unless Valyrym has an unexpected change of heart," she added, tossing the apple to Enric.

Enric caught it and looked it over, grinning. "Oh! I've seen apples like this a time or two before."

"Probably when you were telling the Queen what a wonderful job I've been doing," Alia said, smirking as she handed Vatch one of the apples, then plucked one out for herself. "There, that's one for each of us. The rest are for Valyrym."

"Dunno what you're talking about," Enric muttered, taking a bite of the apple before he gave a murmur of approval.

Alia patted him on the shoulder, grinning. "Thanks for recommending my permanent instatement, though. I appreciate that, and so does my dragon."

Valyrym bared his fangs. "I am not your dragon. You do not own me, Warden."

Alia stuffed an apple into his maw, giggling. "No one said you could speak, Dragon."

Valyrym chewed up the apple, grinning at Alia a little bit. Then he hissed at Enric. "What's all this about permanent instatement?"

Enric gave a little sigh. "I miss the days when state secrets remained secret."

"Enric here," Alia said. She took a bite out of her apple, and waved it at the off duty guard. "Seems to be a bit higher ranking than he lets on. The Queen had him keeping tabs on me, to make sure I was fit to do the job. As it turns out, I've done it so well he recommended the job remain mine for as long as I want it."

"A wise recommendation," the dragon said with a little growl. "Should you ever decide to assign me a new warden, I shall send them back to you in pieces." He snorted, flaring all his spines. "Small pieces."

"Hush now," Alia said, swatting the dragon on the nose. He yelped and pulled his head back, and Alia shook her finger at him. "Be nice to Enric, or I'm going to have your apples in a crate."

Valyrym snapped his jaws at her. "They wouldn't fit."

"And that," Enric said, laughing and gesturing with his own half eaten apple. "Is exactly why I wanted to ensure this job was Alia's as long as she wanted it."

"Because I have big testicles?" Valyrym smirked, flicking his tail. "Or because she threatens them?"

Enric grinned. "Because of the way she treats you. Because of the way she engages you. Because she built you that damn tub!" Enric took another bite of his apple, mulling over his words while he savored the sweet taste. "Because Alia saw something in you that no one else here had ever seen, and she found a way to make everyone else see it as well."

"Because she treats me like a person," Valyrym said softly, glancing away. For a moment, there was no sarcasm or smugness in his voice. Just sheer honesty. In one hundred and forty one years, Alia was the first one to truly treat him like a person from the first day he met her.

"Exactly," Enric said, smiling a little. "But I like my way of putting it better."

"Your way had too many damn words."

Enric smiled, finishing off his apple. He looked around for somewhere to deposit the core, and the caught sight of Vatch with a dazed look on his face. He had set his book down and was now staring at his half eaten apple as if in awe of the thing. His eyes were wide and his ears perked all the way up while his muzzle hung half way open. The expression made Enric laugh, and when Alia and Valyrym caught sight they laughed as well.

The laughter seemed to draw Vatch out of his near trance. He looked at them, tilting his head. He perked one ear and flattened the other back as if confused. "Why look at Vatch?"

"Why Vatch look at apple?" Alia asked, giggling. She rather enjoyed the way Vatch talked, and as he knew she wasn't teasing him maliciously, she imitated him now and then.

"Is best apple ever!" Vatch said as if thought it should be completely obvious.

"Told you," Valyrym said, smirking. "But you heard Alia. The rest of them are mine."

Before anyone could reach for another apple, Valyrym dropped his head and took the crate in his jaws. He lifted it up and padded across the large underground chamber, heading for his sleeping quarters. He planned to stash the crate of apples away so no one else could steal them. If Alia asked nicely, he'd share them with her. But the other two could go get mounted for all he cared.

As he slunk off, Alia grinned. "I think he's going to go have himself a little cry over those apples."

A few moments later, a stuffed green dragon hurtled through the air towards Alia's head. Alia screeched and ducked at the last moment and the toy just barely missed her. She stood back up, fussed with her hair a moment, and then went to retrieve the stuffed dragon. As Alia picked it up, Enric glanced back and forth between Alia and the retreating dragon a few times.

"You know, for such an old thing, he's still got pretty good hearing." Enric folded his arms, grinning.

"Tell me about it," Alia said with a grin, hugging the green dragon against herself. "Poor Cuddly Korvarak is becoming Val's favorite projectile."

"Cuddly Korvarak?" Enric blinked, then waved his hand and shook his head. "Never mind. But aren't you the one who started the habit of throwing stuffed toys at him?"

"I am," Alia admitted, giggling to herself. "But when I bought him a bunch more, I didn't expect him to start strategically placing them around so that he'd always have one to hurl at me."

"Guess that's what you get for underestimating The General, huh?" Enric laughed and gave Vatch a grin.

"The General?" Alia perked a brow.

"He say we call him this now," Vatch said. "We say no."

"We say no," Enric repeated, laughing again. "You know, even now that he's opening up a little more, I can't tell how much of what he says is real and how much isn't."

"And he told you he was a general?"

"Something like that."

Alia shrugged. "More like the commander of a special unit." Alia wasn't going to say Death In The Night because it was possible Enric knew that term and it would probably have a different association for him now than it once did for Val. "When Aran'alia was still fighting for independence, Valyrym was the dragon who lead all the other dragons."

"I guess that counts as being a general," Enric said, rubbing his chin. "But I'm still not going to call him that."

"Good," Alia said. "The last thing he needs is anything else to feed his ego." Alia passed the stuffed green dragon over to Enric, who rather hesitantly took it from her. "Now tell me about Black Bird."

"What?" Enric blinked.

"Do you know him?" Alia folded her arms under her breasts. She glanced at Vatch who was not hesitating to eat even the core of his apple.

Enric shifted the stuffed toy in his grip a little bit. "Most of the guards know of him, yes."

"Not really what I asked, Enric."

"Not really information I'm allowed to give, Alia." A ghost of a smirk flickered across Enric's lips.

"Even though the Queen took me to see him?" She looked up as if indicating the rooftop garden with her eyes. "That's where I got those apples."

"Taking you to meet him doesn't mean she wants me to divulge all of his secrets."

"So you know all of his secrets?"

Enric grinned at her, tucking the green dragon under one arm. "Hey, you're pretty good at this game. I knew I recommended you for a reason. So this one's named Cuddly Korvarak, huh?"

"Don't try and deflect the question, Enric."

"Korvarak was one of his friends, right?"

"Mhm," Alia said, grinning. "Just like Krek is one of Kathlyn's friends."

Enric's cheek twitched, a barely perceptible reaction, but a reaction nonetheless. "So, tell me about this green dragon."

"Tell me about Krek." Alia tilted her head to the side.

"Who name Krek?" Vatch asked, licking his fingers to savor the last of the apple juice.

"You having fun, Alia?" Enric asked, laughing.

Alia grinned. "I am actually. You?"

"Yeah!" Enric smiled back at her, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "Haven't gotten to play this game in a while."

"Glad to hear it," Alia turned towards Vatch. "Krek is the name of the gryphon who's friends with the Queen."

"Queen is friend with gryphon?" Vatch's voice was filled with astonishment, and so were his eyes.

"Alia..." Enric started, but Alia cut him off.

"You had your chance to talk while I was still using his code name, Enric." Alia smirked at him. "Besides, don't be a worrier. The Queen said it was an open secret. I took that to mean I can tell Valyrym and my assistants about him. Let's be honest with ourselves, Enric. She wouldn't take me up there if she didn't want me to tell my dragon."

"Tell your dragon what?" Valyrym called out from well across the chamber.

Enric shook his head, yelling back to the old dragon. "You do have an impressive set of ears for such an old man."

"That's not the only impressive set I have," Valyrym said as he padded closer, grinning. Then when he spotted Enric clutching Cuddly Korvarak, he gave a snort of amusement. "I see Korvarak somehow found himself into the arms of yet another male. Shocking."

"Huh?" Enric held the toy out at arms length, looking it over.

"Korvarak liked males," Valyrym sneered, grinning.

"Oh..." Enric blinked, and then gave the dragon a grin nearly as wicked as Alia. "So you and Korvarak, huh?"

"What?" Valyrym pulled his head back, his neck curling into an S. "Certainly not!" He lashed out with a paw and swatted the toy right out of Enric's hands.

Alia burst out laughing, and the other two were not far behind her. Valyrym just scowled. The old dragon did what he could to glare at all three of them. His burning golden gaze fell on the Urd'thin last, and he hissed at Vatch. "Don't you even think about telling him I was looking at your sheath."

"Sheath?" Enric said. "Like for his sword?"

"His man-sword," Alia explained, grinning.

"Oh," Enric said, then laughed even harder. "And the dragon was looking at it?"

"No!" Valyrym said with a snarl.

"Yes," Alia and Vatch replied at the same time.

"I hate you all," Valyrym growled, flopping down onto his belly.

Everyone but Valyrym laughed for a while. Alia went and fetched the stuffed green dragon again, and this time passed it over to Vatch, who dusted it off as though it were his own favorite toy, and then cuddled it to his chest. "Is nice toy," Vatch said, grinning at Valyrym. "You should not throw."

"Oh..." Valyrym paused. Given what they currently laughing about, he decided against using the phrases "kiss my stones" and "get mounted." Instead he said, "Oh, go jump in the tub you little rat."

That didn't work out any better for Valyrym. "You just want watch Vatch get naked again."

"I'd choose my words carefully if I were you, Runt," Valyrym growled from his place on the floor. "When that tub is full there's more than enough water for something small like you to drown in."

"So," Enric said, when he'd stopped laughing. He gestured towards Cuddly Korvarak. "Is there a real story behind that, or just hilariously twisted rumors?"

"A little of each," Alia explained as she settled down next to the dragon's neck. Valyrym growled at her. Alia stroked the scales of his neck until his growl melted into a purr. When he didn't seem interested in stopping her from explaining, she went on. "Korvarak was one of Valyrym's best friends when he was free. Valyrym sort of, took him under his wing to use the obvious expression. Then in turn, Korvarak did that for another young dragon later in life. And the next time Valyrym saw the two of them, they seemed to have an...intense...friendship, shall we say."

"That about sums it up," Valyrym said, chuckling to himself. Then he snorted. "Enough of this foolishness. Tell me of your visit with the Queen."

"Actually, I was going to tell you about someone she introduced me to." Alia glanced up at Enric, who shrugged. "She calls him The Black Bird."

Valyrym snorted. "That is an idiotic moniker."

"It's actually rather fitting," Alia said, still stroking the dragon's neck. "Considering he's a black gryphon."

"A gryphon?" The dragon jerked his head up, and snorted. "If she is friends with a gryphon, she is even more of a fool than I could have imagined. Let me guess. He was flighty, evasive, overly verbose and so completely full of himself you wanted to beat him over the head with the nearest blunt object."

"Yup," Enric said, laughing. "That's The Black Bird alright."

"That is every gryphon in existence," Valyrym muttered.

"Just how many gryphons have you met, Valyrym?" Alia poked his neck for emphasis.

"Three," the dragon snorted. "And they all fit my previous description."

"Funnily enough, he has quite the opinion of dragons, too."

"Yes, I'll bet he does. And I'd also wager it was highly inaccurate and biased!"

"Well, let's see," Alia said. She held out a hand and ticked off adjectives on her fingers. "He said dragons were arrogant, foul tempered, and greedy." Alia grinned. "Actually, that sounds about right Valyrym."

"Oh, kiss my stones, Alia."

"He also said dragons were exceptionally quick to punch gryphons in the balls."

"Well, he's probably right about that," Valyrym said with a laugh. "From the sounds of I'd certainly be quick to hit him in the balls."

Alia took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She lay her hand atop Valyrym's neck. "He also said...that is mine."

Valyrym froze a moment. His words sounded more like an accusation than a question. "....Did he then."

Enric scratched at his chin. "What was his?"

Alia and Valyrym both ignored the man. "He did. And he said it before I knew he was there. I really expected to turn around and find Valar, all grown up."

The thought made Valyrym chuckle wistfully to himself. "I should be quite disappointed if he grew up foolish enough to find himself here."

Alia rubbed the dragon's scales again. "I plucked a couple feathers from him. You might have seen them in that crate."

"I thought I smelt a stench hidden under those apples."

Alia giggled a little. "Then he called it "claiming" when I took the feather."

A curious, slightly uneasy growl crept into the dragon's voice. "...Did he?"

"Yes. And, he knew about other things, too. Or...at least he seemed too. Like the silver rain, and..." She didn't want to mention the ghost stone just yet. At least not with Enric there. Not that she didn't trust Enric, but there were some things she wasn't ready to tell him. Maybe she never would be. "And...primal."

"...What?" The dragon slowly lifted his head. He turned it, staring at Alia with wide golden eyes.

"I think he knows Valar," Alia said, staring right back. "It's just a hunch, Valyrym, and it could easily be all in my head. Your story is still awfully fresh in my memory, after all, and it could very easily just be a coincidence. But if it is, it's an awfully big one."

Valyrym rumbled in thought. He flicked his tail against the floor, his spines clattering. "This gryphon is the Queen's friend?"

"Yes," Alia said. "And he works for her, somehow."

"Oh?" Val flared his spines a bit, hissing in frustration. So many knots to untangle. "Just what does this gryphon do for her, then?"

Alia smiled at him. "That is exactly what I was trying to get Enric to explain."

Enric sighed. He folded his arms, and drummed the fingers of one hand against his bicep. "He's a messenger, mostly. He also serves as a bodyguard from time to time. And as a special envoy in a few instances."

"What instances?" The dragon growled at Enric.

"The sort of instances where the Queen's usual messengers or ambassadors might not be welcome."

"Such as meeting with dragons?"

Enric took a deep breath, held it for a while. When he finally let it out it was in a long, heaving sigh. "I don't have that information. His existence is considered an open secret, but a lot of what he does when he's not around is anything but open. Some of the Queen's advisors and ministers don't like him, don't like the fact that they don't know what he's doing when he's not around Illandra."

Alia wasn't sure if Enric was being totally honest or not, but she wasn't going to press him. She put a hand on Valyrym's muzzle to make sure he didn't press Enric, either. She wanted Enric to be the dragon's friend. She wanted Enric to feel he could trust them. Pushing him for information he wasn't free to give would not make that easier. It was already clear he hadn't expected the Queen to take Alia to meet with Krek. Alia also guessed that Enric hadn't known the gryphon's real name. That seemed to have taken him by surprise.

"Do you know how they became friends in the first place?" Alia asked, trying to phrase it more as a friendly, curious question than one that might come across as part of an interrogation.

"Not exactly," Enric admitted, pacing back and forth a little.

Enric glanced at Vatch, not entirely comfortable with divulging any of this in front of an Urd'thin. For his part, Vatch seemed totally absorbed in trying to read his book, with Cuddly Korvarak tucked under an arm as if reading along with the Urd'thin. Enric paced around a little bit more, and then gave Alia a smirk.

"Might have to amend my report on you."

Alia smirked right back at him. "You going to go underline incisive?"

"About a dozen times," Enric said, chuckling. "I don't know exactly how they came to be friends. It's an old friendship, though, from before she was even Queen. The rumor..." Enric held up his hand to caution her. "And it's just a rumor, mind you, and you certainly didn't hear it from me. Anyway, the rumor is that The Black Bird saved Her Majesty's life somehow, well in the past, and that they've been friends ever since."

"Saved her life from what?" Valyrym asked, lifting his head a little.

"No one knows, exactly," Enric said, shrugging. "Other then the two of them, and, I suppose a few others they've sworn to secrecy."

"He's quite a scar on his chest," Alia said, murmuring.

"It's possible he was wounded protecting her from assassins," Enric offered, pursing his lips.

"Or a dragon," Valyrym murmured.

"I'm not sure he's big enough to fight off a dragon," Enric replied.

"...A young dragon," Valyrym whispered to himself, then lifted a paw to rub his muzzle. For a moment, his heart felt as though it were being squeezed by some angry deity. "Gods, I hope he read my letter."

Enric scowled. He hadn't meant to upset the dragon, yet he suddenly felt as though he were skipping from one conversation to another. And he knew he wasn't invited to the second one. He softened his tone, and gave the dragon the friendliest smile he could muster. "It's only a rumor, Valyrym. For all we know, she might have saved his life. Or she might have freed him from some band of slavers, and earned his loyalty in return. Hell, for all we know they might be secret lovers!"

The last one made Valyrym laugh. The old dragon hoped it wasn't too knowing a laugh. "Yes, I suppose they might. Forgive me if my mind wanders down darkened roads, now and then."

Alia stroked Valyrym's muzzle and smiled at him. She had not missed the fact that Valyrym hadn't complained about Enric using his name. Val must have told the guard it was alright to do so. That was sweet. Alia made a little gesture towards Val's sleeping chamber, as if to tell him that she had more to talk about when they were alone. He lifted his head a little, and she scratched under his chin a few times.

"We should probably get your dinner, huh Valyrym?"

"Yes, I think you'd better," Valyrym muttered. His belly rumbled loudly at the simple mention of food. The apple had only made him hungrier. "Unless Vatch wants to volunteer to be my dinner."

"Vatch stringy," the Urd'thin mentioned off-hand, then grinned at the dragon. "Give runs."

"Then you'd better fetch something good to eat," Valyrym grinned. "Because I don't think Alia wants to clean up after that."

Alia made a face. "Alia doesn't want to think about that."

Enric found himself laughing, grinning down at Vatch. "Sooner or later, you're going to have everyone talking in third person little guy."

"Who is third person?" Vatch blinked in confusion. "Is four person here."

"Never mind, Vatch," Enric said, shaking his head. "Come on, let's help get the dragon his damn food before he gets even crankier."

"Good idea," Alia said, rising to her feet. She patted Valyrym's shoulder and started off towards the stairs. "I don't think this prison could contain anymore grump."

---

Within a short time, Alia and the dragon were sharing dinner. They sat relaxing upon a bed of freshly cleaned and dried soft things, spread out around Valyrym's sleeping chamber. Alia was sure Valyrym would gather them all up into a haphazard pile again before long. For the life of her Alia couldn't figure out why dragons seemed to prefer sleeping upon piles of things. Yet for the moment she had many of the nice, clean blankets and furs spread out in cushioning layers dotted here and there with pillows. Some of the pillows had never quite returned to their original shape after being washed but they were still soft as ever. The soft things took up a larger portion of the floor now but were even more comfortable as far as Alia was concerned.

With a little help from Thomas and Kaylen, Valyrym had tidied up his sleeping chamber while Alia visited the Queen and Vatch was out buying his new book. All his collection of contraband and relics and personal treasures were now neatly stacked along the walls, and everything useless or broken had been tossed out. Valyrym had also moved his bookshelves back in place to cover up all the marks he'd made over the many years. He did not want to have to look at them.

Alia lay on her side, with her elbow propped up upon the faded lilac pillow with the increasingly threadbare golden tassels at each corner. Her friends were gone for the night, which was just as well. Alia had some things she had to talk about with Valyrym that she didn't really want the others around for. As she mulled over how best to approach the subject, she fiddled with some ragged golden threads, watching Valyrym.

The dragon popped a piece of roasted mutton into his muzzle, staring right back at her. A tray of food lay between them resting on a blanket. There was plenty of roasted mutton drizzled with a sauce made from fresh mint. Alongside it were roasted potatoes and turnips, and a dragon-sized portion of gravy. Alia thought it looked more like a gravy bucket than a gravy boat. Valyrym had certainly taken a liking to the stuff.

"So?" The dragon asked, tilting his head. He dipped a finger into the gravy, and licked it clean.

"Valyrym," Alia said, rolling her eyes. "Don't do that."

"Like you've ever minded where I put my tongue."

"Not in my damn food!"

Valyrym snorted, and picked up a whole pawful of roasted root vegetables. He tossed a few into his maw, and dipped the others in the gravy before feasting upon them as well. "It is my food, actually, I am simply gracious enough to share it with you."

"Keep telling yourself that," Alia said. She reached out and snatched a slice of mutton from the platter, trying to avoid dripping juices and sauces on her clothing as she took a bite.

"Watch where you let that stuff dribble," Valyrym snorted. "I've only just washed my soft things!"

"You've done far more than dribble messy things on them," Alia said, giggling. "Besides, it was Kaylen and I who did most of the washing. You mostly just stood in the tub and tried to look busy."

"That counts as washing," Valyrym said, thumping his tail against the blankets and furs. A pillow bounced off his tail spines. "So?"

"That's the second time you've said that, and I still don't know what you're on about." Alia finished off the slice of mutton.

"Liar," the dragon muttered. "How did it go with the Queen? Tell me what you couldn't tell me while Enric was there."

Alia fidgeted with the golden tassel on her pillow. "I'm starting to wonder where to draw that line, actually."

"Don't get mutton grease on my pillow," Valyrym hissed, waving his paw at her hands. "And for that matter, don't grease up your words so that their meaning slides through my gasp. Explain yourself at once, Girl."

Alia couldn't help giggling as the dragon attempted to boss her around. Somehow, Valyrym just made her feel better lately. She wondered if he even knew when he was doing it. Based upon the mirthful glimmer in his golden eyes, Alia suspected he did. She also suspected he knew she was about to hurl Val Junior at him. Only a moment later and the little stuffed projectile bounced directly off Valyrym's nose.

"Wheeeeee!" Alia squealed as if imitating the sound Val Junior made when flying through the air. "Val Junior strikes again!"

Valyrym yelped and snatched up the stuffed toy, quickly putting it out of reach. Then he peered about for his own favorite velvety green projective. "Where's Cuddly Korvarak when I need him?"

"You've probably hidden him away somewhere again when we went to fetch your dinner." Alia folded her arms under her breasts, grinning at the dragon. "So that you can use him to ambush me."

"Ah yes," Valyrym said, a smirk spreading over his muzzle. "That is exactly what I did."

"And I'd wager you can't even recall where you put him."

"Of course I can," Valyrym said, snorting. Then he tossed his horned head. "He's...hidden, that's where."

"Uh huh," Alia murmured, helping herself to a few handfuls of roasted vegetables. "These are really good! Not quite as good as the ones Kaylen made, but I won't tell the Chef that."

"Kaylen cooks?" Valyrym popped a whole thick slice of mutton into his snout, followed by two more.

"That really shouldn't surprise you," Alia said through a mouthful of roast turnip.

"No, I suppose not."

"We should have her cook you dinner sometime!" Alia considered the idea while staring at a square cut chunk of golden brown potato held between her thumb and finger. She turned it back and forth as though looking for the answer to some great potato related question. "An entire feast, perhaps. I think she'd love that. I bet you would, as well."

Valyrym patted his black scaled belly, grinning. "I would not complain. Much."

"Then it's settled!"

"I should think Kaylen may want some say in this matter." Valyrym lowered his head towards the gravy bucket, and Alia reached over and swatted his nose. He yelped and yanked his head back. "What!"

"First off, no drinking straight from the bucket until I get some gravy." Alia rose to her feet, padded to Valyrym's shelves and fetched herself a small drinking vessel carved from pewter. She returned, dunked it in the gravy to get some for herself, and then gestured at the immense gravy boat. "Go ahead. And second, Kaylen will do what I say because I'm her boss."

"Some friend you are," Valyrym snorted. Then he promptly lowered his head and began to lap at the gravy, purring heavily in his throat like a kitten with a saucer of warm milk.

Alia giggled at him a moment, then smirked. "And you shall do what I say, because if you don't I'll kick you in the balls."

Valyrym lifted his head from the gravy to glare at her. Beads of delicious brown liquid dripped from the pebbly gray-hued scales of his chin. He swept his tongue over his muzzle a few times, then flared up his spines a little. "You know, for all the times you've threatened that you've yet to actually follow through. Even Kaylen's kicked me in the balls before you have."

"I guess that's true." Alia made a show of standing up and stretching out one of her legs. "Let me go and fetch my boots, then. I'll make it really count."

"Oh no," Valyrym said, instantly flopping onto his belly and tucking his tail. "I think not, Warden."

"No?" Alia slowly settled back down. "And here I thought that was a request."

"It most certainly was not."

"Sounded like you were daring me too," Alia said, crossing her legs and leaning forward. She did her best not to giggle as she teased her dragon. "It's alright if you enjoy it, Valyrym. I'd be happy to cater to your need for that particular pain, twisted as it may be."

"You'd be so lucky," the dragon muttered.

"That would be rather lucky, actually!" Alia grinned at him, imagining it a moment. "Getting to kick a big dragon right in the balls without having to feel guilty? It would make for perfect stress relief...perhaps if I pleasure you every time, you really will start to get into it."

"Perhaps if you skipped the kicking and went straight to the pleasuring, you would have more friends."

Alia burst out laughing at that one. She leaned forward over the tray of food and placed a kiss on Valyrym's muzzle. "You're wonderful, Valyrym."

That made the old dragon smile, and he flicked his tongue across her cheek. "As are you, Alia. Now...if you're up for it...I would really like to know what the Queen told you."

Alia nodded and took a deep breath, straightening up again. "Alright, Valyrym. The short story is..." Alia pursed her lips a moment, then went on. "She is giving serious consideration to setting you free."

Valyrym tensed. He had not expected that answer. He'd expected the Queen to tell Alia something more akin to "Bugger off, you dark-haired wench." He licked his nose a moment, his tone flat and uncertain. "...Really?"

"Yes, really," Alia said, wringing her hands. She let her eyes linger on Valyrym's. "But she wants to meet you first."

A growl slowly crept up Valyrym's throat. He bared his fangs without even realizing it, narrowing his golden eyes. Slowly, his spines rose and flared around his head. "Does she." It an irritable statement, not a question.

"Yes," Alia said, her own green eyes searching the dragon's golden ones for any answer they might offer. "She does. This is important..."

"I do not wish to meet her," the dragon said quickly, hissing through his teeth.

"Valyrym," Alia said, as gently as she could. She reached out and cupped the dragons chin, then pressed her face against Valyrym's muzzle. She rubbed his jaw line and spoke softly into his scales. "She is not the woman you think she is. She is as different from the King you once met as I am. I think she is a good person, Val, and she wants only to do the right thing."

"I find that exceedingly hard to believe," the dragon murmured, closing his eyes. Whatever fire had begun to rise in his belly was soothed just as quickly as Alia worked to keep him calm. He let out a long sigh, pressing his head into Alia's touch. "You're going to ask me to meet with her anyway, aren't you? For you, I take it."

Alia smiled against Valyrym's gray-tinged facial scales. "Yes, Valyrym. I am."

"That isn't fair, Alia." He huffed a little, his belly roiling with uncertainly like a coiling serpent.

"What is unfair, Valyrym, is that you are kept down here long after your penance has been paid. What is unfair is to judge this woman by the crimes her ancestors committed." Alia lifted her head, replacing it with her hand. She gently stroked the dragon's muzzle up and down, between his nostrils. "Would you wish Valar to be judged as a murderer because you yourself once slew the Queen, and the Prince? To be punished for the crimes of his father?"

"Of course not," the dragon growled through gnashing teeth.

"Then you cannot judge this Queen because some long dead ancestor had Amaleen killed." Alia's hand went still between the dragon's gray-edged nostrils. Her emerald eyes bored through Valyrym's golden walls, trying to find his soul. "You understand that, don't you?"

Valyrym's own reply was a muffled growling noise. He pulled his head away from Alia's touch, and stared at the wall a little while. Slowly, he turned his head towards the bookshelves that hid all the marks he'd cut into the stone over the years. For a moment, he felt like tearing that bookshelf down and counting the damn marks himself. But the moment passed, and he gave a long sigh, his wings drooping at his sides.

"I have been here a very long time, haven't I Alia." It was not a question.

"You have," Alia said hesitantly. She reached out and stroked his neck a little.

"And things have changed?"

Alia pursed her lips, then ran her free hand back through her hair. "Some things."

"The Queen is one of them?" Valyrym unsheathed the claws of a fore paw, dragging them lightly across a blanket.

"She is," Alia said. She scooted around the tray of food and leaned up against the dragon's shoulder. "She is...nothing like I expected, Valyrym. I think most of all she wants to do the right thing. She wants to make Illandra a better place, and not at the expense of others. I think she wants a reason to set you free." She leaned over, and kissed the dragon's neck. "I think she wants to set Aran'alia free."

Valyrym very slowly turned his head back around, twisting his long neck until he was peering down at Alia with wide golden eyes. "What...did you say?"

"She's going on a trip," Alia explained. "She wouldn't tell me where or what she's doing but...she and I talked a lot. It seemed clear to me she wants to make up for all of Illandra's wrongdoing while there's still time. Every terrible thing that Illandra's done, all the countries they have conquered...I think she wants to set them free. And you..." Alia ran her fingers all the way down the dragon's shoulder, along his front leg, until she could twine her fingers through his own. She squeezed his much larger paw, smiling at him. "You are going to be part of that. But you have to meet with her, and you have to show her your heart."

"That is a very difficult task, Alia."

"For me, Val," Alia said, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. "I love you, Valyrym, and I would gladly spend my life down here with you. But given a choice, I want a better life for you. I want you to be free, Valyrym. I want to see you fly."

"And I want to take you flying, Alia," the dragon said, his voice little more then a hushed whisper. His eyes gleamed wetly, and the dragon swallowed hard.

"Then meet the Queen. As hard as it will be, let her see who you've become. Tell her about your son. Tell her about Amaleen. Give her a reason to understand why you did those things, and let her understand as I do that you have suffered enough. She wishes to weigh her options while she travels, and the more she understands about your life, and your pain, the better the odds are that when she returns, she will end your long imprisonment and return to you your freedom."

The dragon winced. He did not want to talk to anyone else about Amaleen and Valaranyx, let alone a royal. "I am...fearful of the way I may act if I must speak of Amaleen to the Queen of Illandra. If she makes light of her death, Alia." Valyrym turned his golden gaze towards Alia. Dangerous things swirled behind them, vipers coiling in a golden pit. "I might kill her."

Alia did not blink. She knew the risks when she agreed to let the Queen visit the dragon. "She will not make light of your loss, Valyrym. If anything, she will understand it."

Valyrym cocked his head a little. "What are you speaking of?"

Alia held a hand palm up, gesturing in the air a little. "There is a Prince of Illandra."

"So?"

"But there is no King of Illandra." Alia set her hand back down on Valyrym's paw. "Only a Queen."

"Ah." Valyrym snorted. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The dragon held it till his lungs burned, then let it out in a grand sigh. "Very well, Alia. I shall meet with this Queen. I shall endeavor to be civil with her."

"You will be civil," Alia said softly. She stood up, and wrapped her arms around Valyrym's neck. She hugged him tightly for long moments. Then she slipped a hand under his chin, and guided his muzzle to her face. She kissed him gently between the nostrils, smiling. "And she will see that you deserve freedom. And when she grants it, you and I will leave this place behind forever."

The thought made Valyrym smile a little. Perhaps he could tolerate speaking with a royal about his life after all, if it meant a free life with the woman he loved. "And what would we do then?"

Alia already had an answer. Her smile grew ever brighter as she replied. "We will find your son, Valyrym."

---

Chapter Three

"No, no, no!" Alia said for what felt like the fourth time in the last two minutes. "You cannot put those there."

"...Why not?" The brown-haired worker looked baffled.

Alia sighed to herself. She was doing her best not to berate these poor people. They were only doing their jobs after all. And she was sure they'd never had to work quite to exact specifications like this. Still, she was starting to reach the end of her patience. She reached out and gently pried the hammer and chisel away from the worker and took a few steps away from the tall, fluted marble pillar where he had been just about to start chiseling a guide hole to hang a lantern hook from.

"Because The Dragon carves the pillars," Alia said, exasperated. "For the last time, do not touch the pillars."

"But they're the optimum location to hang the lanterns you requested, Ma'am."

"I. Don't. Care." Alia pointed to the far wall with the chisel, near some of Valyrym's ledges. "All the lantern hooks are to go along the walls. But not the carved wall, under no circumstances will you touch the carved wall. Next to the carved pillars, that is where the iron lamp poles will go."

"But you've got Theus over there driving spikes into the pillars!" The worker gave Alia a baffled look. "If you don't want the pillars touched, shouldn't you go and stop him?"

"Theus listens to what I say the first time. On the front side of certain pillars, and only the front side, and only certain pillars, we are hanging small hooks for tapestries. I have already outlined to Theus which pillars are available, and he has not let me down so far." Alia waved the hammer at the man's face. It was a more threatening gesture than she intended, but she decided it would probably get the point across. "You, on the other hand, continue to elect to pick any pillar you choose to start drilling holes in."

"But the optimum lighting..."

Alia held up her hand for silence, sighing at the same time. "I realize you're only doing your job, and you're very good at it. So, consider this your new directive." She turned and tossed the man's tools onto the ground where they skidded towards the wall that held Valyrym's ledges. "Find the optimum lighting points all along that wall, and hang lanterns there. Only along that wall."

The man grumbled under his breath as he chased after his tools. Alia decided it was probably for the best that she couldn't hear what he was saying. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, and slowly pivoted in a circle, surveying the work. So far so good, and so far no ruined carvings. She'd never hear the end of it from Valyrym if his hard work was destroyed. Not that she could blame him.

"Having fun?"

Alia turned towards the sound of Enric's voice, grimacing as the guard approached her. "Hardly. I'm starting to pity work supervisors the world over."

With real work to be done, Enric was back in his armor and Alia was back in her formal clothing. The guard wore his heavier cuirass, plates of mail atop chain, and even carried the spear he so rarely brought with him anymore. Not that he expected any trouble from Valyrym, rather it was just so the workers would feel a little more comfortable inside the dragon's prison. Alia was wearing her emerald green blouse with the black laces tied in a formal bow at her neck, and black breeches with silver stitching. The new black boots with silvery buckles complimented them well though she was still breaking them in. Her feet were a little sore.

Enric leaned against his spear, grinning. "Now you know how I feel."

Alia scrunched her nose, shaking her head. "No, I'm not secretly reporting anyone's activities behind their back."

Enric only grinned, shrugging. "You could be reporting me to the dragon."

"I'm sure he'd find that fascinating." Alia put a hand to her mouth, miming a whisper. "Hey Valyrym. Today Enric stood around at the head of the stairs for a while. After that, he followed me around. Then he went back to stand at the stairwell again."

Enric gave a very solemn nod. "I do live an exciting life." As they shared a laugh, Enric glanced about. "It does look like the work's coming along quite well though."

Despite the troubles, Alia was inclined to agree and had decided to do what she could to brighten up the dragon's prison. Though he was not yet free, there was no reason in her mind why this place should not feel more like a home than a cell to him. Already she'd caught herself mentally referring to it as the dragon's lair. That was doubly amusing to her because she knew Valyrym was not exactly fond of the term.

Then again, Valyrym wasn't exactly fond of Alia's ideas for brightening up his personal world, either. At least not outwardly. He had muttered and complained and moaned about all the changes she was making. The dragon did not want lanterns everywhere, they would only better illuminate the dismal state of his prison. Valyrym did not want tapestries hung from his walls or pillars, for they would make him feel like he was stuck in some merchant's showroom. And he certainly did not want colorful rugs upon the floor and he should not have to explain why. Yet for all his constant complaining, Alia knew better. Though he might never admit it, Valyrym's heart was lifted just because she was making the effort to give him a better place to live.

Of course what she'd envisioned as a simple task for her assistants and herself had quickly blossomed into something much greater. Before long she'd hired a small army of workers just to help get everything done. She had given Thomas and Kaylen supervisory roles in various parts of the dungeon, and given Vatch the task of delivering tools, water, and meals to all the various workers. Vatch got that job because she knew some of the workers did not like Urd'thin. Alia thought it might humble them and do them a little good to be forced to accept food from such a creature.

The place already looked better. Several bright, mirrored lanterns hung from elegantly curved wrought iron poles around some of Val's pillars, as well as near the tub and the entryway doors. Many more were soon to join them all throughout the prison. A few tapestries with woven scenes of brightly hued landscapes were draped across the front of several of the columns as well. Soft, plush rugs covered sections of the cold stone floor, and were sprawled across several of the dragon's ledges. Valyrym himself currently lounged upon a thick, burgundy rug that covered much of his favorite ledge.

"Looks like Valyrym's starting to enjoy it too," Enric said when he noticed the dragon idly kneading at the rug with his front paws.

"Good," Alia smiled. Valyrym glanced their way, and Alia waved at him. He quickly yanked his paws away from the rug and hissed at Alia. She smirked. "Brat."

"Poor dragon," Enric said, shaking his head and grinning. "I bet he can't wait for us to leave so he can just sprawl out on that rug and roll around in luxury while no one's looking." Alia giggled at the idea, and Enric patted her on the shoulder. "You're doing a good a thing for him, Alia. I guess sometimes it takes a new pair of eyes to see what's really inside a person. At this rate, you'll be opening other people's eyes to his true self, too."

"Thanks," Alia said, offering Enric a little smile. "I can only hope that includes the Queen."

"That's what her visit is all about, right?"

"That is exactly what it's about." Alia pursed her lips, shifting nervously. The date was creeping closer and closer. Though Valyrym had agreed to meet her and be as civil as possible, there was still no way to know how the dragon might behave when the subject of Amaleen came up. "I just hope he behaves himself."

"Don't see why he wouldn't." Enric flipped his spear around, prodding at a crack on the floor with the bladed tip. "Besides, you needn't be worried. You've met Her Majesty, and you've met Black Bird. I think we both know she can handle a bit of crude language and a lot of egotism."

Alia giggled to herself. She reached up and undid the bow in the black lace at the top of her green blouse, then habitually retied it. "That's not really what I'm worried about. If she's going to get to know his heart, she's going to have to know his pain. What he's lost. And when that comes up..."

"Her Majesty also knows when to tread lightly when necessary," Enric assured her, jabbing at an imaginary rat with his pike.

"Let's hope so," Alia murmured.

"What are you so worried he's going to do?"

"React," Alia said softly. "And regret it. The last Illandran royal he saw was the King he blamed for the death of his love. For us, that was generations ago. For him that was..." Alia trailed off for a little bit. There were parts of Valyrym's memory that had grown hazy over the century and a half he'd spent locked away beneath the city. But there were parts of his memory that were as sharp and vivid as ever. Terrible images that Alia knew would never fade from his mind for as long as the dragon drew breath. "...It was practically yesterday."

Enric worked his jaw a little as though chewing his thoughts like food. "I think he'll be alright, as long as you're there to keep him on the right path."

"I'd never be anywhere else."

"Good," Enric said, smiling again. "He'll make it through just fine, and so will Her Majesty. Hell, a year or so after that and your old buddy might already be free."

That thought made Alia smile, too. "Enric..." Alia said, pausing a moment. "You should know that if she sets him free, I'm going with him. I'm going to help him find his son."

Enric gave a little sigh, shifting his weight. His armor rattled a little. "Can't say I'm surprised. And if she doesn't set him free?"

Alia wasn't sure if Enric was testing her, or just curious. She was starting to feel as though she might even have his support on her Plan B, but that didn't mean she was ready to tell him about it. Still, Alia liked to think she was getting good at hiding things. She gave Enric a bright smile. "Then he's going to be extra grumpy for a while, and I'm going to have to ask for a raise."

Enric grinned, flicking his spear towards the old dragon. "Speaking of grumpy."

Alia turned towards Valyrym to see him hissing at a worker who had gotten too close. The man yelped in alarm, frantically backpedaled away from the dragon and stumbled over his own feet. He landed on his rump with a yelp, and kept scrambling away from the dragon without even getting back to his feet. Valyrym flicked his tail towards the frightened man, his tail spines clattering loudly against the stone.

"Dragon!" Alia shouted across the chamber. Valyrym jerked his head up and yanked his tail back like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. "That is quite enough out of you!"

Valyrym huffed and lowered his head down onto his paws as Alia went to help the man back to his feet. "Spoilsport."

Alia made a show of dusting the man off, smiling. "There, there. Don't let the old dragon frighten you. He's all growl and no teeth these days. He just likes to feel as though he can yet instill a bit of fear in someone."

"He's certainly instilled it in me," the man muttered, hesitantly fetching his tools from nearer the dragon once Alia assured him it was safe.

Valyrym glanced back at the man, a smug grin spread over his muzzle. "You look too stringy to eat, anyway."

"Dragon," Alia said sharply. She climbed up onto the ledge, snatched his ear in her grasp, and twisted it till Valyrym gave a pained yelp. "Apologize this instant!"

"I shall do no such-AAAH!" Valyrym yowled as Alia twisted his ear harder, hissing through clenched teeth. He pinned his frilled ears back and flared his spines. "I...apologize."

"That's better." Alia waved her hand at the man, and he scurried off to find a better spot to work at installing a few more lantern hooks. She released Valyrym's ear and when he grasped it in a paw she rapped him sharply on the nose. "And I told you to behave."

"I was behaving until he came too close to me." Valyrym glared at her, rubbing his ear. "That hurt, you know. Don't twist my ear again."

"Or what?"

"Or I shall throw you face down onto this blood-colored carpet you have forced upon my ledge, and spank you in front of all your workers."

Alia only smirked at him. She folded her arms under her breast, nudging a boot against the red-wine hued rug. "First, it's burgundy. ...I think. Second, you even consider trying something like that, and it won't be your ear I'm twisting. It'll be your sac!"

"Awrrr," Valyrym gave a whimper, and pulled his hind legs together tighter.

"Thought that might have your attention. Don't think I won't make you yowl in front of all these people, Valyrym. Consider this your test. If you can keep your composure with me bossing you around in front of all these workers, surely you can keep it in front of one woman with a bit of royal blood in her veins."

Valyrym only snorted, lowering his head till his nose was practically pressing against Alia's. "Would you really twist my sac like that?"

Alia smirked at him. "Till the whole castle heard you screaming like a little girl."

"You're quite wicked, Alia," Valyrym said, pulling his head back. Still, there was far more mischief than anger dancing in his fiery golden eye.

"You like it, Valyrym," Alia purred to him, then playfully swatted his nose. "Now quit acting like a brat. I'm serious. Besides, I saw you kneading this carpet earlier."

"I was doing no such thing."

"You most certainly were." Alia crouched down, running a hand back and forth over the soft, expansive rug. "You were luxuriating in it. You were practically rolling around on it like a happy hound."

"...I had an itch," Valyrym said, snapping his jaws, raising his central spines again. He ran his paw against the lay of the rug. "This damn thing is so rough and scratchy I thought that the best way to quell my itching."

"Fine." Alia turned to gesture for Enric to approach. "Then I shall have Enric and a few of the other men take away the rugs. We'll keep the tapestries and lanterns, but we'll just leave the floors and ledges cold, bare stone."

"...I suppose it's not that unpleasant," Valyrym muttered. He was willing to concede defeat in his own way if it meant he got to lounge about on warm softness instead of cold hard stone from now on. In truth the stone felt harder on his old body these days than it once did. "I will allow you to maintain the rugs here."

"If that's the way you want to look at it," Alia said, smiling. She waved Enric off. Then she lowered her voice, grinning at the dragon. "Just don't let me catch you humping those soft rugs. They were very expensive."

Valyryn snorted, dragging his paw back through the carpeting. "So just hump them when you're not around, them."

"You do and I'll have your stoves taken away for a month. Only cold baths for you."

"That would be far less pleasant to relax in."

"I think you're more worried about not being able to masturbate in the hot water anymore."

"Someone's in a dirty mood," the dragon purred to Alia.

"No, someone just knows what a dirty old dragon you really are. I know why you wanted to learn to use the tub. So you could stroke yourself off in there when no one's around." Alia tried not to giggle but she couldn't help it.

Valyrym stretched himself out on the rug, curling his tail. "If you can think of a better way to relax, I'm happy to consider it."

Alia shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Oh, I don't mind you masturbating in there. Just no humping these rugs. I mean it."

"Oh, very well," Valyrym said. "There goes my after dinner plans."

Alia burst out laughing, shaking her head. Her black hair swished a little. "Silly beast. Tell you what. I'll buy you a special rug, all rolled up into a cylinder, and you can hold it and thrust yourself into it until you're roaring and spent. Kaylen and I can watch."

Valyrym lifted his head a little. "...Really?"

"No."

"You're a cruel thing, Alia." Valyrym lowered his head again, grinning to himself. He opened a wing, and flared it out towards the various workers. "How much longer are these fools going to be here?"

"Only another day or two, maximum." Alia turned on her heel, looking around. "I actually think it's going to look much nicer down here when it's all lit up and decorated. Is there anything else you'd like to be added?"

Valyrym murmured as he mused to himself. "A few food vendors would be nice."

"Shall I have an entire market moved into your prison?"

"Yes, I think you'd better. Be sure to have a fishmonger, and a baker with plenty of chocolate cake. Might as well add a pub while you're at it, so I can get some rum any time I like."

"I'll get right on that," Alia said with a giggle. "Anything else you'd like?"

"A painting," Valyrym said, gazing off into the gloom of his dungeon. Truth be told, it was already looking less gloomy with the addition of just a few lanterns. Not that the dragon would admit Alia was right about such matters.

"A painting?" Alia tilted her head, her head falling to one side of her face. "You really want a painting?"

"Yes," Valyrym said. "It could go right here." He gestured to the wall above his favorite ledge, where the burgundy carpet now lay. "So that I could gaze upon it while I relax here, when the sun shines through the vents."

"Very well, my lovely dragon, you shall have your painting." Alia pulled her hair back behind her head, peering at the wall. "Do you want it to be a painting of anything in particular?"

"I would say dragons, but I rather doubt you can find any good paintings of dragons in this city." Valyrym unsheathed a single claw, and idly used it to trace lines in the carpet. Swooping arched lines that looked vaguely like the links in a chain. "So I will happily settle for paintings of Aran'alia, if you should find any. Barring that any beautiful mountain scene would suffice. Some striking landscape I can stare at and imagine my son out there somewhere, flying above it."

"Somewhere you could join him someday," Alia added. She knew what the dragon must be thinking. But she also knew he'd not say so aloud.

"I rather doubt he would want me there," Valyrym said, his voice growing quieter with every word.

"Nonsense," Alia said. She knelt down next to the dragon's head and gave him a hug, workers be damned. She stroked the scales of his neck a few times. "You're his father and he loves you."

"Perhaps," Valyrym said, his voice a distant murmur. Then he sighed and nuzzled Alia's hands and chest, thankful for the comfort. "Maybe I should make you ask that damn bird the next time you see him."

"I tried," Alia giggled. "He's an evasive thing. I tried to find out if he really knew Valar or if it was all in my head. I even asked him about the silver rain! But he's so damn slippery you'd think his feathers were soaked in oil."

"They probably are. I bet those birds grease their wings up just to see themselves shine." Valyrym chuckled to himself, then pulled his head back. "If you see that black-feathered bastard again, tell him to be honest with you, or you'll kick him in the balls."

Alia burst out laughing. "I'm not sure the Queen would appreciate that. Besides, he'd shift himself out of range as soon as the topic came up, I'm sure."

"That's a good point," Valyrym mused, then smirked. "How about next time you see him, you just kick him in the balls anyway for being such an arrogant, secretive bastard. Then, you suggest that he tells you what he knows about my son, or you'll kick him again."

"That," Alia giggled. "Is not a bad idea. Aside from the fact that he works directly for the Queen and that might get me thrown in a dungeon of my own."

"Oh don't worry," Valyrym said, grinning at her. He waved his paw towards some of the newly installed decorations "You'll feel much better about it once someone comes around with some lamps and tapestries."

"Be nice or you won't get your painting," Alia replied. She reached out and rubbed the dragon's ear she'd twisted earlier. "Feeling better?"

"At the moment."

"Good. Now, I've got to go check on something else."

"Dare I ask what?" The dragon pulled his head back, neck lightly curling.

"Just an idea I'm following up on. Consider it one of several surprises you'll receive in the near future ." Alia patted the dragon's head. "I don't know how long I'll be, but I'll return eventually." Alia smirked, teasing him a little. "Wait down here, will you?"

"Oh, I would," the dragon said with a snort. "But I'm planning to take a walk down into the market you see. They've a sale on quilts!" The dragon snapped his jaws and tossed his head. "Wait down here. Where the hell else would I be?"

Alia headed towards the ledge. "In your sleeping chamber. Humping things."

"Well played, Alia," the dragon said, stretching out a little bit. He lay his head down against the soft carpet, and closed his eyes. He had to admit, it was luxurious. "Well played."

After the sound of Alia's footsteps had faded, Valyrym was only left alone for a few minutes before someone else arrived to bother him. Without opening his eyes, he knew Vatch was approaching. After all, of all the visitors to his dungeon, the Urd'thin by far had the softest footfalls and the most distinctive scent. Of course now that Vatch was clean and well groomed all the time it was not at all an unpleasant scent, simply unique among a group otherwise only composed of humans.

"Smells like Urd'thin in here," Valyrym muttered to himself without opening his eyes.

"Is good smell, yes?" Vatch's voice sounded entirely too cheerful for the old dragon's liking. "Have many nice soaps in bath today."

"Smells like someone tied a bunch of flowers to an oversized dog," the dragon said, slowly opening one golden eyes. "And there he is now."

Vatch only grinned at the dragon. The Urd'thin was dressed in a dark blue long sleeved tunic. Black thread ran down each sleeve in intricate knotted runic designs, and outlined the many pockets of the garment. Familiar golden emblems were emblazoned upon the shoulders. The Urd'thin also wore slate gray pants, cut for the almost animalist design of his legs. The cuffs of his pants rested against the top of his black leather boots. Vatch clutched something to his chest. From the looks of it, another book.

"Is time to read?" Vatch asked, grinning hopefully.

Somehow, Valyrym didn't think he had much choice. Still that didn't stop him from trying to wriggle his way out of the task. He lifted his head, glancing around. "What, in front of all these unwelcome visitors? I don't think so." The dragon snorted, flicking his tail. "Besides, don't you have duties and such?"

"Is all done," Vatch said, his grin widening until all his sharp teeth were on display like exhibits at some twisted museum. "Have deliver tools, have deliver food, have eat lunch. Alia say is time read now!"

"Did she?" Valyrym hissed through his own much larger and even sharper teeth.

The dragon turned his wedge shaped head towards the massive wooden doors that lead to the exit of his prison, hoping to give Alia a withering glare. Alia had already vanished though. Rather than waste such a perfectly smoldering gaze, Valyrym glared in turn at Enric, Thomas and Kaylen as though they were somehow responsible. Thomas ignored him completely, Enric smiled and shrugged and Kaylen made an especially obscene gesture. Then the three of them went back to their own tasks which seemed to consist entirely of making sure none of the workers ruined any of Valyrym's many decades worth of stone carvings. Come to think of it, perhaps he shouldn't be glaring at them after all.

"Very well then," Valyrym muttered. He patted the carpet on the far side of his body, near the stone wall. "Come on up you little runt."

Vatch ignored what had become an affectionately playful insult from the dragon as he clambered up the ledge. Then he padded across the carpet, and settled down near the dragon's body with his book in his lap, his tail sprawled out behind him. "Ooh! She give you very nice rug, Fat Dragon!"

"Up your tail, you mutt," Valyrym snorted. Vatch just wouldn't let Valyrym's love of devouring entire cakes go.

"No, Old Lizard," Vatch said, shaking his head. "I tell you, Vatch not gay."

Valyrym snorted and flared his spines a little. A smirk spread across his pebbly scaled muzzle. He had to admit, he was starting to like Vatch. But just a little. "You're wittier than you let on. Somehow I feel if I was an Urd'thin you'd be able to talk circles around me."

"Vatch already do this," the Urd'thin said, grinning and perking his large furry ears as he got comfortable. "We read now?"

"If we must," Valyrym said. He flared out one of his ebony wings edged in gray, making a show of stretching it out. Then he left it half draped beside him, trying to shield the Urd'thin from as many onlookers as possible. No need letting anyone else know the dragon prisoner was actually a soft hearted old beast who taught Urd'thin to read. "Is that another new book?"

"Yes!" The Urd'thin said, beaming. He ran his pads over the leather wrapped cover as if in awe of it. "Is brand new. Just buy today morning!"

Valyrym pulled his head back, neck curling into an S. "You're finally making hard earned coin. Why do you persist on wasting it on books?"

"Is not waste," Vatch insisted. His ears drooped a little, and he glanced down at the book in his hands. "Vatch like books."

Valyrym licked his nose. He hadn't meant to hurt the little creature's feelings or anything. Hell, it wasn't that long ago the little mutt was literally robbing people on the street for a few coins. Now that he had an honest job, if the Urd'thin wanted to spend his money on books, that was his choice to make. It was actually sort of cute in an odd way. Valyrym gave a little sigh, and lowered his head to gently nuzzle at the Urd'thin's fuzzy ears.

Vatch laughed a little and pushed the dragon's muzzle away. "Okay, okay! Vatch accept apology."

"That wasn't..." Valyrym grunted, flicking his tail. Instead of clattering against stone, his spines made a sort of muffled thump as the struck the rug. "Never mind. You know, Vatch..." Val trailed off a moment, and then a smile crept back across his gray tipped snout. "My son loved books, too."

"Yes?" Vatch looked up, happiness dancing in his dark eyes. The little one-time thug really did like his damn books.

"Yes," Valyrym nodded. He decided against telling Vatch that Valar had been a hatchling at the time, so of course he liked children's books. "He certainly did."

"Vatch like books too," the Urd'thin said with a nod, as though he hadn't already made that point abundantly clear. "Vatch think you like this one, too!"

"Oh?" Valyrym chuckled to himself, peering at the book. The cover of it was simply wrapped in soft, reddish leather, and the title scrawled along the spine in black lettering where Valyrym couldn't quite read it. "And why is that?"

"Is about dragon!"

"Is it," Valyrym said, grinning. He gently took the book from Vatch and turned it to read the title out loud. "The Village and the Dragon." He handed it back to Vatch, snorting. "This isn't about some supposedly-heroic group of villagers banding together to slay some poor dragon is it? Cause I shall find such a story highly depressing."

"Is for children," Vatch said, seemingly aghast. "Not be sad!"

"Yes, but to most children, some hero killing a dragon would make for a happy ending," Valyrym said, his spines drooping against his head. "I however, would not be able to read it without pitying the dragon, and wondering about his side of the story. Even dragons who really did attack villages often had a reason to do so."

Vatch reached out and gently stroked the dragon's nose, smiling. "Is okay, Valyrym. Alia say is good book."

"Ah," Valyrym said, chuckling. If Alia knew he'd allowed the Urd'thin to use his name lately he'd never hear the end of it from her. "Then if this book saddens me I shall know who to bite on the ass."

"I think maybe Alia like that," Vatch said, grinning up at his larger friend.

"Yes, I think she would," Valyrym replied. He smiled and curled up a little bit, wrapping his tail around his scaled form. He cocked his horned head, perking his frilled ears. "I am curious, Vatch. I do not mean this as an insult, but why is it you like books so much?"

Vatch only beamed at that, his own oversized chocolate brown ears perked up. "Is put pictures in head! Vatch like that."

"Quite the imagination, eh?"

Vatch blinked and looked away. He pinned his ears back a little bit, rubbing one of his dark blue sleeves. "Vatch...spend long time live in alleyway, live in tunnels under city." The Urd'thin worked his dull claws against the knot-work designs that ran the length of his sleeves as if marveling at the very clothes he now wore. "Vatch go many years very hungry. Even as pup, Vatch have big imagination. When little, Vatch have mother read book of better time. Better thing for Urd'thin. Sometimes...books distract Vatch from be hungry. Is long time ago, but...is good memory now. Of mother, and books." Vatch was quiet a moment, and then hugged the book to himself, closing his eyes. "...Vatch like books."

Valyrym swallowed hard to dislodge the sudden lump in his throat. If Vatch was a dragon, Valyrym probably would have given him a lick at that moment. Aw, what the hell. Valyrym dropped his head, and gently licked the Urd'thin's ears. Vatch squirmed and laughed to himself, then grinned at the dragon. "Alright, alright, is enough. Before you say, I not tell Alia you do this." He patted the dragon's nose, smiling. "But thank you."

Valyrym chuckled a little bit, flexing his wings in a shrug. Then with a reluctant sigh, he slowly folded his outstretched wing back against his body. May as well let all the workers see the old dragon was helping the Urd'thin learn to read. Wasn't as though it was going to hurt anything aside from his reputation, and that had pretty much been in tatters from the moment Alia first brought her friends to meet him. Valyrym got comfortable, and when Vatch shifted to lean up against the dragon's chest, Valyrym did not stop him.

"So your mother could read the human tongue, hmm?" Valyrym flicked his tail back and forth. "Just...never had a chance to teach you?"

"No," Vatch shook his head. "She not could read human. She read Urd'thin. She teach Vatch this, yes. But very little to read in Urd'thin, now."

That was actually news to Valyrym. He brought his eye ridges together. "I wasn't even aware your people had a written language. Or that you had books in it. What...what are your books about?"

"Better time, mostly." Vatch shrugged. "Real or imagined, not sure. One book about great Urd'thin city in forest. Other about Urd'thin hero go on great quest. They pretty rare. Not sure where mother get them. Not much left from times before."

"Times before?" Valyrym tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Before live like rats," Vatch said, spitting. "Urd'thin not always starve. Not always live in filth, sewer." Vatch waved his hand, a spark of anger growing in his dark eyes like red coals smoldering in a bed of ash. "Have language! Have books once. Have many things."

"What happened?" Valyrym asked, though he knew the answer well enough. The same thing had happened to his own home, after all. To his own people, his own clan.

"Human come," Vatch said softly. The anger that had flared up in his eyes slowly faded away, replaced by bitter acceptance. He pinned his ears back. "Take land. Turn Ar'tatch into Illandra."

"Ar'tatch?" Valyrym licked his nose. "That was the name of your land, before the humans took it from you?"

"Yes," Vatch said, smiling. "Or...so Vatch told. Suppose maybe not true. Maybe we always just...rat in sewer." He furrowed his furred brow, flicking his bushy tail. "But many Urd'thin hear stories while grow up. Humans wonder why many Urd'thin...rob human. Attack human. Not understand what they do to us."

"No," Valyrym said softly. "They do not." Valyrym turned his gaze up to one of the skylights. A single cloud drifted lazily through his view of the blue sky. "Aran'alia," Valyrym said, though Vatch hadn't asked the question yet. "The land they took from us was called Aran'alia."

"Is where dark-hair human come from too, yes?"

"Yes, Vatch." Valyrym smiled just a little, watching the cloud drift by. His wings ached to carry him to the clouds again while they still had the strength. "Alia's people and mine share that loss. Aran'alia was what they called it. The dragons, or at least the clan I was hatched into, had no other name for it. We simply called it Varaak. It means home. In time, I came to use the name Aran'alia for my Varaak as well because I grew to care for the people there. But Illandra took it away from all of us."

Vatch reached out and gently rubbed the dragon's paw. "Vatch understand. You want...revenge, yes? If Vatch alive when human steal Ar'tatch...Vatch want revenge, too. Sometimes...Vatch still think of it. But is lost cause."

"Yes," Valyrym murmured. "A lost cause. I have already shed too much blood on behalf of my old home. I have walked that road, Vatch. I promise you it is a road to ruin." Valyrym turned his eyes up to the vent again. He stared at the sky beyond. It was clear and blue, the cloud had drifted out of sight. After a moment, Valyrym shook his head, murmuring an old saying dragon saying. "How far we fall, Vatch. How far we fall."

The two of them were quiet a little while. Together, Valyrym and Vatch ignored all the looks they got from the people around them. They ignored Kaylen when she cooed and whispered to Thomas that they looked adorable sitting together. They ignored Enric when he suggested Alia was going to wish she'd been around to see this. For long moments they were each lost in their own thoughts. Vatch finally broke the silence, seeking to bring back the good mood he'd felt earlier.

Vatch lifted the book towards Valyrym. "We read now, yes? Alia says is have good ending."

Valyrym smiled, and gently took the book from it. "Yes, Vatch. We read now." The dragon opened the book to the first page, and smiled at Vatch. "We shall trust Alia's judgment, and turn our thoughts to happier things."

Vatch settled up against the dragon, smiling and looking at the words. He knew some of them already, he was a swift learner. But reading along as the dragon spoke them aloud helped him learn even faster. "You read title, too."

The dragon chuckled to himself. The little Urd'thin was awfully persistent. He cleared his throat with a growl, and began. "The Village and the Dragon. By Amira Brightcloud." Valyrym smiled. "That sounds like an Aran'alian name. If this was written by an Aran'alian, I think it shall have a happy ending for the dragon after all."

"Shush Lizard," Vatch grinned, swatting playfully at Valyrym's paw. "Just read and teach. If Vatch need comment, Vatch ask for comment."

Valyrym couldn't help but laugh. He turned the page, and found a beautiful illustration of a village with sloped roofs amidst rolling hills. He began to read. "In a land where the rain fell silver, there lay a village nestled among the green hills."

Valyrym's smile grew. He was going to like this book.

---

Chapter Four

Lord Armadine of the Twenty-Fourth Province of Illandra stalked down the narrow stone hallway. As the slender nobleman made his way into the quarter of the castle the guards called home, he was flanked by a quintet of bodyguards. Since the day that wretched woman had so cruelly battered and disfigured him he never went anywhere without five men whose flesh may well have been forged of iron. Let her try that again. Oh, he hoped she tried that again. She'd lose a lot more than a few teeth and the proper shape of her nose.

Yet Lord Armadine had to admit even a filthy Aran'alian girl was probably too smart to try anything so foolish. That was alright. Armadine had plans for her. The noble had far better and longer lasting revenge in mind than something so simple as a good beating. No, even a harsh beating could be recovered from as he himself was proof. What Armadine had in mind for that whore in warden's clothing was far more humiliating, and far longer lasting.

Perhaps after he had seen her thoroughly humiliated and exposed for the repulsive dragon's whore she was, he would see about a more permanent punishment. If the Queen's eventual decision was not a harsh enough penalty, Armadine would simply exact his own. Oh yes. He had plans for this Alia bitch. Just as he had plans for the Queen. She had ignored and belittled the noble houses long enough. If she was not careful, such actions would eventually be her downfall.

Armadine allowed himself a smirk. It would be nice to have the ear of the new king, should something unfortunate happen to Her Majesty after she left on her journey.

But first thing was first. And the first thing on Armadine's mind was ensuring his charges against Alia resulted in both her great humiliation, and hopefully, her great punishment. Surely, even a blind, softhearted old cow like Queen Kathlyn could see that one simply could not allow a common Aran'alian bitch to strike a nobleman. Armadine idly tongued the spot where one of his teeth had been. The hole was still sore and he winced. A shame they probably wouldn't let him whip the bitch himself. He'd have rather enjoyed that. Perhaps he'd even put her in his bed afterwards, if the damn dragon hadn't loosened her beyond enjoyment.

"It's this one, My Lord."

Armadine flicked his gray eyes towards his personal information minister. The man was not in the employ of Illandra, nor was he an employee of The Twenty-Fourth House. Rather, he worked directly for Lord Armadine, reporting and answering only to him. He was a good man, the sort Armadine could trust with his deepest secrets. After all, secrecy and information were the man's living. He had dealt in them all his life in one way or another, along with a few less reputable things.

"Thank you, Traval."

Armadine rapped his knuckles against the thin wooden door set in the gray stone wall. The door opened a crack a few moments later. Beady eyes set in a meaty head gleamed through the crack. For a moment the room's occupant simply stared at the nobleman. Armadine idly grasped the handle of his latest whip, rubbing his thumb against the braided leather.

"It's Lord Armadine," he finally said, half exasperated.

"I know 'oo it is."

The man shifted a little behind the door, reaching for something. Traval gestured for Lord Armadine to take a step back from the door, and off to the side. The five monstrous bodyguards were there for support and brute force defense, but Traval was the one there to meet threats more discretely. Truth be told, Armadine suspected Travel could take down all five men all by himself if he so chose. Even now he had swiftly and silently produced a tiny crossbow from inside his voluminous robe and loaded it with a bolt aimed through the crack in the door.

The man inside only grunted. "Down the hall. Ten minutes. Make sure it's empty."

"Why not here, and now?" Armadine grit his teeth, then winced in pain and relaxed his jaw. The broken ones still hurt.

"I got a whore here," the man said through the crack. Whatever he was holding, it seemed he only meant it for defense. "I wanna...finish up."

Armadine suspected whoever the girl was, she was not exactly a willing participant. That was unfortunate, but a guard could be forgiven his occasional discretions. Besides, at the moment Armadine had more to worry about than some poor whore who'd gotten in over her head with a man who liked it rough even when the girl did not.

"Very well," Armadine said, then gestured with a finger towards the man behind the door. "Do not be late, however. And do send her home alive. Or I shall have Traval here investigate the disappearance. And he is very thorough."

The man grunted under his breath. "I ain't no killer. But sometime's a mouthy whore's gotta 'ave a little sense knocked into her."

Armadine snorted, his jaw set. "Indeed. Ten minutes."

He turned away from the door, and headed down the hall. His guards all walked behind him, their well oiled leather armor creaking lightly. Traval walked in step with him, the crossbow gone in an instant. The man often wore a loose fitting robe that made him look a bit like some shadowy monk. That was fine. It gave him plenty of room to hide his weaponry and other devices, and also gave him ease of movement in any battle.

"You didn't tell me he was a woman beater." Armadine glanced over at Traval, watching him a moment.

As usual, the older man's face showed little reaction or emotion. Traval was perhaps twice Armadine's age, and if his guards were forged from iron, Traval's face must have been cut from stone. Not in a chiseled handsome way, either. Travel's face and all his features were rounded rather then sharp, and weathered by age and experience. Yet emotion of any sort so rarely flicked across his expression Armadine half thought the man might have suffered a minor stroke. Even his brown hair, cut short and peppered with gray, seemed to exist in a fixed state regardless of wind or movement.

"You did not ask," Traval said simply.

"No," Armadine said. "I did not." He left it at that.

At the end of the hall, there was a small break room for the guards on duty in the area. A few scuffed wooden tables of indeterminate origin were scattered around the room. Each table had a few mismatched chairs and stools, some cushioned and some not. A small hearth at one end of the room kept it warm so long as someone bothered to light a fire. A few simple landscapes and a surprisingly detailed portrait of a nude woman adorned the walls. A wooden countertop ran along one wall, with a pitcher of water alongside several wooden cups, as well as half a loaf of crusty bread. Above the countertop was a small, bronze rimmed looking glass.

Two guards sat at one of the tables, clad in old but well maintained chain mail beneath gray and blue surcoats with a five-towered keep emblazoned upon them. Swords were unstrapped and lay across the table, while their pikes were leaned up against the wall. An assortment of cards and smattering of coins were scattered across the table.

"You bloody cheat," one man cursed, though his laughter indicated he didn't take his own claim too seriously.

"Yeah, yeah," the other man laughed, gathering up his cards and the coins on the table. "Come on, you lout, pay up the rest of it."

Grumbling, the other guard dropped a handful of coins upon the table where they clattered and rolled till his counterpart scooped those up too. "I hope ya choke on them."

"If I try eatin' coins, I deserve to choke on them," the man said as he scooped up his winnings.

Traval walked into the room, glanced around, and then slapped a hand against the table. "Out. Now."

"But we were..."

"Back to your duties," Traval said, giving each man a hard stare.

The guards grumbled. One of them glanced towards Lord Armadine as he stood near the doorway. Looked like the noble was about to hold some kind of meeting here. Whatever it was, they probably didn't want to be a part of it. And the glare that the man in the robe was giving them was making them nervous, anyway. Slowly, the two guards stood up and began to strap their swords back around their waists.

"Yeah, alright," the winner said, fetching his spear. "Break was about over anyway."

"Carry on then, Gentlemen," Armadine said, giving them a gracious bow as they passed him and headed out into the hallway.

Armadine entered the room and walked around a little bit. As he strode about, he kept one hand upon his whip. The room looked filthy. At least Armadine himself was there to class it up, he thought. The noble paused to glance at himself in the mirror. He wore a dark green overcoat with long sleeves edged in ruffles of gold. Beneath it a burgundy vest with buttons of pearl sat above a golden tunic. He also wore trousers of gold and black, that matched his gold-buckled shoes. His light wavy hair was kept combed neatly back. Everything looked nearly perfect he thought, save for his face. His nose now held a permanent crooked shape, and when he smiled it was clear a few teeth were gone, and a few more were broken. Even his lips were marred by where they'd held stitches.

Still, his time for revenge would come. He could be patient. In the end Alia would get what was coming to her. Alia and that damn dragon. As far as Armadine was concerned, that dragon belonged to him. After all, Armadine was the Illandran Head of the Twenty-Fourth House. He did not run the house itself, that was done from Aran'alia. But he handled their matters here in Illandra. Considering the dragon had been captured in Aran'alia, made the creature property of the Twenty-Fourth House. Property of Lord Armadine. The black monster was no better then a wild beast that had yet to be properly trained. Or put down if the training would not take.

There would be time for that later.

Armadine turned away from the mirror. He still had a few minutes to kill. He stroked his thumb against the braided leather of his black whip. Perhaps if they had to put the beast down, he'd have something made from its hide. He'd wanted something made of dragon hide for some time now. Some of those filthy beast still plagued the Twenty-Fourth province now and then. Armadine had long hoped to have something made from their hides, but if this ebon-scaled monster refused to be properly trained he'd make do with what was available.

"Any word on the efforts to capture or slay the beast that strikes the supply convoys now and then?" Armadine turned his attention towards Traval, and waved his hand to the rest of his guards.

Traval waited until the guards had all shuffled out and the door was shut before he replied. "Nothing new, My Lord. They suspect there are in fact, multiple dragons as the descriptions from witnesses have varied significantly. The most commonly sighted one is the same male as before, but there have been reports of others, including a blue female."

Armadine leaned against the counter, growling through his teeth. "How much are they costing us?"

"More than you'd care to know, though your personal finances have not been damaged." A rare smirk spread over Traval's lips. "Nor will they be."

"Good. This...commonly sighted one. They think he is the ringleader of these beasts?"

"That may be a reach, My Lord." Traval shrugged, and produced a small book from inside his robe. He began to flip through it. "Commonly sighted really only means he's reported a few times a year, at most. It may well be that the monster simply lives in that area, and enjoys harassing caravans for sport. From the descriptions I have here, it sounds as though it is not the largest of dragons. Perhaps still relatively young, too foolish to know how unwise it is to harass Illandran property."

Armadine stiffened a little. He hated having anything owned by his House described as Illandran property, even if it was technically the truth. "Is this the bronze one?" Armadine glanced over at Traval. "Or the blue one?"

"Both, My Lord," Traval said, smirking a little more.

"Two dragons? No, I mean the one they see the most."

"As do I, My Lord," Traval said, flipping his book to a new page. "Allow me to read a particular description, from a soldier who got a good look at the beast." Traval flicked his eyes to Armadine, then back to the book. "The dragon wasn't as big as I expected, not as big as those in the tales. A bit wiry, really. A male, to be sure. Balls and all." Traval paused a moment. "And these are his words, not mine."

Armadine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go on, Traval."

"Looked like a bronze sculpture of a dragon, only someone dipped the legs in blue paint, and then splattered the rest of it with blue too."

"Sounds hideous," Armadine said. "But it also sounds unique enough that someone should damn well be able to find the thing." He licked his lips, and glared at Traval. "My question is, if this soldier saw the beast up close enough to see its color, let alone the fact it had balls, why the hell didn't he put an arrow in its throat?"

"You'd have to ask him that yourself, My Lord." Traval put his book away.

"Nonetheless, at least they've something to go on." Armadine dropped his hand down to squeeze the handle of his whip. "I want this thing caught. Alive if possible. So that they can make a show of cutting his bronze balls off. Perhaps if we have their leader gelded, it will send enough of message for the rest of the slimy things to slink off back to their caves."

"As Your Lordship commands," Traval said, waving his hand with a flourish. "Shall I also have the dragon's testicles sent to you in a velvet box?"

Armadine snickered a little bit. "Point taken, Traval. They can deal with the dragon in any manner possible. But since you brought it up." Armadine rubbed his thumb against the braided leather of the whip's handle. "Should they capture and geld the beast, have the filthy things sent to someone from the rebellion instead. I find it exceedingly likely they're the ones sending these dragons after us in the first place."

Traval only murmured. There was a knock on the door, and Traval went to answer it. He let the visitor inside, it was the man they'd been waiting for. His meaty face was a bit ruddy from whatever deed he'd just finished, but at least he had the decency to put on clean clothes. Relatively clean, anyway. A few stains that would never quite vanish dotted his cream colored, button up tunic, and a few more marred his grey breeches. His boots held no such stains but the leather was well scuffed with wear. Dark, reddish brown hair was matted to his head.

Armadine smiled at him, and went to the nearest table. He pulled out a chair for the man. "Have a seat, my friend."

"Friends, are we?" The man asked, though he took the seat nonetheless.

"Indeed we are," Armadine assured him. "And if you come through for me, I assure that that friendship will only grow and become all the more beneficial."

The man grunted, folding his arms over his broad chest. "So what is it you want, exactly?"

Armadine licked his thin lips, pacing back and forth a little. "It is my understanding you are not a fan of this Warden woman. This Alia Silverrain."

"No," the man spat. "I'm not. Damn dark-hair got me demoted, just cause I was speakin' the truth."

"Ah," Armadine said, coming to a stop. "And what exactly is the truth?"

The now low-ranking guard glanced back and forth between Armadine and Traval a moment. Then he grit his teeth. "That she puts that dragon's snout between her legs at night. I seen it myself, I don't care what they say. And that ain't all she does with that beast." He leaned forward, grinning lewdly. "He was in that damn tub, right? And she was leaned over the edge of it, givin' him a stroke like a farmer tryin' to eager-up a lazy horse to breed. Only, he ain't no horse, she ain't no farmer, and they sure ain't makin' no foal."

"Quaint," Armadine said. Then grinned. "But very helpful." He gestured towards Traval. Travel came over and took a seat. He produced another little book, as well as a charcoal pencil. "Traval here will take your statement. Is that alright with you?"

The man nodded a bit. "Yeah, s'pose so. He said you was takin' this to the queen?"

"Indeed I am," Armadine said. He ran a finger over his scarred lip, then smiled at the guard. "I am curious. If the Queen's judgment does not satisfy me, and I decide I'd like to see a more...severe...punishment inflicted upon this disgusting woman, could I count upon your support?"

The guard chewed on his lip a moment, his beady eyes flicking back and forth between the other two men. After some thought, he smiled and slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think you could."

"Good," Armadine said. Doubly so for the guard himself, since if he'd said no, Traval might have had to deal with him in the future.

"Now. Tell Traval everything you know about Alia and The Dragon."

---

Chapter Five

"What is this?" Suspicion tinted Valyrym's voice.

"It's your first surprise. It's a present for you." Alia smiled, rubbing the old dragon's gray marked nose. "For your home, really."

"So you said." Valyrym snorted. "But what is it?"

Alia made an odd noise that sounded like a cross between an exasperated sigh and a half-confused giggle. "It's a rose bush, you silly beast."

Valyrym glared at Alia a moment. Then he lifted his golden eyes and turned his head to slowly glare at each of her friends in turn. Thomas and Enric looked bemused, Kaylen was giggling to herself, and Vatch seemed as confused by the whole idea as the dragon. Finally, Valyrym turned his attention down to the bushy green plant with the bright red flowers that grew out a pot painted the color of the sky.

"Yes, I see that Alia," Valyrym grumbled. He gently prodded one of the fiery red blossoms with a single unsheathed claw. "But what does it do?"

"It doesn't do anything, Valyrym," Alia explained with a little sigh. She smiled at the dragon and stroked his neck. "It just looks pretty. It adds color to your dismal little empire. And the flowers smell wonderful, don't you think?"

Valyrym growled through his teeth. He lowered his head, sniffing at the plant a moment. Well...Alia was right about that. Not that he'd say as much. "It smells like those baths you give me. And sometimes you smell like that, after your own baths."

"And you like it when I smell that way, don't you?" Alia stroked the top of the dragon's muzzle.

"I do," Valyrym admitted. Then he smirked a little. "But if you're suggesting I try to mate with this plant, I shall have to decline the invitation. It has thorns."

Alia giggled and shook her head, then swatted the dragon's nose. He yelped and pulled his head back. "Don't be such a brat."

"I am not a brat," Valyrym muttered, rubbing his nose. "I'm far too old for that. And it isn't as if anyone here doesn't know."

By now, all their close friends knew. Alia hadn't brought it up to Enric, but he had pulled her aside and made it clear he knew. It was in all their little glances, their little gestures, their touches. Most people would miss them, but seeing things often hidden in plain sight was part of Enric's job. The Queen counted on him to correctly gather information often based only on the tiniest of sources. The signs were all there, if well hidden, and Enric knew. Enric also made a point to tell Alia he didn't really care what she and the dragon did as long as they were happy and the dragon remained docile. Relatively speaking, of course.

"That isn't the point, Valyrym." Alia glared at him a moment, then glanced back at Enric. "Is it Enric?"

The guard just shrugged, and grinned at Valyrym. "I think the word she's looking for is thank you, Alia."

"That is three words, Enric." Valyrym swatted the floor with his tail, then pushed his muzzle against Alia. At least he could be a little more affectionate around her again now that the only people in his home were their friends. "But thank you Alia. I appreciate the gesture if not the plant itself."

Alia giggled a little, stroking his cheek. "Good enough. I think you'll grow to like it, actually."

"What must I do with it?" Valyrym asked, pulling his head back. He lowered his head and sniffed at it again, rumbling.

"Mostly just put it in the sunlight, and keep it watered." Alia crouched down and picked up the potted rose with both hands around the pot. "Let's put it in the light now, before you forget. I've already watered it today, so you shouldn't have to do so again for a few days. If it starts to look wilted though, do be sure and water it."

Valyrym padded after Alia as she walked towards one of his ledges where a particularly bright patch of sunlight shone down through one of his air vents. "Will it get enough light here?"

Alia set the pot atop the ledge, then climbed up herself. She pulled the rose across the ledge until the dark green leaves and nearly blood-hued flowers were all dappled with orange light. "Hopefully. As long as we keep it in in the sunlight patches as often as possible, it should be alright. There's only one way to find out."

"So if it should die, I can blame you for its murder, then."

Alia dusted her hands off on her blue blouse. Then she put her hands on her hips and smirked at the dragon. "That depends on the cause of death, doesn't it? I suspect it's far more likely to die from neglect and lack of water than it is from lack of sunlight."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," the dragon muttered. He turned his wedge shaped head towards the Urd'thin leaning against the ledge. "Vatch, how would you like to be put in charge of gardening?"

"No," Vatch said simply. The little brown-furred creature grinned, shaking his head. He wore blue today as well. Valyrym thought it made him look like some kind of chocolate treat coated in blueberry icing. He perked an oversized ear, grinning. "Rose is dragon problem. Vatch not get yell at cause dragon let rose die."

"Maybe Vatch take blame," Valyrym said, snapping his jaws sharply. "Or Vatch get eaten!"

"Eeep!" Vatch squeaked in alarm, and ran behind the nearest human. Which turned out to be Kaylen. The somewhat plump young woman was wearing a dress that cascaded down her form in layers of dark purple and gold, one of the creations she'd worked with Paulson on. Vatch tugged at her sleeve. "Dragon try eat me!"

"Oh, don't worry my little Vatchy!" Kaylen said, giggling. "I'll keep you safe!" She turned around and ducked down a little to wrap Vatch in her arms and squeeze him to herself. "So I can hug and cuddle and ruffle up your fluffy fur all day long!"

"No!" Vatch tried to push her away, squirming. He pinned his ears back in embarrassment and began frantically batting at her hands as she ruffled up the fur atop his head. "No ruffle fur!"

Thomas burst out laughing, shaking his head. "Poor Vatch," the black haired man said as melodramatically as he could. Thomas wore a rather formal looking black tunic with golden threading along each sleeve, and silver buttons at the collar. He plucked at the golden threading a little bit, grinning. "Ruffled to death at such a young age." Then he scrunched up the gently rounded features of his slightly bronzed face. "At least, I think he's still at a young age. For all I know, Vatch might be an old man. Are you an old man, Vatch?"

"No!" Vatch hissed through his sharp little teeth while trying to get free of Kaylen's seemingly inescapable grasp. "Vatch young! Make crazy lady let go!"

"Oh no, Old Man," Thomas said wryly, grinning. "I'm not getting involved in all that. You're on your own."

"That's because Thomas knows if he puts a hand on me," Kaylen said, giggling, and ruffling at the fur along Vatch's neck. She hoisted her knee for emphasis. "I'll put Thomas on the floor!"

Thomas winced and laughed, and Enric shook his head. The guard leaned against his spear a moment. He was technically still on duty. Since he was also technically assigned to keep watch over Alia and the dragon, he considered chatting with them while they brought the dragon presents to count as being on duty. "You guys are bad. Not that I'd have it any other way. Haven't had this much fun on the job since I got to watch the new recruits try and catch that drunken Koraa'gi running around naked."

Vatch ignored them, pinning his oversized ears back again and glaring at Thomas. "You help Vatch now! Or else!"

Thomas only snorted, grinning down at the little creature. "Or else what, Vatch?"

"Or...or...Or Vatch punch you! In balls!"

Thomas took a step back. "Don't you even think about it."

Kaylen giggled like the madwoman she was so often compared to. "Oh, do it Vatch! I'll give you two gold to walk right up and punch Thomas right where it hurts!"

"Okay!" Vatch grinned up at her. "Vatch do! Now let go, and show gold."

"Hey!" Thomas said, taking a few more steps back. "This is not the sort of thing I came down here for."

Kaylen let Vatch go. As she fished out her coin purse, Vatch danced away from her. Then he perked up his ears and stuck out his tongue, a very human gesture he'd recently picked up. "Hah hah! Vatch too smart for you! Vatch just want you let go! Vatch not need gold, Vatch have job!"

"Oooh!" Kaylen stomped her foot in mock fury. "You furry little sneak!"

Vatch beamed, and turned around. He stuck his rump and tail out at her, wiggling them a little bit. The gesture was a trademark Urd'thin insult, even if no one knew it but Vatch. "Vatch too smart for crazy lady!"

"We'll see about that!" Kaylen said, stomping towards Vatch as if intent on kicking him instead.

"EEP!" Vatch squeaked again and dashed away. "Dragon! Save Vatch!"

Valyrym rumbled a laugh, cocking his head as the little furred creature ran right up to him. "A moment ago, you were telling me I was on my own. Now you want me to save you?"

"Yes!" Vatch said, gesturing towards Kaylen. "She kick in balls!"

"So what am I saving? You, or your balls?" Valyrym smirked at Kaylen.

"Both!" Vatch insisted. "We have bond now, yes?"

Valyrym chuckled, and settled down onto his belly. He wrapped a foreleg around Vatch, tucking the much smaller creature up against his chest plates whether Vatch liked it or not. "Oh, very well. But if the rose dies, you take the blame."

"Is deal," Vatch said in agreement, snuggling up against the dragon as though they were long lost friends.

Kaylen came to a stop, putting her hands on her gold and purple covered hips. She tossed her head, black tresses swaying. "What's this all about then?"

"This," Valyrym said, ducking his head to rest it against Vatch's oversized ears. "Is mine. At least for the moment. His people and mine have a shared tragedy in our past. ...So do yours. You should be nicer to little Vatch here."

Vatch squirmed a little bit, huffing. "Vatch is Dragon friend, yes. But not pillow!"

"Hush Vatch," Valyrym and Kaylen said, nearly in unison.

Kaylen giggled a little bit, smiling down at Vatch. "Oh, don't worry, Vatch. You're far too adorable for me to kick for real." Then she reached out and tapped the dragon on the nose. "You, on the other hand, I'd be happy to kick again."

Valyrym curled his tail protectively, hissing at her. "You stay away from those." Then he turned his head towards Enric and Alia, who'd mostly just been watching and laughing. "Aren't you two supposed to be ensuring the safety of your prisoner?"

Enric gestured towards Kaylen, grinning. "I'm not getting in the way of that foot, dragon. You're on your own with her."

Valyrym growled a little, then glared at Kaylen. A few quick retorts came to mind but he cast them aside. Instead, he settled on a tactic he thought might better actually get to her. Without warning he suddenly pressed his muzzle up against Kaylen's face, and licked her. The dragon slid his tongue all the way from her chin to her forehead, leaving a glistening trail all across her face.

"GAH!" Kaylen cried out, stumbling back. Then she frantically wiped at her face with the sleeves of her dress. "Dragon slobber!"

Everyone burst out laughing while Kaylen struggled to dry her face. Valyrym just grinned at her. "Thought that might work better than words."

"Oh!" Kaylen stomped her foot again. "Now I really am going to kick you again!"

"So long as you remember what happened last time, and expect the same result," Valyrym said with a rumbling purr. Then he turned his golden gaze towards Alia, still clutching Vatch under a foreleg like an oversized stuffed toy. "Besides, didn't you say you had two surprises for me? I've seen the rose, what else have you brought? Is it in that barrel you've got secreted away over in the corner?"

"It is," Alia giggled to herself.

"And you swear it isn't rum."

"Not this time. You've still got some rum left in the last barrel, anyway."

"Never have too much rum," the dragon murmured. "Why is Little Ky sitting on top of that barrel?"

"To keep you from getting too close and discovering the secret before we were ready."

"Ah, so you've enlisted her as your spy, have you?" Valyrym muzzled at Vatch's ears. He liked them. They were soft and Valyrym liked soft things. Vatch wasn't batting at his snout to get him to stop the way he'd batted at Kaylen, either. Though, when Valyrym realized how openly affectionate he was being in front of everyone, he quickly jerked his head back up. "I should have known she'd betray me."

"And she'll get your balls in her paw if you try opening that barrel yourself," Alia said, giggling. "And I know how much you hate that."

"Hell of a grip, that one," Valyrym murmured. "Between her and my sister, it's a wonder I ever actually sired Valar in the first place." Then he chuckled to himself as the group laughed. "Though, I rather doubt Little Ky has quite the same power in her fingers."

"True enough," Alia said, gesturing towards the barrel. "Perhaps we'd better just open it then. Enric, if you'd help me bring it over? Thomas, Kaylen, could you fetch some cups for everyone, and a bowl for Slobber-Jaws here? His previous human acquaintances might not have minded him slurping out of the same barrels they drank from but you probably all feel differently."

"Barrels they drank from?" Valyrym cocked his head, his eyes widening. "Alia, is that..."

"In a few more moments, you'll find out," Alia said, cutting him off with a giggle. "You've waited this long, try and have some patience you old beast."

As everyone else went to do as Alia asked, Valyrym slowly pushed himself back to his feet. When he let Vatch go the little Urd'thin rose up and stretched out, patting Valyrym on the shoulder. Then he gave the dragon's foreleg a hug, grinning up at him. Valyrym glanced down at him, and offered him a little smile. Then the dragon quickly looked away before anyone caught him.

Vatch patted the dragon's leg again and stepped back. "You good friend to Vatch. Alia too. Is nice have made friend you all."

"Yes, yes," Valyrym said, waving his paw. "Don't get all sappy now."

"Aw, but I thought gay dragon love Vatch," Vatch said, hissing in amusement and grinning at Valyrym.

"You're pressing your luck now, Runt," Valyrym said. "Call me that a few more times, and I'm going to start wondering about your subconscious desires."

Vatch scrunched up his muzzle, twisting his ears to the side of his head. "What means subcoshness?"

"It means if you call me that again," Valyrym said, then made a show of lifting a front paw. He flexed a single digit, captured it with his thumb, and then flicked it sharply in the air. "I'm going to flick one of your furry little stones when you least expect it."

Vatch gulped, taking a step back. "Okay, okay. Is just funny dragon always talk about size of Vatch sheath and balls. Dragon must look every time Vatch take bath!"

Valyrym took a step towards Vatch, lifting his paw again, and Vatch laughed and dashed off. Still, Valyrym couldn't help grinning. He liked that little runt. "You're starting to remind me of Korvarak, Vatch."

"Is good thing?" Vatch took a cautious step towards the dragon, but remained out of flicking range.

"Yes," Valyrym said, padding towards Alia and Enric as they carefully hauled a large wooden barrel wrapped in iron banding across the chamber. "That is a very good thing."

Alia and Enric set the barrel down near the dragon, and soon Alia passed Little Ky over to Vatch. She patted Vatch's head between his large ears. "You take good care of her now."

"Yes, Yes," Vatch said, snuggling Litte Ky to his chest. "I take care."

Enric carefully pried open the top of the barrel while Thomas and Kaylen fetched some drinking vessels. As soon as the top came free, the scent of water began to waft through the room. Valyrym knew in an instant without even peering in the barrel the water would be silver. The scent was laced with honey and melon and the taste would be even more so. Even after all these years, the smell was still familiar.

"Alia," Valyrym murmured, black nostrils flaring as he relished the scent. "Where have you gotten that?"

Alia smiled, and moved to hug the dragon's neck. She stroked his scales a little. "From the same woman who sold me Little Ky. She was glad to know you liked her so much."

"I'll bet she was," Valyrym murmured, pressing himself against Alia's hands. That was all he was going to say about it as long as Enric was there.

Thomas and Kaylen soon returned. Kaylen bore an armful of wooden cups and began to pass them out to Enric, Vatch, and Alia while keeping one for herself. Thomas had a wooden mug and also a hefty bowl for Valyrym to drink out of. Thomas offered Valyrym the bowl, and Valyrym glared at him a moment.

"What am I, some hound to drink from a bowl at your feet?"

"Just take it Valyrym." Alia glared at him a moment. "It makes things easier for everyone."

"Everyone but me," Valyrym snorted, snatching the bowl from Thomas' grasp.

"And you're outnumbered," Alia reminded the dragon, walking to the barrel.

"I'm still bigger than you all."

"Don't make me go and get my dragon kicking boots, Valyrym." Alia smirked at the dragon.

"You've got no such thing."

"No, but I could have Paulson cobble me a pair." Alia nudged the toe of her boot against the recently-swept stone floor. "Perhaps with pointy toes."

That earned a groan from everyone but Kaylen. Kaylen, of course, giggled enthusiastically. "Oh, I should like a pair of those as well! We've got to keep the dragon in line somehow."

"I'm starting to think you two derive far too much pleasure from threatening those particular parts of my anatomy." Valyrym snorted, clattering his tail spines against the ground.

"Not as much as we derive from seeing the big, bad dragon writhing around mewling on the floor."

"I do not mewl," Valyrym said, snapping his jaws. He tossed his head, flaring his spines. "I groan in a deep and masculine manner."

That had everyone else laughing again. Valyrym smirked, and then dunked his wooden bowl into the silver water filling the barrel. "If no one else is going to drink this, I am."

"Wait for us," Alia said, reaching into the barrel to fill her own cup. "We're supposed to have a toast! Everyone else get your water."

Thomas and Kaylen both filled their cups. Enric did the same, though he stared at the silvery liquid glinting in the orange lamplight with a far more dubious expression than the others. "You sure this is safe to drink?"

"No," Valyrym said, grinning. "It is not."

"It's actually poisoned," Alia said as if in agreement. "Valyrym and I planned a mass suicide." She giggled as Enric stared at her as if he couldn't quite tell just how serious she was being. "It's fine, Enric! It's better than fine, in fact, it's delicious."

Enric sniffed at it. "Smells like...water. Maybe a little sweeter. What's so special about this, anyway? And what keeps it from going stagnant?"

"Magic," Valyrym said, flexing his wings as he answered both questions at once.

Enric quirked a brow. "Magic?"

"The only magic left in the world," Alia said, taking Vatch's cup from him. He was standing on tip toes and half leaning over the barrel to fill it up, and she was afraid he was going to accidentally upend the whole barrel. It hadn't been cheap, either, and did not have an easy replacement. She filled Vatch's cup and passed it back to the Urd'thin. "Or so my people once told Valyrym. The pure essence of magic itself, like a fifth element, locked in the earth and the stones..."

Alia trailed off, smelling her glass of water. A smile crept over her lips. "And in the rain. But only in Aran'alia. When you drink this water...you're tasting what our ancestors tasted. You're drinking our heritage. You're drinking the essence of Aran'alia."

"So," Enric said, smiling. "Is that what we're toasting? Aran'alia?"

"In part," Alia said. She moved to stand alongside Valyrym. Alongside her dragon. She draped an arm over his neck when he lowered his head a little. "We drink to Aran'alia. And we drink to Valyrym. And we drink to Valyrym's coming freedom." She turned her head and placed a kiss on the dragon's neck. "Freedom I have no doubt the Queen will decide to grant him after she's met him tomorrow. All we'll have to do then is wait for her to return from her trip, and make it official."

"You are awfully optimistic," Valyrym murmured, staring at his faint reflection in his bowl of water. There seemed to be more gray on his face than ever now, and somehow he doubted that was simply the silvery tint of the liquid reflecting him. Sudden nervousness twisted his belly. The Queen had been forced to postpone her visit by several weeks, but now the day was nearly here. "And I could have done without being reminded of tomorrow's events."

"You'll do fine, Valyrym," Alia said, stroking his neck.

"Aye," Enric said in agreement. "You will." Enric held up his cup. "Well then! To Aran'alia, to Valyrym, and to his freedom, may the Queen grant it swiftly!"

Everyone else held up their cups a moment, cheering their agreement. Valyrym watched them as they all took a long drink from their cups and mugs. It seemed so surreal a scene. After all these years, there were five people here drinking to his freedom. Hell, one of his own guards had just given the toast himself. Much as he tried to fight it, it made the old dragon's heart swell, a surge of constricting heat rising up his throat. The scent of silver water wasn't helping. He had not smelled that scent in many years, and yet here was Alia, bringing him yet another reason to find joy in his life once more. Another reason to remember the best parts of his life, and not the worst.

Valyrym glanced away, sniffing hard. A few tears streaked down his black scales and he quickly wiped at his golden eyes with a paw. Alia nudged his neck, and pointed to his bowl, grinning. "Drink your water for the toast, you old crybaby."

Valyrym chuckled a little at the affectionate teasing. He lowered his head to his drinking bowl, and lapped up a few mouthfuls of the cool water. Even after months in a barrel it still tasted sweet and fresh. The once-familiar flavors of melon and honeysuckle washed across his tongue, mixing with the simple clean taste of water. Gods, he'd forgotten how sweet the silver water tasted. He gave a long, happy sigh, his wings settling against the sides of his body in contentment.

"How's it taste?" Alia asked. She knew how it tasted to her, but the dragon was the only one among them who'd ever had a chance to drink the water in Aran'alia itself.

"Like home," Valyrym simply murmured.

Alia beamed, and stroked his cheek with her free hand, sipping her water again. "I'm glad. It's funny you should say that. The first time I tasted it, that's what I thought it tasted like, too. I've never even seen the place, but all I could think of when I tasted that water was home."

"You should see it," Valyrym murmured softly, then nuzzled at her hand. He pressed his soft nose to her fingers. The pink scar still marked him between his nostrils. He lovingly licked at Alia's hand a few times. "Thank you, Alia. This is a wonderful gift."

"You're welcome, my lovely dragon." Alia smiled, squirming a little as his tongue tickled her hand.

"Certainly better than any stinky rose bush."

Alia narrowed her eyes, grinning. "There is nothing stinky about that rose bush. Gods know this little hovel of yours could use a few more pleasant scents. Which reminds me! I'm going to bring some incense down here to burn in a few areas, too."

"Wonderful," the dragon snorted, pulling his head back.

"Oh, don't complain. I got them from another Aran'alian Vendor. They're supposed to smell like things back home."

Valyrym lifted his head a little bit. "Do you have one that smells like apple blossoms?"

Alia finished off her mug of water, acting as coy as she could. She dunked her cup in the barrel again, shrugging. "I'm not sure. I think there was some blossom or another in there." Smirking, she glanced around at her friends. "So, what do you all think of the water?"

"I think Valyrym summed it up best, actually," Thomas said, smiling. He held his mug in both hands, and took another long drink. "It's delicious. And it's strange, yet it really does sort of remind me of home. Well, I mean, Illandra is my home, but it makes me think of Aran'alia. I wish I could have seen it, really."

"So do I," Kaylen said. She drained her cup, and quickly dunked it in the barrel for more. "This stuff is fantastic."

Alia grinned over at Enric, tilting her head a little. Black tresses fell to the sides of her head. "Well?"

Enric smiled sheepishly. "It's pretty damn good, actually. Can't say it reminds me of home, but if I was Aran'alian, I bet it would."

"Perhaps if we drop a dirty, cold, gray stone in your cup, it will remind you more of home." Valyrym smirked at the guard who laughed it off, and handed his bowl to Alia. "More, please."

"Yes, M'Lord Dragon," Alia said, offering a mock curtsy.

"What?" Valyrym flared his spines a little bit. "If you're making me drink from a bowl, the least you can do is fill it for me."

Alia giggled. She used her own cup a few times to fill up Val's bowl. "Shall I also fetch M'Lord's robe and put your slippers upon your feet?"

"If you try and fit some idiot's slippers upon my feet, I shall drown you in the barrel."

"No you won't," Alia said with a grin, passing the dragon back his bowl.

"You're right," Valyrym admitted, setting his bowl down. Then he smirked. "I wouldn't want to spoil the water." Alia laughed, and Valyrym curled his spined tail around Vatch, grinning. "I'll just have Vatch smother you in your sleep with his giant ears."

"Hey!" Vatch yapped, punching at the dragon's tail. "Vatch ears not that big!"

"That's your reply?" Alia said, feigning indignity. "Nothing about how you'd never hurt me, or how dare he imply you'd murder me in my sleep? Just defending your own ears?"

Vatch just grinned, and perked those very ears. He stuck his tongue out at Alia, a gesture he'd done quite a lot since picking it up from her. Alia giggled at the sight of the Urd'thins long tongue hanging out of his canine-like muzzle. She poked his tongue and he squeaked and pulled it back into his snout.

"How do you like the water Vatch?"

"Is best water ever!"

"Yes, I think that about sums it up," Valyrym said, slowly uncurling his tail from Vatch. "Though, you could say that about a lot of things from Aran'alia."

"Aran'alia," Thomas said melodramatically. Then he waved his hand in the air as if illustrating the banner for some luxurious carriage service to a faraway land. "Is best place ever."

The group all laughed, and Valyrym lapped at his water. He lifted his head, beads of silver water dribbling from the gray scales on the bottom of his snout. "I think the fact that they didn't go out of their way to murder dragons was enough to earn them that honor all by itself."

"There are other places that don't go out of their way to murder dragons," Enric said, half-heartedly protesting.

"Name one," Valyrym challenged him, licking his nose.

"Well...Uh..."

"That's what I thought," Valyrym said, snorting.

"Denoria."

"Hmm?" Valyrym cocked his head.

"Denoria," Enric repeated, grinning. "They don't murder dragons. I mean, unless the dragons are attacking villages and such."

"And where is this mythical place, then?"

"South. Southwest, really. It's a small land, independent. Illandra had some trade and travel agreements with them, but we don't own them or anything."

Valyrym shifted up slightly, lifting his head. "And how do you know they don't murder dragons?"

"Well, that's what I was told anyway," Enric said, not totally sure. "But I've talked to some travelers, and some diplomats from Denoria. This was a few years ago, mind you. They were quite impressed we had the capability to hold a dragon prisoner." Enric quickly went on when Valyrym narrowed his eyes, growling. "Anyway, they just said that they had a few dragons in Denoria, and as long as they didn't cause trouble, Denoria was happy to leave them be to live their lives."

Valyrym chuckled and shook his head. "A few dragons. So how long until Illandra invades this little country, then?"

"Very funny," Enric said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd like to think we don't do that anymore."

"Ah," Valyrym said, dropping his head to drink some more of his water. "Well, isn't Aran'alia just lucky to be on the wrong side of that cutoff date."

"What was it like?" Kaylen asked, suddenly. "Aran'alia I mean."

Valyrym wasn't sure if she was genuinely curious, or just hoping to diffuse a little of the tension that had crept into the conversation. He didn't mind either way. The old dragon had come to like Enric, and he didn't mean to insult his home or insinuate that he had anything to do with it. Valyrym glanced at Enric, and gave a little bow of his head. A simple gesture from a dragon, indicating that the matter was closed, and that no hurt feelings were intended. Enric seemed to get the idea as he smiled a little, and bowed his own red-haired head a little.

When Valyrym turned his attention back to Kaylen, he cleared his throat with a little growl. "It was beautiful."

"So you said. But...what did it look like?" Kaylen looked at Thomas, and he smiled. It seemed they were both curious to hear what their lost homeland looked like.

Alia stroked the dragon's neck, and he murmured in thought a moment. "Rugged. Wild, and untamed. Though I am sure things have changed, when I lived there, there were no cities anywhere near as large as this one." He waved his paw at the city beyond his cell. "The villages they did have were very colorful, lots of banners and brightly painted buildings and murals. Surrounded by hills that were green as emeralds, studded with all sorts of stone spires and boulders, many of them carved with sigils older even than any dragon alive back then. It rained a lot, especially in the spring and fall. But the rain only fell in waves of silver, and even when it was a cold rain it was somehow invigorating. Beyond the green hills there were towering, jagged mountains that looked liked claws tearing at the belly of the sky. There were forests across much of the land. They had rivers and lakes the color of the deep sky. It was a beautiful place."

"It sounds stunning," Thomas said, his voice soft.

"It was," Valyrym replied, nodding. He licked his bowl clean, and then lifted his head. "I have carved it here and there, if you should like to see. It is not as good as the real thing, but..."

"I'd love to see!" Kaylen blurted out, giggling. "I mean, I've looked at all your carvings but I'd rather see them through your eyes."

"Very well," Valyrym said, smiling to himself. "This way, then."

Valyrym began to lead the procession through his chamber to the first of many pillars he had carved with scenes from Aran'alia. As he walked, he turned and looked back at Alia. "If I am ever truly free of this place, I shall take you to see your home, Alia." Then he glanced at Thomas and Kaylen. "I suppose if you ask nicely, I could allow you two to tag along, as well."

"What about Vatch?" The Urd'thin asked, walking alongside Alia.

"You can go too, if you must," Valyrym flicked his tail. "But you get to walk. And Enric can stay here and get mounted." Then he smirked at the guard. "Oh, hello, Enric. Didn't see you there."

"Ah, shut yer snout, ya old newt."

Valyrym smiled. "And you, Alia." He nuzzled her hand a moment, and she stroked his nose.

"Yes, Valyrym?"

"You I shall take to the Sigil Stones, where I shall carve our names together for all to see."

---

Chapter Six

Valyrym paced.

The Queen of Illandra would set foot in his prison any moment, and the dragon feared how he may react. He had not seen anyone of royal blood since he'd last seen the shattered King whose family he slew. The old dragon's heart pounded so heavily in his chest he was sure it going to rattle the scales right off his body one by one. His stomach had twisted and clenched so long it began to hurt. For the first time, even Alia's gentle touch and whispered words did little to soothe his frayed nerves.

The Queen was going to be standing in front of him. With one swift strike, he could do what he failed to do so long ago, and cut the very head from Illandra's shoulders. Not that it would do anyone any good, now. He had little intention of harming the woman. Alia seemed so convinced that the Queen was a good person. Yet if she said the wrong thing, acted the wrong way, Valyrym was afraid his emotions might get the better of him.

Valyrym paused and unsheathed his claws. He dragged them against the stone floor, cutting long, thin lines. His hissed through his teeth, and cut another set of lines with his other paw. When Alia put her hand against the scales of his neck, he growled under his breath. Alia stroked the dragon's neck, and he lashed his tail, spines clattering against the floor.

"Take a deep breath, Valyrym," Alia said softly.

"I have taken a hundred breaths already, and not one of them has helped."

"Take another," Alia said, an unending fountain of patience compared to the dragon who was growing more tightly wound by the moment.

Valyrym closed his golden eyes and did as Alia suggested. The dragon breathed in till his massive lungs were full nearly to bursting. Then he held the air inside himself until it grew too uncomfortable to hold any longer. He let it out in a great exhalation, wishing for the fifth time since waking that he could still make fire to go with those great gouts of breath. Then Valyrym panted a little bit before slowing his breathing again.

Alia giggled a little bit alongside him. "That's not how you're supposed to do that, Valyrym."

"I don't care," the dragon muttered.

"You're supposed to take a deep breath, hold it a few moments, then let it out slowly." Alia took a breath and held it, demonstrating. She let it out in a slow, sigh. "See? It's relaxing."

"I said I don't care!" Valyrym snapped. Then he relented, turning to nose at Alia's cheek. "I am sorry, Alia."

Alia only smiled at him, rubbing first his nose then his chin. "I know, Valyrym. Everything will be alright."

Valyrym pressed his face to Alia's body, sighing against her blouse. She looked lovely, he thought, if a little too formal for his liking. Not that he could blame her. "You look nice," Valyrym murmured without lifting his head.

"Thank you," Alia said softly. She stroked him up between his horns, over the spiny crest that rested there. "You look like a grumpy old dragon."

"Perhaps I should have worn my formal trousers," the dragon muttered, making Alia giggle.

Alia herself was wearing the same outfit she'd worn upon first meeting the Queen as it was the most formal thing she had. Formality seemed appropriate for a royal visit. Her outfit consisted of a forest green blouse with a formal cut that refrained from showing off the shapes of her breasts too explicitly. A line of ebony buttons ran up the front of the blouse, with more buttons in a black cascade down each sleeve. Unmistakable Warden's Office emblems marked each shoulder. Alia also wore a formal looking pair of trousers in a soft gray color, with a raven-hued stripe that ran down the outside of each pant leg. The black leather boots were still a little uncomfortable, and the silvery laces done up the front of them felt a little too tight. After all she'd only worn her formal boots a few times now.

"Yes, there's an idea," Alia grinned, stroking Valyrym's ears. "I should have Paulson come measure you for a pair of trousers."

"I should think I have suffered enough humiliations in my many years here without having to be the first dragon forced to wear pants," Valyrym said, lifting his head a little so that his golden eyes could meet Alia's. They sparkled with mirth Alia was glad to see. "Besides, he couldn't tailor trousers large enough to fit my balls."

"We'll have you get you fixed, then," Alia giggled, while Valyrym glared at her in mock horror. "Besides, I think you're confusing your balls with your ego again. Because if that gets any bigger we won't have to worry about the Queen setting you free. Your ego will knock down these walls for us."

"Ah," the dragon murmured, pressing his muzzle back to Alia's body again. "That sounds like a far more suitable alternative. Do be a friend and stroke my ego a little more, will you?"

"Not in front of company," Alia giggled, caressing Valyrym's crests a little. "Now, don't go flashing yourself at Her Majesty when she arrives."

"Flashing myself? You mean my balls, or my ego?"

"Both! But I'll settle for not flashing your balls, because I couldn't stop you from flashing your ego if I had you chained in the corner stuck in leather mittens and a muzzle."

Valyrym pulled his head back, grinning wryly. "Leather mittens and a muzzle? Just whose fantasies have you been listening too? Sounds like something Thomas would enjoy."

Alia grinned, and poked the dragon's nose. She was happy to distract him from his fears for as long as she could. The better mood he was in when the Queen arrived, the better the meeting would go, she was sure. "Who's to say that's not my fantasy?"

"Oh, well if you'd like to be all bound up..."

"I meant seeing you that way." Alia smirked, poking his nose again.

"Ah," the dragon said, snorting. Then he grinned. "So you'd like seeing me in some ridiculous, kinky get-up?"

"Yes, with a muzzle around your snout," Alia said, then burst out laughing. "Because it would be the only time you ever shut up!"

"Hey!" Valyrym hissed at her, and then promptly lashed out to swat Alia on the rump.

"OW!" Alia yelped and jumped, grabbing at her bottom with a hand. "That hurt!"

"And you hurt my ego," the dragon said, pouting.

"It's not my fault you want to be all tied up and muzzled," Alia said. Then she surged forward and swatted the dragon on the nose as hard as she could.

Valyrym yowled and yanked his head back, grasping his stinging nose with a paw. His golden eyes watered. "That hurts!"

"Good," Alia said, shaking her finger at him. "You know the rules. You swat me gently, I call you a brat. You swat me hard, and I swat you back. If we didn't have a visitor on the way, I'd swat you somewhere a lot more sensitive."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Valyrym growled, stepping back and tucking his tail. Then he grinned at Alia, snarling playfully. "I shall have to pin you down and spank you like the naughty little girl you're acting if you keep this up."

"You're just begging for a good kick, Dragon!" Alia giggled, waggling her boot in the air. "I'm starting to think you really do like it."

"Perhaps I simply enjoy getting to play a little rough with my lover as though she were another dragon." Smiling again, Valyrym pressed his muzzle up against her chest, gently butting her with his head. "Sometimes love hurts, I suppose. And you do seem to have a lovely way of making it up to me."

Laughing, Alia wrapped her arms around his head. "When this is all over, you'll have earned quite the reward for good behavior, I think."

Valyrym purred as Alia hugged his head. He lifted a paw to gently rub her back. "And if I've sent the Queen off in terrified tears?"

"Then you shall have to be punished severely."

"Perhaps somewhere in the middle, then."

Alia giggled, and leaned down to kiss the top of the dragon's head. She stroked his jaw line a few times. "I love you, Valyrym."

"I love you too, Alia," Valyrym said. He lifted his snout and licked at her face a few times, purring. Alia kissed his muzzle, his nose, and even his tongue, grinning at him. Finally, Alia straightened up, and giggling, pushing Valyrym's head away. He blinked up at her with a sly grin. "What, weren't you enjoying yourself?"

"I wouldn't want to get you all unsheathed right before the Queen arrives." Alia snickered, straightening out her blouse.

"Aw, I never get to have any fun," Valyrym said, stomping a paw in his best imitation of his own son. Then he glanced under himself, spotting a hint of red peeking from his sheath. "You don't think she wants to see my dragon spear?"

"Not with her guards around," Alia said, folding her arms under her breasts.

Valyrym tensed at the mention of guards. He hated guards. At least, guards not named Enric. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Let's just say, I'm half convinced she's already seen a gryphon spear."

"Really." Valyrym settled onto his haunches, cocking his head.

"It's just an uneducated guess. But they seemed..." Alia gestured with her hand, searching for the right word. "Close. She hinted that she might know about you and me, and its certainly possible Enric's already told her. If that's the case...well suffice to say she did not seem concerned about it."

"Intriguing," the old dragon murmured, sweeping his spined tail back and forth against the floor. The spines grated against the stone.

"Now put your thing away," Alia said, smirking at him.

"It is as put away as it can be," Valyrym snorted, glancing down at himself. "Mostly. Perhaps she will think I like her."

"Perhaps she will think you're a perverted beast in need of gelding like an aggressive hound."

"Again with the gelding? Spirits, Alia," Valyrym whimpered, tightening up his hind legs a little. "That is a very uncomfortable subject. Normally I do not mind such teasing but...a royal is visiting. I have been...threatened...thusly in the past."

Alia smiled, stroking the dragon's throat. "I'd guessed as much. But don't worry, I'll protect your two little buddies."

"They aren't little," Valyrym said, as much in principle as anything else.

"Besides, I thought that might get you to go back into hiding, and it worked."

Valyrym glanced down at himself again, then chuckled. "Clever girl."

Alia hugged him, and for a few minutes just held the dragon's neck in silence. She stroked his scales, murmuring against his natural armor. Valyrym rubbed her back with a paw, then stroked her arm a little bit. Once again the old dragon took a few deep breaths, taking comfort in Alia's presence. Soon, the sound of rattling armor echoing down the long stairwell filtered into the room. Alia gently pulled away from the dragon, rubbing his nose.

"Ready?" Alia asked.

"No," Valyrym admitted. "But as ready as I'm going to be." He gave Alia a little smirk, and padded towards the elegantly carved double doors that marked the entrance to his cell. "I'm going to go build my confidence by acting like a scaly ass to whomever she sends in first."

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Valyrym."

---

Queen Kathlyn stood at the bottom of the stairs that lead to The Prisoner's cell. She had never before visited this place. As far as she knew, no royal had since the time the Conquering King last visited the dragon who slew his family. Given the way that king's life eventually ended, some later royals might well have suspected the dragon bore some sort of curse. Kathlyn believed no such nonsense. Nonetheless her heart had been accelerating steadily throughout the long descent into the dungeon. Now that she stood just a short distance away from the large doors carved with the image of the chained and fire-shrouded dragon, her anxiety had reached it's zenith and now held steady at that peak. She wrung her hands together a little bit, casting a glance back and forth at her guards.

If anyone was even more nervous than the Queen, it was her personal attendant, Bownen. Bownen was a bit of a stickler for formality, despite the Queen's frequent attempts to get him to relax a little. As such he insisted he be present to announce Her Majesty to the Warden and her charge even inside the dungeon. Kathlyn considered for a moment forbidding him from coming along, but in the end she decided it might be fun to watch him squirm. If anything, it should provide enough amusement to distract herself from her own quietly gnawing fear.

"Go on then, Bownen." The Queen flicked her fingers towards the doors as the heavily armored guards moved to open them. "This is your time to shine."

Bownen gulped and fidgeted a little. The older man was wearing a very deep purple tunic with puffed out sleeves and a lacy collar beneath a golden vest embossed with fanciful images of gryphons and lions upon it. His trousers were loose to his knees and tucked into tight stockings beyond, a deeper purple even than his shirt. High boots with gold and silver buckles rose well past his ankles. Sweat beaded upon his forehead beneath his carefully coifed, silvery gray hair. Kathlyn had always liked Bownen, yet could not help but feel amused by how closely he walked the line between formal and foppish.

Bownen gave a stiff bow. "Yes, of course, Your Majesty."

Several of the guards hauled the tall wooden doors open. Their heavy plated armor rattled and clanked a little as they moved. Normally, Kathlyn's guards preferred lighter armor to heavier, feeling mobility was often more important than protection as it was unlikely an assassin who could penetrate the castle would be some lumbering ogre swinging a broadsword around. But for visiting a dragon, half her contingent had decked themselves out in the heaviest armor they could wear and still remain mobile. The other half remained in their more traditional chain mail and heavily studded leathers.

The idea was that those with heavier armor could better bear the dragon's assaults, should he turn violent, while the others maneuvered around him for clearer shots on vulnerable areas. Truth be told, none of them had ever fought a dragon, and they'd simply come up with the best strategy they could at the last minute. After all, Kathlyn had only informed them that morning that she would be visiting the dragon. She didn't want to give them any chance to try and talk her out of it.

When the doors were open, Bownen squared his shoulders, and strode into the cell. Even from a distance, peering through the doorway, Kathlyn could see the place was much larger than she'd imagined. Just off to the side of the doorway, something dark shifted and flashed into view for a moment. Long, and spined. The dragon's tail, Kathlyn thought. Something clattered and grated against stone. Bownen yelped in alarm and jumped. He pivoted towards the dragon, though Kathlyn could not see the beast from her vantage.

"Well?" Came a rumbling voice that sounded oddly impatient.

"S-sir...Dragon," Bownen began with an uncharacteristic stammer.

"Spit it out, man," hissed the other voice. "Is she here, or not?"

Bownen gave a little bow, and waved his hand dramatically towards the door way. "May I present to you and your Warden, The Queen of Illandra, Kathlyn the Second."

"And may I present to you, my balls!" The dragon managed the impressive feat of sounding both smug and angry at the same time.

Kathlyn quirked a brow, fighting a grin. It sounded as though the dragon was everything Alia claimed to him be. Given the baffled, shocked look that suddenly spread over Bownen's face, it seemed the dragon had presented exactly what he offered, as well. Kathlyn bit her knuckle to keep from giggling as the dragon went on.

"I have not waited all day to see some purple-dressed dandy bow and wave his arms about! Begone, and fetch me the Queen!"

As red-faced as Kathlyn had ever seen a man, Bownen rushed back out of the dragon's cell and into the small chamber just beyond the door. She patted his shoulder, smirking. "Well done, Bownen. Glad you came along."

Bownen was shaking a little. He'd probably never been quite so thoroughly humiliated. Certainly he'd never been presented with a dragon's testicles before. He worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to moisten it a little. His voice was hoarse. "What a crude monster! He actually...his! His...you know!"

"Yes, Bownen," Kathlyn said, smirking. "I'm sure seeing a creature's anatomy was quite the ordeal for you. I think I'll take it from here, if you don't mind."

Bownen collected himself, straightening out his golden vest. "Yes, of course. I'm sure such humor is right up Her Majesty's alley."

Kathlyn grinned at him. Bownen was one of the few men who could always get away with such suggestions. A Queen had her standards to bear for the entire kingdom, but that did not mean she couldn't enjoy life's baser humors, either. If such things could amuse the common man, why couldn't they amuse royalty just as much?

"Indeed," Kathlyn said, squeezing his shoulder. Then she flicked her hand to the stairs. "If you're not too worn out emotionally from your crushing humiliation, perhaps you could be a dear and go make sure the Kingdom isn't falling apart while I'm down here chatting with an angry, crude beast."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Bownen said, before turning to begin the long ascent back to the castle.

Queen Kathlyn turned her attention to the guards, and inclined her head towards the door. They hoisted their spears and drew their swords, others set bolts into crossbows. Two by two, they made their way into the prison cell. Their first priority was to secure the area, and then form a perimeter to protect the Queen. Not that Kathlyn thought they'd be able to slay the dragon in time to save her if he truly got it in his mind to strike her down. Hopefully it simply would not come to that.

"Who the hell are you?" Snarled the dragon from somewhere inside the cell. "I recall being told a Queen would visit, yet I do not believe I also extended an invitation to a bunch of clanking idiots with pointy sticks and sharp implements."

Kathlyn's guards did not rise to the bait. They never did. The lead guard soon gestured for Kathlyn to approach, though the way he glared at her through his helmet told her he still thought this was perhaps the worst idea she'd ever had. Kathlyn took a few deep breaths, settling her writhing stomach best she could, and then strode forward. She held her head high, and her shoulders back. Dragon or not, she would not show fear. Kathlyn considered courage one of her finest qualities. One of the most important qualities a monarch could have. Courage to do what she felt was right for her kingdom, and courage even in the face of certain death. Some might even call her stubborn, but Kathlyn preferred courageous. As far as Kathlyn was concerned, a fearless, brave monarch could project a kingdom's strength even better than an army.

Given all the stairs she had to descend, and the fact she was going to be spending much of the day in an actual dungeon, Kathlyn had selected a dress that stood firmly in the middle ground between formal and comfortable. It was a simple golden toned dress that hung fairly loose around her body. It ended in a skirt with a slightly upturned hem, lined with a ruffle of cream colored lace. She left her crown behind, and had simply tied her slightly curly, reddish hair back behind her head. Let the dragon see her face, and her eyes. If he could look the Queen in her eyes, she could do the same for the dragon.

The moment she stepped into the dungeon itself, the dragon's eyes were the first thing she saw. How could she see anything else? They were so golden. Even in the midst of all the black and gray armor, the scales and plates, and the many spines, the dragon's eyes still struck her. Piercing and brilliant, a golden ocean of roiling turmoil that punched straight through to her very soul. Anguish and anger and confusion and fear and uncertainty and love and fury and a thousand more emotions burned in those eyes.

Kathlyn knew in an instant what Alia meant when she had said earlier that the dragon had trouble putting his walls back up. Whatever he might have done to guard his feelings from others had failed him the moment he set eyes upon an Illandran royal. Somewhere in his mind he still blamed Illandra's royal family for the death of the woman he loved very deeply. Kathlyn knew there was at least a small chance this could go very badly for her.

For long moments, the two of them simply stared, appraising each other. Kathlyn tore her eyes away from those of the dragon and took a moment to look the beast over. Even at a quick glimpse, she was surprised by what she saw. The dragon looked old. Older than she expected. Gray mottled him in many places. His nose and chin were the color of soft ash, and the same hue lightly marked each of his paws, as well as his tail. He flexed his vast wings, and even folded they looked a little bit tattered, and worn down. Both wings were clearly edged with the colors of wood smoke and stormy skies.

There were scars everywhere on the dragon's body, most prominently upon his nose, and his hind leg. Many of those scars had long since faded to a faint gray hue, but the fresher scars were an ugly, fleshy pink. The scar upon the end of his nose still stood out puffy and angry. The scar on his hind leg looked ancient, but the damaged flesh would never return to its natural tone. The dragon looked as though he'd spent his entire life in this dungeon, beaten and tortured. Kathlyn could not help but think if the dragon were a lesser creature to have suffered so long, he might have gone mad. He might have died inside. Yet this dragon's eyes burned with vibrancy, life, and ancient fury that the dragon seemed to struggle to contain.

Kathlyn wanted to pity this dragon, despite what she knew he'd done. Yet she knew the dragon himself would not want her pity. Surely he would openly scoff at it, toss it back in her face if he could. She took a deep breath, and let it out slow. Behind the dragon, his spined tail lashed back and forth. Now and then the spines clattered against the stone floor. Those golden eyes continued to burn into Kathlyn as though he thought he could light her heart aflame and exact his vengeance for his lost love.

"My name is Kathlyn," the Queen said softly.

A growl slowly rose in the dragon's throat. Kathlyn saw his claws sliding from their hiding places at the end of each toe, like a cat preparing to pounce a rat. As he growled, all her guards lifted their weapons, pointing pike, sword and crossbow at the beast's face, throat and chest. The dragon's growls only got louder. Nearby, Alia moved to put her hand on the dragon's neck. His growl softened at the touch, but did not cease.

"Put your weapons down," Alia said sharply. "You're making him nervous."

They were making him nervous? Kathlyn found that a spectacularly amusing point. But her guards did no such thing. It was, after all, their job to protect their Queen, and protect her they would. They'd lay down their own lives to keep her safe if it came to it. In turn it was Kathlyn's job, or so she liked to think, to do whatever was in her power to make sure it never reached that point.

"It's alright," Kathlyn said to her many guards. "Lower your weapons."

Somehow to her dismay, her guards did no such thing.

"Send your guards away," the dragon said, his voice a throaty growl. Whatever smug irritation she'd picked up his voice earlier had been replaced by something that made her far more nervous. There was something in the dragon's voice now that hinted at instability. As though the dragon were on the precipice of madness wrought by ages of pain and sorrow, and only a woman named Alia stood between him and action against those he felt were responsible. "Send them away or I will not speak to you."

"Wait outside," Kathlyn said without hesitation. If Alia was to pull this beast back from the brink, she would need help. Kathlyn had not come here to antagonize this creature. She had not come here to punish him further. She had come here to speak with him, and to see if what Alia said was true. She had come here to decide if she should set this dragon free. If the dragon was to speak freely, he had to trust Kathlyn. And she had to start building that trust right now. She pointed towards the door. "Go."

"Your Majesty," her head guard said without taking his eyes or his crossbow off the dragon. "I cannot in good conscious obey that order. Right now I feel we are all that stands between you and this dragon. He is tensed and ready to attack, and if he does..."

"If I attack, your Queen will die whether you are here or not," the dragon snarled, turning his eyes towards the man who'd spoke. "You and all your army could not stop me from taking her life if I so desired." The dragon slowly dragged his claws against the floor, cutting lines in the stone. "If I wished her dead, I would have already slain her. Yet she still draws breath, does she not?"

"If you make one move against Her Majesty, I will put a crossbow bolt through your eye," The guard hissed. "I'd wager even a dragon dies if you put a bolt into his brain."

Valyrym took a slow step towards the man with the crossbow, tilting his head slightly. "Do you have any idea how many men have already tried that? How many men just like you I've already slain? I went to war with your country to save my home and my family from your invasion. Five of my kind fought thousands of men, and not one of them ever managed to put a bolt through a dragon's eye in battle despite their many attempts."

The dragon turned a little bit, brandishing his tail spines at the line of guards that stood between him and the Queen. "My spines have punched through thicker armor than any of you are wearing. You come to protect your Queen, and I admire your bravery and dedication. But do not threaten me. I do not know if any of you have ever fought a dragon, but I have fought men by the thousands and I have triumphed time and again. Whatever stories you have heard about my capture, my defeat, are false. I was only captured because the horror of what I'd just done had stunned me into inaction."

Valyrym turned again, stretching out his hind leg as if showing off the ancient pink scar that still stretched across the meat of his black scaled thigh. "They put a spear in my leg, and still I slew them by the dozens."

"We're all very impressed by your exploits, Dragon," Alia suddenly spoke up, reaching out to lay a hand on the dragon's nose. Valyrym relaxed visibly at Alia's touch, and the woman turned her head to glare at all the guards. "Now if you're all done riling up my prisoner, I'll thank you to lower your weapons. Believe it or not, dragons do not take well to being threatened. The Queen wishes to speak with him, and he cannot be expected to hold a casual conversation at spear point."

Valyrym pressed his head into Alia's hands, and she stroked his muzzle, trying to calm him. Kathlyn did not think it was for show, and she was glad that Alia had intervened when she had. It was quite impressive, really, the way the young woman was so able to soothe the dragon. Somehow Alia had forced the rising waters of the dragon's anger to recede just as they seemed ready to burst the dam that held them in check.

Kathlyn took a deep breath, and before any of her guards realized what she was up too, she strode right past them towards the dragon. Valyrym lifted his head from Alia's hands to glare at the Queen, but he made no move to harm her. Her guards quickly moved forward to try and surround her again, and the Queen whirled around on them.

"You will stay where you are!" This time the fire in the Queen's voice left no room for argument, and froze even her most senior of guardsmen. "You have caused enough of an escalation already, after I specifically asked you to have patience with the dragon. Lower your damn weapons at once!"

Hesitantly the guards began to do as she asked. The Queen rarely swore at them, and that was usually the signal that she'd had more than enough of their disregarding her orders. Some of them sheathed their swords, or rested the butts of their spears against the ground. Her head guard slowly lowered his crossbow, and Kathlyn glared at him.

"Delwyn," Kathlyn said, glaring at the head guard.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

The Queen waved at the dragon standing just behind her. "If this creature were to attack, what do you make of the odds you could actually stop him before he'd slain a significant number of us? I want no threats and no false bravado, only honesty."

Delwyn sighed, glancing at the dragon. He knew well enough the dragon was right. He could put a crossbow bolt through one of those golden eyes while the dragon was standing still, and facing the right direction. But once the dragon started whirling about, charging here and there, that shot got a hundred times tougher. And far more so if Delwyn was the one scrambling for his life. "Unless we struck first, less then twenty five percent, Your Majesty."

"Then you aren't really doing me any good, are you." Kathlyn snapped. "All you're really doing is making the creature angrier. So for the last damn time, get out."

The head guard, stung by the rebuke, bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty." Delwyn knew her well, and he knew she meant no offense. He also knew that much as he hated to admit it, she was probably right. "Right you lot. Reassemble outside the doors." He glanced at the Queen. "Call for us if you need us."

"I'll call for you when it's time for tea," the Queen said, turning away from the guards to face the dragon again. "Let us start over, Dragon. My name is Kathlyn."

"So I have heard," the dragon murmured. He slowly turned his wedge shaped head to watch the guards file out one by one. When the last of them was gone, he let out a sigh. "I spent too many years being tormented by men like that to tolerate being threatened by them. I do not even like having them around."

"They are gone now," Kathlyn said softly. "I have sent them away to make you more comfortable. I hope that can establish a basis of trust for us."

"How very diplomatic of you," the dragon said with a little snort.

Kathlyn smiled a little. "Trust is the basis of diplomacy."

"And what of secrecy, and the breaking of that trust?"

"That, unfortunately, is the flip side of the same coin." Kathlyn swallowed, her throat felt quite parched all of a sudden. She'd scarcely realized how much adrenaline was flooding her system, but now that the crisis was averted, she felt it draining from her just the same. She licked her lips, and swallowed a few more times. "That said, I have shown you my trust in you, Dragon, by sending my guards away. I hope that you will return that trust by speaking openly and honestly with me."

"I should have thought you'd be trusting me not to kill you where you stand." A smirk flickered across the dragon's muzzle, and he lashed his tail against the floor.

"And I should have thought that was simply a given," Kathlyn said, forcing a laugh.

"You remind me of Alia," Valyrym said, wrapping a foreleg around his warden and hugging her against his scales as though he thought the Queen meant to steal her away from him. "Forcing her guards to leave to build a little trust. Feigning her bravery so I might respect her. Next thing you'll be asking to touch my nose and give me a bath."

"I'm not so sure I wish to bathe you, but if you're offering to let me touch your nose, I will not refuse." Kathlyn offered the dragon a smile. Something flickered in his golden eyes, and though she couldn't be certain what it was, it almost looked like amusement.

Valyrym growled low in his throat, and Alia pressed her hand to his neck, smiling. "Oh, go on Dragon. Let her touch you." Then she smiled at the Queen. "It can be a sign of trust among them you see. Touching like that."

Valyrym narrowed his eyes at Alia, flaring his spines a little. This was not easy for him. But he was doing his best, for Alia if not for himself. Then he slowly lowered his head towards the Queen, sighing through grit teeth. "Get it over with, then."

Queen Kathlyn slowly reached out towards the dragon's face. Her fingers trembled just a little. She lay her hand upon his nose, mindful of the scar. The warmth and softness there surprised her. The pebbly textured scales that covered much of the dragon's face faded almost entirely into soft skin all around his nostrils. The pink scar that stretched between them was still raised and puffy and she was careful as she gently rubbed his nose.

"He likes this too," Alia said, and gently rubbed the dragon's chin with her own hand. She considered taking the Queen's hand and placing it there, but she was sure it was against any number of rules for her to simply touch the Queen. "Try stroking his chin a little, and his throat."

Valyrym gave another little growl of protest at Alia's suggestions, but that did not stop him from tilting his head back as the Queen moved her hand down. Soon, the Queen Of Illandra was stroking the throat of the dragon imprisoned deep beneath her castle. The sight made Alia smile even if Valyrym did not exactly share her enthusiasm.

"This does not mean I like you," Valyrym murmured, closing his eyes a moment.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," The Queen said. She rubbed his throat a little more and finally pulled her hand back. She smiled at the dragon. "Still, I thank you for letting me touch you."

Valyrym lifted his head again. He took a few steps back, and tilted his wedge shaped head down at the Queen. His eyes shone with old pains and memories spawned by so simple a touch. After a moment, he pinned his ears back against his head and gave a little sigh. "What is it you want, really?"

Kathlyn pursed her lips. That was a hard question to answer. "Alia Silverrain here, your warden, wishes me to set you free. That is not a request I take lightly, Dragon. Nor one I will simply brush aside. I plan to give it very serious consideration, but in order to weigh this request fairly, I need to get to know you."

"I doubt you've the inclination," Valyrym murmured, flaring his central spines. "Though I appreciate you feigning the effort. Besides, even if you mean it, you haven't got the time."

"No," Kathlyn replied, folding her hands in front of herself. "I haven't. So I must get to know you as well as I can in a single day, and take that knowledge with me when I journey across the land. It will give me plenty to think about. And the more I know about you, the better I think your odds are of being freed when I return."

Valyrym lowered his head till he was nose to nose with the Queen. He glared into her eyes, and she did not pull away. Instead, she met his gaze as defiantly as Alia or Amaleen ever had. The old dragon saw no deception in her gaze. She meant what she said. "I half thought Alia was joking when she first told me that. Then I thought you were lying to her. Now, though..." Neither dragon nor Queen moved for long moments aside from their breathing. "Your eyes."

That caught the Queen off guard. She blinked, and Valyrym pulled his head away as though he'd won some unannounced contest. "What about them?"

"They are quite blue." Valyrym stared into the Queen's increasingly confused eyes a moment longer. "Quite blue indeed."

Then the old dragon slowly turned away from the two women. Alia gave him an odd look, and for once the dragon made sure not to hit either of them with his tail. He didn't even hoist it to flash them. He began to walk away, leaving Alia almost as confused as the Queen.

"Where do you go, Dragon?" Kathlyn called out as he walked away from her.

"For a drink." Valyrym called back without glancing over himself. As he walked the Queen could not help but notice his limp. "If you wish to speak with me, you may follow. Or you may wait and see if I return."

Kathlyn smiled to herself. She was unused to being the one who had to do the following. She supposed she'd better get used to the idea in a hurry if she was to spend much time with the dragon. As she moved to follow after the creature, Alia paused in front of the Queen a moment, looking into her eyes.

"He's right," Alia said softly. "I noticed it before, but I hadn't seen them through his eyes yet."

"What are you talking about?"

Alia only smiled. "Your eyes. In this light they're even more blue than I realized. You don't have anything to fear from him, now. I don't think he could bring himself to hurt you even if he wished to." Alia gestured towards the dragon, smiling wider. "After Your Majesty, if you please."

Kathlyn nodded, and began to follow after the dragon across his chambers. "What do my eyes have to do with anything?"

Alia smiled wistfully for a moment as she walked alongside the Queen. "Amaleen had blue eyes. And she stood up to him just like you did. And though her hair was black, it had a bit of a curl to it, as well. When he looks at you now, he isn't going to see the King who murdered his love. He's going to see defiance in blue eyes."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Better than you can imagine, Your Majesty."

---

Chapter Seven

Queen Kathlyn followed the old dragon across his expansive prison, walking alongside his warden. Though she had lived nearly her entire live in the Illandran Castle, she still marveled that such a place could be hidden beneath her feet. In a way it shamed her to think that she had not once come to visit the prisoner trapped beneath her castle. Not that she felt a Queen should make regular visits to her country's dungeons, but the dragon was a special case. Still, she was here now, and quite surprised by the size and scale of the chamber that housed him.

The towering, fluted marble columns that spanned the length of the room in multiple rows resembled those inside the current Grand Hall where her throne was. Yet these were older still, and carved deep underground rather than in the middle of some castle or cathedral out in the city. The place seemed quite gloomy though a multitude of lamps and lanterns hanging from elegantly curved wrought iron poles and ornate sconces helped keep it from becoming too dismal. The Queen was also a little surprised to find colorful rugs upon sections of the cold stone floor, and tapestries hanging from several of the pillars and walls.

"Nicely appointed, for a prison," she murmured to the Warden.

Alia chuckled to herself. "Those are new. I've actually just had all those brought in over the last few weeks. Since Your Majesty's visit was postponed several weeks, I took the time to brighten up the place. I'd love to say the effort was entirely for your visit, but Your Majesty would see right through me."

"Yes," the Queen said with a little smile. She gently touched Alia's hand for the briefest of moments. "She would."

Alia smiled back at her, then rubbed her hands together. "To be brutally honest with you, this place was horribly dismal when I first came down here. If I was the one stuck here for most of my life, I'd have gone mad. Before we put in all the lanterns, you had to wait for your eyes to adjust to the darkness before you could even find your way around. And even then it was still gloomy." Alia gestured towards the shafts of sunlight streaming in from the dragon's air vents. "Those things provided the only light he had for most of his time here."

"I see," the Queen said, rubbing her arms. "It's a bit cold down here, isn't it."

"Yes," Alia said, nodding. "Cold, clammy. Damp. Dismal. Depressing. Lonely."

"Yes, I get the idea, my dear," Kathlyn replied, grinning a little.

Alia smiled politely, nodding.

The Queen lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. "I'm sorry my guards and I upset him." She could apologize to the dragon later, but these words were just for Alia. After all, it was Alia who had accepted the idea of a visit in the first place, and Alia who had to deal with the dragon's moods and emotions. "I hope we did not make him too angry. For what it's worth, I am not the sort of woman who holds a grudge or judges a creature too swiftly."

Alia smiled a little, tucking some stray black hairs behind her ear. "I'm heartened to hear it. I'll admit, I was getting a little nervous there for a moment that one of your guards might provoke him. I do not feel it is fair to hold him responsible should someone else give him reason to lash out."

"No," The Queen said, shaking her head. In truth she felt perhaps the dragon had been doing the provoking. However that was neither here nor there, and her guards certainly were not helping matters at the time. "My guards can be overzealous. Do not take this the wrong way, but are you certain he is safe now? I do not wish to make things worse. Not that I will run away and hide if you say it is not safe. I will simply be more...cautious."

"I think you're quite safe now that he's seen your eyes," Alia said softly.

"And before that?"

"Before that, I wasn't so sure," Alia admitted.

The Queen only smiled. "I appreciate your honesty. And I assure you that neither you nor he have anything to fear from me. I have faced down far more openly contemptuous men and creatures in the past who had far more reasons to wish to strike me down. I should like to think I have made allies of them, if not friends, and I should like to think that possible with your dragon, as well."

"As would I, Your Majesty," Alia said. She smiled, and gave a little bow.

"Are you two old bags going to join me for a drink?" The dragon hissed from where he'd taken a seat on one of his ledges nearby. The ledge was currently where they kept his barrels of rum and silver water. "Or would you rather continue your street corner gossip about whether or not I was actually going to kill someone?"

"Valyrym!" Alia whirled around, using his name without even realizing it. "You cannot speak to Her Majesty like that, or call her such names."

"I'll call her whatever I damn well want," the dragon snorted. "She should be glad I called her anything at all. I could have just kept my mouth shut and drank all the rum myself."

"I apologize for his behavior, Your Majesty," Alia said, giving a little bow, clenching her fists.

"Think nothing of it," the Queen said, grinning. "You did warn me, after all. And perhaps that's a good thing, if he's feeling a little more open." Then she blinked. "Did he say something about rum?"

Alia grit her teeth. "Yes," she said, raising her voice. "Which he knows he's not supposed to be drinking right now."

"Something's got to help me relax around the Royal." Valyrym snorted, downing the contents of a cup full of rum in a couple gulps. "Since my warden has decided to spend her time chit-chatting with my homeland's oppressor instead of keeping me calm like she promised."

Just as Alia was about to tell the dragon exactly how inappropriate he was being, Cuddly Korvarak went sailing through the air straight towards the two women. Though Alia couldn't tell if Valyrym had actually aimed the stuffed dragon for the Queen, it was certainly on a dangerous trajectory. As the Queen threw her hands up in front of her face, Alia snatched the stuffed green dragon right out of the air.

Red-faced and with her ears burning, Alia turned to the Queen. "I apologize..."

"Did he just throw a stuffed dragon at us?" The Queen sounded as incredulous as she was amused.

"I...well...yes, Your Majesty." Alia sheepishly offered the green dragon to the Queen as if for inspection. "We call this one Cuddly Korvarak."

The Queen quirked a brow. "Do you then?"

"Yes, I damn well did throw a stuffed dragon at you. And if you two don't join me for a drink, you're going to get a second volley."

The Queen slowly took the dragon from Alia, and turned it over in her hands. A grin began to spread across her lips. "I do believe your dragon is offering me rum."

"And that is how you can tell he's starting to like you," Alia said, under her breath.

Kathlyn slowly handed the toy back to Alia. Her next words came much to Alia's relief. "And if this keeps up, I fear I may start to like the dragon."

"That would be a first," Valyrym snorted from the ledge he'd settled upon.

"He's excellent hearing, hasn't he." The Queen began to walk towards the dragon.

"Too excellent, if you ask me." Alia reached the ledge, and assisted the Queen in clambering up, then offered her a spot on the burgundy rug.

Valyrym glared at Alia. "Well?"

"Well, what you old beast?" Alia placed her hands on her hips.

The dragon opened a wing, sweeping it towards the barrels. "Offer Her Majesty a drink. My spirits, Alia, what manner of horrible host are you?"

Alia glared right back at the dragon. "The sort of host who's already ascertained that her majesty would find it quite amusing if she witnessed a misbehaving dragon get kicked in the testicles."

Valyrym grimaced, and curled his tail protectively around himself. He glanced at the Queen with a snort. "Not very Queenly of you."

"On the contrary dragon." The Queen smiled and shrugged. "How do you think I have political prisoners punished?"

Valyrym had no idea if she was joking or not. But either way, a ghost of a grin crept across his muzzle. Perhaps Alia was right about this woman. He gestured towards the barrels again. "Get her Majesty some rum, Alia." Then he peered back at the Queen. "You do drink rum, don't you?"

"From time to time." The Queen looked around for a good spot to sit, and finally gave up. She carefully lowered herself down onto her rump, with her legs stretched out in front of her. She smoothed out her dress over her legs as she settled into the very un-royal position, then smiled at the dragon. "Not normally this early in the morning, but it is not every day one is given a chance to drink with a dragon."

Alia glared at the dragon a moment longer, but soon went to the barrels. She began to dig through the small collection of cups and mugs they'd recently assembled. This wasn't exactly how she'd imagined this meeting going, but it wasn't a bad thing, either. Anything that got the queen and the dragon talking in a civilized manner was a step in the right direction as far as Alia was concerned. She selected the most formal looking cup they had though it was certainly measured on a sliding scale. They had only wooden vessels to choose from, but one of them was carved along the outside in a pattern made to resemble a dragon's scales. Alia filled it with a little rum and brought it over to the Queen.

"Here you are Your Majesty," she said, offering the cup.

The Queen took it in both hands with a little smile. "Thank you, my dear."

Valyrym cleared his throat with a little growl. When Alia looked back at the dragon, he held his own mug out to her. Alia ignored his smug grin, and snatched the cup from his paw. She filled it up, passed it back to the dragon and then got a little bit for herself, as well. She moved to stand near the dragon and the seated Queen until Kathlyn looked up at her with a quirked brow.

"I hope you're not planning to stand around all day. You'll make me feel quite old if I'm the only one who felt the need to sit down."

Alia nodded, and quickly moved to sit down. Then she hesitated, not sure how close she should sit to the queen. She shifted herself a little bit, and settled near the dragon instead. She gave the Queen a sheepish smile, and then took a sip of her own rum. Gods knew she was starting to need it.

"What are we drinking to, then?" The Queen sniffed her cup, and murmured appreciatively. It seemed the dragon had procured himself quite a fine vintage.

"To dragons," Valyrym said. He clacked his jaws, and then took a long drink from his oversized mug.

The Queen smiled a little, raised her glass in toast, and took a little sip. She had to admit, the rum was nice. Too early to be drinking it for her personal liking, but she may as well enjoy drinking with a dragon while she had the chance. And at least the rum was good. Slightly caramel sweet, spicy and warming. She took another little sip, and then delicately set her glass down upon the burgundy rug on which they sat.

Kathlyn peered up at the dragon as he took another drink from his own mug, curling his tail about himself as he sat upon his haunches. "You're quite good at drinking from a glass. I would not have thought your...muzzle...was suited to such things."

Valyrym cocked his head a little. He handed his mug to Alia, who took it without complaint. Valyrym suspected Alia would complain about being used as his personal drink caddy later, when they were alone. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"Merely an observation," the Queen said with a little smile. "I know a gryphon, you see, and I know he has a good deal of trouble with his beak when he's forced to try and drink out of a cup."

"Gryphons have a head full of the same fluff their bodies are coated with," Valyrym said with a snort. The Queen giggled, and Valyrym gave a little sigh. "If you're that curious, I learned to drink from human implements long before your people conquered my home. I spent quite a few years living in a human city, along with my sister, my friends...my son. I learned to emulate many of the things humans do in my time there." The dragon turned his head to stare off into the gloom of the dungeon, towards the far wall. His voice grew distant for a moment, and the golden hue of his eyes glowed with old pains. "...I even lived in a house, till Illandra burned it down."

Kathlyn picked up her cup again. She twisted it back and forth between her hands, feeling the delicate scaling carved into the wood. Her stomach twisted a little. That was all long before her time. Long before even her parents had been born. Yet to the dragon, the memory was surely still vivid. Kathlyn could hardly fault him for blaming her for all that had happened before his imprisonment. After all, he had been locked away since before his homeland was even conquered by her forefathers. He had known nothing of the outside world in that time, nothing of Illandra but his bitter, poisoned memories.

"I am sorry for your loss, Dragon," Kathlyn said softly. She lifted her blue eyes to meet the dragon's golden ones. She wanted the beast to know she was sincere.

Valyrym glared down at her a moment. A growl rose in his throat, but it died before it ever reached his tongue. The dragon could see it in her eyes. She meant what she said. Which told him she was either extraordinarily kind, or The Queen understood loss the way Valyrym understood loss.

Alia might have understood it the same way but Valyrym was not certain. Valyrym knew Alia had lost her mother. Yet Alia had time to prepare for that death, at least. Alia had not felt the pain of having someone she cherished, someone her world revolved around yanked from her so unexpectedly, so suddenly. But the Queen...

"You understand, then," the dragon said softly.

The Queen merely pursed her lips, tapping her fingers against the cup. She traced a finger around a single wooden scale. Finally, she gave a little sigh. "...Yes."

"Who, then?" Valyrym cocked his head, gesturing at Alia. She handed him his mug of rum, and he emptied it, then tossed it aside. He did not want to drink anymore. Alia gently stroked his foreleg, and he smiled at her a moment before looking back at the Queen. "And when? And how?"

"Valyrym, you cannot ask Her Majesty things like that," Alia said softly, as much for show as anything else. She knew Valyrym would not listen, anyway.

"I can ask whoever I want, whatever I want, any time I wish to ask it," Valyrym said with a little hiss. "She came to me to talk, and I am talking. If she expects to hear my darkest moments then I fully expect to hear hers. This is not an interrogation, it is an exchange." He turned his attention to the barrel of rum, already second guessing his decision to stop drinking. "And she is not now, nor will she ever be my Queen."

"You sound just like him," Kathlyn said with a little smile.

"Like who?" Valyrym asked, canting his head. "The one you lost?"

"No," Kathlyn said softly. "The Black Bird."

"Ah." Valyrym licked his nose, snorting. "Your gryphon friend."

"Indeed. My best friend, if you must know." Kathlyn took a sip of rum. Then she sighed, and downed the contents of the mug completely. Without asking, Alia rose to her feet, collected the Queen's cup, and went to add a bit more rum to it. When she returned, she bore two glasses. She passed the other one to Valyrym who took it with a murmur of thanks. Kathlyn accepted the mug, and smiled at the two of them. "He saved my life the day the father of my son was murdered."

"I'm sorry," Alia said, staring into her own mug. She could faintly see her black-haired reflection wavering in the golden liquid.

"Thank you, my dear," Kathlyn said. "But it was a long time ago." She glanced up at the dragon, smiling faintly. "Not as long ago as the dragon's loss, but by our standards, Alia Silverrain, quite some time. I was not even Queen yet."

"I had wondered, if I may say as much," Alia said, sipping her rum. Already her cheeks were glowing and she felt a little flushed. "Why there was no King of Illandra. Has there never been..." Alia trailed off. "I apologize Your Majesty. I should not gossip so."

"Nonsense, Alia." The Queen gave a little chuckle. "I should have thought by now you would know I was not the sort of monarch who turns her nose up at the mere mention of bedroom matters and gossip. Nor am I the sort who grows offended when someone speaks their mind. If anything, I wish my inner circle would speak their mind more often. Please, just...speak openly around me. At least while we are alone."

Alia smiled, and without really thinking about it, leaned up against the dragon. Valyrym wrapped his foreleg around her. The Queen did not seem surprised by the gesture, nor did she seem put off. Valyrym suspected that there was more to those reports she'd gotten from Enric than she had let on. Yet so long as she did not care, neither did the dragon.

"The next King of Illandra shall be my son, either by my death or my abdication of the throne." The Queen twisted her scale-textured cup back and forth in her grasp again. "Even if I took a husband, he would not be officially king unless I proclaimed him such. The bloodline itself is the most direct method of succession. Kings and Queens begat heirs, and those heirs assume the throne in order first borne. Cousins and nephews and so forth are not generally eligible without a royal decree. If I were to marry now, when I died, my son would be king, whether or not my husband remained alive. Only when there is no direct heir do more distant relatives come into power, or others who may have been inducted into the line of so-called emergency succession. However, such a thing has not happened in some time. In fact the last time that happened was upon the death of..."

The Queen trailed off. It had last happened upon the death of the Conquering King, because the dragon sitting in front of her had slain his only direct descendant. For a moment, Kathlyn simply stared up at the dragon. She'd heard all the stories, she'd studied the histories in her youth. But only now, peering up at the beast himself who had burned that prince to death ages ago, did she realize she was sitting face to face with living history. This dragon had in his own way changed the course of Illandra forever.

"I know who you mean," Valyrym said, his voice a trembling whisper. "Not a day goes by I do not think myself a monster for what I did. I wanted revenge, and it became all I knew. But never...I...I didn't...not like that..." Valyrym stumbled over his words and Alia gently stroked his scales. "Not his child. Never. I...In the end...I let them put me here without resistance because I knew I deserved whatever punishment they deemed fitting. My life in this...horrible place...It is what I earned through my own actions."

Kathlyn watched the dragon, her own heart sinking a little. Nearly a century and a half and the old beast still felt the pain. The regret. The sorrow. Just as Alia said. The stories spoke of a monster, and the stories were right. But perhaps, Alia was right as well. Perhaps he had been here long enough. Surely the old beast could not have that many years left.

"We all have our darkest moments, Dragon." Kathlyn set her glass down, and slowly stood up. "We all have our regrets."

"You think you can talk to me about regrets?" The dragon snarled a little bit, glaring at her.

"Yes," Kathlyn stood up, smoothing out her dress. "I do. I am a Queen, Dragon. I hold the fate of an entire kingdom in my hands." Kathlyn slowly spread her hands out before her. "When I sign the death warrants of men to be executed, I pray to God each and every time that they are in fact, guilty. I am sure some of them are not, but I must take what evidence I have and make a judgment."

The Queen sighed, running a hand over her face. "Over the years I have ordered the deaths of many men deemed a threat to my nation. I have sent my armies to quell violent unrest in faraway places with any force necessary. I do not do this because I wish to see blood shed, but because I am forced to choose. To choose between a few deaths, or many.

"When a village sacks an Illandran outpost, far from here, and then another, and another. I can send my army and quell it by force, or I can wait for it to grow, and grow, until it will not be dozens of people who die, but thousands. I cannot know what my generals and their soldiers will do when they come to these villages. I can give all the orders to protect the women and children that I want but..."

Kathlyn turned away from him a moment, lifting a hand to wipe her eyes. "Sometimes they have no choice. If it is children who draw arrows against you, you must defend yourself. Even if the child seeks to avenge his father, his mother...when it is your life, or his, you know what choice most people will make. I have sent the people I care about most to do things that will haunt them all their lives."

Fire began to shine in the Queen's eyes, and burn in her voice. "If you think you are the only one in the whole, vast world whose actions have lead to unexpected horror or to the deaths of the innocent, you are gravely mistaken. I would wager there are few true leaders in this world who are not kept up at night by the voices of the dead. You may hear a child screaming in your dreams, Dragon, but I hear many."

Kathlyn turned back around. Valyrym and Alia were both watching her. Alia looked away as the young woman felt protocol demanded. But the dragon met her gaze. Kathlyn stared into his eyes as she continued. "When I came to power, I inherited a kingdom built upon conquest. I inherited a machine powered by war, a monster fed by blood. I inherited all the pain Illandra has ever caused, and every day I am sickened by it. You bear the sins you have wrought, Dragon, and you rightly anguish over them. Yet I bear the sins of an entire nation founded upon bloodshed, and they weigh ever so heavily upon my heart. I came to power naively hoping to begin changing things for the better, yet I found myself in the midst of the ebb and flow of an unending rebellion. I found myself facing the realization that to protect Illandran citizens and the interests of my nation I would have to order yet more bloodshed. And order it I did."

Kathlyn walked a little closer to the dragon. Close enough that she could have reached out and touched his muzzle again if she wished. Close enough that in one swift motion, the Dragon could have ended her life then and there. "You have been imprisoned and tortured for more years than I will ever live, and you took two lives in a horrible act of vengeance. What then, Dragon, do you think a fitting punishment for all the deaths I am responsible for?"

"I am hardly the best suited to judge such things," Valyrym said, his voice a throaty whisper.

"No," The Queen said. "You are not. So neither should you judge yourself." Kathlyn rubbed her forehead, and realized her whole body was trembling. Nonetheless, her voice rose till it positively crackled with barely restrained fire. "But please do not question my rights to speak about regret. I assure you dragon, I understand it completely."

"So you do," Valyrym said. He took a deep breath, and let it out in a long sigh. "You are not...what I expected."

"Nor would you have been, if your Warden had not already told me about you."

"You would not have believed a dragon could feel pain beyond the physical?" Valyrym's voice was twisted with bitterness, and he flared out his spines. "That we could not experience and understand regret for our own actions, beyond simply pitying ourselves?"

Kathlyn shook her head. "Not dragons. You. I am not so bigoted as to believe an entire race incapable of love or empathy. In fact I believe all speaking creatures capable of such things. But all the legends and histories I have read over the years would have lead me to believe that you yourself were nothing more than a twisted monster sent from the darkest depths of an ancient land to murder a woman and child. None of those legends speak the truth as I have heard it from Alia, and seen it written across your eyes."

Valyrym downed his entire cup of rum, and tossed it aside just as the previous cup. He thumped his spined tail against the burgundy rug on which he sat. "And what is the truth, then?"

"That you were a loving father of a crippled son. A furious soldier protecting his only home. A bereaved husband who sought to make his conquerors know his pain through vengeance."

Kathlyn saw the dragon tense. He turned his head away, flattening his spines against his skull. The Queen knew the dragon didn't want her to see his eyes. If Alia was right, those eyes were once impenetrable walls. It must have been hard for him. To know his pain and turmoil now shone through like beacons of anguish no matter who was around him. He hissed, and pressed his front paws against the carpet, dragging unsheathed claws through it and leaving little ruts.

"You've been speaking to Alia then." Valyrym tried to glare at Alia, but he ended up simply pressing his head against her.

"She has been valiantly championing your cause," the Queen said, chuckling.

"You didn't tell me," Valyrym said softly to his Warden.

Alia gently stroked his muzzle. "You have enough on your mind. I wanted the Queen to..."

"To be prepared was how she put it," Kathlyn said, chuckling. "To know enough about your life to come to understand you even if you were...unwilling to speak to me of it yourself."

"So that is why you've left me to read to Vatch so often the last few weeks," Valyrym said, nosing at Alia's cheek.

"She hasn't told me all the secrets buried in your heart, dragon. Alia has far more tact and care for you than that. But she told me what I needed to know, to help make an informed judgment." The Queen idly ran her hands down over her golden dress, smoothing it a little. "From there I...well, from there it was up to me to determine whether Alia was in fact, telling the truth about you."

A smirk twitched the edge of Valyrym's lips. "Alia is a terrible liar."

Kathlym merely smiled, looking back and forth between the two of them a moment. In a way, she was flattered they were not hiding anything from her down here. After all she held the power to have them torn apart forever. She held their fates in her hands, and yet they trusted her with a show of their own affection. Kathlyn liked that. So few out there truly trusted her. She did not know if their trust was simply based on foolish naivety, or hope that the Queen would understand. Perhaps they'd simply gotten carried away with comforting each other and had not realized how openly they were showing their affection for one another. It was not a hard mental chasm to leap. After all, Kathlyn already knew the dragon had a human lover in the past.

"Perhaps she is," Kathlyn said, smiling a little. "I wonder, Dragon. Would you be willing to show me some of the carvings I've heard so much about?"

"I suppose I could share them with you."

"I would greatly enjoy that," the Queen said with a little smile. "And, if it is not too painful a topic, I would be happy to hear about your son. And about Amaleen."

Valyrym tensed up. He'd never heard anyone but Alia speak her name aloud in all the time he'd been here. It sounded strange, even foreign coming from an Illandran mouth. Let alone sliding across a royal tongue. He hissed softly through his sharp teeth. Yet, if a royal was to utter Amaleen's name, it might as well be this one.

Valyrym slowly lifted his head from Alia. "There was a time, long ago, I would have struck down any royal merely for daring to speak her name aloud. Their tongues would not be fit to utter so pure a name."

"And now?" Kathlyn asked, watching the dragon calmly.

Valyrym stared down into her deep, blue eyes. He had to admit, she certainly had a royal's gaze. She could have burned a hole through the castle itself with that gaze. Yet he felt no judgment from her. It seemed hard to believe for the old dragon that the Queen was not judging him in one way or another. At the same time, it seemed all too fitting.

"This way," Valyrym said. He slowly moved across the ledge, and gingerly stepped down onto the floor below. His hind leg ached. He looked back at the two women, smiling. "I shall give you a tour."

Kathlyn took his deflection of the topic to be tacit admission she would be allowed to use his old lover's name. Still, his smile seemed unexpectedly warm, and completely genuine. Not that she expected the dragon to try and deceive her at this point. Whatever Alia had done for him since becoming warden seemed to have robbed him of much of his deceptive abilities. But she had not expected to see the dragon smile so.

Kathlyn took Alia's hand, and let the woman help her down off the ledge. "What are you smiling for, Dragon?"

Valyrym called back as he limped towards the far end of his home. "I am smiling because you have Amaleen's eyes."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" The Queen smoothed out and adjusted her dress a little before she began to follow behind the dragon. It felt a little odd to be walking around in such a place without a guard in sight, to be following a creature rather than leading. She rather liked it, it made a pleasant change.

"Probably nothing," the dragon admitted, still smiling. "She was an orphan, you know. Amaleen. Part Illandran, I believe. Probably fathered by some roaming mercenary or visiting Illandran, well before the invasion. Abandoned when she was little more than a babe, and taken in by one of the sweetest women ever to draw breath. Surpassed only by Amaleen herself."

"Ah, I see," The Queen said, a few thoughts tumbling around inside her head. "She sounds like a wonderful woman."

"She was," Valyrym said, flicking his tail. "She only lead us because her people thought her the best leader they had to offer. She never drew steel herself, though. I sometimes thought she would have struggled to take a life even in defense of her own. She hated to see us at war. She wanted Aran'alia to live free, though. She always wanted what was best for her people."

"As do I," the Queen said softly.

"I'm sure you do," Valyrym said. The old dragon walked to the large, wooden tub constructed upon the stone floor. Iron bands and fasteners kept the whole thing together, and gave it the appearance of a large oval shaped barrel that had been sliced in half. Valyrym set his paw upon the edge of the currently empty tub. "As you can no doubt guess, this is the tub that Alia constructed for me. Do you know why she built this?"

"I should think because you were filthy," The Queen said, giving the dragon a hint of a smile.

Alia stepped forward, grinning. "That was certainly part of it." She looked up at the dragon, and Valyrym glanced away from her. Alia gently reached out and placed a hand upon the scales of his neck. "All those years he'd been neglected. I didn't know what he'd done at the time, or what kind of creature he'd been. But I told myself before I'd even reached the bottom of those stairs that if he was going to treat me with respect, I was going to do the same for him. For all his time here, he'd been treated like nothing more than a monster. A beast to be whipped and scorned. Yet I saw something in his eyes even then, glimpses of sorrow and pain I could not even imagine. I suspect it was because I was an Aran'alian woman, the first he'd seen since his imprisonment. I probably reminded him of Amaleen even if he didn't realize it himself at the time.

Valyrym snorted, and gave a low growl, shifting away from Alia. He let his tail brush up against her and she snatched at one of the spines to keep him from walking off. "Unhand me," Valyrym muttered, tugging lightly at his tail.

Kathlyn could not help but smile a little when Alia did no such thing. "Do go on, Alia."

Alia nodded, and stroked Valyrym's tail a little with her free hand. "I think that was what started it for him. All the anger he had built up inside himself, all the bitterness and self loathing. He hid them so well, but never had a warden engaged him the way I did. Never had one spent time with him. He'd never had a warden determined to treat him like a person rather than a monster. Not one single warden here ever had even the common decency to let a thinking, feeling creature give himself a bath now and then. I built him a tub because beast or not, I thought he deserved to be treated like a person."

"And that is why you are soft," Valyrym said, tugging his tail away from her grip.

"And why you came to like her," Kathlyn said, walking over to the tub. She peered inside. A little water sat in the bowl shaped depression in the stone basin.

"That is why I respected her," Valyrym said, turning back around. "Because she was the first warden I had in all my many years in this place who actually treated me as a living thing. I came to like her when that respect she showed me at first turned into something greater. When she...proved to me that she actually cared about my well being. The fact she reminded me so much of home and all I'd once loved so dearly simply made it harder for me to hide my own emotions from her."

Kathlyn watched the two of them a moment, resting a hand on the edge of the tub. "Enric has often told me that in his opinion, Alia is the best Warden we have ever had. When she had this thing built..." She kicked her shoe against the tub wall, smiling. "He knew then and there that I had made the right decision."

"What do you mean?" Valyrym took a step towards the Queen, narrowing his eyes.

"Did she not tell you?" Kathlyn turned to face the dragon, lifting her dark blue eyes to his own golden ones. "I was the one who selected Alia to be your warden in the first place."

"No," Valyrym snorted, glancing at Alia. "She did not. Why did you select her? Why not one of your own people?"

Kathlyn appraised the dragon a moment. His long, spine-tipped tail swished back and forth behind like that of an agitated cat. A very large, very powerful cat. "The simplest way to explain that, Dragon, is that I wanted an Aran'alian to prove they are as capable of leadership as any Illandran. There are people who had vested interests in seeing her fail, whereas I had a vested interest in seeing her succeed. And as I told her myself, she has succeeded magnificently."

While the dragon considered that, Kathlyn waved her hand at Alia. "I can now point to her, and say truthfully that she has now done this job better than any Illandran ever has. She has put the truth to the words I have spoken time and again. She is the flame to burn away the web of lies spun by the Nobles of the Twenty-Fourth province and all their bigoted, power-hungry allies. She is the spark that is igniting a very, very large fire."

"What are you on about, Woman?" Valyrym said, his voice suddenly sharp. The dragon growled at her, baring his fangs. "What are you dragging Alia into?"

"Nothing, my dear," Kathlyn said, facing down the dragon as steadfastly as she would any saber-rattling foreign diplomat. "That is perhaps the best part. She is simply the evidence that proves to any who disagree with me that I am right. That the Aran'alians are as worthy of jobs, homes, and nobility as everyone else. That they are fit leaders, ready to take control of their own destiny."

Valyrym glanced at Alia, who simply shrugged. When he turned his head back towards the Queen, Kathlyn quite boldly placed her hand directly upon his nose. "Alia came to me seeking my order to set you free. An order I may yet give, Dragon. But there is far more to be freed than one old dragon." Kathlyn smiled at him, rubbed his nose a little, and then simply turned away. "Come. If you are willing, I should like to see this timeline Alia speaks of."

"I am willing," the dragon said, giving Alia a confused look. He began to pad after the Queen, this time allowing her to take the lead. "But what are you talking about setting free?"

"All in good time, my scaly dear." The Queen glanced back over her shoulder, smiling a little. "First, I should like to hear of your life. I should like to hear of Aran'alia. I am going to be visiting it soon, it shall be my first trip there. I am very much looking forward to seeing this fabled silver rain with my own eyes."

Kathlyn smiled to herself as she walked across the dragon's large prison. So far, the beast was just about everything Alia had promised him to be. Intelligent, well-spoken, arrogant, and full of mysteries. Much like The Black Bird in that regard, but filled with a lingering lake of regret he simply could not seem to drain away. He was a fascinating creature, and he certainly had come to regret what he had done. But was that in and of itself enough reason to grant the beast freedom? Kathlyn was not yet sure. And that was after all, why she was here.

Kathlyn would have a long journey in which to measure in her mind the weight of the dragon's sins and penance alike. She did not wish to get too far off track, too deep into discussions of other topics such as why she gave Alia this job. Alia knew the gist of it, and could further explain to the dragon if she wished. Beyond that, Kathlyn wished to ensure that she had enough knowledge of the dragon and his life to make the most informed decision she could after much deliberation. Kathlyn considered this a very important decision, and she could not take it lightly. This was her only real chance to gather as much evidence from the dragon himself as possible.

"Your Majesty, do take a look at this, if you don't mind," Alia said softly.

Kathlyn turned and walked back to where the woman stood just behind one of the pillars. "Ah! Is this one of his carvings?"

"One of his favorites, actually," Alia smiled. She guided the Queen to the proper place to stand at the end of the long, rippling lines carved along the stones of the floor. Then she swept her hand upwards, indicating the towering scope of the richly detailed carving upon the marble column. Cut with scores upon scores of lines until an entire tapestry of details were formed. Kathlyn craned her neck a little to take the whole thing in.

"It's a waterfall," she said, somewhat in surprise. "It's...quite beautiful, actually." Stunningly so, the Queen thought. She knew from Alia that the dragon used his claws to carve images of his life upon pillars and walls. But she had not expected anything quite this majestic. She let her eyes roam up the falling lines of water, all the way to the shapes of rocks cut as far up as the dragon could reach. Then she gazed back down, smiling at the many carved dots that formed curtains of spray rising around the pillar's base. When Valyrym limped over, the Queen smiled at him. "This is magnificent, Dragon."

"Thank you," the dragon murmured, staring at his paws.

The Queen thought he seemed strangely melancholy. She wondered if it was some memory stirred by the waterfall. Perhaps she could engage him a little more. She was hoping he'd explain these sorts of things for her, after all. "How long did this take you? Did you only use your claws?"

"Years," the dragon said, his voice seemed to be uncharacteristically soft. "Hours upon hours every day for years at a time. Until it was perfect." He blinked, sniffed, and looked away, unwilling to let the Queen see the pain that shone in his eyes. "It had to be perfect. It was..." The dragon's voice broke, and he heaved a little sigh. "It was her favorite place. She took me there, when I was at a very low point in my life, and for a while, she made everything better. Before the war reached us. But this...this waterfall..."

Valyrym padded over, and lifted a paw to press his pads to the stone. He gently felt the lines he'd cut so many years ago. "This is where we swore our love. This is where I promised to love every moment as I watched her grow old." The dragon dropped his paw to the floor, his head hanging so low his muzzle nearly touched stone. All his spiny frills were limp against his skull. "Now I am the one who is old, and she is simply dead. Burned to death long before she ever felt the aches of age simply because she wished her country to be free." The dragon's voice took on a bitter growl, his spines slowly flaring back up. "And I have grown old all alone. Locked away for following blood for blood. For avenging cruelty with cruelty."

The Queen reached out to comfort the dragon, but she hesitated. Her hand froze in the air. Somehow it did not seem right. Yet, before she knew it her hands had touched his scales, and she gently stroked his neck the way she'd seen Alia doing. To her surprise the dragon did not pull away. Perhaps he simply lacked the strength to make the effort to shun her touch now. Or perhaps some part of the old beast was so weary of being alone he would take comfort from anyone who offered it. Maybe that was simply the effect Alia had on him. His warden moved around the other side of him and stroked his neck in the same fashion.

"I am nearly spent," the dragon muttered, as much to himself as anyone else. "Every winter my bones ache a little more when the snows fall. Yet I still carve a mark upon my walls when I see the first snowflakes beyond my air vents. When I was free, I always celebrated my son's birth with the first snowfall. I still celebrate it in my heart but it is a painful celebration for me now. It marks the years of his life I have missed because of my own sickeningly inescapable desire to avenge the only woman I loved." A little smile crept across the dragon's snout. "But at the same time, it also marks the day we knew he'd recovered from the grave wounds inflicted when your country failed to take his life."

Kathlyn frowned a little, her hand stilling on the dragon's neck. Her country. As if she had anything to do with the little hatchling's wounds. And yet, the dragon was right. It was her country. As Queen, that was another weight she bore upon her shoulders. All the sins of her ancestors in power were hers to bear in turn, and bear them she would until she could release that burden by making things right.

"I am sorry for your love, Dragon, and for your son." Kathlyn began to stroke his neck again. "For what it's worth..."

"It is worth very little now, but thank you just the same," the dragon said. "I believe you when you say it." He lifted his head a little bit and peered at the stone. "As I was saying, I am nearly spent. Alia counted my years and when she came to me afterwards she was crying. I know what that means. I am sure she told you the number but I do not wish to know it. I can feel it in my bones. My time is winding down. I need not count the years to know how few I have left. I may yet have a human's lifetime left in me, and I should like that very much if it meant I got to spend that time watching Alia grow old."

Valyrym licked his nose, gazing at the waterfall. In his mind that water was flowing over the cliffs, and glowing with a fiery hue in the setting sun. "I was still young when I saw this waterfall the first time." The old dragon gave a rumbling, bitter laugh. "I was still young when I began to carve it." He trailed off a moment, and then turned his gaze to the Queen. Her blue eyes glowed brighter than usual in the light of the lamp hung near the pillar. "You know, when you first came down here, this is one of the carvings I did not want to share with you. This one is very personal to me. But then I saw your eyes, and I heard you speak, and I knew Amaleen would want you to see this."

Valyrym pulled away from the two women, and began to limp towards the front of his timeline. It was a long trip, from the very back of his chamber to the very front, and over to the far wall. "She would have wanted The Queen of Illandra to know that there is more to dragons than arrogance and bloodshed. She'd have wanted you to see there is more to Aran'alia than silver rain, and land to be conquered."

Kathlyn glanced at Alia, then took a last look at the waterfall carving before she began to follow the dragon. She called out to him as she traced his footsteps with her own. "And I'd have wanted her to know there is more to Illandra than conquest."

The dragon paused a moment, lifting his head. He looked back over his own wings, smirking at the Queen. "She would have slapped you in the face for such a suggestion. For conquest is all she ever knew of Illandra. It was all Aran'alia ever knew of your country. I cannot see how even to this day any Aran'alian could ever know anything more of Illandra than conquest, occupation, and scorn. I rather doubt any country in this world thinks any better of Illandra than that."

"And you would be correct," the Queen said, catching up with the dragon as he paused. She moved around in front of him, standing in his way a moment. "We are a nation built on conquest and bloodshed. History will judge us far more harshly than history has judged you. I cannot change what my country has done long before I was ever born, Dragon, but I can change the way my country acts for as long as I am queen. Aran'alia has every right to hate Illandra...but I seek to change that." The Queen shook her head, a bit of anger rising in her voice, and heat rising in her cheeks. "I seek to make Illandra a better place by making all our conquered nations a better place in turn. And, I hope in time, they will be our allies rather than our conquests."

Valyrym merely snorted, flaring out his spines. "Going to throw your wealth at them, then? Offer them a handful of coins and a candied apple in return for playing nice and giving up whatever liberation-minded rebellions they might have brewing?" The dragon tossed his head, flicking his tail against the stone floor hard enough for his spines to clank. "I somehow doubt they will find your offer appealing."

"I think you're wrong, dragon." Kathlyn let out a sigh and slowly folded her arms over her chest.

"And why is that?"

Kathlyn stared at the dragon for a long time without speaking. She flicked her blue gaze to Alia. Alia had asked her about her plans, and she had declined to share them then. Still...if her journey went well those plans would be public knowledge soon enough. After a few moments of thought, Kathlyn decided if anyone deserved to know her plans for Aran'alia and the other conquered provinces, it was the old dragon who had not seen his home in a century and half.

"Because, Dragon," Kathlyn said, her blue eyes shining with a startling amount of hope. "It is not coin I plan to plan to offer Aran'alia. It is freedom."

---

Chapter Eight

Queen Kathlyn was not sure who was more taken aback by her promise to offer Aran'alia freedom, the old dragon who once called that land home or the woman who had come to love him. Certainly the dragon was more visibly startled by the news. He took a few steps back from the Queen, flaring out his vast, gray-edged wings. The spines that adorned his head all flared up as if to defend himself from the pain of false hope, and his golden eyes first widened, then narrowed to suspicious slits. Alia meanwhile simply looked slack-jawed, but she spoke first.

"You can't be serious," Alia said in a rush, then stammered over her next words. For a moment decorum was forgotten. Not that Kathlyn minded. "You...you...you can't just set Aran'alia free! You can't just snap your fingers and liberate them! I mean...can you?"

"More a stroke of the pen than a snap of the fingers, actually," Kathlyn said dryly. "But my dear, I am the Queen. I am the highest authority in all of Illandra and all of our provinces. When I wish it to be, my word is quite literally law."

"Then why don't you just set everyone free? Right now? Go...sign the documents?" Alia took a step towards the Queen, her eyes wide.

Valyrym slowly lifted a front leg, and wrapped it around Alia to pull her back a little. "Because even for a Queen it is not that simple. Is it?"

"Not unless I want to spark riots and civil wars," the Queen said, softly. "It must be handled delicately, and carefully. Aran'alia must be ready to rule itself before I can declare their liberation, or they will simply collapse in on themselves and it will all be for naught. I will also face a great deal of opposition. Though I am the highest power, there are many who will oppose this. I do not wish to give them chance or reason to take up arms and oppose it with force. So, for now, talks must be conducted in secret. This coming journey is the first step in the very long process of making things right. It is just a single step, but I hope it is progress nonetheless."

"You're serious about this, aren't you Kathlyn?" Valyrym murmured, still gripping Alia with a foreleg.

Kathlyn quirked a brow. "You may not consider me your Queen, Dragon, but nonetheless I am Queen of this land. It is quite improper to address me by my first name." Valyrym simply stared at her, and Kathlyn stared back. After a moment, a smirk began to crawl across her lips. "Unless of course, I may call you by yours, as well."

"Are you serious about this?" The dragon slowly lifted his head, spines still flared out. "Do you truly plan to free Aran'alia?"

"Yes," the Queen said, her voice filled with fire. "Aran'alia, Vurnel, and in time, the other provinces we have taken by force throughout our blood-soaked history."

"Then my name is Valyrym." The dragon slowly eased his foreleg away from Alia, sighing to himself. "You may use it as you see fit."

"Thank you, Valyrym," the Queen said with a small but formal bow.

"My next question would of course be, why?" Valyrym laughed to himself, gazing at the Queen. He could almost imagine a red-haired Amaleen standing before him, staring him down. "There are so few ways for this to work out, and so many ways for it to ruin you."

"Because I love Illandra," was the Queen's immediate, forceful reply. "It is my home. It has always been my home, and I have always loved it. It pains me to think about the terrible things my homeland has done throughout its existence. Founded on conquest and forged in blood. Illandra stands firmly on the wrong side of history, and everyone knows it but Illandra. In the great span of history, your crimes have already been forgotten, dragon. But Illandra's misdeeds will echo through the ages long after we are all gone. One day Illandra will be used as an example to teach history students how empires who grow too bloated from conquest inevitably collapse in on themselves. If I cannot change things, the history of Illandra will end when the sins we had wrought upon our neighbors are returned to us at last. When we cannot sustain ourselves any longer, it will be Illandra who was justifiably conquered, and dissolved."

"So," the dragon said, baring his fangs a little. His wings rustled against his back, talons at their tips twitching. "You wish to liberate them to give your country a better name in the history books."

"No," Kathlyn said, shaking her head. "I wish to liberate them because I wish for my country to be a better place. Because I feel a monarch bears all the sins of her predecessors unless she can make things right." The Queen stepped towards the dragon, her voice rising. She jabbed her finger in the air as if wielding a tiny spear, and puncturing the very idea that she merely wished to improve her land's image. "I wish this, Valyrym, because I know in my heart that no matter how I love Illandra it has often been a terrible place. I do this because I believe that all lands deserve their freedom. That all people in my cities deserve to be treated fairly, and that must start with the lands we have conquered. I must be the change I wish to see in my own lands by stopping the oppression we've inflicted."

Kathlyn ran her hand back over her hair. A few little beads of perspiration clung to the flushed skin of her forehead. "I know that this will be hard. My closest friend fears this idea may even be the death of me, Dragon. But there is no one else willing to change Illandra's course. No one else willing to atone for our sins. No one willing or able to make our cities a better place. There is no one to make things right but me. I do this because in my heart I know that no matter the cost to me, this is the right thing to do."

"You sound just like her," Valyrym said when the queen finally went silent. He gazed down at his own paws. The Queen spoke with such passion, she seemed so earnest. He felt a little ashamed for doubting her, and yet how could he know? After all the terrible things Illandra had done, how could he have imagined that Illandra had come to be ruled by a woman willing to risk everything just to do what was right?

The Queen took a breath, and let it out slowly. Her pale cheeks had already flushed quite scarlet, and she felt very hot beneath her golden dress. It wasn't that long ago she'd said the same thing to the dragon. She smiled a little, thinking of The Black Bird a moment. Kathlyn missed him when he wasn't around. Missed having him to talk to, to confide in. She missed getting to lay against him and stroke his feathers and look at the stars and...

Before she got too carried away, Kathlyn returned her mind to the task at hand. "Who do I sound like?" She turned her smile to the dragon. Poor creature seemed stuck between downtrodden and hopeful. "Your old love?"

"Yes," Valyrym replied gently. "There came a time she was elected to lead not just the city in which we lived, but all of Aran'alia. She gave a speech that day. It...brought me to tears. But in that speech, someone called out. They questioned why we should stay, why we should we fight. It was a question I had already answered to a few of my own kind. But I had never heard it put so passionately until Amaleen called out her reply. Till she swore that she would never leave our land even if it killed her. Even if Illandra ringed our city with steel, she would stay, and she would fight for her home, and for her friends, and for those she loved. That she would fight for everyone simply because it was the right thing to do."

Alia gently stroked the dragon's neck. "You swore that as well, Valyrym."

Valyrym chuckled just a little. "I told the other dragons that, yes. But Amaleen...Amaleen told everyone."

"You followed Amaleen, but the other dragons followed you," Alia said, kissing the dragon's neck. Then she turned her eyes to the queen, her own green gaze burning. "What you told us, a moment ago? About doing something just because it's right? That is almost word for word what Valyrym told the other dragons, so long ago. The mother of his son once told Valyrym that they would lose the war, and Amaleen would die."

Valyrym tensed up, but Alia went on. "Valyrym in return told her that it did not matter, because he was going to do what was right. And what was right was defending his home no matter the cost. You and he, and Amaleen...you're far more alike than any of you would ever admit. And that is why he gave you his name. Names are very private and powerful to a dragon, and he will not tell you this, but I think in some corner of his heart, he wants to believe you."

Alia paused, and slipped her hand under Valyrym's snout. She lifted his head so she could peer into his bottomless golden eyes, swirling with old pains and fresh hopes. She spoke as though only addressing the Queen, but her words were for both of them. "He has done monstrous things, yes. Yet all Valyrym ever truly wished for was to live in peace with the one he loved. All he ever wanted was to do what was right by his homeland. Now, I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice that wants to believe in you. Against the odds, this old dragon wants to believe in the Queen of Illandra when she says she will set his home free. Valyrym wants to believe in you and what you have come to stand for."

Alia hugged the dragon's head against her body, smiling and struggling to hold back tears. She felt wet heat against her arm, and quickly wiped away a few of Valyrym's own tears. "I do not know if we can give you any more evidence to support his freedom than that."

Valyrym pressed his head against Alia's chest. He held his breath. He did not wish to cry in front of the Queen, but a few tears had already streaked his dark scaled cheeks. Alia gently wiped those away as well. He murmured wordless sounds of thanks against her body for a few moments. Alia's body trembled against him.

Kathlyn watched with a wistful smile. They were lucky to have each other. She knew how important it could be just to have someone hold you for a few moments. How comforting. The Queen slowly turned around. She would give them some privacy for the moment. "Be that as it may, I should still very much like to see this timeline you've carved and hear of your life, Valyrym. If you are willing."

"I am willing," the dragon said softly. Then he lifted his head, and licked Alia's cheek. He collected himself, and cleared his throat with a rugged growl. "It's not as though I've got anything else to do around here."

Kathlyn found herself smiling as she walked over to the far wall. She could see why Alia and Enric had come to like this dragon. There was an oddly endearing sort of perseverance about him. He reminded the Queen of a grumpy old man who'd lived through hell yet always muttered to everyone about the good old days to armor himself against their pity. His smug wit served to deflect attention away from the pain he'd always felt and increasingly could not hide.

Kathlyn reached the wall inscribed with the events of the dragon's life. She waited here alone for a few minutes to give Alia and Valyrym a bit of privacy. Gods knew she wouldn't want anyone watching her when she buried her tears in Krek's feathers and he wrapped her in his wings. Krek. Kathlyn smiled a little. She hoped his trip to visit his old friend was going well. It seemed increasingly apparent she was going to have to leave Illandra without him. He'd just have to catch up once he'd returned to the castle and donned his armor.

Once the dragon had completely collected himself he began to limp over alongside his warden. As she waited Kathlyn scanned the wall. The dragon's timeline began at one end of the far wall, near the corner where it met the front wall in which the double doors were set. It ran on for ages beyond that, and she could scarcely see the end of it. Once again the size of the dragon's prison surprised her. If not for the new lanterns she was not sure she would have been able to see the far end. In the distant corner an archway that seemed to lead into another chamber. Perhaps that was where the dragon slept.

The first image upon the wall was a simple enough one to decipher even without the dragon's assistance. An egg was carved in the center with curved lines and shaded with layers of pinpoints cut into the stone. At one end of the egg, a tiny dragon's blunt-muzzled snout was breaking free. More lines that swirled around the egg formed a bed upon which the egg lay. A multitude of tiny scratch marks gave the appearance that the bed was textured with fur. Probably made from animal hides, Kathlyn mused. And curled together around that soft bed and precious cargo were two dragons. They were carved with great detail, right down to the scaling that covered their bodies, and the spiny frills atop their heads. They were nuzzling each other, smiling down as they watched their son hatch.

They were Valyrym's parents, and they loved him from the moment he was born.

The warmth that exuded from the image was stunning. Kathlyn could almost feel the love simply leaping from the stone. Somehow, through simple lines and dots and scratches in the rock, Valyrym had captured the feeling every parent shared when their children were first born. Kathlyn knew that feeling well. It was how she felt when she'd first cradled her own son in her arms. And in her heart she knew it was the same way Valyrym felt when he watched his own son hatch. Before she realized it, she lifted her hand, reaching up to the image on the wall. She had to strain and stretch upon her tip toes, but she ran her fingers over the female dragon's smile.

She looked so joyful it gave Kathlyn goose bumps.

"My parents," Valyrym murmured softly as he came up behind the Queen.

"Yes, I..." Kathlyn settled back to her feet, feeling a little silly for touching the dragon's carving that way. "I gathered as much." Silly or not, she reached out and gently ran a single finger over the hatchling dragon's blunt little muzzle. "And this must be you."

Valyrym chuckled low in his throat, standing alongside the Queen. "Yes. That is me, before they ever realized what a brat I was going to be. They wouldn't look so happy about my hatching if they knew I was going to burn down their bed."

"You burned down your parents bed?" The Queen lifted her brows, giving the dragon an incredulous look.

Valyrym snorted, grinning sheepishly with his frilled ears half twisted back. "You must be at least the third person to ask me that. And yes, I did, and yes...I blamed it on my sister."

"You have a sister? And blamed her? You naughty thing," The Queen said, smiling. That sounded so much like what human siblings would do it was almost surreal.

The dragon merely nodded, grinning. He waved his paw at the carving. "Oddly enough, the hardest part of this carving for me was myself. I had to practice drawing it and carving it on other bits of stone until I could get the muzzle to look right. Hatchlings have short little blunt muzzles at first, compared to adult dragons. I could not get such a tiny curve carved to save my life. Thankfully, I think I was able to render it quite well in the end."

"You did a fantastic job," Alia said. She stood on the other side of Valyrym, and Kathlyn caught her staring up at the wall with an expression of wonder on her face. The Queen realized this must be the first time Valyrym had ever talked anyone through his timeline, including his warden.

"I am quite honored you've deigned to share this with me, Dragon," The queen said, putting a hand upon his scaly shoulder for a moment.

"I am sharing it with Alia," the dragon said with a snort and a toss of his head. "You just happen to be tagging along."

Alia giggled and the Queen simply patted the dragon's shoulder. "That is fine, Dragon. You are quite the fascinating creature."

Valyrym snorted and clicked his teeth. "I've a fascinating set of..."

"Valyrym," Alia said sharply.

"I was going to say life images," Valyrym muttered, hanging his head a moment.

"Just move onto the next one."

Valyrym smiled, and as the Queen walked down his timeline just a little, the dragon followed after her. The next image was a landscape. The wall there was covered with the sharply cut, angular images of rugged mountains. Their basic shapes were triangular and stylized, but Valyrym had added zigzagging lines in odd places to give the mountains a jagged, semi-broken appearance. Many ledges dotted the mountains, some shaded very heavily to indicate a plethora of caverns. Around the bottom half of the mountains, bushy looking pine trees were cut in cones and triangles and textured with thousands of tiny scratch marks. On several of the ledges dragons sat, and above the mountains flew more dragons. The dragons were mostly stylized here, not as detailed as those in the previous image, but there were many more of them. Down at the very bottom of the image a few little hatchlings ran around, playing between the trees. A tail stuck out from behind one tree, a snout from another, and in the foreground was a far more detailed hatchling.

"That's you, isn't it?" Alia giggled, pointing out the little hatchling in the front.

"Yes," Valyrym said, a hint of warm nostalgia creeping into his voice. "That was my clan home. The place I grew up in."

"It looks like a beautiful place," the Queen added.

"It was," the dragon replied, then gave a little sigh. He did not yet elaborate on what eventually happened to it.

"How many dragons lived there?"

"I'm not quite sure," Valyrym said, rustling his wings against his sides in thought. "Quite a few dozen. Perhaps over fifty. There were quite a few families of dragons there when I was young, and quite a few more dragons who lived with the clan but did not have a family of their own at the time."

"My word," the Queen murmured to herself. Then she looked up at the dragon, holding her hands together in front of herself. "I've never heard of so many dragons all in one place. I always rather thought you were...well, territorial I suppose. Solitary, or with only a mate and children."

"Many of us are," Valyrym explained, limping along the wall. "There are dragons who live in organized clans as I did when I was young, and there are dragons who live on their own, as I did later in life. We do get the urge to claim and conquer land for ourselves, some of us do and some of us do not." He snorted, sneering a little. "We're not all exactly the same, after all."

"No, I am sure you are not." The Queen pursed her lips, then posed another question. "Are there many such clans?"

"I've no idea," Valyrym replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "I should like to think they are out there, somewhere. I knew of three when I was young, all very well spread out. Though the three clans did visit each other from time to time, or takes mates in other clans. But my clan was..." He glanced back at the Queen, mentally reminding himself it wasn't her fault. "Forcibly dispersed by Illandra."

"Oh," the Queen said softly. She swallowed and glanced down the buckles on her shoes a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We were somewhere in the realm of Aran'alia or Vurnel or some other land in that region. We did not call it by those names as I grew up, so I do not know exactly where our clan would be located on a current map." The dragon gestured in the air with his paw, hissing under his breath. "I am sure that to them, we were nothing more than a nest of vermin. A lair of evil to be heroically slaughtered." Valyrym let the words drip from his tongue like rotten bile from his ruined fire glands. "No doubt they wanted to make themselves look like heroes to the locals for slaying as many monsters as they could, and driving the rest away. Wouldn't want us to be there later on to interfere in their plans of conquest." Then the dragon lifted his head, something else occurring to him. "You haven't made slaves of dragons, have you? As a country I mean. Illandra."

The Queen scowled at that thought, and shook her head. Her gray tinged red hair bobbled behind her head a little. "Certainly not. At least not to my knowledge. Why do you ask such a question?"

"When I heard that our clan had been attacked, I was told that some of my kin were captured alive, and hauled off to spirits know where. And when I myself was captured, I was eventually transferred to some sort of...well, a conveyance clearly designed to hold a living dragon captive in transit. I was not the first put upon it." The dragon turned his attention away, staring at one of the flickering lamps in the distance. He could almost see ghosts dancing in the shadows like spirits of long lost dragons haunting Illandra. "I thought perhaps they'd been taken off somewhere to be put into slavery. They were probably just...butchered."

"To my knowledge, we have no such slavery," The Queen said. She gently rested her hand upon the dragon's scaled hide. "For what it's worth, I would never allow a creature to be...ended...in such a way."

Valyrym gave a little snort. "Hmmph. That is little comfort given that this would have occurred long before your parents were ever born. And I somehow doubt that even you can know everything that happens in all the lands over which Illandra holds sway. Nonetheless, we shall move on."

Kathlyn listened with rapt attention as Valyrym lead them through the next few images of his early life. One image showed the little hatchling tucked against his father's belly, carried into the sky for the very first time. Another showed him seated upon a female hatchling he had pinned in the mud for some reason.

Alia giggled when she guessed correctly that the female in question was in fact, Kylaryn. The first time that Valyrym had ever met the eventual mother of his child, he had pinned her in the mud. The image made Kathlyn smile, though Krek's words about that female haunted her thoughts for a moment.

That was the female dragon that Krek feared was planning to kill Kathlyn.

Kathlyn bit her lip. For a moment, she considered telling the old dragon what she knew of his mate. That she was part of a shadow army to this day. That she may well try and slay Kathlyn on her journey of peace, never knowing what it was Kathlyn truly meant to achieve. But what good would it do to tell him? What would it bring him but more pain heaped upon a heart already crushed beneath the weight of a life of sorrow? So at least for the moment, Kathlyn held her tongue. She would speak nothing of what she knew of Kylaryn. Instead Kathlyn would learn about the great blue dragon of Death In The Night through the eyes of Kylaryn's former love.

Kathlyn smiled and laughed as Valyrym recalled the tale of their first meeting. How even from the first day they saw one another they were at once the bitterest of rivals and the best of friends. How they proclaimed their hatred for one another and yet could not stay apart. The first time they ever met, Valyrym claimed that Kylaryn spotted him through the trees when he was slinking about on the outskirts of the clan. She charged and pounced him and wrestled him a while until Valyrym succeeded in pinning her in the mud. He did not let her up until she agreed to proclaim him her new king.

The next immensely detailed portrait upon the wall was one of Valyrym's entire youthful family. It was drawn in such a way as to mirror the very first image on his timeline. This mother and father were snuggled together, sitting above a bed composed of animal furs and hides, and upon that bed was an egg with a hatchling erupting from the shell like a tiny, jubilant volcano. Only this time, the hatchling was Valyrym's younger sister, Narymiryn. His parents looked on with the same joyful, loving gaze they looked upon Valyrym's own hatching with. And sitting next to the adult dragons was little hatchling Valyrym staring in loving wonder at his sister as she exploded from her shell. He looked as though he couldn't believe an entire baby dragon could fit inside so small an enclosure.

It was a sight that Kathlyn found could bring joy even to the heart of a Queen. How the dragon could capture such emotions in images carved upon stone was simply beyond the woman, yet the effect was stunning. To think that so many of his captors over the years had gone without ever once bothering to even glance at his carvings. That the dragon had carved these images to remember his own life and for his own fulfillment. Perhaps he had hoped that when he one day died, someone else would see his timeline and know that there was more to his life than cruelty and anger. Kathlyn did not ask Valyrym why he had begun his timeline. It was a question better left unanswered.

Image by image, scene by scene, the dragon lead Kathlyn and Alia through his youth. In each image from his home, the carvings of himself, his sister and his future mate were a little larger as they grew and slowly matured. There were images of the three of them at play, images of Valyrym besting them in wrestling matches and images of the three of them all being carried aloft by their parents before their own wings were strong enough to bear them into the skies.

One image that made both women giggle was a small image of what Valyrym described as a painful yet memorable milestone. It depicted his younger sister Nary, seemingly dancing about on her paws, giggling up a gleeful storm. Meanwhile in the background of the image, young Valyrym could be seen curled up, both front paws cupping himself between his hind legs. Alia laughed and asked him why he'd included such an image. Valyrym answered that it was a timeline of all the most memorable moments of his life, not merely the best memories. He also explained that painful and humbling as it may have been, he could not help but be ever so proud of his sister for finally besting him.

Kathlyn followed along after the two of them, and for the most part simply listened to the dragon's explanations. Though she'd already come to enjoy the easy-going banter the Warden and The Prisoner seemed to share, for the most Alia kept her own comments to herself. Now and then she asked a question or made some snide remark, but Alia seemed to sense this was an especially personal thing for Valyrym to share with them, and she wished to let him conduct the tour of his life without any extra interruption.

A large image depicted Valyrym all by himself, and nothing more. For a moment, Kathlyn was unsure why such an image occupied such a large place upon the wall. It appeared that Valyrym was flying. The dragon soon explained that image was meant to represent the very first time he ever flew under his own power. His wings were outstretched, his head tossed back in a roar of sheer delight. The look of joy and pride upon the young dragon's face was unmistakable. Kathlyn's throat clenched and her heartbeat quickened when the dragon quietly remarked to Alia that he hoped that some day, his son had shared that joyful pride.

Many other images depicted his relationship with his sister, and with Kylaryn. His relationship with his sister was often depicted in a warmer manner than that of Kylaryn. Most of the time Kylaryn was shown either trying to outdo Valyrym or trying to outdo some other dragon while Valyrym looked on as if wondering what she was trying to prove.

Towards the end of Valyrym's time with the clan, a series of emotional images were all collected together. In the first, Valyrym and Kylaryn were flying together. A few images in a row depicted the dragons trying to outdo each other in aerial acrobatics. They were doing rolls and loops and dives, and the images brought a smile to Kathlyn's face until several of them suddenly depicted Kylaryn snapping her wing against a tree and crashing to the earth.

In the next image Valyrym was already with her, clutching her as she screamed in agony. The pain, and then the terror that stretched across their faces and muzzles for several images was palpable. Kathlyn was very nearly there with the two of them, sympathizing with the terrible pain a broken wing must bring a dragon. For a moment, she felt the cold, bowel-clenching terror of dragons who knew one of them might never fly again.

The next image featured a whole host of adult dragons all attending Kylaryn. They had not the dexterous hands of humans but they knew well enough how to splint broken bones to help them mend. And Kylaryn was lucky, her wing had broken badly yet it was a clean break to the major bone, near the joint at her shoulder. There was only minor damage to the smaller bones. The largest bone was the easiest to splint. But as Valyrym quietly explained, in private her parents were told there was still a great chance that she would not be able to fly again.

The next images were all very detailed, and all deeply linked. In the first, Kylaryn lay upon her belly, totally alone. Her wing was splinted and she was crying. The tears were cut in stone upon the scales of her snout, and pooling on the floor. An image above her depicted her thoughts, of herself as an adult, unable to fly and living alone in a simple cave. In the background, her parents looked distraught as though they did not know how to comfort her. Perhaps they were sorrowful that no one had come to visit.

The next image was similar. Kylaryn was still laying upon her belly, her wing heavily splinted, and she was still crying. But in this image, Valyrym lay curled next to her, letting Kylaryn cry against him. Her parents looked unsure. Kathlyn realized it was because at that time Valyrym was more her rival than her friend. The next few images were all very much alike, but the mood gradually brightened. They depicted only the two dragons, and it was obvious that no one else had ever come to visit Kylaryn while she healed. Kathlyn scowled to herself, and then it dawned on her that young Kylaryn had no friends. She had chased them all away with her competitiveness.

For all the time it took Kylaryn's wing to mend, the only one who ever came to visit her was her greatest rival. And listening to Valyrym talk about it in hushed, bittersweet nostalgia, it was clear he had visited her every day. He never put it in such words, but both Kathlyn and Alia came to the same conclusion. The images depicted her gradual recovery, and the way her mood had brightened as she slowly fell in love with her lifelong rival. A love that Valyrym had only come to realize so many years later.

Kylaryn cried against him in the first image. In the next she looked sad, but did not cry. In the third she smiled with her head pressed against Valyrym's body. In the forth, she laughed as Valyrym held a paw towards the sky. A smaller image above them depicted a scene of Kylaryn flying once again, and racing away from all the other dragons. Valyrym was telling Kylaryn that she would heal so well that not only would she fly again, but she would fly faster than every other dragon in the clan. He had no way of knowing he was right.

In the next image, Kylaryn had returned to the skies, and Valyrym was flying along at her side, laughing and cheering her on. She looked so happy. In the next image after that, they had landed by an isolated lake. Valyrym explained that Kylaryn's wings grew tired easily at first, and he had not allowed her to press herself too far. He left the next image without any explanation, but it was clear enough. In it, Valyrym and Kylaryn were pressed together, making love for the very first time, on the day she returned to the skies.

In that image Kathlyn saw the truth. That Kylaryn would never in all her life forget how she loved this black dragon she had known since her childhood. And Kylaryn would never forget who had taken him from her and put him in a hole in the ground for one hundred and forty one years.

Krek was right.

If Kylaryn had a chance, she would come for the Queen. Kathlyn would simply have to hope that Death In The Night never learned of her journey. Krek feared that someone from Aran'alia may pass them the information. Yet Kathlyn did not think that likely. After all, surely those in Aran'alia she planned to meet with understood that she was trying to offer them a road to liberation. Were she to fall, the Prince would become King. And Aran'alia knew well that he would not make the same offer.

Kathlyn turned away a moment, wiping tears from her eyes. It was not her moment of fear over Kylaryn that brought the tears. Rather, it was the emotions depicted in the carvings of Valyrym's young life. The old dragon's life seemed so beautiful. He had seemed so kind to even his rival. How could he ever have turned into the sort of beast who would murder a child? Kathlyn knew well enough he had not done so on purpose. Yet the twists and turns that would lead him down that dark path must have been so wrenching she feared to have to see them carved upon the stone. And yet the dragon had lived those events. The least she could do was see how he had depicted them.

When she turned back around, Alia reached out and gently squeezed the Queen's shoulder. "Amaleen used to say that Valyrym has poetry in his heart. I have taken to saying that as well. It seems you can see the same inside him."

"If there is poetry in his heart, then there is beauty in his claws, for that is what he has carved here." Kathlyn gave a long sigh, and ran a hand down her face. "I had not expected a dragon kept in a dungeon to live such a beautiful life. You were so kind to her when she needed it most..."

Valyrym snorted, looking away. Kathlyn suspected it was to hide his own tears. She doubted there was any way he could remember that part of his youth without emotions welling up deep inside him. "She needed comfort. Someone had to provide it."

"I wonder if you know what you must have meant to her," Kathlyn said before she realized what she was saying.

Valyrym snapped his head around. Tears and anguish and anger all shone in his eyes. "I know! Every day I know what I meant to her. What it meant to her when I left. I did not want to leave her, but had no choice. If I had stayed there, then she would have seen me fall into madness!" The dragon snarled, and dragged his claws against the stone floor, scratching little ruts. "I did not want to hurt her, but I...I was sinking deeper by the day..."

Alia gently took the dragon's muzzle in her hands, shushing him. She kissed his nose, stroking his cheek and his jaw line till he had calmed. Kathlyn was very nearly dumbfounded. She saw now what Enric meant when he spoke of Alia's nearly indescribable way of bringing the dragon back from the brink. Kathlyn knew in that moment there would never be another warden who could handle the dragon like Alia.

Kathlyn also knew well enough that they loved each other. The Queen was glad they did not try and hide it around her. Love knew no boundaries. In the end, whether she chose to set the dragon free or not, Kathlyn would ensure that they were always together now.

"That isn't what she meant, Valyrym," Alia said softly, kissing his nose again.

Valyrym let out a sigh that was almost impossibly long. He cast the Queen a glance, his golden eyes wet and shining. "I apologize for my outburst."

After all the smugness and sarcasm he'd already shone the Queen, a genuine apologize came as quite a surprise. But she bowed her head, and gave him a little smile. "I accept your apology, Valyrym." She gestured up at the image of Kylaryn, her smile growing. "Wherever she is, I am sure she still thinks of you fondly."

Valyrym smiled a little bit, nodding against Alia. "I hope that she has found happiness, one way or another." He took a few deep breaths, then glanced at his timeline, an odd smile creeping over his snout. "Ah. We have almost reached the point where I carved my road upon the wall."

"Your road?" The Queen tilted her head, blinking.

"Yes," Valyrym said, his smile increasing.

"It was his road, you know," Alia said, giggling.

Clearly this was some inside joke Kathlyn was not privy to. But as long as it improved the dragon's mood, that was fine with her. "Then by all means. Proceed!"

Valyrym lead them through a few more images. The next set of carvings depicted his last years with his old clan. Among other things, Kylaryn's parents had a second hatchling, a younger brother for her. Kylaryn loved him deeply, and when she wasn't competing for Valyrym's attention she was playing with her younger brother. And when she wasn't playing with him, she was trying to prevent him from tagging along when she and Valyrym slunk off into the woods together. Several of the images depicted Kylaryn carrying the smaller dragon around on her back, smiling as she let him guide her around. Though she may have been highly competitive to everyone else, she was nothing but loving when it came to her younger sibling.

Alia reached up and pressed her hand to one of the images of Kylaryn carrying the much younger dragon upon her back. "Conqueror," she murmured, then swallowed. "He's...younger than I'd imagined."

"She didn't call that game Conqueror till I taught it to Valar," Valyrym said, chuckling softly. "But yes, that is where it came from. Her brother was a good deal younger than my own sister. That was...part of the reason she searched for so long. I'd like to think maybe some she found him, one way or another. At least she'd have some closure."

Kathlyn did not know the story they were discussing, but the implications were clear enough. It probably happened when their clan was attacked. The Queen bit her lip, but did not interject or ask questions. Kathlyn let Alia and Valyrym linger on those images a moment, and when Valyrym was ready, he moved on.

Soon the carvings shifted to Valyrym's decision to leave. One showed him with his parents and sister, apparently deep in discussion. A smaller image above showed Valyrym flying alone above some far flung land, scouting out places to live before returning home for a little while. Another image showed him arguing and fighting with Kylaryn. She did not wish for him to go, and she did not think it was wise for a young dragon to strike out on his own.

Kylaryn, at the time, was afraid to leave the clan, and in her own way jealous of Valyrym's courage. Yet she also feared what would happen if he flew too far into human lands. They parted on a bitter note, once again more rivals than friends. At least that was how young Valyrym saw it at the time. In his carvings he had depicted things as they really were, as he'd only come to understand many years later.

The last image from his clan showed him spiraling into the sky, with his family and many other dragons gathered and watching him leave. Many of them waved fondly, but Kylaryn was not among them. At the time, Valyrym thought she was off sulking somewhere, angry that he wasn't taking her with him or that she wasn't yet ready to go claim her own land. She was in the background, hugging her little brother against her scales while crying against her parents. Whether Valyrym had actually seen that or if she'd told him about it some cold, snowy night many years later he did not say.

Alia stared at the image, stroking the dragon's neck. She moved on a little bit, and then she giggled to herself. "Ah! The road."

"Yes," Valyrym murmured, a hint of a grin crossing his muzzle. "Here it is, in all of its roadly glory."

"Roadly?" Kathlyn quirked a brow, grinning to herself.

"Valyrym likes to make up words, Your Majesty," Alia explained, giggling a little more. "He also says dragonly. And I believe he once described his coat of scales as armorifical."

"I did not say armorifical," the dragon said with a hiss. "It was Beautifical. Anyway. My road." The dragon gestured at the next image, and Kathlyn moved a little closer to peer up at it. "Such named because it was the first thing I had ever really claimed."

The image in question was a simple one. It depicted a long, winding road stretching through a beautiful, open land. Mountains rose in the background, meadows and rolling hills studded here and there with rocks lay a little closer to the road. Hints of a forest could be seen. The dragon himself lay sprawled out upon the road, seemingly taking a nap in the sun.

"Is that you, then? Laying your claim in the literal sense?"

"Indeed," Valyrym said, grinning. "I used to nap there in case any travelers happened by so I could..."

"Rob them," Alia interjected.

Valyrym narrowed his golden eyes, and lashed his spined tail against the floor. His spines clattered on the stone. "I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut."

"It's not worth thanking me for if I'm not going to do it." Alia folded her arms, grinning. "You see, he used to rob all the travelers he could along that road."

"So that is where dragons get their reputation from." Kathlyn smirked at Valyrym.

Valyrym hissed through his sharp teeth, his tail coiling around his paws as he settled onto his haunches. "I may have inadvertently added to our unpleasant reputation a time or two."

"It's not inadvertent when you tell someone to give you all their belongings or you'll eat them!"

"In my defense, I never actually ate any of them."

"That's not what you told me about those bandits..."

Valyrym snapped his jaws. "Bandits are different. Besides, if they try to take a dragon's life and fail it is only fitting they nourish the dragon instead."

Kathlyn laughed along with them, folding her arms over her golden dress. She canted her head a little, her voice taking on the more forceful tones of a monarch who found herself adjudicating some minor criminal dispute. "So why were you robbing people, Dragon?"

"Because I was all balls and claws," Valyrym muttered, glancing away with his spines all flattened out against his head. He looked like a sheepish hatchling caught stuffing his muzzle with his mother's cache of treats. "We all make foolish decisions then."

"You were all what?" Kathlyn's blue eyes went wide at that particularly detailed expression.

"It's a term for draconic adolescence. Especially male draconic adolescence. It is the same reason I left home." The dragon gestured in a circle with his paw. "It means as our bodies mature, we are filled with hormones and..."

"Ah," the Queen nodded, smirking. "That sort of thing. I think all races go through that."

"I'm sure they do. But with dragons, it gives us the urge to fight to prove our strength, and for the same reason we begin seeking to claim land of our own. To hold territory, and to gather things that seem valuable."

"So you steal hoping to impress some wandering female?"

"No," Valyrym said, huffing. Then he relented a little bit. "Well...maybe. That might be the instinctual basis for the urges. It is a time in our life where we wish to fight anyone who gets in our way, claim everything we set our eyes upon, and mate with everyone we can get hold of."

"And not in that order," Alia added.

Kathlyn took it in stride, grinning. "If you were so eager to mate every female you could find, wouldn't it have made more sense to stay in your clan where there were many females? Instead of conquering some isolated land where they were none?"

Valyrym licked his nose. Kathlyn found it a sheepish looking gesture. "I said we were ruled by our balls. Dragons at that point are not the best at making rational decisions."

"So pretty much the same as any other time in a dragon's life then," Alia said, patting Valyrym's cheek.

Valyrym grumbled under his breath, a slightly growling sound. "Moving on."

The old dragon guided the two women through the next set of images. They featured more scenes of the dragon's road, as well as the mountainous landscape of Aran'alia in which he made his home. Several images in sequence showed the inside of his cavern at first mostly barren, and slowly decorated with everything that he stole or got from home. Early on he returned home a few times to visit his family, and to collect things to take back with him to adorn his new lair. When Kathlyn called it his lair, Valyrym corrected her.

"It was my home," he hissed, flicking his tail. "I was not a villain plotting the end of the world. Nor was I a beaver in a den nor some wasp in a nest."

Next was an image Kathlyn had not expected. Kylaryn, seated upon the road, robbing a group of travelers. Somehow, that image made the Queen smile. She knew the two dragons had eventually gotten back together and conceived the dragon's son, but she had not expected it in such a fashion. That the next image depicted Valyrym crashing into her was not such a surprise. Nor that the next few images in order showed him pinning her down in the forest floor, forcing her to apologize, and then looking smug as she slunk off in defeat.

An image soon to follow simply depicted a woman holding an apple. It was a simple image, but carved in greater detail than many of those around it. Clearly an image that meant a great deal to Valyrym and held profound impact upon his life. The woman stood, clutching the apple in both hands. Her arms were outstretched as if she was offering it to someone. She wore a dress that Valyrym had carved in such a way as to make it look as though it were simply flowing across her. Her hair was tied behind her head, and every feature of her face from her rounded eyes and her small nose were carved in intricate detail.

Kathlyn looked at Valyrym for an explanation, but the dragon seemed lost in thought. He stared at the image with wide golden eyes as if he too were viewing it for the first time. The dragon lifted a paw, and gently pressed it to the face of the woman carved in stone. Kathlyn could see memories drifting behind his eyes like ephemeral clouds. Valyrym sighed, and slowly lowered his paw.

"That was Lenira," Valyrym explained gently. "The first human friend I ever had. It was through Lenira that I first made my deals with her village and the others."

"Deals?" Kathlyn asked. She glanced back and forth between the dragon and the image a few times. With the reverence he seemed to show her, she must have meant more to him than he was letting on. "What sort of deal?"

"The sort that were very profitable for me," Valyrym replied with a little chuckle. "I realized that I would gain more gold and treasure as their protector rather than their bully. You see, they assumed that when I saved them from Kylaryn it was because I wished to protect them. Not because I was the one who wished to rob them."

"Ah, that sort of deal," Kathlyn smiled a little. "You sneaky thing."

Valyrym turned and began to walk along the timeline. He passed several images and left Kathlyn to peruse them at her own pace. "Lenira became my first friend among humanity, and the first to suffer from my selfishness."

Kathlyn furrowed her brow a little, following slowly after the dragon. She paused at each image to try and find some measure of understanding in them. The images were similar, for the most part, each showing Valyrym and Lenira in a few different situations. Valyrym visited her town, and she walked at his side. Valyrym lay upon some hill or in his bed, and Lenira lay against him. Then the three images repeated several times, and almost everything looked the same. The only difference Kathlyn spotted at first was that the size of the dragon's hoard seemed to grow every time the images repeated. His home was increasingly filled with tributes given to him by the towns he'd made a deal to protect.

Interspersed in the middle of that sequence was a larger image of Valyrym biting a smaller dragon upon the ear. Kathlyn didn't quite get the meaning. She looked to Valyrym for explanation, but Valyrym seemed lost in his own thoughts, gazing at all the images of himself with Lenira. Alia gestured up to the image of Valyrym biting the young dragon's ear.

"That is Korvarak," Alia whispered so as not to intrude on Val's thoughts. "As part of his protection deal, Val also had to protect them from the occasional other dragon. He caught Korvarak there stealing the villagers' sheep, but offered to let him stay in the area if he would in turn help keep the place protected. The younger dragon agreed, and Val then made him apologize to every village." Alia grinned at that. She'd always liked that part of Val's story.

"Lenira came to love me over her life, and I had no idea..." Valyrym's voice was a shivering whisper. He barely seemed to register that the other two were even talking about Korvarak.

Over her life? Kathlyn looked at the repeating images of Valyrym and Lenira a few more times. Suddenly she realized that something was strikingly different in every image. In each one, Valyrym remained exactly the same, yet Lenira had grown older. In every image, she was looking at Valyrym with a smile. Watching him walk through her town, ignoring the frowns of those around them. Looking at him with love as he told her stories in the sunshine. Watching him sleep with fondness she never put to words. And in every image the woman was older and older. In the last image in the series, it was Lenira who slept, looking quite aged. Valyrym now lay awake, staring at her with sorrow etched across his features as he finally realized she was aging and dying before his very eyes.

"You didn't know..." Kathlyn said, pressing her hand to her mouth. Her heart sank.

"No," the dragon said, his voice hoarse. "I had no idea we lived so much longer than you. Nor did I know that she had long ago grown to love me or how deeply I had neglected that love."

Alia glanced ahead, and sucked in a sharp breath when she realized the next image was Amaleen. Just as Lenira had gotten an entire carving to herself, so too did Amaleen. But where Lenira had been depicted with sweetness and joy, Amaleen was shown the way she had been when Valyrym first met her. Amaleen was carved in layers of anger and hatred and spite. Her dress swirled around her ankles as if battered by a furious wind. A carriage was in the background, already far behind her though the door was still open, as if she had stormed away from it. Her hands were called up into fists at her sides, and her slightly curly hair whirled around her in that same angry wind. Amaleen's eyes shone with every ounce of defiance Valyrym could possible cut into stone.

"That is her, isn't it...?" Kathlyn peered up at the image. She had to admit, the girl's hair and eyes did seem to possess an unexpected resemblance. "She's quite young."

"Yes, that is Amaleen," Valyrym said with both a sigh and a smile. "She was very young at the time, perhaps fifteen or so."

"She looks angry."

"Oh, you have no idea," Valyrym said with a little chuckle.

"When Valyrym first met her," Alia said, smirking. "She marched right up and kicked him in the balls."

Kathlyn couldn't help but laugh. Valyrym grunted in protest, but given that the next image did in fact depict him curled upon the stony ground, clutching himself while the girl shouted at him, it was not exactly an event he had intended to hide. "She was a brave thing, wasn't she?"

"Bold," the dragon said, staring at the image of young Amaleen. "And defiant from the first moment. How she hated me."

"Hated?" The Queen knitted her brows. "I thought you loved her."

"With every drop of blood in my body," the dragon said in a hushed tone. A spectral grin flickered at the corners of his mouth. "But not at first. Amaleen was one of Lenira's apprentices. Lenira had more love to give than she possibly knew what to do with. There was a hole in her heart that she desperately hoped I would fill. When I did not, she filled it by dedicating her life away from me to raising orphans as her own, and teaching apprentices the healing arts. She had no children of her own, never did. I thought for a time that no man wanted her because she had been with a dragon."

Valyrym slowly shook his horned head. "But that was not the truth of it. As I would later learn, Aran'alians were not so petty. The truth of it was, men did not pursue her because she did not make herself available to them. Men did not wish a life with her because they knew no matter what, they could never win her heart. That was mine, and only mine, and I never even knew it."

The dragon made a show of coughing. He turned away as to be polite, but when he shielded his face with a tattered, gray-edged wing Kathlyn knew it was to hide his eyes and his emotions rather then cover his cough. He waved a paw at Alia, hoping she would fill in the details for the Queen.

Alia pursed her lips, still looking at the picture of Amaleen. She moved a little to stroke the soft membranes of the dragon's wing while she spoke. "Amaleen hated him because Lenira was the only mother she'd ever known, and she loved her deeply. Amaleen also saw what Valyrym did not. That Lenira had loved him for decades, and had always hoped to make a life with the dragon. In Amaleen's mind, Lenira was nothing but a toy for Valyrym. He took her out when he was bored and when he'd had his fun he tossed her aside. Amaleen did not understand that in his own way Valyrym had grown to care for Lenira as well. Just as Valyrym did not understand how much Lenira had grown to love him."

"That is...unfortunate." The Queen wrung her hands a little, gazing at the next image.

It was the one where Valyrym was curled on the ground and Amaleen was screaming at him. The image that immediately followed depicted what Amaleen had been telling the dragon. It was a detailed carving that showed an aged Lenira sitting in a comfortable chair. She was smiling to herself, slowly quilting a blanket with an image of a dragon on it. Amaleen sat nearby, watching her in quiet anger at the isolation and loneliness the old woman felt. At the pain Amaleen had long held the dragon responsible for.

Valyrym seemed incapable or unwilling of talking for a little while so Alia walked the Queen through the next few images. Alia knew this part of the story well enough, Valyrym had told it to her in every wrenching detail. The next set of carvings were all related to Valyrym's attempts to make up for his mistreatment of Lenira by making her as happy as he could in her last months. In one picture, they lay curled on a hilltop as before. Now though, Valyrym smiled back at Lenira just as she smiled at him. In another picture, Valyrym bore Lenira upon his back, ascending to the skies. All those years, and he finally realized he'd never even taken the woman flying. In one of the last images of the series, they lay together in the soft grass, with Lenira clinging to Valyrym's neck. Her face, though clearly aged, nonetheless shone with joy at long last. In her last days Valyrym told her that he loved her.

The next image was a funeral.

The Queen turned away, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sob that wanted to leap from her throat. Her shoulders shook a little, and she wiped her other hand across her eyes. Gods. It all seemed so unfair. She took a deep, trembling breath, and glanced at the dragon. He had turned away from the two women, and his head hung low. His wings shook, and it seemed as though he was fighting off sobs just like the Queen.

To her surprise, Alia gently embraced the Queen. She hugged the older woman, and though it was strictly against protocol, the Queen hugged her back. Kathlyn had never cared much for protocol anyway. She let her face rest against Alia's shoulder, heaving a soft sigh. Alia gently rubbed the Queen's back. For a moment, they were not Queen and Warden, or royal and commoner. They were simply two women sharing a moment of comfort in a time of sorrow.

"It's alright," Alia said gently.

"That poor woman," the Queen said softly. "And the poor dragon..." Kathlyn was not sure who got the worst end of that deal. The woman who spent a lifetime pining for someone she could not have, yet ended her life happier than she'd ever been, or the dragon who had to live with that mistake for the rest of his many days. She glanced up from Alia's shoulder. There were still far more images to come in the dragon's timeline. "It's going to get worse isn't it?"

Alia gave a bitter laugh, and slowly nodded. "Yes. It is. But no one would ask you to see any more of it if you do not wish it."

"No, my dear," The Queen said, straightening up. "I must see this through."

Alia nodded, and Kathlyn pulled away from her. She reached out and gently squeezed Alia's shoulder in thanks, and then made her way to the dragon. She walked around to his head. Valyrym's head hung so low his muzzle nearly brushed the ground. A few tear-streaks marked his scales, but his eyes were closed now. Kathlyn watched him a moment, and then hesitantly placed her hand upon his neck. The dragon arched it and pressed his scales against Kathlyn's fingers.

Valyrym slowly opened his eyes, and if he was surprised to find Kathlyn there instead of Alia, he did not say so. "I have not had the strength to look at some of these images since the day I finished carving them." The dragon's voice sounded as weary and old as Kathlyn imagined he must feel. "I fear for the way this journey will end."

"You already know how it ends," The Queen said, gently rubbing his neck.

"That is why I fear it."

"Then..." Kathlyn hesitated a moment, and then hardened herself just a touch. "I should like to thank you, Valyrym."

"For what?" The dragon lifted his head a little bit more.

"For giving me this glimpse into your life, as beautiful and tragic as it has already been. And as painful as it must be for you to relive such difficult times."

Valyrym twisted his frilled ears back against the sides of his head. "The difficult times have not even started yet. But...you are welcome."

Kathlyn watched the dragon a moment. She wondered if the old beast would make it all the way through his own tale, or if he would have to bow out near the end and let Alia finish the job. Even Kathlyn could probably put many of the pieces together herself if she needed too. She knew the dragon would grow to love Amaleen, and she knew Amaleen would die, and she knew the dragon would slay the former Queen and prince in an act of vengeance.

"I know well enough how this story ends, Valyrym," the Queen said softly. She put her hand upon his nose, near his scar. "I shall not make you live through it again if you do not wish it. Your Warden can conduct the rest of the tale, or we can simply leave it be, if it is easier for you."

Valyrym stared at the Queen across her hand. Finally, he sighed and said, "No. No, I have spent a great deal of my life carving these images. I should at least be present when someone else finally looks upon them."

"As you wish," the Queen said. Then when Valyrym began to look away, she called his name. When he looked back at her, she gave him a little smile. "I should very much like to hug you now, if you'd allow that."

The dragon seemed perplexed by the request, but he did not deny it. Rather awkwardly, the Queen moved to hug him. Kathlyn had hugged a gryphon more times than she could count, but she found hugging a dragon to be a little more complicated. She tried to emulate what she had seen Alia do. She wrapped her arms around his head best she could and pulled it against her body. Then she stroked his neck a few times with one of her hands. Kathlyn found the dragon felt quite warm against her body, though his horns and spines prodded her a bit. Valyrym rumbled in appreciation a moment, and then pulled away.

"Do you feel better?" The Queen asked him, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress.

"The fact you wished to hug me lifted my spirit a bit, yes," The dragon said softly.

"Good, I'm glad." Kathlyn smiled at him, and when she glanced at the side she found Alia staring at her with a strange sort of astonished happiness.

Then Valyrym snorted. "The hug itself, though, was weak and awkwardly positioned. You could use some practice."

The Queen stared at Valyrym in confusion. She wasn't sure how to take that remark until Alia said, "You can always tell he's feeling a little better when he gets all smug and mouthy again."

"Ah," Kathlyn said with a little giggle. "I see." She turned back towards the dragon with her hands clasped before her. "You're not as easy to hug as the Black Bird."

"Yes, I'm sure you can easily fit your arms around that tiny gryphon head." Valyrym smirked, perking his ears. "Hug the bird often, do you?"

"Not often enough," Kathlyn said with a bit more candor than she'd intended. "He's not around as often as I like, as he's often kept busy on official business."

"What does he do for you?" Alia said, staring at the Queen.

"A great many things," Kathlyn said, pursing her lips. "Though, now is not really the time to speak of them."

Valyrym gave a growl of interest, flaring up his central spines. "Does that mean you're going to tell us in the future?"

Kathlyn considered it for a few moments. There were many things she did not think she should tell these two. And yet there were several things she longed to be able to tell the dragon right now. Some of which might be painful for him to hear, yet others might bring some joy into his life. She wrung her hands a little, and finally compromised. "When I return from my journey to offer Aran'alia a chance for their freedom, I shall tell you as much as I can about the Black Bird."

"Does he know my son?" Valyrym asked, staring into Kathlyn's blue eyes.

The question took Kathlyn by surprise, but she did not let it show. She'd been through far too many negotiations with far too many diplomats presenting too many surprises to ever let her shock register. She wondered just how the dragon had come to ask such a question. Just what had the damn fool bird told Alia when they chatted atop the tower?

Coolly as she could, Kathlyn simply repeated herself. "I shall tell you all about The Black Bird when I return from Aran'alia. Shall we proceed with your timeline?" She smiled sweetly, and gestured at the wall.

"...You really are a Queen," The dragon muttered. "No normal person could be so smooth and so casually deceptive at a time like this."

"Comes with the territory my dear."

"I've half a mind to flash you my balls," the dragon said, tossing his head.

"Oh go on then, you old beast," The Queen said with boisterous laugh. "I've seen worse things."

"No," the Dragon said. "I wouldn't want to put your precious Black Bird to shame."

That only made the Queen laugh harder. "Gods know he's flashed those things about enough times without realizing it."

"Oh he realizes it," Valyrym said, smirking. "Very well, then. Let us move on. The next images are of my solitude, and my sorrow. I realized what I had done to Lenira, and...I regretted it. Greatly. I still do. These images need no further explanation."

Valyrym moved down the wall, and let the Queen and Alia follow after him. The Queen glanced at the images they passed, starting with those of the funeral. She'd scarcely been able to look at them before. There were a few images. In one Valyrym and Amaleen stood on opposite sides of a grave. In another, Amaleen was guiding Valyrym's paw as he carved an epitaph for Lenira into her head stone. In the next, Valyrym was circling in the sky above the graveyard, roaring to the heavens.

Several images after that depicted Valyrym's solitude. He flew alone in the skies. He lay alone in his bed. He curled by himself atop the hill. He protected the town but accepted no more tributes from them. The images repeated for a little while, until one of them was filled with rain. In the distance, a dragon's tail and hind paws could be seen, as if little more than a specter in the downpour. In the next, Valyrym was chasing Kylaryn, and in the next, poor Kylaryn looked to have crashed in the mud while Valyrym landed behind her.

"I spent years in solitude, but I had not counted them." The dragon stared up at the carved wall. His frilled, gray-tinged ears twitched and then twisted back against his head. "Five years, perhaps ten, maybe more. I had grown to accept my new, quieter life, and as I had promised to Amaleen I demanded no more tributes and accepted no more gifts from her people. I still protected them, but in those years such protection was my only interaction with humanity. I felt I had troubled them enough, by then. So I lived alone, visiting only Korvarak on an occasional basis. Until the day that Kylaryn returned to me at last."

A smile slowly crept over the dragon's face as he looked upon the next image. It was a simple but tender scene, of the two dragons pressed together, satisfied and spent. They were cuddling and caressing each other's scales, their tails were entwined and their muzzles were pressed together in a rare yet passionate draconic kiss. Rain slashed down across the image, and could be seen splashing across scales and dribbling off wings in swooping lines and curved arches of fat droplets. Beyond them, a multitude of hills and trees, stone spires and even a waterfall seemed to stretch onwards forever.

"It's a beautiful scene," the Queen said softly. "And a beautiful countryside."

"Yes," Valyrym murmured. "It is." He snorted, clattering his tail spines against the floor. "I should hope that at least the countryside itself is still there, even if all the cities and places I once knew have long since been demolished and built up into stone monstrosities." The dragon flared his spines a little at that mental image, but the smile he'd displayed a moment earlier soon returned. "At any rate, that was the moment in which we conceived my son."

Kathlyn found herself smiling too. A beautiful moment between two dragons who must have been quite lonely. For a moment she wondered if Krek knew anything of that story, but pushed the thought aside. "That was after your clan was gone, right?"

"Long after," Valyrym said, walking along the timeline towards the next few images. "In fact, Kylaryn told me that our clan was gone when I first fought with her alongside my road. She wanted to tell me more about it, she...wanted to take comfort in me as she once had when she was injured. But at the time I was too smug to truly listen and understand, and she was too prideful to ask me for my time. When I did not simply offer it, and when I acted like my usual arrogant self, she took offense and left." Valyrym shifted a wing, scratching at his long neck with his wingtip talon. "Her parents were both slain in the attack, and she was separated from her brother. She'd spent many of the ensuing years looking for him, and for anyone else she knew from the clan, after we were scattered by steel. She had found a home of her own but..."

"She grew weary of being alone," Alia finished for Valyrym when the dragon faltered. Alia felt as though she remembered his tale almost as well as the dragon himself did now. "And with her family dead or missing, she once more sought out the only friend she'd ever really known."

Valyrym gave a single nod, as if affirming that was the gist of it. He walked along the images one by one, pointing them out with a wave of his paw or a flick of his wing. They were self-explanatory for the most part. Kylaryn and Valyrym re-arranging Valyrym's home to accommodate the two of them. Valyrym taking an egg-swollen Kylaryn around to all the towns he protected, and making her swear to offer her own protections as well. A single egg nestled upon a pile of furs. The final image of that series mirrored the very first image on the timeline. In this one, it was Valyrym and Kylaryn curled together, beaming with joy and pride as their own hatchling erupted from his egg.

Alia suddenly burst out giggling. "The...the first thing..."

"You keep your mouth shut, Alia," Valyrym said with a hiss, though even Kathlyn could hear the humor bubbling up in his own voice.

"What are you on about, my dear?" Kathlyn found herself giggling a little too. The sound was contagious.

Alia pointed up to the pictures carved upon the wall. Though Valar's first act was not depicted in artistic form, Alia was going to bring it up nonetheless. "The first thing...the very first thing that Valar ever did..."

"Yes?" Kathlyn asked, as if anticipating some great noble act.

When Alia proved herself incapable of doing anything more than laughing and doubling over to hold her ribs a moment, Valyrym snorted. He resigned himself to answer, and spoke to the Queen with the straightest face and most even voice he could manage. "The first thing my son ever did upon coming into this world was piss himself."

"What?" The Queen's single word sounded more like befuddled eruption than actual question. The noise only made Alia laugh even harder.

"He...peed...all over...everything!" Alia was nearly rolling on the floor.

It was not long before Valyrym began to laugh along with her. "Not everything. Just some of our favorite furs, and blankets. We had to put them out in the rain to wash them off. In fact we took him out to rinse him off in the rain, too!"

"And he had a seizure!" Alia said, cracking up even more.

"That sounds horrible!" The Queen thought Alia meant it seriously for a brief moment. "He was alright though, wasn't he?"

"It wasn't a real seizure," the dragon said, snorting and glaring at Alia a moment. "Stop filling the woman's head with nonsense Alia. I won't have it." While Alia just kept giggling, Valyrym turned his attention back to the Queen. "It was just that his newly hatched body barely even knew how to walk yet, let alone how to deal with being suddenly pelted with cold rain for the first time. He flopped down and wriggled about, that's all."

The mental image made the Queen giggle along with the other two for a few moments. It was a good time to release some of the tension the dragon's tale had already built up. "Well that doesn't sound so bad. In fact it sounds quite amusing!"

"It was," Valyrym said, chuckling. "In fact, it ushered in a very nice time in my life. Things were peaceful and quiet, and we were simply happy for a time."

The dragon returned to his tale, and the Queen followed alongside Alia and the great beast. She studied each image he presented, again and again amazed by the feeling and emotion this creature had managed to carve into stone with nothing more than his claws. The next images all dealt with Valar as a hatchling. They depicted Valyrym and Kylaryn taking him on hunting trips, clutching him to their bellies as they flew into the skies, and bringing him around to visit each of the towns that they protected.

The trip to the town the dragon dubbed Sigil Stones occupied the most images. It was there that Amaleen was reintroduced into the dragon's little tale. Kathlyn had been wondering how he'd get to know her again. The hatchling seemed to be quite the hit, given the happy looking crowd shown in the background of all the images of Sigil Stones. There was an image of Amaleen holding him, able to appreciate the joyous nature of an innocent dragon hatchling. Another image showed Valyrym visiting Lenira's grave, with Amaleen nearby. She had a basket of apples and Valar was shown attacking the entire basket. The image made Kathlyn smile again. Amaleen looked noticeably older in these images, though it was simply the advancement from her teenage years into her full adulthood.

"You two look as though you were getting on a little better by then," Kathlyn said.

"A little," Valyrym murmured. He licked his nose. "I think it was as much because she liked Valar as anything else. And because I think she had come to realize that I had, in fact, cared for Lenira. It was not the first time she'd seen me at Lenira's grave, but it was the first time she'd joined me there."

The old dragon padded down the wall a little more, flicking his tail at the next set of images. One of them depicted Amaleen holding up a great blanket. It had a picture of Valyrym upon it, and a saying that Valyrym had painstakingly carved to be clear. May The Dread Sky Ever Rise. Valyrym could not seem to bring himself to look at it.

"Lenira enjoyed quilting when she had free time. When she passed, she had been making me that blanket." He licked his muzzle a few times, staring off towards the arched entryway to the far chamber. Torchlight danced like haunted, flickering memories across his golden eyes. "When Amaleen first heard that Kylaryn had an egg inside her, she decided to finish that blanket. She knew that Lenira would have wanted my hatchling to have it. The day I came to present Valar to Sigil Stones, Amaleen did not let me leave until she had brought me that blanket, and wrapped my son in it. It was one of the kindest things I could ever recall a human doing for a dragon. Amaleen had every reason to hate me, and I did not blame her for those feelings. But when I realized she had finished that blanket for me and my son...well, I did not know just how deeply she had touched me at the time."

Kathlyn shared a glance with Alia, and followed the dragon onward. "You...began to love her, then?"

"Perhaps," Valyrym said, sighing. "Though I did not yet know it."

"And you and...Kylaryn?"

Valyrym paused, going still. He flared his wings, and then they drooped against his body. "...Had a complex relationship. Dragons are...not always like humans. Many of us love each other, my parents certainly did. Ky's parents too. But we...are not a swiftly breeding race. From the time a dragon hatches, a human could well have been born, grown, had children and then died before that same dragon is mature enough to have children of their own. And we often have competing natures within ourselves. An ancient, almost instinctive desire to take and claim land, sometimes even to seek out solitude often conflicts with the more sentient, emotional need to have someone to care for. Someone to talk to. Put these things together, and it is not uncommon for dragons who are simply friends to have young together.

"Kylaryn and I were both weary of being alone, and wished to spend time together. Wished to raise a child together. But we both knew that someday, we would part again. We did not expect to spend our entire lives together. But what Ky would not admit to herself until it was far too late was that she had grown to love her bitter rival for all the kindness and care I'd shown her over the years. And that she hated herself for her own misguided yet unavoidably competitive nature that had driven me from her time and again. Only when it was far too late to change anything did she finally admit to me the truth. I was too smug, and too convinced that she would not want me as a life mate. And Kylaryn was too proud and too stubborn to ever admit that she did." The dragon glanced back at her, a hint of a smirk creeping over his muzzle. "If you'd rather I just skip to the end, we can do that as well."

Kathlyn shook her head, a glimmer of amusement fighting with a hint of sorrow in her blue eyes. "In some twisted way, it is nice to know that humans are not the only creatures foolish enough to let fear of their emotions and concern over what others will think ruin what could have been a beautiful thing."

"No," Valyrym said, scratching at the back of his head near his frills. "I hate to admit how good dragons are at that sort of thing."

Valyrym tilted his horned head back, peering at the many images carved along the wall. He had inscribed it deeply for much of its length, and there was little blank space. One image often simply flowed into the next, broken up only where he had left empty space to better accent the detail and importance of a few images here and there. As he peered at the timeline, Alia put her hand upon his shoulder, and the Queen followed her lead. Kathlyn rested her hand on Valyrym's other shoulder, gently rubbing the slightly pebbly scales.

"Ready to move on, Valyrym?"

"My sister came to visit us," Valyrym said, chuckling to himself.

"What?" The Queen blinked, tilting her head. She glanced at Alia, who made a sanity-questioning gesture. The Queen patted the dragon's scales. "Are you feeling alright, Dragon?"

Valyrym chuckled to himself. He turned away from the two women and stepped forward but only so he could curl his tail around Alia. He glanced back at her over his own folded wings. "I saw you swirling your finger round your head. I am not crazy, and I am not that senile. Yet."

Alia tugged at a few of the dragon's tail spines. "I'm not so sure about that, you old lizard."

The Queen stared a moment. Not because she was shocked by the break in more traditional Warden-Prisoner behavior, but simply because she was surprised the dragon's tail was so prehensile. "I didn't know you could do that with your tails."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Valyrym said, holding Alia captive in his tail's grasp. "Unless you've spent time with dragons. But as you can see, our tails are quite muscular and thus, quite prehensile. Comes in handy for holding maidens hostage and keeping them out of range of anything vulnerable."

"Until you let us go," Alia said, wrenching one of his tail spines back and forth.

"Ow!" Valyrym snapped, yelping. "Ow! Those are anchored to the bone, Alia!"

"I know," Alia said, tugging at it as if trying to pull the whole spine free. "That's why I'm doing this! Now unhand me at once!"

"You mean untail you?" Valyrym tossed his head, flaring his spines. "Promise you won't kick me."

"I promise I won't kick you," Alia said, then smirked. "Till Her Majesty leaves."

"Oh, don't make such promises on my account," the Queen said with a little laugh of her own. "I assure you I am not above enjoying the humor of the common man. I got a bit of a giggle out of your presentation to Bownen earlier, Dragon."

"Bownen?" Valyrym turned his attention to the queen, shaking Alia back and forth with his tail to get her to stop tugging at his spines. "Who the hell is Bownen?"

"My servant," the Queen said, her voice filled with silken amusement. "The one you presented your balls to."

"Oh, that simpering idiot." He snarled a little. "You know, I had been waiting all day, so nervous my belly hurt..."

"Didn't stop you from eating an entire goat at breakfast," Alia grumbled.

"No one asked you what I had for breakfast, Warden," Valyrym said, before returning his gaze to the Queen. "And I was not in the mood to have some festively dressed fop prancing about and announcing to me who I was to meet. I knew damn well who you were!" Then the dragon sneered in amusement, grinning. "But I'm glad you enjoyed my display."

"Indeed," the Queen said simply, then held her hand out towards Alia. "Of course, he is my servant, and I don't like seeing him belittled. Much. And since I do enjoy that sort of humor, perhaps I should enjoy seeing your Warden kick you in the testicles before I leave. Now do let the poor woman go so she can do her job."

"Not if her job is kicking me in the testicles."

"Actually, right now her job is keeping you comforted while you tell me about the rest of your life." The Queen smiled a little bit more. "You know, so that I have such knowledge to reflect upon while I'm traveling to Aran'alia and Vurnel. So that when I return, I'll have decided if I'm going to offer you your freedom as well."

Valyrym slowly relaxed his tail so that Alia could wriggle free. "I should think if you decide against my freedom after everything I will have shared with you, I shall be quite cross. I shall be forced to make Alia's life miserable for an indeterminate amount of time, so I suggest you put that into consideration, as well."

"Noted," Kathlyn replied, doing her best not to giggle. She could not help but notice that the dragon tucked his tail between his hind legs to protect himself the moment he'd let Alia free. "Now. You were saying something about your sister?"

"Yes," Valyrym said, waving a paw for Alia to come and join him at the wall. "That was the next big milestone moment, I think. When my sister came to meet my son. Kylaryn had been traveling, you see, usually for months at a time." The dragon's voice grew softer, and Alia gently stroked his chin. "Still searching for her brother. While she never found him, she did eventually find others that she knew, including my family. My sister had her own lands, now, and Kylaryn invited her to come and stay with us, to meet our son."

Kathlyn followed the dragon as he led her to an image of himself embracing his sister. She was grown now just as he was, nearly as large as Valyrym and very happily wrapping her forelegs and her wings around her sibling. Kathlyn could not help but smile at the sight of such simple, pure familial love among even dragons. It was a strangely beautiful thing to see such creatures depicted as expressing such joy. Such a far cry from the way she usually saw them depicted in art, and stories, and even in the tales told by men who claimed themselves heroes.

In her mind she likened the way humans saw dragons to the way soldiers of enemy nations saw each other. They vilified one another, yet each had families back home that loved them just the same. The image of two dragon siblings hugging made Kathlyn wonder for a moment how so many humans had come to see an entire race as a thing of evil. Then with a sigh she remembered what Valyrym had done to get put here in the first place. That one singular, horrible act was all so many people knew of his entire species.

"My sister Narymiryn stayed with us for a while," Valyrym said, peering at the images of his sister that lined that portion of the wall. "She had lands of her own, but no mate and no children, yet."

"So you tried to get her together with Korvarak," Alia said, swatting playfully at Valyrym's neck.

"Slightly skipping ahead, Alia," Valyrym chuckled, then grinned at his warden. "But yes. I remembered from our youth she often had an eye for the young males with green scales, and as Korvarak was green, I thought it at least worth an introduction. I certainly would not have minded if my sister decided to move closer to my lair so that we could share company more often."

Valyrym lead them through a few more images. In some of them, Nary was playing with Valar and Valar was climbing all over his aunt who bore it with good nature. Another image depicted them visiting Sigil Stones, which Kathlyn was beginning to notice was shown with more and more people in every image. Towards the end of the series they were all seated in a meadow somewhere, along with Korvarak who had known gotten much larger himself.

"That was Korvarak's town," Valyrym said with a swirl of his claws. He rustled his wings a little, perking a single frilled ear in amusement. "He had taken to being their workhorse in a literal sense. Plowed their fields, hauled their lumber, whatever they needed him to do, he did it."

"Seems a reasonable deal to make," Kathlyn said. "If more dragons offered their services to towns like that, they'd probably make more friends among humanity."

Valyrym shifted his weight from paw to paw a few times, his scarred hind leg twitching. "I cannot argue that assessment. However, were a dragon to land in the average Illandran city, I suspect he would be peppered with arrows and stabbed with a multitude of sharp implements long before he ever had a chance to offer his services. It was different in Aran'alia. Humans and dragons had not always been friends, but we had coexisted to a point. We...mutually tolerated each other, so long as we did not cause each other trouble. As such, humans in Aran'alia were more accepting of the idea of giving the local dragon a chance to speak to them when he arrived."

"That would make it easier," Kathlyn admitted. "Still, I would like to think that there are plenty of places in Illandra in which a dragon could land, and offer his services or an alliance, and not simply be slain on sight. Of course, if the dragon had been attacking people previously, things might be different."

"Or if they simply assumed he was attacking people because he was a dragon," Valyrym said, lashing his tail and snapping his jaws. "Moving on. By this point in time Korvarak had moved further from my lands, and claimed his own territory with his own small villages. They dealt with dragons in the past, and knew how to defend themselves perhaps better even than the villages to the east, in my lands. Korvarak actually moved into the home of an old red dragon some of their ancestors had dealt with."

"Dealt with?" Kathlyn hesitated, not sure if that might be a sore subject for the dragon.

"They wounded him in battle," Valyrym said. "Long before Korvarak had ever gone there, perhaps before I'd even claimed my road. Wounded him badly enough that he could no longer fight back. They held him at their mercy, and made him swear he would not attack them to try and take their lands or livestock again. They felt that it was wrong to take the life of someone while they were held helpless, and that mercy extended even to dragons. He agreed, they tended his wounds and in time they parted ways, but he never again bothered them. Rumors were he even assisted them a few times after that." Valyrym spread one of his wings out sideways like a curtain stretching across the entire carved scene. "Mind you, that was only what I heard from Korvarak, who in turn heard it from the villagers."

"So you didn't know this red dragon?"

"Not really, no. I met him a time or two, in passing." Valyrym chuckled to himself, flaring up his spines a little bit. "Around the time I was first claiming my road and other lands in the area. He was already quite old by then, and he did have quite a few scars that I recall. I believe he called me a "Smug Little Bastard Upstart" and that if I wasn't properly respectful to him as my elder, he'd slap the scales right off my snout."

"No wonder you didn't tell me that part," Alia giggled.

"So you must have been a bit more respectful to the old thing then, hmm?" Kathlyn grinned, clearly not quite fully understanding Valyrym yet.

"Hardly," Valyrym scoffed. "I said he'd have to catch me first, told him to lick my stones, and took to the skies, laughing."

Kathlyn laughed a little, shaking her head. "Don't suppose he chased after you?"

"No, he was too wise for that. I suspect he had better things to do than chase down and beat some respect into a snotty youth."

Alia piped up. "He probably just yelled something about not being surprised you wanted another male to lick them for you."

Valyrym laughed a little, perking up his spines and frills. "Worse, actually. He told me to return to him once they'd dropped."

Alia burst out laughing, and even the Queen found herself giggling at that. "Wicked wit the old thing had."

"Runs in the species," Valyrym said, baring a few glistening fangs in a small grin. "Dragons value wit, you see. At least those I know do. Though for all I know, had it been a serious offer he might have taken me up on it. He was a wild thing, the sort of dragon who'd probably never lived with a clan yet nonetheless found his way into the sleeping chambers of countless females. Probably had dozens of young out there in Aran'alia somewhere." The old dragon laughed, shaking his head. "Wouldn't surprise me if he spent time with other males as well. Some of the more wild members of our breed are unashamed to share pleasure with anyone willing and interested."

"Perhaps that's where Korvarak first learned to be interested in other males," Alia said, still giggling from the earlier remark.

Valyrym blinked, a sly smile spread over his muzzle. "Now that is an interesting possibility that I suddenly regret never bringing up. Korvarak did a lot of flying and exploring in Aran'alia before he moved to the old red's home. It's possible he actually knew the old one while he was still alive." Then Valyrym turned his head to the Queen, surprising her with a sudden question. "What of your gryphons?"

"Hmm?" Kathlyn furrowed her brow, her cheeks and ears a little reddened from the topic at hand. The switch to gryphons caught her off guard. "They are hardly my gryphons. But what do you mean of them?"

"I mean, sexually speaking," Valyrym said with a chuckle. "I've met a few, but never truly known one. Dragons, for example, are usually fairly open. By that I mean, most of us only like the opposite sex the same way most humans do. But, unlike most humans outside Aran'alia, we do not look down upon those who prefer their own gender, or those who like both."

"Some of you even like other species," the Queen said with a subtle smirk.

Valyrym did not dispute it. Instead, he simply coiled his tail around his paws, staring down at the Queen. "So what of Gryphons then?"

Kathlyn met his gaze with every ounce of regal calmness she had at her disposal. "I cannot speak for all of them, and I rather doubt Krek would appreciate me telling his most intimate secrets."

"So you know his most intimate secrets then?" Valyrym grinned. When Kathlyn did not appear the least bit flustered or surprised by the question, the dragon decided to make light of the gryphon's name instead. "You said he's called Krek? A fitting name, as it sounds like a bird coughing."

"Oh go on," Alia said, smirking. "You know about Valyrym's tastes for humans."

Valyrym snorted. "Females. And I have no specific taste for human females, I have a taste for those I..." He hesitated, but he knew at this point there was little he could say that the Queen hadn't already figured out one way or another. "...Love."

Alia smiled and kissed his scaly neck. "That's sweet. But I still think you have a fetish for human women."

"And I think you have a fetish for shooting your mouth-AACK!" The dragon gave a startled, half-squawked cry as Alia wrapped her arms around his snout, holding his jaws shut.

Alia grinned at the Queen. "Go on, Your Majesty. How long has it been since you got to gossip about such matters? What are gryphons into? What does your bird friend enjoy? Has he got a female somewhere? A hen?"

Kathlyn couldn't help giggling at that term. "I have heard him say hen, now and then. I've also heard him say they hate it when he calls them that." The Queen paused, smiling at the woman and the dragon.

Valyrym squirmed and tried to pull his snout free of Alia's grasp, but it was a half hearted attempt. The way they played and interacted reminded her ever so much of the way she acted with Krek in their younger days. Now she only got to act like that with him when they were alone. Kathlyn found herself envying Alia and Valyrym a little bit. Many times she wished she could still be so openly playful with her friends, too. Krek in particular.

Kathlyn smirked at them a little. She could not help feeling as though Alia and Valyrym were fishing for some sort of information they could use to figure out more than the Queen wished them to know. Yet she decided to go along with it anyway, if only because their behavior so reminded her of herself and the gryphon. It made her wish she could bring Krek down here, and act playful and carefree around her best friend again while Alia did the same with the dragon.

"Oh, very well," Kathlyn said, laughing to herself. "I certainly cannot speak for all gryphons as Krek is the only one I know well. But if you must know, he doesn't seem to have any particular...preferences."

Valyrym pulled his head away from Alia's grasp long enough to tease the Queen. "Ah, had him neutered, did you?"

Kathlyn gave a boisterous laugh. "I've threatened it a time or two."

Alia got her arms around the dragon's muzzle again, grinning. "He's still got them, though. Made a point to flash them at me and everything."

"That sounds right," Kathlyn said, still laughing a little. "What I meant is, he seems to enjoy the company of just about anyone willing to have him. I think he likes to tell some of the stories just to make me blush!" She waved her hand in the air, laughing. "Tries to tell me about his exploits when he's off visiting this land or that. Some female gryphon he mounted, some human woman he bathed with behind a tavern, some male dragon he stroked with his paws..." Perhaps she'd said enough. "Well you get the idea."

"He sounds like a very dirty bird," Alia said, giggling. "Right up Valyrym's alley."

Valyrym tugged his head free and gave Alia a playful shove. "Right up Korvarak's tail, more like!"

"I'm not sure Nary would appreciate that," Alia giggled, trying to get Valyrym in her grasp again.

He backed away, hissing. "Are you joking? Nary would join in!"

"What a horrid thing to suggest about your own sister," Kathlyn said, laughing.

"Oh, nonsense," Valyrym said, tossing his head. "She's a wicked thing. I love her dearly, but spirits! The ideas that rolled off her tongue. I think she said half of them just to embarrass me in front of the others."

"Sounds a lot like Krek, actually," The Queen said, chuckling. "If half of what he says is true, his is a very wild species. Or at least they are when it comes to...sexual things. Perhaps open is a better term."

Valyrym nuzzled at Alia's hands when she came up to him, and then gave the Queen a curious look. "Open with you, as well?"

"That, Dragon," The Queen said, tapping Valyrym on the nose. "Is a state secret."

"I'll bet it is," Valyrym murmured.

Kathlyn merely smiled. "We are best friends, nothing more. I will admit to snuggling into his fur when in need of comfort, and shedding tears into his feathers in my darkest times, but that is all I shall admit to."

"You're quite good at acting calm and collected no matter what someone says, aren't you."

"I'd be a horrible Queen if I wasn't." She turned her eyes back to the images upon the wall, a few questions of her own drifting around her head. It seemed as good a time as any to ask a few of them, even if just to help deflect the conversation. "Aran'alia is quite large, isn't it?"

"Vast," the dragon said, resting the tip of his chin against Alia's shoulder. She stroked his nose as he spoke. "Though I'd not know exactly how vast. Dragons do not really count the space of land the way you do. I'm sure you've seen many maps of the area you call your Twenty-Fourth province, though. It was several weeks flight, if I recall correctly, from Sigil Stones, which was our capital, to the edge of the country, where the river divides the land. In the other direction, to the west, the furthest I ever flew was Korvarak's home. That took about a week of flight, but the land stretched on far, far beyond that, as it did in all the other directions, as well."

Kathlyn chuckled to herself. "That is vast indeed. I should think you could fly across the widest part of Illandra's original boundaries with only our ten original provinces in a week. I know Krek can be well into our southern provinces within a week, and well into our expanded territories in another. Faster if he really pushes himself, but he is an exceptional flier. As he tells it, gryphons are the fastest species with wings, and he is faster still than any other gryphon he knows."

The Queen held up her hand as if to hold off any arguments. "Granted, I am sure he exaggerates, but I can tell you that many times I have sent him with a message, and he has returned with an answer in a matter of days, or weeks when I expected weeks or months. When he takes me flying, it boggles my mind how much ground we have covered in a single day. I'd wager he can cross the span of a week's worth of horseback travel in a single day. Perhaps even more so."

"That does sound fast," Valyrym admitted. "My old mate, Kylaryn. She was the faster flier I ever knew. She could out-fly any dragon I ever saw. Though I will admit she probably could not out-fly many gryphons. Especially yours if he is as fast as they say. If there is one thing they can do better than us, it is fly."

"Don't think he'd let you forget it, either," The Queen said with a chuckle. She began to walk along the timeline on her own, peering at a few more images of Valyrym and his little family. "How many dragons were there in Aran'alia?"

"I've not the faintest idea," Valyrym said, padding along behind her. "As I said, it was a vast land, and there were many of my kin dwelling among the mountains and hills that I never met. I should think dozens of us, at least. I imagine by now most of them have either fled to the outer reaches of the realm, or have left Aran'alia completely." He glanced down at the stone floor beneath his paws a moment, his tail flicking in agitation. "Or they've been slain."

No answer came from Kathlyn. Her attention was now solely focused on the latest image she had come across. It was one of the largest, most detailed single images yet. In it, Valyrym clutched his bloodied son to his breast. Arrows jutted from the little dragon's body, and blood ran over his father's paws. Kathlyn pressed a hand to her mouth. The agony on the hatchling's face, and the anguish on his father's was almost too much to bear. Yet she could not tear her eyes away from it.

"That was the day I learned that Illandra had come to Aran'alia," Valyrym said, unable to bring himself to look at the image anymore. "For me, those were the first shots fired in the war. Illandra took aim at innocence itself, and struck it deeply. Though I did not know it yet, after that moment there was only one road left for me to travel."

---

Chapter Nine

In a small village far from Illandra, a tiny dark colored dragon came bounding down the cobbled street that lead through the marketplace. The little hatchling ran down the street, darting and weaving her way between people, horses, a mule, and small herd of goats and sheep she thought were rather stinky. She quickly darted away from them. No time for stinky goats, the little dragon thought. She had fish to eat. Which meant she also had fish to steal.

Her name was Aylynaryn, and she was not supposed to be out on her own. Yet that had never stopped her before. Mother was napping and Father was working and Aylynaryn was bored. Naps were boring, she did not want to take one. So as soon as mother had dozed off curled around the youngling, Aylynaryn had slipped free of her grasp and darted away. It was easier to get away from mother than it was from father. Father woke at the slightest squeak and tightened his grip on her every time. But Father was working and mother was sleeping and Aylynaryn was playing. Ayly wasn't even supposed to be able to get out of the home on her own. Yet she'd long since found a way to clamber up this and that, squeeze her way through a window and clamber back down to the ground below.

Ayly knew she wasn't supposed to go out into the town by herself, but that only made it more fun. It was exciting to do things she wasn't supposed to. Besides, she knew Mother and Father would never be mad for long. And though they didn't know it, she'd heard them talking about being little hatchlings and sneaking away as well. They knew how fun it was. Besides, she also knew that Mother and Father had talked to all the many funny-smelling humans in the town and told them to please watch out for Aylynaryn because Aylynaryn was very good at sneaking away and don't let her go down by the river because the current was strong and don't let her go by the old bull because he might trample her. Ayly wouldn't go in the water anyway because it was cold and she wouldn't go by the bull anyway because the bull was stinky.

The closest Ayly usually got to the water without her parents around was the small bridge she was now crossing. It was a wooden span with a simple arch to it, covered with a gently sloped roof to keep the sun and the rain off those who crossed it. A railing on each side carved to resemble vines spanned the bridge, with a lattice work fence beneath it that looked like crisscrossing leaves. Ayly poked her nose against one of the holes between the delicately carved wooden leaves, peering through the lattice at the water below. It looked cold, and swift. Something silvery flashed beneath the surface. Oh, a fishy! Perhaps the water wouldn't be so bad after all.

No, Aylynaryn told herself with determined hatchling resolve. The water was cold and wet. And there were fish in the market she could have while staying dry. Plus, she could steal them. It was more fun to take something when someone didn't know you took it. Then they'd wonder where it went and just when they couldn't possibly live with such an unsolvable mystery any longer, Ayly would tell them that she ate it. Aylyaryn of course was oblivious to the fact that the fish scales that coated her muzzle after such an ill-gotten meal always proved her guilt anyway. Just as she was oblivious to the fact that the fishmonger knew she was taking the fish every time.

Aylynaryn crossed the wooden bridge, and stopped at the other side. She stepped onto the soft grass that lined the riverbank beyond the cobbled thoroughfare and spent a moment peering at the immense blue waterwheel plunging over and over into the river. It was connected to something called a mill and she didn't know what a mill was but she did know that the waterwheel was blue and she liked blue things. The mill itself had a gently sloped roof with a point in the very middle, and people were often going in and out with wheelbarrows and carts full of one thing and coming out with sacks of something else. Ayly didn't care about that. She liked to watch the waterwheel. It was blue. It had little white patches here and there which made it look very much like the sky. To Ayly it looked as though the sky itself was constantly rotating, reaching down into the water as if to quench an unstoppable thirst.

That made Ayly thirsty too. But not for the river. The river water was too cold, it felt like winter in her belly. She licked her muzzle and turned back to the cobbled road. She liked that road, it felt a little rough and funny under her paw pads, but it gave her excellent traction. She could really sprint when she ran on the main road. She liked to sprint. It made her tired in a good way and she liked how everything looked so blurry when she ran past. Even if now and then she ran headfirst into something and hurt her nose.

In no time at all Ayly was sprinting down the road again. All the colorful wooden buildings that lined it stretched out in a beautiful blur of blues and purples, greens, reds and yellows. She liked the buildings along the main road. They were bright and cheery like a patch of flowers. She liked flowers, they were fun to smell and fun to eat and fun to play in even if the bees tried to sting her when she squished them.

As Ayly ran through the market district, the noise around her grew steadily. The chatter of men and women talking and laughing was a constant sound in the background. Though the town was not a large one, the market was always a busy social area during the day. They did plenty of business among themselves, and also plenty of business selling goods and supplies to people from Away. To Ayly, anyone not from her home came from Away. That included travelers and farmers and shoppers from other little hamlets that lay nearby. Ayly could always tell who lived in her town with her and her family and who came from Away. People from Home either paid her little heed, or gave her little treats and a pat on the head. People from Away often yelled things or seemed shocked. Then there was laughter. Ayly liked laughter. Of course when Mother or Father was with her, then people from Away seemed surprised.

The market was also filled with other sounds that Ayly had long since grown used to. Merchants called out as they hawked their various goods to one and all. Livestock and other animals brayed and baaed, mooed and barked, clucked and quacked and squawked. Ayly giggled. She wanted to make noise too. She stopped in the center of the market area, ignorant of the team of horses pulled to a sudden halt behind her as she gave her biggest, most ferocious roar. Sure to strike terror in all her foes.

"Raaaaaahhh!" Ayly roared and stomped a paw.

A few people glanced at the trumpeting hatchling and laughed. One of them called out, "Hello, Ayly!" The rest seemed to ignore her. Behind her, the man driving a cart filled with goods casually led his horses around the little dragon. He was very careful to give her a wide birth to avoid running her down in case she suddenly darted his way. He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

Ayly looked around, baring her little hatchling teeth in frustration. None of her foes seemed to have been terrified. Oh. Wait. She didn't have any foes. No wonder they weren't terrified. Cause surely if she had foes, that would have terrified them indeed. Oh. Wait. What were foes again?

Ayly walked up to the nearest merchant, busy selling sacks of grain from behind a large wooden stall. Grain was boring. She didn't care about that. She reached out and grabbed the bottom of a trouser leg. She tugged on it insistently until the man with funny looking hair under his nose looked down at her. He smiled at her and she smiled up at him, swishing her tail.

"Hello, little Aylee." Humans always used her shortened name. They couldn't say the big one. And they said it too long but she didn't mind. Humans did their best. "Out on your own again? Does your mother know?"

"Yes!" Ayly said. She wasn't lying, nuh uh, not at all. She was just answering the first question and ignoring the second.

"Did you want a treat, then?" The man opened up a cabinet in the back of his stall, and reached inside. He pulled out a small, circular, sweet smelling pastry. "I've got a honey cake if you'd like it."

"Yes!" She reached up with a single paw, opening and closing it a few times until the man handed it down to her with a laugh.

Ayly took the cake in her free paw, then plopped herself back on her haunches next to the merchant while she eat the delicious treat. It was sweet, a little dense, and tasted like honey and cookies and cream and lots of other things Ayly loved. Father and Mother loved them too. By the time she'd finished getting crumbs and honey all over her snout, she'd almost forgotten what she was going to ask the merchant about. What was it again? Something about being terrified? No that wasn't it. She tried to lick the stickiness off her paws as she thought about it.

Oh! She remembered. "Foes!" Ayly suddenly chirped, giggling.

The merchant fetched a spare, clean cloth and dunked it in a barrel of water nearby. He crouched down and began to gently wipe down Ayly's face and paws with it. "Better get that beautiful blue face all cleaned up so your mother doesn't get mad about you getting yourself all dirty, hmm?"

Ayly scrunched her muzzle a little, tilting her head back and forth as the man wiped down her dark blue snout. "What's a foes?"

"A foe?" The man blinked at the odd question. He delicately lifted her front paws and began to wipe them down as well. Such beautiful, striking paws the young hatchling had. One a soft blue color, and the other a deep purple, like a darker lilac. In all his days, he'd never heard of a dragon with purple coloration, save of course for Ayly's mother. Granted he was hardly an expect on the oft-reclusive species. "A foe is an enemy. Someone you don't like, and they don't like you. But adorable little hatchlings like you shouldn't have any foes at all."

"I'm adorable," Ayly said in agreement, beaming. When she felt she was clean enough, she pulled away and bounded back towards the main road.

"What do you say, Ayly?" The man laughed.

Instead of the thanks the man expected, Ayly simply called back, "Honey cakes is good!" Then she was off down the street, leaving the vendor laughing and shaking his head.

Aylynaryn made straight for her next destination. The lovely honey cake had eased the ache in her belly but not quelled it entirely. No, to fully sate a growing hatchlings hunger there could be only one solution. Fish! Fishies, fishies, fishes. Yum. Fishies, fishies, fishies. In her tum. She was nearly drooling at the delightful prospect as she darted and wove between boots, hooves, and horseshoes. She even resisted the nearly overpowering urge to pounce upon the bushy looking tail sported by the Kor...koreeg...korga...the wolf person. So pounce-able it looked. Yet Aylynarya had urgent matters of a fishy nature to attend.

Aylynaryn followed the scents of fish all through the market. Though the marketplace was crowded with as many scents as it was people, the tantalizing aromas of fish yet to be eaten was like a beacon to hungry hatchling nostrils. Ayly skidded to a halt beneath the colorful banners flapping in the breeze that marked the fishmonger's stall. The banners were a dark red color almost the hue of the drink people sometimes poured for Father. Emblazoned upon them was an image of a giant silver fish. Aylynaryn wished she could get a fish that big, but she was willing to settle for a regular sized fish. She slunk up behind an empty wooden crate, and poked her blue-muzzled face out from behind it to spy on the fishmonger.

The fishmonger was a big human with an equally big, round belly. Aylynaryn liked his belly because she suspected it meant he was always stuffed with fish. Lucky him. Ayly liked fish. Mother teased Father about it being his fault because Father liked fish too. The human's hair was almost as red as the banners that depicted his wares, and he always wore it long and tied behind his head for some reason. It made him look as though he had a long red tail coming out of his head. Silly humans, tails went on butts.

Butts. That made her giggle. Ayly waggled her own, and then ducked back behind her crate when the fishmonger looked her way. She couldn't steal fish if he knew she was there. Ayly peeked back out again, and the fishmonger looked away. She breathed a sigh of relief, turning her attention to his stall. He had a few barrels and tanks set up with live fish swimming around in them, and fun as those would be to hunt, to steal one she had to be quick. In and out as swift as she could unsheathe her claws and draw them back in. Which meant she had to wait until he had one of the fish laid out upon the wooden counter at the front of his stall, ready to split it open with his knife.

Ayly did not have to wait long as the monger soon retrieved a medium-sized fish with silvery scales and a blue strip from one of his barrels. He pushed it down on the counter, and it wriggled and flopped until he whacked it on the head with a wooden mallet. The crunch made Ayly wince, but she understood why. Cause fishies was food and food felt pain if you ate it while it was still alive. Father was quite clear about that. So you killed food and then you ate it, cause it was okay to eat things but not to make them suffer. That made sense to Ayly, if she ever gotten eaten she wouldn't want to be alive for it either.

Ayly was glad she always had good timing. Every time she arrived to steal a fish, the Fishmonger was just putting one out on the counter. Any moment now, he'd go to fetch his knife and other tools, and she'd slink up and grab it. The routine was always the same. How clever of her to figure it out, and how lucky that the Fishmonger always had to look around for his knives.

Sure enough, the fat man with the red head-tail soon turned around. He put his hands on his hips, humming to himself as he tried to figure out where his blades were. Lucky for Ayly he couldn't see them right in front of himself. Ayly dashed out from her hiding spot, straight for the counter. She hopped up on a crate nearby, clambered to another one, and leapt from that to the counter. Then she snatched the fish's tail in her jaws. Slime and scales were no match for a determined hatchling's sharp little teeth. She leapt clear off the counter with the fish hanging from her jaws. Little black wings edged in shades of purple and blue fanned instinctively at the air for a brief moment before she landed. Giggling to herself, she dragged her fish off behind the stack of empty crates to enjoy her feast.

With a few deft swipes of her claws, she'd worked all the troublesome scales from the fish just as Father had taught her. That left the fish with just soft skin and crunchy bones and succulent flesh. Ayly sunk her teeth in and began to eat, purring to herself. She loved her fishies any way she could get them. She loved them fried, and boiled, baked and grilled, and certainly smoked. And she loved them fresh and raw. And she loved them stolen and she loved them...

"Hello, Aylee," said the Fishmonger as he peered over the crates, grinning down at her.

Ayly slowly swallowed her mouthful of fish, her silvery eyes wide enough for the golden flecks to shine through. Uh oh. Busted. "Hello," she said meekly.

"Enjoying your fish?"

"...Yes!" She beamed, unable to lie about that particular delight.

"I was wondering when you'd stop by again." The man folded his arms above his rounded belly, grinning. "Let me guess. You're mother's sleeping and you snuck away?"

Ayly wasn't supposed to lie. But she didn't have to answer questions, either. So she simply dropped her little snout and went back to eating her fish. The fishmonger simply laughed, and vanished a moment. Soon he returned and came back to crouch near Ayly with a wet cloth. As soon as she'd finished devouring her lunch, he gently wiped down her muzzle and her paws with it. Ayly didn't mind. It was nice that the humans wanted to keep her clean. She'd get in trouble if she went home all dirty. With any luck, she'd slink back under her mother's foreleg right before Mother awoke and Mother would be none the wiser.

"So have you seen the big black bird yet?" The Fishmonger grinned as he dried off her blue snout.

"Big black birdy?" Ayly's silver and gold eyes went very wide. Then she narrowed them suspiciously. She'd seen plenty of ravens before. And vultures. They were big and black and had ugly heads and smelled bad. She didn't want to see those again. "How big a birdy?"

"Oh, the biggest you've ever seen, I'm sure. Almost as big as your father."

Ayly gasped. A big black birdy as big and black as her father? She had to see that. "Where?" She jumped up onto all four paws, hopping around in a circle, chirping in excitement. "Where? Where? Wherewherewhere? Where'sa bigblackbirdy!"

The Fishmonger picked up the remains of her fish to dispose of them, and pointed to the south. "Last I saw him he was at the south end of town, towards the apple orchard."

"I'mma see the big black bird!" Ayly called out as she dashed away, right back onto the cobblestone road. The fishmonger yelled something after her but she couldn't quite hear it over the sound of the clattering horseshoed feet all around her when she ran beneath the bellies of a team of horses. Silly horses, always in the way. Ayly chirped and sang to herself as she dashed down the street. "Birdy, Birdy, Imma see the birdy! Birdy, birdy, big black birdy!"

Ayly ran fast as she could away from the marketplace, streaking down the street in a blur of dark-hued hatchling exuberance. She leapt over a cat trying to make its way across the road, giggling at the startled yowl the animal gave. Silly cat. All fluffed up. Ayly paid it little heed and continued to streak down the cobbled thoroughfare until the cobblestones were replaced with simple hard-packed dirt at the edges of town. Up ahead of her stood a large grove of apple trees. Some of the trees were already heavily laden with fruit, others covered with a beautiful array of pink and white blossoms.

Sure enough, sitting beneath the trees was the single largest bird that Ayly had ever laid eyes on. The Fishmonger was right. The big birdy nearly was as big as Father. She'd never seen such a thing. And he had more legs than other birds, too. Most birds only had two legs, but this big birdy had four. A four legged birdy. How exciting. She couldn't wait to tell Mother all about him. Oh, but then Mother would know she'd snuck away again. But she couldn't keep such exciting news to herself, could she? Decisions, decisions.

As she neared the grove and the sweet scent of apple blossoms tinted the air, Ayly slowed to a creep. She slunk forward, watching the bird. A wooden fence constructed of thick, slightly knotted boughs ran along the side of the dirt road here, and Ayly crawled beneath the fence. One little step at a time, she crept towards the bird, her eyes wide. She hoped it wasn't the sort of bird that liked to eat little things. Hawks liked to eat little things. They ate mice. Father taught her that. And to this big bird she was like a little scaly mouse. She'd best watch out. If he tried to snatch her away for dinner, why she'd smack him right on his sharp looking beak. That would show him.

Ayly was so fixated on the strange appearance of the big black birdy that she forgot she was trying to sneak up on it. She stepped on a few dried leaves, and the bird suddenly rose to all fours and spun towards her. Silver edged feathers flared up all around his head, and at the back edges of his wings when he displayed them. Green eyes fixed on the little hatchling, and a grin spread over the big bird's beak.

"Well hello, my dear," the bird say, his voice a silken rumble. "You must be..."

"I'm notta deer!" Ayly said, aghast that the creature would dare think her prey. Any shyness or fear she might have had around the oversized black bird was forgotten in the face of such a grave insult. She stomped her little paw and lashed her little purple tipped, silver spotted tail. "Deers is food!"

"Yes, they certainly are," the Black Bird agreed, clicking his sharp beak. His stomach rumbled ominously. "I could eat a whole one right about now."

"But..." Ayly stepped back from him. "I'm notta deer...ma'member?"

"Of course," The creature said, dipping his head. He ruffled up his feathers a moment, and then settled them back against his body, crown feathers and all. "You're a dragon. And a mighty brave one to approach a gryphon all by yourself."

"Giffid?" Ayly blinked. She'd heard Father talk about such a creature now and then. So they looked like big fat birds with extra legs. How interesting. "I never meeted a giffid before."

"That's gryphon," the black giffid said with a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"That's what I sayed!" Ayly tilted her head, not quite comprehending the difference.

"Not exactly," said the giffid, muttering under his breath. "How about Krek? Can you say Krek?"

"Kreg?" Ayly tilted her head.

"No."

"Kek?"

"No."

"...Kel?"

"No!"

"Lellumgurb?"

"What?" The gryphon stared at her in astonishment. "That's not even..." Then Ayly burst into giggles, and the gryphon realized he'd been had. "Oh, very funny."

"Krek the Giffid!" She bounced on her paws a few times. "Krek The Giffid!"

"Close enough, I suppose." He beckoned her forward with a paw. "Let me have a look at you."

Aylynaryn slunk forward, already certain the "giffid" wasn't going to eat her. She turned a little, presenting the side of her body for him as if to show off her unusual colors. "I'm adorable," she assured the black bird.

"Yes, you certainly are," Krek said, looking her over with a smile.

The little dragon was right about that, actually. His old friend had done well for himself with his daughter. The hatchling was a beautiful thing, covered in a set of very striking colors. The majority of the little dragon's body was covered in inky black scales. Her face and muzzle held a "mask" of blue that was darkest at the tip of her nose and palest around her eyes. The blue darkened into black again by the time it reached the top of her head. Both her hind paws were also black, but her front paws bore a mismatched set of colorful scaly socks inherited from both her parents. The left one was pale blue, like her fathers, but the right was a rich royal purple hue, inherited from her equally strikingly colored mother. Her little wings were both edged in rippled hues of the same two colors. Her otherwise ebony belly also bore a few royal purple splotches and highlights, as did the tip of her tail. Patches of silver speckles and spots adorned both her haunches and the length of her tail. Her eyes shone like her fathers, but in opposite effect, silver with golden spots.

"Quite the beautiful little thing you are," Krek said, his voice unusually hushed. Then before Ayly could dash away, he reached out and hoisted her up in his front paws, settling onto his haunches at the same time. He smiled at her, cocking his head like the curious bird he so resembled as he peered at her. "Your father must be ever so proud of you, and deservedly so."

Aylynaryn had no response for that. She was far too busy being in a state of complete shock that this strange giffid had just picked her up. Her eyes were wide as could be, her jaw hung open and her tail along with all four limbs hung totally limp. She was nearly catatonic with indignity. How dare he. Who was he to pick up the Queen Of All Things She Wished To Be Queen Of without her explicit permission? And to top it off, the gryphon actually pulled her in to start nuzzling at her, making little cooing noises. Oh, that was enough of that. Aylynaryn lashed out with her front paw and swatted the gryphon atop his beak as hard as she could.

"Bad birdy," she chastised him, hissing.

"OW!" Krek squawked, jerking his head back and shoving her away from his face. He winced in pain, his mobile beak twisted up as it stung for a few moments. "That hurts! We don't hit, my dear!"

"I dinnen hit your deer, I hitted you!"

Krek gave an exasperated hiss, working his beak a little. "We don't hit birds, or anyone. It is not nice to hit."

"It's not nice to pick me up!" Ayly thoughtfully informed him before she began to wriggle and squirm.

"Then maybe I should just hold you up here till you learn some manners."

Now that was an interesting suggestion. Ayly didn't like being picked up without permission, and she couldn't reach the gryphon's beak to deliver another mortal blow. Maybe she could bite at his paws till he let her down. She kicked and squirmed a little more, whining. Krek smiled at her a moment, then glanced up when a shadow swooped overhead. From her vantage, Ayly couldn't tell just who was circling above the trees, but the wing beats sounded familiar enough. Distinctly different from Mother's. Something heavy thumped to the ground nearby, and Ayly could hear leaves and branches rustling as someone brushed against them.

"There you are," Krek said, a happy smile breaking out across his sore beak. "I've been waiting for you. And look what I found running around."

"That," came a very familiar voice. "Is mine."

"Yes, I'd gathered as much," Krek said, soon passing Ayly to the new the arrival. "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," said the older dragon. He hugged Ayly with blue paws against his ebony chest plates. Then he nuzzled at her with a blue marked snout. "Hello, my love."

"Hello, Father!" Ayly said, happily nuzzling at her father. "I found a big black birdy!"

"You certainly did," Ayly's father said, smiling. "I hope he hasn't given you any trouble, or I shall be quite cross with him."

"He picked me up," Ayly said, huffing. Then she giggled. "So I hitted him on the beak!"

"Good girl," Ayly's father said. He licked her, and gently set her down. She promptly ran around in a circle, then pounced on her fathers tail, wrestling with his spines. Her father turned his attention to the big black birdy, smiling at his old friend. "Hello, Krek'Sa'Krathiss."

The black gryphon known as Krek'Sa'Krathiss smiled, and moved forward to embrace his dear friend. He wrapped both forelegs and wings around the dragon, and soon the dragon was hugging him back. "Hello, Valaranyx."

---

Chapter Ten

Valaranyx hugged his old friend for long moments. It had been years since he'd seen the black gryphon, and at first Valar did not want to let him go. Every time he watched Krek fly off into the distance, Valar knew it might be the last time he saw the gryphon. Then after years had passed and the dragon least expected it, there was The Black Bird waiting beneath the apple trees Valar and his mother had helped to plant. Krek always waited in the apple grove. Krek nuzzled at Valar's neck and Valar pressed his snout into Krek's fur and feathers, purring softly.

It was a tender greeting between very close friends that lasted as long as Aylynaryn would allow it. Growing weary of being ignored by her father as she sought to conquer his tail spines, she slunk around the two larger creatures while they embraced. Peering at the gryphon's furry back and feathery wings, she waggled her haunches, and gave a little hatchling snarl. Then she bolted forward and leapt as high as she could onto the gryphon's back, sinking her little claws in for purchase.

"Ow!" Krek squawked in alarm, his green eyes going wide. He flapped his wings as Ayly began to scale him as though she were climbing a furry black tree. "OW! Valar, she's using her claws!"

"Ayly, stop that!" Valar tried to sound stern, but was soon laughing too hard to put any authority into his voice. Valaranyx's laughter caused his blue marked wings to shake at his sides. Over the years the blue markings had spread and swirled inwards from the edges of his wings. A few blue speckles were sprinkled across the deeper black expanse of them as well. "Get off of him this instant!"

Aylynaryn of course did no such thing. In a blink she'd clambered all the way up the gryphon's back and placed her forepaw dramatically atop Krek's head. She beamed at her father, her purple tipped tail swaying. "This is mine!"

"It most certainly is not," Krek said indignantly, glaring at Valar. "I see you've taught her all your bad habits."

"She got that one from her mother," Valar insisted, a smirk spreading over his snout. Kylaryn had once told him when he smirked he was almost the spitting image of his father at the same age. "I certainly didn't teach her to claim anything."

"And here I thought female dragons were less territorial than males," Krek grumbled, tilting his head a little. "Are you going to get her off of me, or not?"

"I'm thinking about it," Valar said, still grinning. His spined tail flicked back and forth against the fallen leaves and shed apple blossoms.

Ayly just giggled. Her paw slipped against Krek's fur and she flopped onto his head. Then she tried to get her footing, only for Krek to lean sharply to the side, twisting his head around. With a yelp of alarm Ayly slipped from the gryphon's head and shoulders, but before the fall could really frighten her she found herself cradled in Krek's forelegs. Tricky giffid! It was no fair making her fall just so he could catch her. She glared up at him, baring her little fangs.

"No biting," Valar said sharply.

"Yes," Krek said, narrowing his eyes not at Ayly but at her father. "No biting." He clacked his beak. "You mean to tell me you've a daughter with a biting habit and you let me just cradle her in my paws? With my delicate pads ready to be torn to shreds by her sharp little teeth?"

"Yes," Valar said, growling in a manner that was only half playful. "Because if you'd caused my daughter to fall and hadn't caught her, as soon as I'd checked to ensure she was alright, I'd have beaten you up and down this apple grove."

Krek only laughed. They both knew he'd have never done that, anyway. He shifted Ayly to cradle her upon her back in one furred foreleg with her wings draped on either side of his limb. With his other paw, Krek gently tickled at her belly scales. Ayly gave a very un-dragon like squeak and then began to giggle and squirm frantically. She tried to push Krek's paw away with front and hind limbs alike.

"Noooooo," Aylynaryn squealed, giggling like mad. "No ticklies!"

"Aw, but you're such an adorable little thing, your little black and purple belly practically begs to be tickled."

"Nooooooooooooooooo!" Ayly wriggled further, unable to stop from laughing. Her wings beat and shook against Krek's arm. She lifted her head a little bit, silvery, gold-flecked eyes gleaming.

"Better put her down," Valar said in warning. "She's about to..."

Before Valar could say "bite you", Ayly did just that. She curled upwards, stretched her long neck and sunk her teeth into one of Krek's fingers. The gryphon yowled in pain and jerked his paw back. He shook it, and quickly set Ayly down on the ground. Ayly giggled and trotted right up to her father, butting her horned head against his scaled haunches. Then she pointed to the gryphon with a paw.

"I bited him!"

Valar patted his daughters head, and then gently stroked her neck. She crooned and leaned into his touch, a tiny hatchling purr soon bubbling up in her throat. "You certainly did. And we both know what that means, don't we my tiny love."

"Yup!" Ayly said, as much a chirp as an actual word. She pointed to the gryphon again, giggling to herself. "That's mine!"

Valar smirked at Krek. "She bites things when she claims them."

"She's going to be disappointed then when she hears there are competing claims." Krek peered at his finger. A few tiny droplets of blood marked his black pads. "She's made me bleed!" He hissed through his beak. "You should teach your eggling not to be so damn bitey."

Valar snatched the gryphon's paw in one of his own, looking at it. He scoffed a little. He flared up his long-since fully matured spines around his head. "Yes, quite an ocean of blood she's drawn there. However will you survive the loss?"

"She put her claws in my back, too," Krek said, his feathers drooping a bit. "You dragons have far too many sharp, pointy implements for your own good."

"Oh, stop pouting." Valar rose to his feet, shaking himself. He folded his wings up. One of them settled a little awkwardly at his side as it had most of his life. "Spirits, Bird. If I didn't know you any better, I'd think you only had two moods. Smug, and pouty."

"Ah, then it is a good thing you do know me better, isn't it Lizard?" Krek ruffled up his black wings.

"I suppose that's true. You're also secretive, obnoxious, and from time to time quite horny."

"What do you mean, from time to time?" Krek pushed himself up to all fours, grinning and lashing his tufted tail, silver-edged tail feathers spread. "And you've left off my best quality."

"Ah, you're right," Valar said, ducking his head as if in apology. "I did forget to call you ferociously vain."

"I think the words you're looking for are ferociously handsome."

Ayly peered up at the big black giffid a moment. She was pondering something her father had said a moment ago. Strange. "He's not horny," she blurted out.

Valar's eyes went wide, and he glanced down at his daughter, then looked at Krek. Krek merely flexed his wings, and smirked a little. "Not at this exact moment. Perhaps when you've drifted off to sleep things will change."

"But you ain't got no horns," Ayly insisted, staring at the gryphon's head.

Valar breathed a little sigh of relief. For a moment he thought his mate had already had a certain talk with his little girl. He wasn't quite ready for her to be that old just yet. "No, he doesn't. And that's exactly what we were talking about, so lets leave it at that."

"Why? Does his horns come out at night?"

"Something comes out at..."

"Stifle your beak, Bird," Valar said, growling. "Or I'll knock you on your furry ass."

"You do, and I'll knock you square in the balls, Lizard!"

Well that certainly drew Ayly's attention away from the word horny, and placed it squarely on the word ass. She giggled, and hopped around on her paws. "You said ass!" Then she looked at Krek, still giggling. "You said balls!"

"Yes," Valar grumbled sheepishly, his spines drooping. "We did."

"Imma tell mother you said dirty words!" Ayly giggled to herself, and as long as everyone else was saying dirty words, she wanted to say them too. "Assballs! Poop! Thingy!"

"Ayly," Valar said, trying not to laugh and failing spectacularly. "That's enough! Quit saying those words before someone hears you."

"Balls," Ayly said, in her quietest voice. Her head hung a little, but it only lasted a moment. She perked up and just as an old woman Valar knew from the market was passing by on the road, Ayly loudly announced, "I'mma tell Mother you said ass and balls!"

Valar grit his teeth, and gave a sheepish wave to the human woman who looked as though she couldn't believe what had just come out of that seemingly innocent hatchling's mouth. What must these dragons be teaching their little ones.

Then Valar peered down at Ayly, grinning. "You tell mother that, and I shall tell her how often you sneak away while she's asleep."

Ayly's eyes went so wide she almost held her paw out, expecting to have to catch her eyeballs when they rolled right out of her sockets. Her little blue muzzle hung wide open for a moment. Father wouldn't. He couldn't. It was their little secret. Except when it wasn't. Only it was right now. So he couldn't. Could he?

"So we'll just keep those words to ourselves, won't we Ayly?"

Aylynaryn gave a glum nod. "Yes."

"Good girl," Valar said, stroking her neck. "Besides, those words are for adults to say. You can say them all you want when you're as old as your mother and I."

Aylynaryn gasped. "But that's so old! I don't wanna wait ten years!"

Valar found himself laughing, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You can say them when you're as old as Krek, then."

"What's a krek?" Ayly scrunched her muzzle.

"We've already been over this," Krek said, while Ayly just giggled.

Aylynaryn peered up at Krek, and finally stomped a little purple paw in adorable hatchling irritation. "But the giffid's sooooo old! I'll be all wrinkled up by the time I get to say dirty words!"

"Old?" Krek squawked, flaring up all his silvery crown feathers in grand, indignant fashion. "I'm younger than your father!"

Ayly looked up at him, staring at his crown feathers. "Nuh uh, your stuffs all gray like the old man who yells at the market. Momma said hoomans and fuzzies gets all grayed up when they get old."

Krek worked a paw over his crown feathers, hanging his head a little. "They are not old and gray, they are glorious and silver." He sniffed a little, glancing at Valar as if for support. "My ego hurts."

"It deserves it," Valar said, laughing. "I can hurt something else, if you'd rather?"

Krek snorted, clacked his beak, and lifted his head again. "Why is there an old man yelling at your marketplace?"

Valar grinned, flexing his wings in a shrug. One wing flexed a little further than the other. "I think she means the man who used to stand on a box in the middle of the market, yelling out his wares to everyone who passes. Been making a living that way for ages, big, bushy head of hair that's gone from black to gray."

"Ah," Krek said, glancing through the grove of apple trees. He unsheathed his claws, digging little ruts in the ground through the layers of leaves and petals. A twinge of pain struck his heart at the thought of humans aging before their eyes. "It isn't really fair, is it? That they don't...live as long as us. And we don't even live as long as you."

"No," Valar murmured, watching Krek for a moment. His golden eyes shone, the silver flecking gleaming with unspoken thoughts and memories. "It isn't fair. Has she...I mean...can you tell..."

"Mmm," the gryphon murmured. "Faster than me. I don't feel as...ageless next to her as I would if I was a dragon, but...her hair." Krek flicked his thin tongue over his beak a moment, then twisted his face into a scowl. "The gray is showing. She's not yet that old, even by a human's standards but...I think the job is aging her faster than her life alone would."

Valar smiled wistfully. He stretched his neck out, and gently licked the gryphon's black furred cheek. Krek did not protest or give some smug remark. Instead he just leaned into the dragon's tongue, and when Valar moved a little closer, he leaned against his old friend. Krek gave a heavy-hearted sigh, and just closed his eyes to let the dragon ease his burden for a moment.

"Then what are you doing here, you silly bird?" Valar gently nuzzled at the gryphon. "Surely your time would be better spent at her side?"

Krek gave a low, chirping laugh. "Perhaps I just wanted to see if the egg you put in your mate last time I was here finally released its prisoner."

Valar stiffened a moment, and Krek gave a little coo of apology, nuzzling the dragon. He hadn't meant to remind the dragon of his father. "Sorry. Poor choice of phrase."

"Think nothing of it," Valar said, smiling a little.

A wave of relief washed through Krek when Valar did not seem upset. He nuzzled the dragon again, then turned his head to gaze down at the youngling. "I am glad to see your daughter has taken after her mother's ravishing beauty instead of your ravishing ugliness."

Valar laughed, his spined tail sweeping at the ground. "Yes, we're both glad to see that. Though I rather doubt you flew all his way just to meet my daughter, as touching as that would be. Has she got you on secret business out here or something? If she's got you doing something that in any way endangers Denoria's peace I shall have to squeeze something very tender and important to you."

Krek grinned at that image, but then gave a little sigh, slicking his feathers down against himself. "I am here on personal business, but...I should like to relax a little first before we talk about that."

"As you wish," Valar said, nuzzling at his friend's furry neck. "How long will you be here?"

"A few days, at least," Krek said, sighing gently. "I missed you, you know."

Valar licked at one of Krek's ears, smiling. "I missed you as well, Krek."

"Nice to know you'd not forgotten me," The Black Bird said, laughing. Then he gently pushed Valar's muzzle away. "Alright, alright. Enough with the tongue."

"Oh? Going to make you grow a pair of horns, am I?" Valar smirked, slowly easing away.

"While I appreciate your reference to our previous comment, I shall reply with my own." The bird ruffled up his feathers, grinning. "It is not my horns that would be growing if you continued to lick me. Though...perhaps later, when your daughter is in bed."

Valar gave a hearty, rumbling laugh. "Don't press your luck, bird."

"Perhaps I shall ask your mate, then," Krek said offhand, taking a few steps towards the road.

Valar smirked. If Krek had expected anger, the dragon wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. "You know well enough she'd consider it."

"I know well enough she'd enjoy watching you and I, as well," Krek said, flaring out his wings, silver edge-feathers flashing. "And that you'd enjoy watching her and myself, as well."

"Keep dreaming, kinky bird."

Krek flicked his tail against Valar's nose. "I intend to." He looked the dragon over a moment, and then let the smug facade drop away. "You have grown into a very handsome creature, you know."

A warm smile spread over Valar's muzzle, and he dipped his wedge shaped head as if in bashful thanks. "Thank you, Krek. You've grown into a scruffy, flea-infested, mange-stricken old bird-cat."

"Why thank you!" Krek said, shaking himself, proudly fluffing up his black plumage.

The two of them laughed, but Krek meant what he said. Even after all these years, it seemed Valar was a little more mature than Krek last recalled him. Dragons were slower to mature than gryphons, and from what Krek could tell their bodies continued to fill out and change in subtle ways even after they'd reached adulthood. Krek considered it a strange sort of privilege to have watched his friend grow up, seemingly at half the speed of the gryphon himself. They'd both been young when they met, though neither was a child.

Where Valaranyx had once been slender and a little awkward, caught in the throes of dragon adolescence, now he was lean, and strong. Well honed muscles coiled and rippled beneath his natural armor. Sturdy, ridged horns with a hint of an arch crowned his wedge shaped head, supplemented by an array of spiny, fin-like frills. Crests, as the dragon himself called them. The spines at the end of his tail were fully grown now and appropriately wicked looking, curved and sharp. The blue colors that had always marked him had grown and deepened over the years. The swirls across his wings, the splotch at the end of his nose, and the blue socks that covered each paw to varying degrees had ripened to a rich royal blue. Where the blue once sharply changed to black was now a more subtle shift, from rich blue to indigo, to midnight blue and ebony.

The former gangly nature of his youthful body was now long gone. It was replaced with an almost leonine grace that Krek had once felt reserved for gryphons. The only thing that marred Valar's easy, graceful nature were the ancient scars that marked his body. Krek knew where the scars had come from, and much like his own he imagined they would never fade entirely.

All three of the old, ugly pinkish marks brought Valar pain, and two of them brought hindrance beyond simple discomfort. The three of them stretched beyond the surface of the dragon's body. The scar that marked his hind leg continued into a knot of scar tissue deep inside the muscle of Valar's haunch. Though Valar could walk without a limp, it caused him pain to do so and required a good deal of active concentration. He'd long since adapted to walking, running and as a youth, playing with a hint of awkwardness in his gait. It was simply easier and less painful that way.

Flight was more difficult, but it was not impossible. Krek smiled a little bit. How he wished he could have told that Alia woman to go and tell Valar's father that his son could fly. Valar rarely spoke of his father, but he had confessed to the gryphon once that one of his father's biggest fears was that his son would never fly. Krek was ever so glad that Valyrym was wrong. Perhaps some day Valyrym would know.

"How's your wing feeling these days?" Krek asked.

Valar glanced back at his awkwardly settled wing. He did not mind the question, as he knew Krek was genuinely concerned. And questions about his limp and his wing and his scars were something he'd grown used to over the years. He rustled it a little, spread it out and folded it back against his body. Then the dragon flexed both wings in a shrug.

"Mangled but functional," Valar said, smirking a little.

Flying had not come easy for Valar. The wound that lay beneath his wing had healed up as well as could be expected yet the bolt had severed one of his flight tendons. As such, even with the wound healed the young dragon simply could not make his wing work the way it was supposed too. It had taken years of determination and hard painful work for Valar. It had also taken Kylaryn countless hours spent helping him and training him. It was all worth it though, for in the end Valar had learned to fly. He would never fly quite as swiftly as the other dragons, nor would he dance in the sky the same way they could, but it mattered little to Valar.

Valar could fly, and in the back of his mind, he knew his father would be proud to know that. Despite it all, Valar considered his father partly responsible for helping him learn to fly. The last day he remembered spending with his father was forever etched in his mind. The day Valyrym took him gliding would always be one of Valar's greatest and saddest memories. Valar knew from that moment that some day he would fly. Valar remembered the joy and pride in his father's voice, and in Valyrym's golden eyes when he watched his son glide upon his own half-broken wings.

The next day Valyrym left him behind.

Valar blinked away the wetness in his golden, silver-flecked eyes. He lifted a paw to wipe at them, and then cleared his throat with a growl. Krek reached out and put a paw on his shoulder, squeezing his scales a little. "Are you alright, Valar?"

"Fine, thank you," Valar said, smiling a little.

Krek nodded, and pulled his paw back. "I didn't mean to bring things up. I was just wondering how it was holding up lately. I remember it used to give you trouble now and then."

"It's actually better these days. I'm so used to flying now I scarcely even notice it," Valar said, flaring out his wing as far as he could. "If you must know, my thoughts had drifted to my father."

"Ah," Krek said, swallowing. "You know, it is alright to talk about him if you wish."

"I'd rather not," Valar said, clicking his teeth and flaring his spines a little.

"I..." Krek started, then trailed off. He wasn't sure how he wanted to put this yet. And he'd already told Valar he didn't want to discuss the reasons for his visit yet. "...I think we will need to talk about him a little later, if you're willing."

"What?" Valar lifted his head, his eyes widening. For a moment his heartbeat quickened, afraid Krek had come here bearing painful news. "Is he...alright? Has something happened to him?"

"No, no," Krek said, shaking his head, and giving Valar what he hoped was a re-assuring smile. "He's fine. He's quite well, actually."

Valar pulled his head back, his neck curling in an S. "Really?"

"Well, he's a new warden you see," the gryphon said, his grin widening. "A woman."

"Really?" Valar perked his ears a little, then chuckled.

"Yes," Krek said, leaving Valar hanging for a moment. "An Aran'alian woman."

"....Reaaallly?" Valar's eyes widened and his spines flared up. Wouldn't that just make Father's day. Or make him miserable. "And...she..."

"Is quite kind to him," Krek quickly offered, wanting Valar to know his father was as happy as he could be, given the situation. "He has a friend in her, and from what I've heard, it has done him a world of good."

"That is good," Valar said, his voice softening. A smile slowly crept over his muzzle. "The old bastard always did like Aran'alian girls."

"So I've heard," Krek replied, grinning. He flexed his feathers a little. "I've met her, actually. I had Kathlyn introduce us when I was last in the city. I wanted..." He trailed off a little bit, letting his green eyes linger on Valar's gold and silver ones. "I wanted to meet her for you. So that I could tell you if she was taking good care of him, or not."

"And..." Valar licked his nose, tilting his head slightly. "...Is she?"

"Oh yes," Krek assured the dragon. "They are quite close indeed when she's not threatening to kick him in the balls."

Valar burst out laughing, his spines all flared. He laughed longer than he probably should have, but somehow that just made him feel right for a little while. "Oh, just like old times then. That is wonderful."

"Indeed," Krek said, laughing a little as well. "Her name is Alia. Alia Silverrain."

"Alia?" Valar rolled the name around his tongue a little. "Named after our homeland, then. And its rain."

"A fitting name for the best friend of a captive dragon, I thought," Krek said, smiling. "Anyway, I thought you'd...want to know."

Valar dipped his head once in a single nod, laying his spines back against his scales. "Yes. Thank you for telling me."

"We can talk more about him later," The gryphon said. "I do have a few other things I'd like to talk to you about, but not just yet."

Valar rumbled a little and gave a sigh. "Very well." He peered into the gryphon's eyes a moment. He could almost see the secrets whirling around inside the green spheres. Valar saw pain and worry shimmering there as well. He was not used to seeing such things in Krek's eyes, but he did not press him on it too much. "You and your secrets. Something big, I suppose."

Krek merely shrugged. He couldn't well just blurt it out. Oh, it's not that big. The Queen wants to let your father go, you see. Oh, but your mother plans to slay her first and I don't know if I can stop her. Sorry about that.

"All in good time, old friend," The gryphon said, chuckling. "Now! To happy things. Like food. Food and mating."

"I'll give you one of those things," Valar said, laughing. He lowered his head to nudge little Ayly, where she had curled up nearby and started to doze. She blinked blearily at her father, and gave an irritable mewl when he nudged her with his nose again. She swatted at him with her paw, and put her head back down. "But I'm not giving you both."

"That's alright," Krek said, grinning wickedly. "I've gone hungry before."

Valar smirked. "You're worse than I recall."

"It has been a long, tiring journey," Krek said. Then he growled to himself. "There are many frustrations in my life, lately."

"Ah," Valar said, grinning wickedly. "So your royal is not keeping you satisfied?"

Krek huffed and flared his wings, then squawked and shifted his weight back and forth. Valar laughed, that was always an easy way to get him flustered. Krek glared at him a moment. "It isn't that! I mean, our friendship is..."

"And here I was certain you two had played Interspecies Explorer in your younger days." Valar gestured to Ayly. "Put her on my back, will you?"

"We did not play...I mean...we did...but..."

"You're cute when you're flustered," Valar smirked, lowering his wings.

Krek glared at him. "I've three quarters of a mind to smack you in the balls right now." Then he looked down at the napping hatchling. "She's not going to bite me, is she?"

"I think you should be more worried about whether or not I'm going to bite you," Valar said with a rather wicked sounding purr. "Now put her on my back so we can go. I've a hell of an appetite built up myself, was out working all morning."

"Working?" Krek gently scooped up the hatchling. She squirmed and gave an adorably grumpy little growl, but thankfully did not bite him. He gently placed her upon Valar's back. She settled in between her father's wings, and he lifted them a little to keep her secure. "Got yourself a job at the local tavern, have you?"

"Hardly," Valar said.

"Shame," Krek murmured. "You'd make an excellent wench."

"I'd bite the head off the first person to slap me on the ass," Valar said, laughing. "I was actually out helping to build a new dam in the neighboring village. Mostly I was hauling large stones around."

Krek couldn't let that go. "I haul a pair of large stones around everywhere I go. If they think yours are so impressive, they should have a peek at mine."

"Yours would scarcely be impressive on a hatchling."

"That wounds, Valar." Krek huffed, and began to pad alongside his friend. They walked around the wood-hewn fence, and back onto the packed earth road. "My stones have an ego too, you know. You shouldn't bruise it so."

"I doubt it," The dragon snorted. "They aren't big enough to have their own ego."

"And here I was, expecting a retort about bruising my stones themselves, rather then another quip about their size."

"I can do that too, if you like."

"Just can't wait to get your paws on them, can you Lizard?" Krek grinned at him. "I'm starting to think you like them more than you like me."

"At least they know how to keep quiet. You and your damn songbird warbling is giving me a headache." Valar grinned, and moved over to gently bump himself into his friend.

The gryphon gave a little squawk, and smiled at the dragon. "It's nice to see you missed me."

Valar just grinned, and licked his cheek. Valar led his friend into the village in which he lived. Soon the dirt road was replaced by a nicely cobbled thoroughfare, and the large, colorful buildings that lined the main road rose up before them. As the voices of the villagers grew louder near the market, Ayly roused from her daze enough to peer out from atop her father's back.

"Are you hungry, Ayly?" Valar glanced back at her.

"No, I eated a fishy I stealed."

"Teaching your girl to steal?" Krek laughed, grinning at his old friend. "How very draconic of you."

"She's hardly stealing," Valar said, flicking his spined tail with a chuckle. "The fishmonger just sets fish out for her so she can feel like she's getting away with something."

"Ah," Krek murmured, smirking. "Teaching your daughter to steal from humans without teaching her that most of them will get quite angry about it. That sounds like a plan that can't fail."

Valar glanced over at him, his spines half-lifted around his head. "I'll teach her when she's a little older. Let her have her fun, for now."

"Let me have my fun," Ayly said, swatting her paw against her father's back for emphasis.

"Just don't want anything bad to happen to her down the line," Krek said, softening his tone. He stroked his chest scar with a paw a few times, and then grinned at the dragon. "So what are we eating?"

"Oh, I think you know what I'm eating," Valar said, grinning. "If you'd like something else, that's fine as well."

"Smoked fish would lovely right now, actually," Krek purred, grinning. "Does that old woman still have the best ones?"

"She retired, but her son and daughter took over," Valar replied, flexing his wings a little. "And there are a few other fish and meat smokers who have started making things that are just as good. But we'll go there. It's still my favorite place to get them."

Valaranyx lead his old friend through the marketplace. People made way for them without complaint. Villagers waved and called out to Valar, and Valar greeted them in kind. There was hardly a resident in the little town who didn't know Valar or his mate, or his daughter. A few of them even knew Krek, and greeted him as he passed as well. Each greeting caused Krek to fluff up his feathers a little more, his ego delighted that people were as happy to greet him as they were to greet the dragon who lived here.

"They really love you here, don't they?" Krek mused to himself, flicking his tufted tail against his friend's haunch.

"They'd damn well better," Valar said, laughing to himself.

"You've done a lot for them," Krek said, glancing down at his paws. "More than they know, I'm sure."

Valar simply shrugged his wings. "Perhaps. I'm just glad they are happy to let us live here in return for a little hard work and protection."

"I think they let you live here because you've become this town's best friend," Krek said. He clacked his beak, watching Valar as they turned onto a side street lined with smaller homes and little specialty shops tucked away amidst the sheltering boughs of the occasional old oak tree.

"I didn't really want to put it that way," Valar said, licking his nose. "Makes me sound like my ego is nearly as big as yours."

"Ego?" Krek tossed his head. "I'm not egotistical. I'm appropriately awed by my own magnificence."

Valar laughed to himself, shaking his head. "Gods, Bird. I think you get worse every time I see you."

"That's because every time you see me I've gotten even more handsome."

"I think the word you're looking for is arrogant." Valar smirked. "Even more arrogant."

"Even more important, too," Krek said, flaring his wings a little.

"More involved in clandestine operations, I suppose." Valar snapped his jaws, and flared up his crests. "Speaking of which, if that's what this visit is about, my answer remains and will always be no."

Krek gave a little chuckle. "I'm not here to ask you to serve the Queen, Valar."

"Good." Valar snorted, settling his spines a little. "Because she and Illandra can get mounted." Then he gave the gryphon a hard look. "And if you've come here to ask me what I know about Death In The Night again, you're still wasting your time. I told them the same thing I told you and your Queen. They can get mounted too."

Krek made a bittersweet warbling noise. "I seem to recall you told us to jump in a latrine."

"I think I actually said, shit-pit."

"Ah," Krek gave a chirping laugh. 'Yes. I don't believe Her Majesty had ever actually heard that term before."

"At least she got the message."

"Oh? And..." Krek waved a paw in the air. "Death In The Night hasn't, yet?"

"They still come to talk to me, now and then." Valar snorted. "A few of their higher ups, anyway. I am happy to talk to them, because of our shared history, but they know well enough I want nothing to do with them, or their miserable, dead-end war. I have lost one home to Illandra, I have no intention of losing another one." Valar came to a stop, glaring at Krek. "Denoria is a very peaceful land. I've told them time and again that if I were to take sides with Death In The Night, all that would do us put Denoria in Illandra's sights. Yet they hardly listen. They're as stubborn as she is."

Valar hissed through his teeth, and continued walking. Krek followed him, canting his head. "Who? The Queen?"

Valar growled, and shook his head. "My mother."

"Ah," Krek murmured. "She serves them still, doesn't she?" Krek cocked his head. "Or...does she lead them now? In a manner of speaking."

Valar grumbled and flicked his tail. "I wouldn't know."

"I'd wager you're not as good a liar as she is, Valar."

Valar growled, lifting his head. He turned his golden, silver-flecked gaze towards the gryphon. The dragon spat his words in a swift, fiery stream. "I love you like my brother, Krek, but tread carefully on that subject or I will send you home to your precious queen with a few new scars."

"That was not how I meant it, Valar." Krek let his green eyes linger on his friend's. He had not meant to bring the dragon pain, but it was increasingly clear he was not going to be able to avoid it. "Have you talked to her, lately?"

"No." He turned away from the gryphon, walking down the street. "The last time I saw her was when she came to visit Ayly a few years ago. Aside from my daughter's birth I have had little reason to speak to her in ages."

Krek gave a little sigh. "You two should patch things up. I'm sure she misses you."

"And I'm sure she shouldn't have told me my father was dead."

"She thought it would be easier on you, I'm sure..."

"Oh, yes, that worked out spectacularly." Valar growled, lashing a paw in the air as if clawing at the memories themselves. Anger flashed in the silver speckles of his eyes. "All the way until you told me he was still alive, and I found out she'd been lying to me all my life."

"I thought..." Krek faltered a little. "I thought you deserved to know the truth."

"I did!" Valar snarled, whirling around. Ayly gave a little squeak and clung to her father's back. "I always did! This is why Mother and I don't talk! Because she spent decades lying about my father! She spat lies in my face every time she told me he died trying to slay the king and end the war! That he died some sort of hero's death! And all along she knew, she knew! That he was not a hero, he was only vengeful. That he was not dead, that they'd put him in some prison to rot, like a monster. She looked in my eyes and she told me he was dead."

Krek bore Valar's anger without shrinking away. He had seen it from his friend before, and he certainly could not blame the dragon. Krek also knew Valar did not intend that anger for anyone but his mother. The gryphon was just bearing the brunt of it by proxy. Proxy for Valar's mother and proxy for Illandra. Ironically fitting, Krek thought. The gryphon sometimes wondered who Valar was angrier at. His mother, his father, or the country who held that father captive.

"You know why she did what she did, Valar," Krek said, taking a deep breath. "She feared you would try to rescue him when you were older."

"And I would have!" Valar snapped before he could stop himself.

"And you would have died." Krek said flatly. "Attacking Illandra to free Valyrym is a suicide mission for a dozen dragons, let alone one. Your mother would have lost her son as well as her mate."

"Former mate," Valar reminded the gryphon. "And that is not the point. You don't see me rushing over there to get myself killed in some suicidal rescue attempt now, do you?"

"You're wise enough to know..."

"She should have told me!" Valar snarled, stomping his paw. "She should have told me the truth from the very beginning. Even if she waited, when she knew I was old enough to handle it, she should have told me then. She should have told me herself! Instead she made you do it. She dropped her burden on your shoulders and let you bear it in her stead!"

That wasn't exactly how it had happened. But Krek knew Valar wasn't in the mood to listen to any explanations. "She was ashamed, Valar..."

"She should be!" Valar screamed so forcefully that Ayly began to cry. The sudden hatchling sobs upon his back sucked all the anger from the dragon in an instant. His wings sagged, his ears and crests drooped, and he gave a sigh. He eased himself to the ground so Ayly could clamber down his body, and he hugged her against his chest. She cried, he whimpered and nuzzled her, licking her face. "I'm sorry, Ayly. I didn't mean to yell. Everything is alright." He licked his daughter a few more times, and then glanced up at Krek. "Why are you here, Krek? You said this has to do with my father, right? You may as well spit it out, now."

Krek swallowed hard. He tried to collect his thoughts, peering around. He'd scarcely even kept track of where they were. They had ventured down a small side street, old wooden homes with faded whitewashed walls and dark crossbeams, blue and green shutters around the windows. The street was cobbled but the stones were rounded and smooth. A few weeds and bits of grass that stuck up between the stones were flattened down by footfalls. Wood smoke from cooking fires drifted through the air, rising lazily from a few simple chimneys. It was a peaceful street, in a quiet, lovely little town. It made Krek smile. Valar lived in peace and happiness here, just as he deserved. Krek wished so badly he did not have to threaten that peaceful life.

"The Aran'alian woman," Krek began. He settled onto his haunches, curling his tail around himself while Valar nuzzled and soothed his crying hatchling. "The one who serves as your father's warden."

"Yes?" Valar tilted his head, then snorted. "Don't tell me she's a spy who wants me to help her topple the castle."

"No," Krek said. "But she has requested that Kathlyn release your father on grounds of mercy. She believes your father has served his time and paid his penance, and Kathlyn is inclined to agree."

Valar slowly lifted his head, his golden eyes widening. Ayly lifted her head too, mimicking her father. She flared out her tiny spines as his did the same. Valar stared at Krek a moment, his heart beating so forcefully that Ayly could hear it thumping away against his chest. "You've come here to tell me my father will be freed?"

"No," Krek said softly. "I've come here to tell you that Kathlyn plans to free Aran'alia. She will be journeying soon to visit them, and make them the offer in secret."

"What?" Valar's breath caught in his throat. His old homeland, free at last? He could scarcely believe it. Death In The Night could give up their futile war. Amaleen's memory could be preserved in peace. He could take his daughter to visit Sigil Stones. Perhaps...perhaps his father could visit, as well. "That is excellent news, is it not?"

"No," Krek said, shaking his head. "That is not all I came to tell you. Kathlyn may never reach Aran'alia."

Valar blinked, uncertain. He cocked his head a little, then sucked in a frightened breath. "No. You can't mean..."

"Yes," Krek said, as gently as he could. "I fear your mother means to slay the Queen of Illandra."

---

Chapter Eleven

The Queen of Illandra wept over images carved by a dragon held prisoner deep beneath her castle. The bitter irony was not lost upon her, but it did not stop the tears. The sheer heartbreaking anguish conveyed through the dragon's carvings of the night his son lost his innocence was simply too much. The terror etched forever on Valyrym's face as he clutched his bloodied son was heartrendingly palpable. Kathlyn had a son. It was a fear she understood all too well.

Three arrows fired by men from her country punctured the young dragon's body and forever altered his life. They were scars that Valaranyx bore to this day. Kathlyn knew it because Kathlyn had seen those scars. Kathlyn had seen the younger dragon's limp, and she had seen the way his wing hung awkwardly at his side. Kathlyn had witnessed his slow, ungraceful flight. Yet never till this moment did Kathlyn understand how he came by such injuries. There were some things that even Krek would not tell her.

Image by painful image Kathlyn followed the path of Valyrym's life that wretched night. He often had trouble speaking of it, and Alia took over for him when he could not force words past his clenched throat. An image of the old dragon clutching his slowly dying son in his arms, wrapped in the blanket he'd once cherished. A blanket now soaked with the hatchling's blood. The next image was Valyrym landing in Sigil Stones and calling for the only person he thought could help his son. Calling for Amaleen.

In truth, Kathlyn needed no explanation to tell her what the images were showing. The story the carvings told was as clear as the afternoon sunlight that shone down through the air vents on the far side of the prison. Amaleen took the wounded youngling from his fathers paws and dashed off through the town with him. Amaleen hated Valyrym and yet that did not matter. All that mattered to the woman was that someone was dying, and she had a chance to save them.

The next image showed Valyrym sitting in the street, outside a house. He was twisting the blood soaked blanket in his paws, wringing it in anxious terror. The pain and fear on the dragon's face nearly shattered Kathlyn's heart. In that image there was no dragon, no monster, no beast. There was only a heartbroken father who's only desperate hope was that this son would live.

In that image Kathlyn saw Valyrym at his all.

That was the image that brought the Queen of Illandra to weep for the dragon she kept locked beneath her castle. She had held it together well enough through the images of pain and blood and fear, and loss. But that single, heartbreaking image of a terrified, crying dragon clutching a blanket soaked with his son's blood was more than Kathlyn could take. She had to stop for a little while. So she leaned her back against the wall carved with the dragon's life, slid down into a seated position, and cried into her hands.

Alia sat with her. Alia put an arm around the Queen and gently hugged her and Kathlyn did not resist. Alia rubbed her back a little. She knew how the Queen felt. It was the same way Alia felt when Valyrym had told her this tale himself. How he had kept himself together long enough to spin it all to its tragic conclusion she was not sure. Even now Valyrym had gone to sit by himself for a little while. Alia murmured soothing words to the Queen, squeezing her shoulder.

Valyrym had settled nearby to give the Queen a little privacy, and to take some time to collect himself. He had not said much for a time, he'd simply let Alia take the lead. It was easier on him that way. He took no joy in the Queen's tears, even if they might be a good sign that she would eventually decide in favor of his freedom. There was nothing to be joyful about in what he was showing her. The day his son nearly died was the second worst day in his entire life. Only his son's blessed survival kept that day from claiming that horrible honor.

Valyrym eventually rose to his paws again and padded back to the timeline. He found himself staring at the image where he lay beneath the apple tree, crying against Amaleen. She had held him and comforted him all through the night, and everything had changed between them. That was the morning they finally began to truly understand one another. The image itself was not as detailed as some. Valyrym wanted it to be stark, powerful, and in its own way beautiful. The tree took up much of the image, with the dragon curled beneath it, his head in Amaleen's lap. She stroked his muzzle, and gazed down at him.

Valyrym turned his gaze towards Alia and the Queen. The way Alia was comforting the older woman was strikingly similar to the image the dragon stood before. Come to think of it, Alia holding the Queen while she cried would make an excellent addition to his timeline. Perhaps he would lay a few guidelines for that tonight. The most recent section of his timeline was starting to get crowded. The dragon had started working upon a few more new images over the last few weeks. Valyrym also still had to finish the last few details of Alia and all the stuffed dragons, as well. Valyrym sighed to himself a little, shaking his wings out. He folded them back against his body, licked his nose and smiled. Alia brought him a stuffed family. The thought made the old dragon laugh unexpectedly.

Nearby, Alia helped the Queen to her feet. Kathlyn gave the dragon an odd look, wondering what he was laughing about. As Kathlyn steadied herself Valyrym half expected the Queen to excuse herself from the prison. He would not have blamed her if she decided against seeing the rest of his timeline. But she soldiered on, and Valyrym had to admit she had a strong heart. She peered at the image where Amaleen was washing Valar's blood from Valyrym's paws in the stream that ran near her home. She sighed, shook her head, and soon joined Valyrym near the image of the apple tree.

"That was when she saw me at my all," Valyrym said, tilting his head back to indicate that image with his nose. "It is an Aran'alian expression that means, to know someone completely. And Amaleen did not know me completely until she had seen me sobbing for my son."

"It is a beautiful image," Kathlyn said softly, laying her hand upon the dragon's scales for a moment. "Did you know, then? That he would live?"

"No," Valyrym said, shaking his head a little. "Amaleen tended him all night, and by the time the sun had risen, she had done all she could. After that it was all on Valar himself. His body would either have the strength to go on living, or it would not."

Kathlyn allowed herself a little smile. "And it did, didn't it? He was a strong little hatchling, wasn't he?"

"He was," Valyrym said, sharing the smile. "The strongest I have ever known. Should that have happened to me, I am sure I would have perished in the night. Should I have been the one growing up beneath the specter of a future without flight, I do not think I could have handled it. But Valar was magnificent. He was stronger in those days than I have ever been in all my life. My son is the strongest and the greatest dragon I have ever known."

Valyrym trailed off, and looked down at the Queen with wet eyes. Kathlyn met his gaze a moment. There was so much pain there held aloft by so much uncertainty. Even now Valyrym missed his son so badly it made her heart ache for him. Alia came around and gently wrapped her arms around the dragon's neck. Valyrym whimpered a little, his wings trembling. The dragon was fighting off sobs of his own, and the Queen was not sure how much Valyrym would prevail.

Kathlyn bit her lip, turning away. She ran a hand over her face, trying to collect herself to no avail. Over all the years she'd spent as Queen she had long since taught herself to keep her emotions and her feelings in check. It was a boon to her in confrontations with hostile diplomats and enemy rulers. She prided herself on her ability to summon that regal persona at a moments notice, to gaze into anyone's eyes with steely resolve no matter who they were or what they said. And yet this dragon's simple desire to know the fate of his son had damn near shattered the steel wall she so often put up between herself and everyone else.

"Your gryphon knows him," Valyrym said, his voice trembling. "Doesn't he?"

Kathlyn balled up her fists. He'd figured it out or he'd seen it in her eyes. He just wanted her to admit it. She knew she should keep her mouth shut, but what harm would really come from giving the dragon something to feel joy over? Yet she hesitated. She did not want to set a dangerous precedent. She did not want to say the wrong thing, and bring the dragon even more pain.

As Kathlyn understood it, Valar wanted little to do with either of his parents these days. The younger dragon certainly wanted little to do with her and her kingdom, and for that she could not blame him. And yet, in his own way, Valar and his mother had kept watch over Valyrym best they could.

"I should..." Valyrym began when Kathlyn did not reply. Alia hugged his neck, and gently stroked his muzzle. If she thought he should not be asking such questions, she kept those concerns to herself. The dragon's voice was soft and shaking. "I should very much like to know if he can fly. Please. If you know, just tell me that."

"He can," Kathlyn whispered, unable to face the dragon as she answered his question. "Your son can fly."

Valyrym dropped back onto his haunches as though stunned by the news. Unable to find his voice through his painfully constricted throat, he snatched Alia in both his front legs and pulled her tightly against his body. Alia squeaked at the overwhelming hug but did not fight against it. Instead she returned it, knowing that the tears Valyrym shed now were tears of joy. Alia's own had soon joined them.

Alia hugged the dragon best she could, her arms reaching partway around his scaled body. Then Valyrym rather abruptly pulled away from her. He licked Alia's face in full view of the Queen. Then he turned and limp be damned, bound off towards his sleeping chamber, laughing like a hatchling at play. His spined tail soon vanished around the corner beneath the archway.

Alia giggled at Valyrym's joyful exuberance. Wiping away her own shared joyful tears, she beamed at Kathlyn. "I don't think you have any idea how happy that makes him."

Kathlyn managed a little smile, sighing. "I am starting to get an idea."

Alia reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. "I don't know if that is the truth or falsehood you have told him, but if it is a lie..."

Kathlyn's smile grew at the sentiment, and she shook her head. "It is the truth. His son can fly."

That idea warmed Alia's heart almost as much as Valyrym. Gods knew the dragon could use a little joy in his life. Alia wondered how Kathlyn knew that, but she also knew well enough there were some things the Queen simply could not speak of. Still, the idea that Valar was out there somewhere, flying high above the earth brought a smile so bright to Alia's lips that it nearly illuminated Valyrym's prison. Alia felt so joyful in that moment that by the time Valyrym returned with Val Junior in his jaws, she'd gone almost scarlet as though the news had somehow embarrassed her.

"What have you brought?" The Queen asked, giggling just a little as though Valyrym herself were a hatchling trying to share his favorite toy. It seemed the joy of dragon and warden was contagious.

"Thrrbisaalljrr," Valyrym said through a mouthful of cotton-stuffed wonder. Then he settled on his haunches, took the toy from his muzzle and showed it to the Queen. "This is Val Junior. This is the first gift Alia bought for. She named it Val Junior though at the time she had no way of knowing what that name or this gift would mean to be. She told me..." He trailed off, and smiled at Alia a little. "You told me with Val Junior here, I'd never be alone. She did not know how right she was."

Valyrym offered the toy to the Queen. If Kathlyn was put off by the idea of holding a stuffed dragon that had just been in a real dragon's mouth, she did not show it. She gently took the toy and turned it over in her hands a few times. Then she made a show of hugging it to her chest, smiling. "It's a cute little thing, isn't it. It must have been good to have a reminder."

Valyrym smiled, flaring up his spines in happiness. "For decades I dare not count, I have feared that my son would never know the joy of flight. To know now that my fears were unfounded has lifted a weight from my heart you cannot imagine. If I am to die in here, I shall die happier with the knowledge that my son came to know the way the world looks beneath his own wings."

The Queen reached out and gently rubbed Valyrym's nose. "I am not yet so certain you will die in here, Dragon."

That made Valyrym smile a little more. He pressed his nose against the Queen's hand a little, his eyes fixing upon Val Junior in her other arm. "If you should see fit to release me, aside from living out my days with Alia, I have only one desire. I should very much like to see my son fly."

"Perhaps that will yet happen," The Queen replied. She patted the dragon's muzzle, then gestured towards his timeline. "As for now, if you've the strength left in you to take me through the rest of this, I've the strength in me to see how you came to be here."

"That is easy for you to say now," Valyrym said with a bitter, growling laugh. "If this was enough to bring you to tears, by the time we are done here you may find yourself spending the rest of the night sobbing."

Kathlyn simply offered the dragon a small smile, and a nod. She waved towards the timeline again, and with a sigh, Valyrym walked towards it. He glanced back at her, grinning. "You may keep hold of Val Junior for now. But I should like him back before you leave here."

Grinning, the Queen snuggled the stuffed dragon against her golden dress. "I shall savor his company for the time being, then."

From the image with Valyrym curled beneath the apple tree with Amaleen, Valyrym began to lead the Queen through his life in Sigil Stones. The next image was a bittersweet one that depicted Valaranyx wrapped nearly head to tail in bandages yet somehow the hatchling held a smile on his face. It was a simple enough image meant to depict the strength Valar showed from the very first day of his recovery. Pride shone through the dragon's voice as he spoke of his son's desire to walk around on his own no matter how much pain it brought him.

Soon, there was an image of tents and corpses burning in a hillside pass while Valyrym looked on. He did not bother to explain those where the rest of men who nearly killed his son. It seemed obvious enough. Kathlyn did not question the image, either. Gods knew what she would do to protect her son, or avenge him should the worst ever happen. It was a chilling thought and she tried to put it behind her.

The image that followed once more showed Valyrym seated at the edge of the stream near Amaleen's house. Amaleen knelt at the edge of the water, washing the blood from his paws. Again Valyrym offered little explanation aside from that. Kathlyn did not know if he meant the washing of blood in the literal sense or the metaphorical one. She imagined it was likely some combination of both. And the following image depicted Valyrym curled around his bandaged son in Amaleen's back garden. This time Amaleen sat with them, and together they were watching the sun rise over the trees and houses.

"And so it began for you two," Kathlyn murmured to herself. She reached out and gently stroked the dragon's neck, almost an absent-mindedly affectionate gesture.

"I suppose you could say that, yes," Valyrym said, glancing back at her. "I think it already had, though it was not till later that I actually realized we were falling in love."

Valyrym lead her through a few more images that depicted life while Valar slowly healed. In one of them, Valar was sprawled upon two separate blankets, with a third blanket clutched in his jaws. Amaleen held the other end of that blanket and the two of them seemed to be playing tug of war with it. Valyrym was shown in the background, simply smirking at the whole affair.

Alia pointed to the blanket the hatchling and woman were playfully fighting over. "That's his."

Valyrym gave a hearty laugh at that though Kathlyn had no idea why. She did not bother to ask for an explanation as somehow she felt it would have flown right over her head anyway. "He certainly seems to think it is, anyway."

"That's because his father taught him to claim everything in sight," Alia said with a little giggle.

"He did not," Valyrym said in muted protest. "That was his mother's doing."

The next image showed Valar riding around atop his father's back. It appeared as though Amaleen had quite the expansive back garden behind her home, and Valyrym looked to be giving the youngling a tour of it. Valar was pointing with his paw, and Valyrym seemed to be heading in that direction. Then in the following carving, the two dragons and the woman were all standing around a pond. A few fish were depicted as sucking bits of bread from the surface, while the little hatchling was busy throwing more bread directly in his father's face.

Kathlyn couldn't help but giggle at the image. "Typical child."

"Indeed," Valyrym murmured, grinning.

"Are you going to throw it at your father?" Alia said, giggling as well. "No!" Then she mimed throwing bread at Valyrym, which only made the Queen laugh harder.

"It's nice to know that the hatchlings of dragons don't act all that different from our own children," The Queen said, smiling.

"Yes," Valyrym muttered. "Perhaps if more of your people knew that you'd be a little nicer to us."

Kathlyn smirked at the dragon, tilting her head. "And what shall I do about that? Shall I issue a royal decree? A proclamation to be read throughout my lands?" The Queen waved her hand in a grand sweeping gesture. "Hear ye, hear ye, it is henceforth declared to be known that the children of dragons enjoy throwing bread in their fathers' faces."

"Yes," Valyrym said with a little nod. "I think that should suffice nicely."

Grinning to herself, Kathlyn followed the dragon further on the road that was his life. Soon they came to an image of Valyrym back in his home, though it now seemed exceedingly empty. Valyrym accomplished that by carving his home larger and emptier than it had appeared in previous pictures. He'd also carved himself as smaller than he had appeared the last few times his lair had been depicted. The place seemed empty and lonely as Valyrym gazed around.

The scene that followed showed him back behind Amaleen's house in normal proportion, with Amaleen and Valar both nearby, laughing along with the older dragon. Valyrym looked to be passing out gifts to the two of them, and Amaleen had her arms wrapped around Valyrym's neck. Lines of sunshine shone down, and warmth seemed to exude from the stone itself. Lending the idea that the garden behind Amaleen's house was becoming Valyrym's real home. Kathlyn almost wished the dragon had been able to add color to the image.

"Have you ever painted?" The Queen asked, unable to stop the question that popped into her head from spilling across her lips.

"Have I what?" The dragon scoffed, tossing his head. "Oh, many times," Valyrym said, waving a paw in a circle. "Why just the other day I bought myself a lovely new set of brushes with handles of maple and bristles made from real gryphon's fur. Quite expensive, but I decided to treat myself."

"Alright, alright," Kathlyn said, chuckling. "Let me rephrase that question. Would you ever be interested in painting?"

"Certainly not," Valyrym snapped. "Dragons do not paint. Of course, if my Warden were to order me to attempt to paint something for her, I should have no choice but to comply." Valyrym turned his attention towards Alia, but she seemed lost in thought a moment. Grumbling under his breath, he nudged her with his spine tipped tail. "Is my warden going to order me to try and paint something?"

"No," Alia said, grinning. "She's going to order you to admit that you'd enjoy painting. She's also going to tell the Queen that you enjoy poetry." She lowered her voice as if whispering a state secret into Her Majesty's ear. "Valyrym loves writing poetry."

"Does he then?" the Queen said, her eyes widening a little. A smile crept across her lips. "If it's half as good as his carvings..."

"It isn't," Valyrym said, snapping his jaws.

"It is," Alia told the Queen, ignoring the growling dragon. "And yes, I think he'd love to paint. Are you..."

"...Offering to have him sent a great deal of art supplies?" Queen smirked. "Yes. Because I'm sure he will need plenty of practice before he can paint his masterpiece."

"Dragons don't paint," Valyrym muttered, though he was in fact quite intrigued by the idea.

"None of them at all, in the history of their existence?" Kathlyn sounded dubious.

"Well," Valyrym said, then smirked a little. "I did meet one old dragon who used to paint with his paws, and some stolen brushes. The large ones that people might use for painting buildings. He wouldn't shut up about it, either. I used to tell him he had very dainty paws for handling all those brushes."

Alia put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. "Isn't that what Korvarak used to say about you?"

"Korvarak also used to say I was the most ruggedly attractive dragon he'd ever laid his eyes upon. But I never told Nary, I wouldn't want her to be jealous."

Alia playfully swatted the dragon's shoulder. "Shall we move on before you drift further from shore?"

"In my defense, my mind was never that near the shores of sanity in the first place." Valyrym flicked his tail, padding further along the wall. "But yes, we shall."

"These images are quite beautiful Valyrym," Kathlyn said as she followed behind him, mindful of the spines of his tail. "I only brought up painting because I'd love to see what you could do with color in your work."

Valyrym rather liked that idea. He smiled to himself as he led them through the next group of images. They depicted more scenes of life while Valar healed. In one image they were all standing in a crowded market. The little dragon was actively stalking a group of fish flopping around on the ground near an overturned bucket. In another he was atop Valyrym's back again, with a group of people standing around them. Each person had something in their hand that they seemed to be offering the hatchling.

"He became quite popular," Valyrym mused.

"So I see," Kathlyn grinned. "Can't say I blame the people. He looks like a little darling."

"He was," Valyrym said, smiling wistfully. He rustled his gray-edged wings at his sides, and then laughed. "At least when he wasn't smacking people on the nose."

"Only the males," Alia amended him. "Cause he knew you were pushovers."

"Yes," Valyrym admitted, lifting his ears. "He did."

"And who's fault was that?" Alia said, prodding his scales.

"His mother's," Valyrym said. "For telling him we were more easily pushed around than she was."

"And she was right," Alia said.

"I wouldn't argue that," Valyrym replied, licking his nose. Then he huffed, flaring his spines a little. "But she didn't have to tell him."

Kathlyn simply smiled as the two of them went back and forth. She moved ahead on her own, gazing over the next few images. Each of them depicted another scene from Amaleen's home, and Kathlyn noticed that in each of them the dragon and the woman seemed to gaze at each other with an ever-larger smile. The emotions and feelings growing between them were depicted in a simple but joyful manner. In some of the pictures Amaleen lay with a book in her lap, reading it to the others. It was hard to tell if she was reading to Valaranyx or his father. Kathlyn suspected both. In others, Valyrym was reading to Amaleen and his son. Soon enough Kathlyn realized that Valyrym and Amaleen had been teaching each other how to read and write the other's language.

Yet there was more depicted in those ornate carvings than just the love that was slowly blossoming between dragon and woman. There was a deeper, more meaningful transformation taking place between dragon and humanity itself. As the images progressed, Valyrym had slowly carved them in greater and greater detail. Crowds began to fill in the margins, and all the people were smiling. Valyrym looked happier and happier, smiling and laughing with the people of the town. The dragon had grown to care for the town, and they had grown to care for him. Day by day, image by image, the dragon's armor of arrogance and selfishness was torn away to expose his beating heart beneath. In every picture Amaleen was there, a smile on her face, a laugh in her eyes and often a hand on the dragon's body.

The meaning would have been clear enough to Kathlyn even if Alia hadn't previously told her what Amaleen came to mean to the dragon. Valyrym felt that Amaleen had made him a better person, and that transformation shone through in his art. It might have been Kathlyn's imagination, but it almost looked as though Valyrym had begun to carve himself in a different way. She thought she saw less definition to his scales, horns and claws, as if trying to make himself look softer and more approachable.

About the time Kathlyn was starting to wonder where Valar's mother had been throughout his slow healing process, she returned. Kylaryn was depicted landing in the back garden, her wings still flared and his spines raised in fury. Fury that given the events of the next few images was clearly directed at Valyrym. Kathlyn knew the female must have blamed Val for her son's injuries. Granted, she could hardly blame a mother for being furious about such a thing, and considering the next scene was Valyrym flying alone in the sky, she must have chased him off. Kathlyn could only imagine how angry she'd be in such a situation, and though she hated to admit it, her reaction might have been the same. Kylaryn would have needed a little time to calm down before she was willing to listen to reason.

The next image had Valyrym at a familiar place. The dragon had come to rest next to Lenira's grave, gazing at it. Amaleen was walking up the hill beyond him. Then, somewhat to Kathlyn's surprise, the very next picture showed Amaleen riding on the dragon's back, clinging to his neck as they shot up into the skies. The instinctual terror on the woman's face seemed outshone only by the inescapable joy of a human experiencing flight atop a dragon for the very first time.

Kathlyn knew that joy. Though in her case, it was a gryphon she had flown upon, not a dragon. Kathlyn couldn't help laughing at that scene. Her face probably looked the same the first time Krek took her flying. Even now the memory made her belly twist in delight. It also brought a smile to her lips and a rosy tint to her cheeks. She missed the gryphon.

"I see you're skipping ahead, and laughing at my sorrow," Valyrym said with a little smirk as he came up alongside her.

"I'm sorry," Kathlyn said, smiling and smoothing down her golden dress. She worked her thin fingers together in front of herself. "I didn't want to disturb your banter. And I wasn't laughing at you. In fact I rather pitied you when Valar's mother seemed to blame you. Though, I'm sure she was just...upset. But I could not help laughing at the look on Amaleen's face!"

"Ah, yes," Valyrym chuckled to himself. "I seem to recall thinking she looked as though she was trying to avoid both squealing in delight and pissing herself in terror."

"I know that feeling," Kathlyn said, giggling a little bit more.

"Oh?" Valyrym tilted his head, grinning. "I wasn't sure your bird had strong enough wings for both of you. He is only a gryphon after all."

"His wings are plenty strong," Kathlyn said, giving the dragon a sidelong glance. "And don't let him catch you saying that or he'll be quite cross."

"Yes, I'd be quaking in my scales over the wrath of a ball of black fluff." Valyrym tossed his head a little, then idly stroked at the scutes of one of his front legs. "Still, gryphons are smaller than we are, so I should think you had an easier time ascending to his back upon your first attempt. Amaleen seemed to think the best way to climb a dragon's back is by yanking on his ear."

"But that's not anywhere near your back!"

"Which is what made it so unexpectedly painful when I turned my head to try and give her advice and found her snatching at whatever she could get her fingers on." Valyrym lifted a paw, rubbing one of his frilled black ears. A whimper crept into his voice. "Our ears are very sensitive."

"I'm sure they are you silly beast." Kathlyn reached up and took over ear-rubbing duties as soon as Valyrym moved his paw. "Krek's are as well. That's why I tend to grab him by an ear and lead him about when he's acting too smug for his own good."

"In that case it's a wonder your fingers are ever not wrapped around the damn bird's ears." Valyrym began to purr as he tilted his head into the Queen's hand. "Still, I'll admit your touch seems to be quite nice when you wish it to be."

Alia rubbed the dragon's shoulder, grinning. "Valyrym here has turned into quite the softie in his old age. All the previous wardens ever needed to do was try petting him a little and they'd have had him purring like a kitten."

The Queen listened for a moment. She had noticed a strange sound like smooth rocks rolling around inside a wooden barrel emanating from the dragon but she hadn't truly equated it to a purr until Alia called it such. "Is that what that noise he's making is? I half thought it was some sort of, friendly, halting growl dragons made among themselves."

"It is," Valyrym hissed, insistent.

"It's a purr," Alia said, grinning at the Queen. "And he does it a lot."

"That is good to know," Kathlyn said with a little smile. "Though I somehow doubt you simply walked right up to him and began to pet him upon your first encounter."

"Not exactly," Alia laughed, reaching up to stroke the dragon's cheek a moment. "It took a lot of leaps of faith, for both of us, before we truly began to trust one another. I don't think Valyrym had truly started to trust me implicitly until I was stitching this up for him." Alia gently traced a finger across the puffy pink scar between the dragon's nostrils. "I suppose you could say I had to be the one willing to take the first step. I had to be willing to show him I trusted him. I had to show I was willing to treat him like more than some animal in a cage before he began to trust me in return."

"Who says I trust you now?" Valyrym asked, closing his eyes and pushing his head against the hands of the two women.

"Your purr does," Alia said, patting his neck and then moving back to the timeline to await the dragon.

Valyrym growled, dragging his claws against the stone floor. "Damn thing always gives me away."

The dragon huffed and licked his nose, then followed after Alia. Kathlyn found herself smiling at the two of them. The Queen suddenly had a desperate desire for Krek to be there with her so that she could enjoy his company as well. Normally she only got to treat Krek like the life-long friend he was in private. It would be nice to get to simply lounge around with the bird, acting playful alongside Alia and Valyrym.

Kathlyn had never known anyone else to have a friendship with a creature like Krek until meeting Alia. Now she found herself wondering if the old black bird could fit his fat, feathery butt down those stairs so they could all simply spend the day together. Then again, perhaps if she chose to let the dragon go, she wouldn't have to worry about squeezing Krek down the long staircase. They could just go and visit Valyrym and Alia somewhere. What a lovely vacation that would be.

Kathlyn wasn't sure how well Valyrym and Krek'sa'krathiss would get along. They'd probably have a mighty battle of the egos, and try to outdo the other with a multitude of sharply worded insults. Kathlyn and Alia would simply have to work to ensure that their battle of wits, barbs, and retorts didn't turn into one of teeth, beak and claws. She doubted they'd do anything to seriously injure each other, but no sense taking unnecessary risks.

Soon the dragon was leading them through another set of images. Kathlyn did what she could to focus on the images and not let her mind drift to Krek. Seeing Alia and Valyrym act so carefree and affectionate with each other reminded her of just how much she missed times like that with Krek. In years past, she always used to act that way around him. Back then she spent every day at his side. Riding on his back, laying against his side, sheltering beneath his wing. In the years after the death of her lover, many were the times she had cried into Krek's chest while he curled a foreleg around her protectively. Krek had carried her through some of the darkest times in her life, and they had grown ever so close. Now that she was Queen, the private, tower-top cuddle they'd shared was rare comfort indeed.

Kathlyn sighed, and followed the dragon's procession of images. They seemed to depict a land of increasingly rugged, isolated beauty. It was a side to Aran'alia she had not yet seen, aside from a few landscape paintings and beautifully woven tapestries. Towering mountains and cliffs gave way to swiftly flowing rivers and boulder-strewn fields. There was an image of a little village cut into the mountainside itself. Another image showed a place that was marked by dozens and dozens of boulders cut with strange runes and odd looking statues that seemed to rise from the earth itself.

At the end of the procession of images was one that Kathlyn recognized. A towering waterfall that first cascaded gently over a series of rocky ledges before it entered into a long freefall plunge to a pool of water far below. It was the same image that Valyrym had depicted in far grander fashion upon one of his pillars, but familiarity made it no less striking an image.

The next picture made Kathlyn furrow her brows in confusion. Alia stared at it a moment, and burst out laughing. Kathlyn tilted her head one way, then the other, then back the first way again as she struggled to decipher it. It looked like a cross between the bushy tail of a scraggly fox and bristly birds nest. Kathlyn scratched her head a moment.

"Is that..."

"It's a beard!" Alia proclaimed, still laughing.

"You carved...a beard?" Kathlyn was no less confused by the explanation than she was by the image itself.

"It seems that way, yes." Valyrym drooped his ears a little, chuckling.

"You sound as though you didn't expect to see that." Kathlyn glanced at the dragon, quirking a brow.

"It has been many years since I've worked up the nerve to look upon most of my timeline." He lifted his paw, placing it near the carved beard. A smirk tugged at his muzzle. "I believe I was quite drunk when I decided to carve this."

"You were drunk? All that time ago?"

"Incredibly so." Valyrym snorted, and set his paw back down. "On terrible rum the Urd'thin smuggled me. Come to think of it, it was so bad, they might have made it themselves. Whatever the case, I had reached this point in my timeline, and I was stuck thinking about old Asgir. Cursing him out in my mind. It was him and his own damn perfectionism in his carvings that I sought to emulate, you see. His approach to taking as long as needed to make every line perfect."

"And...that is...his beard?" Kathlyn attempted to leap the chasm of logic, even if the dragon was doing all he could to stand in her way.

"Yes," Valyrym said, grinning. He seemed to think that explained it.

"I still don't see why you carved only a man's beard, and not his face to go with it."

"Because his damn beard was such a visual disaster I could scarcely even focus on his face!"

"I thought you said he kept his beard in two braids?" Alia looked up at the dragon then back at the carving.

Valyrym snorted. "He did." He glared down at Alia a moment. "I told you Alia, I was drunk off my scaly ass when I carved this." He shook himself, his scales rattling against each other. "Not even a dragon can be perfect all the time."

"First time I've heard you admit that," Alia muttered, walking along the timeline.

The next engraving was a much more coherent one. It depicted Valyrym walking beneath tall arched stones, with Amaleen at his side. On the other side of the image, a man with an immense sword and an equally immense set of beard braids was sprinting across the field towards them. Valyrym looked unusually bewildered and Amaleen just looked as though she was trying not to start laughing.

"That is Asgir," Valyrym said, tossing his head. Kathlyn was starting to sense that was the equivalent of rolling his eyes for the old dragon. "The man who's brilliance with herbs and healing techniques was exceeded only by his patience for stone cutting. That in turn was exceeded only by his idiocy, which itself was only ever bested by his great damn beard."

"You...really disliked his beard, didn't you," Kathlyn said, laughing to herself.

Valyrym gave a snort. "He also had quite a penchant for dispensing the sort of wisdom one only comes to understand years later." Valyrym peered down at his paws a moment. "Or decades." He licked his nose, and then growled. "Which only makes me all the more resentful of the twin rats he kept hanging from his chin."

Valyrym began to pad along the wall, calling out a few things as they passed the next scenes. "It was Asgir who taught Amaleen the art of healing. It was Asgir who in his simple acceptance, showed Amaleen and me that it was alright for us to love each other. It was Asgir who taught me that I could be patient with my life even while living in the moment. And it was Asgir..." Valyrym turned to look back at Alia, tilting his head. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "It was Asgir who taught me that sooner or later, symmetry will find you."

Alia smiled at the dragon's words, and moved to give his head a little hug. Alia noticed there was one thing Valyrym had left out of both his carvings and his words. The dragon had not mentioned any hint of the ghost stones Asgir taught him about. Given that Death In The Night once hoped to bring down this very castle by using those very stones, Alia imagined that was a purposeful omission. And since Alia may have to resort to a similar tactic to free her love if the Queen decided against freedom, she was not about to bring them up herself.

Valyrym walked them through further carvings until they came to a scene between Amaleen and Valyrym. Amaleen was holding the dragon's head in her hands. Tears were cut in the stone, dribbling down his scales. Tears also marked Amaleen's cheeks. Yet their expressions were joyous, happy. At the bottom of the image was a symbol Kathlyn had never seen. It was a series of curved arches almost in the sharp of a graceful chain, held inside a diamond. Beneath it the word Love was spelled out.

"That was when we declared it to one another," Valyrym said softly. "When I asked her to be my life-mate, and swore to cherish her all of her days as I watched her grow old. I did not know I would not get the chance."

Valyrym blinked a few times, cleared his throat with a growl, and moved on swiftly from that image. Kathlyn moved to follow, and Alia gently put a hand on her shoulder. The two women let the dragon walk ahead for a few moments. Alia knew that the dragon had shed enough tears in front of the Queen already. She would give him a few moments to collect himself and rebuild whatever was left of his walls before the women followed him. The end of this tale was likely to wrench more anguish from the dragon, so they were happy to let him try and hide his emotions while he could.

When Valyrym was a little ways ahead of them, Alia began to lead Kathlyn through the next images. The very next one depicted Valyrym and Amaleen curled together, exploring each other as lovers for the first time. The depiction made Kathlyn blush a little, but it also made her smile. The way the image was carved made it an expression of love rather then simple titillation. Human, dragon, or otherwise, it did not matter when love made itself known. Beyond that were a few more images of their time in what Alia called the Bones Of The Earth. There were sigils cut in stone, there were giant symbols made out of gardens of boulders, there were scenes of Valyrym and Amaleen flying, and there were images of Asgir carving.

Then there was a representation of Valyrym and Amaleen flying towards a cloud of smoke rising in the distance, and Kathlyn knew what that meant. She was surprised to see that the next engraving depicted another dragon battling Illandran soldiers. Valyrym explained it was Korvarak as he lead her through a couple images depicting the dragon's battle with the advance soldiers. The monarch in Kathlyn wondered who had truly struck first. Kathlyn doubted a contingent of soldiers looking to set up an advance camp would be foolhardy enough to attack a dragon without provocation. Kathlyn thought about it a little, and decided that after one hundred and fifty or so years it hardly mattered who had started the war.

The war's first battle seemed swift and decisive enough, despite the cluster of lines showing arrows that jutted from poor Korvarak's body. But then the next image depicted Valyrym curled up on the ground, clutching his belly as if agony. Liquid that could have easily been blood, vomit or both drained from his muzzle, an arrow with unusually pronounced fletches jutted from his body. Following that, the dragon looked to have passed out and Amaleen was shoving something down his throat. A pile of leafy herbs lay next to her.

"They poisoned you," Kathlyn murmured as she walked along.

"Not well enough," Valyrym said softly.

Valyrym continued to walk along the wall, and though his limping pace had not accelerated, he was spending less and less time explaining each scene they passed. Kathlyn suspected he was starting to lose the will to continue this, and trying to force himself onward to the inevitable conclusion. Kathlyn could not blame the beast. She doubted there were many points of light left in this increasingly dark tunnel.

From the procession of images and the comments that increasingly came from Alia rather than the old dragon, Kathlyn pieced together what she could. Valyrym and his friend had to walk all the way back to town while dealing with the effects of their injuries and Valyrym's poison. She took a few moments to peer at each carving but tried not to spend too long lingering on any of them lest the dragon reach the end of his journey without her.

Kathlyn hugged little Val Junior to herself as she reached an image where Kylaryn had pressed her muzzle to Valyrym's nose. The anger was gone from her eyes, instead replaced only with concern for the lover she'd nearly lost. Kathlyn idly wondered if that was the moment when Kylaryn finally admitted to herself that she loved Valyrym. From the bittersweet sorrow that exuded from that image, it seemed Valyrym had come to the same conclusion. In that moment, Kylaryn knew she loved the black dragon. And in that same moment she knew she would never have him.

How terrible a time to realize such a thing. To know that Valyrym had survived his near-death experience, yet had pledged himself to another while she was away. To know she had spent many years with the black dragon and never once actively pursued a deeper, more lasting relationship. All because her own draconic pride made it difficult to admit she desired such a thing with such an arrogant male. And now that chance was lost.

In the next scene Kylaryn was crying as Valyrym cloaked her within his wings. Valyrym seemed to be trying to shield her from every pain the world had to offer save the one in her heart he could not protect her from. There was a beautiful, tender sweetness there and The Queen found herself unable to look away for some time. Kathlyn half wished that tender, loving comfort had not come too late. If things had been different between Valyrym and Kylaryn from the beginning, then perhaps Valyrym would have never gone to exact his revenge. Never ended up here. And perhaps Kylaryn herself would not be standing in the way of peace between Illandra and Aran'alia without ever even knowing it.

All Kathlyn could do now was hope Krek was either wrong, or strong enough to protect her from Kylaryn's wrath.

Kathlyn wiped her eyes a moment, and realized the others had gone quiet. She looked away from the image, half expecting to find them staring at her. Instead, Valyrym had gotten quite a bit ahead of her. He was staring at the wall, and even from a distance Kathlyn could see him trembling. Alia stroked his neck. From the looks of it she was trying to get the dragon to look away, but he did not seem able to do so. Valyrym seemed frozen, unable to stop staring at whatever image captivated him. As she watched, the dragon slowly lifted a paw from the ground, his claws half unsheathed. Alia moved her hand from the dragon's neck and put it atop his paw, guiding it back to the ground.

Kathlyn sighed, rubbing her forehead. She took her time in following the other two. She smiled at an image depicting five dragons all sitting around in Amaleen's backyard, even if she did not recognize them all. Her smile grew as another scene showed those same dragons all carving their names in stone, pledging their protection for Aran'alia.

It was a surreal image for Kathlyn. Growing up, she was taught history as recorded by the victor. That Aran'alia was a land of barbarians and beasts. That the dragons who once fought the armies of Illandra were little more than monsters fighting for treasure and for lands they themselves had already conquered. Rumors persisted they were perhaps captive beasts themselves, trained and forced to fight. But here was the truth that put light to those dark rumors, not that anyone else was going to see it. The dragons of Aran'alia fought to protect that land simply because it was their home, and the people there were their friends.

It was hardly a shock to Kathlyn. She knew well enough that Illandra was already being woven as the villain in the tapestry of time. The echoes of Illandra's sins seemed to grow louder by the year, and Kathlyn could not atone for them all. Nonetheless, Kathlyn was determined to do all that was in her power to set her beloved home on the right path. And that began by reversing the course of deeds long lost to history for all but dragons.

Kathlyn laughed in a sort of bittersweet amusement. It was almost ironic to realize she was talking with the very beast so monstrously depicted in the history tomes that fed her mind as she grew. What an influence this one creature had, and yet reality seemed so very different from what had been recorded.

Kathlyn walked on through scenes of war. Valyrym and Alia had stopped offering her any sort of explanation. In fact they had walked further onwards. Valyrym seemed determined to make it through end of his own timeline even though he was no longer telling Kathlyn about it. That was alright, most of the images that remained were easy enough for Kathlyn to interpret on her own.

For a little while the engravings depicted life during war for Valyrym and his friends. They alternated scenes of carnage and bloodshed with those of happiness and tranquility. An image of a dragon tearing apart an army, followed by an image of that same dragon playing with his hatchling son and human lover in a field of wildflowers. An image of a sky filled with dragons swooping and burning men and horse alike, which proceeded into an image of those same five dragons staring at houses that the people they protected had built for them.

The pictures of life in town were all unexpectedly heartwarming to Kathlyn. It was clear that the people of the city Valyrym called Sigil Stones had truly come to love their guardian dragons. They built them houses so they would have the same shelter and comfort as any other resident. They put up banners of the dragons in their central plaza so that every citizen would know the names and faces of all the dragons who risked their lives fighting for their freedom. They built them armor to better protect the creatures they all called friend.

A detailed carving of a hatchling, free of bandages and stitches and playing in the falling snow brought a warm smile to Kathlyn's face. She needed no further explanation to understand why that snowfall was such an important part of Valyrym's life. The next image made her laugh. The dragons were having a snowball fight in the streets of the city. The very idea was ludicrous enough to remind her of the fanciful depictions that adorned her own desk. Valyrym even depicted himself as getting a snowball in the face, right between his eyes while Amaleen stood laughing nearby.

Another portrayal represented the day Amaleen had been elected to guide and lead all of Aran'alia. An immense crowd was shown in the plaza, with Amaleen standing upon a dais and speaking to them beneath the banners of the dragons. Valyrym sat nearby, watching with tears of joy and pride clinging to his snout. He was ever so proud of his lover. All the dragons were. Even Kylaryn, who had once hated humanity, now called everyone in this city friend. Amaleen was the greatest friend among them.

A few other images set between scenes of battle and war only depicted Valyrym and Amaleen and Valar. In each one they were all simply laying together. In one of them they were all gazing at the pond where Amaleen's fish lived. In the next such image, Valyrym was curled around Amaleen inside his old mountain home, comforting her after a terrible battle. In Kathlyn's favorite of the series Valar was fast asleep in Amaleen's lap, while the woman cuddled against Valyrym's chest. The two of them were staring up at the sky. Valyrym had carved countless stars above them in a vast panorama of the night sky. Both Amaleen and the dragon each had a hand lifted, pointing to the stars as if showing each other new constellations. It was a simple image of a simple act that spoke so deeply of their love.

Then came pain. One of the dragons had been shot from the sky, and lay in a crumpled, blood soaked heap inside a broken building. With Valyrym and Alia occupied near the end of the timeline, Kathlyn had no way of knowing if that dragon would survive. Curving lines showed blood running down his body in many places as the other dragons sought to save his life. In rapt attention she followed the images to their conclusion. She saw the others carrying their gravely wounded companion back into the skies, and across the lands. She saw Amaleen and Asgir both working feverishly to tend his wounds. She saw Valyrym's sister clinging to the dragon she had come to love just as he clung to life.

"Stubborn beast," she murmured to herself, chuckling. "Refusing to die. Just like Krek." Kathlyn shook her head a little, smiling. "Good for you, you old lizard."

Soon enough she saw that Korvarak had survived, and even had a daughter of his own with Valyrym's sister Nary-What's-Her-Face. She would have to ask Valyrym for the name of his sister again later if the dragon was so inclined. The little hatchling was depicted in a few pictures of her own, seemingly working to bite as many other dragons on the nose as she could. In another of the images she was tumbling across the ground with Valar, while Amaleen hugged Valyrym's neck and laughed.

The images were so simple, so happy and carefree that suddenly setting eyes upon a carving that depicted nothing more than a familiar house burning down hit Kathlyn like a physical blow. She doubled over a little, sucking in her breath. Oh, Gods. She knew from Alia how Amaleen had died, and she knew that image was of Amaleen's death. Kathlyn pressed a hand to her mouth, her throat constricting so tightly she could scarcely breath. Her stomach felt as though it had been braided into a rope and then tied into countless knots.

Kathlyn fought to breathe. She laid a hand upon the carved stone, running her fingers over a few lines. That single moment, that single event had shaken the dragon to his absolute core. It had forever changed something in him for the worse. It set in motion the events that lead to the end of the direct line of Illandran royal succession. It lead the dragon here. Kathlyn could not imagine what it had done to him. She had lost someone very close to her, as well, yet Amaleen's death was a shock the likes of which she could not fathom.

Kathlyn trembled as she moved to look at the next image. It was nothing more than a snow-shrouded corpse laying upon the street. Valyrym lay nearby, staring at it with empty eyes. Snow fell all through the image, and though the street must have been crowded in the image it was empty. For Valyrym there had been no one else there. There was only Amaleen and Valyrym.

In the next image, there was only Valyrym, staring into the falling snow.

In the next, he carried her bundled body on his back.

After that he put her in the ground.

In every image he was alone. All the people who must have lined the streets, all the people who must have come to her funeral, none of them were in any of the pictures. The carvings were all elegant and simple, the crushing loss and loneliness the old dragon must have felt were burned forever in his mind. No matter how many people surrounded him for those long days that followed Amaleen's death he felt so utterly alone.

Kathlyn knew that feeling all too well. She bit her finger to try and keep from crying at the procession of images. Valyrym sat alone in the snow, staring at two graves. He lay alone in the house she had built for his friends because the house she had built for him was burned to the ground along with the greatest love he'd ever known. Even if Kathlyn did not know the history she would have known there was no way for this dragon's tale to end happily.

Valyrym remained the only one in the images for a little while until the other dragons returned to his life. First there was Valar, crying against his father's chest. Then there was Kylaryn, who buried her muzzle against him and sobbed as well. His sister came to visit, and one by one they all cried for the friend they lost to the war. But for Valyrym he had lost more than a friend, and even in the carvings Kathlyn could see it eating at him.

First he saw her in dreams. Several scenes depicted the dragon twisting in his sleep, with Kylaryn looking on in pained concern. Snippets of the dragon's dreams were depicted as well. In one of them Amaleen was dancing on a hill. In another she was burning. Valyrym could not stop the nightmares, and he could not let her death go. In another scene, he was laying next to her pond, well beyond the burned out shell of her home. He peered into the waters, and saw her reflected alongside him.

By then Kathlyn was in tears. She tried to fight her sobs for a little while but finally gave into them. She knew what it was like to lose someone you thought the world of. She knew that the pain would never fade entirely. That the loneliness was like a heavy stone that slowly crushed you. In a way, Kathlyn had been lucky. When her love had died, Krek was there for her. The Black Bird may have been the only thing that kept her from sinking into a hole from which there was no escape. Kathlyn knew Valyrym's pain. When The Queen could no longer hold back her weeping, she kept a hand to her mouth to try and keep herself quiet.

Through the haze of tears, Kathlyn saw subtle changes in the carvings. Though she would have to ask the dragon to know for certain, she thought perhaps Valyrym had come back in the years after completing these images to alter them a little. The dragon had started carving himself a little differently again. His spines, horns, claws and teeth were increasingly pronounced. Scales and scutes carved in more detail as in his mind, he was becoming a monster again.

At the same time, the scenes around him began to lose their details. Buildings began to twist and distort at odd angles. Clouds looked like eyes in the sky, watching him. He slunk through a crowd of faceless people. Kathlyn wasn't quite sure if that world was losing its meaning to him, or if he feared he was going mad. Probably both. In some of the images Valyrym was shown as bleeding from the chest as though cut to the heart. He tried and tried and he could not escape it.

Kathlyn paused to thank the Gods that she had someone to help her see that there were things still worth living for in her darkest times. To show her that vengeance was not a solution to her problems nor a cure for her pain. Valyrym did not seem to have such an anchor. If anything, Amaleen had been that anchor and she had been torn away from him. The tide of anguish and grief was washing the dragon away.

When next Kathlyn saw Krek she was going to have to hug that old bird all night. He needed to know what he meant to her. How immensely he'd helped her beyond simply saving her life. How she had clung to the gryphon who kept her afloat when anguish could have so easily drowned her. Krek helped her find a better path when her grief nearly led her down the same road to ruin that Valyrym had once walked.

If Krek was here now she'd bury herself in his warmth and comfort regardless of who saw her hiding under his wings.

Amidst a sea of increasingly distorted buildings and faceless people, only Valyrym's family and the other dragons remained unchanged. As Kathlyn neared the end of the dragon's freedom, a few more images stuck out at her. In one of them, Valyrym and Kylaryn were seated upon a familiar hill. The way they stroked each others necks, it seemed Kylaryn had finally told Valyrym she loved him. Far too late for anything to ever come of it, because by then there was only one path left for Valyrym to travel. Kylaryn knew that but at least she told him while she had the chance.

In the next carving, it was Valyrym and Valar out upon that beloved hill. Valar was flying. Gliding, to be precise, but the effect was the same. Valyrym had brought his son out there to give him hope for his future. Hope that one day the son he loved so dearly would take to the skies and fly despite his terrible wounds. The image was all the more breathtaking because Kathlyn knew that Valar could fly.

Kathlyn had seen him fly.

The following scene showed Valyrym and Kylaryn pressed together for the last time. The moon shone down upon them as they mated, saying goodbye in the best way they knew how. Kathlyn suspected that no matter what Kylaryn may have said to Valyrym, the female knew her mate was not coming back. Even Kathlyn could tell the road Valyrym had set himself to was always intended as a one way street. A selfish end and yet she could not blame him. If she was the one who feared madness would take her, she would not want her loved ones to watch her make that descent either. Right or wrong, the dragon had made his choice. All Kathlyn could do now was look upon the final images as Valyrym fell further into darkness. Watch as the dragon edged nearer to madness. Witness through his carvings as he finally claimed his revenge.

Valyrym had carved the last glimpse he ever saw of his family. The picture was from his own point of view. Kylaryn looked up at him from the ground, pain and longing in her eyes. Valar was clutched to her body, crying as he watched his father leave him behind. If Alia was correct, that was what ate at Valyrym the most over his century and a half spent buried beneath the castle. That he had left his son behind.

Following that, there was a long span with nothing more than claw marks upon the wall. As though Valyrym had tried to carve his journey for revenge and simply found himself too overwhelmed with anger to accomplish it. Here and there the gouges were deeper, and Kathlyn spied a few bits of broken, desiccated claw still lodged in the stone in a couple of places. That made her wince.

The only other image before the dragon's capture was that of his revenge.

The picture was dark and distorted. In the center of it, a carriage burned ferociously. Spiraling flames rose high into the skies. The trees that surrounded the clearing were all twisted and curled, bent inward like arching claws. They all seemed to point at the dragon, casting their accusing shadows across him. The dragon that stood near the carriage scarcely even resembled Valyrym. A wretched beast of darkness, spines and shadow, a warped approximation of a monstrous beast who's spine-wreathed facade was nonetheless twisted in horror as he gazed upon his own cruelty.

The picture that followed showed the dragon wrapped in chains, and being dragged behind horses. He looked nearly beaten to death. An immense, ragged hole marked his leg, blood caked his face, and his hide and wings were shredded from being dragged along the ground. And yet his face showed no pain, only remorse, only guilt. In the many years between the time he'd claimed his revenge and the time he actually carved this image, it was not the pain of his capture the dragon recalled. It was the regret he felt over the innocent life he had taken, and the innocent life he had abandoned.

After that, the dragon was chained to a block of stone seated upon a wheeled platform, and someone was stabbing him in the neck. This time the look on his face was that of agony, pure and unbearable. Kathlyn's face twisted up, looking away. She pressed a hand to her own neck. She did not know what they were doing to him aside from torturing him. Whatever it was, it was far crueler than she would ever have inflicted upon a prisoner. Even one who had made a name for himself as the bane of her army's existence. Justice was one thing. But torturing a creature while it was helpless was something else entirely.

Kathlyn did not wish to look upon images of the dragon's torture. There did not look to be many of them, but what he had carved gave her chills. She hoped he would not think badly of her for skipping over them, because she could not bring herself to look up at the next few images. She did pause to look at the image of the Conquering King. Valyrym had depicted him truthfully, in the manner that was spoken of in secret documents, and revealed in his own letters. In that image, he was a broken man who blamed a dragon for his family's ruination. Later he would come to blame himself. It was harrowing to see, given that the only official images of the man were all strong, robust portraits.

Beyond the image of the Conquering King, Kathlyn found long stretches of nothingness. Empty years in the dragon's life where he had left expanses of gray stone utterly untouched. Here and there they were broken up by simple images of Valyrym peering through an air vent, or an image of himself carving a pillar. Once in a while there was a person's face, though Kathlyn knew none of them. At least, not until she reached the end of the timeline.

There at the furthest point Valyrym had yet carved in the massive wall were pictures of Alia. There were several of them and none of them yet looked finished. The first one seemed as though it was going to be a simple, full body portrait of her carved in as great a detail as the first images of Lenira and Amaleen. Another depicted simply her face with a warm smile, or the woman standing alongside a half-carved oval, likely meant to depict his tub.

But it was the very last image which Valyrym seemed to have devoted himself to lately that truly struck Kathlyn. It depicted Valyrym laying upon the floor of his stone prison, with Alia curled inside his foreleg. All around them lay the vague shapes of what would someday be an entire family of stuffed dragons. Alia had Val Junior beneath one arm, and she was pointing at the sky with another. Above them, Valyrym had depicted the roof of his prison as being peeled away like wax paper around a pastry. The night sky shone above them, and Alia and Valyrym were counting the stars.

The image must have surprised Alia when Valyrym lead her to it. The two of them where cuddled together on the ground, beneath the image. Valyrym was laying on his side, and Alia was snuggled up against his chest with the dragon's foreleg wrapped around her. Tear marks still glistened in the lamplight along the dragon's cheeks, and Alia's face was ruddy and streaked with wetness as well. Kathlyn was not surprised, she was sure her own face looked just the same if not worse.

Kathlyn slowly approached the two of them, and offered them a little smile. When Valyrym and Alia looked up at her, the Queen gestured to the image that ended the dragon's timeline. Her voice was little more than an emotion-strained whisper. "It has a happier ending than I thought it would."

"So it does," Valyrym murmured, lowering his head to press his muzzle to Alia's face. "My life is carved forever upon my heart, and so I have struggled over the years to carve all my triumphs and tragedies upon the stone." Valyrym licked his nose, sighing. His voice trembled a little. "So that when I am gone, and your people come to reclaim this prison, they will look upon my life. When I first began this timeline, I sought only to document my own life as I recalled it. So they know how I became a monster, and that I was not always such. As I have grown to love Alia, I have realized through her this timeline now holds a second purpose." Valyrym lifted his paw, gesturing at the grand expansive of carved images. "When others someday look upon this wall, they will see my heart carved upon the stone. They will know then that there was so much more to me than my worst moments. More to my life than my most terrible pains and my greatest mistakes. They will see that I loved, and fought for that love. They will see me at my all."

"Your all. It is..." Kathlyn kneaded Val Junior idly between her hands as she fumbled helplessly for words that would not come. Thankfully the little stuffed companion did not seem to mind, because grasping at words to properly define all she had seen through the dragon's carvings was like trying to snatch smoke from the air. "...You have lived a life of terrible beauty," Kathlyn finally settled on.

Valyrym smiled a little, leaning his head into Alia's touch as she stroked his cheek. "Perhaps your people will see that someday." He smirked up at the Queen as she stood nearby, wringing Val Junior between her hands. "Or perhaps they'll just tear it down."

Kathlyn winced. That would never happen as long as she was Queen, she was certain of that. Slowly, she held out Val Junior to the dragon. "I think you two are missing something."

Alia smiled up at The Queen, and took Val Junior on behalf of his surrogate father. She snuggled the stuffed toy against herself. "He enjoyed your company, he says."

Kathlyn laughed a little at that. "I'm glad to hear it."

For a few moments, the three of them shared a silence that was pleasant rather than awkward. Kathlyn watched Alia snuggle into Valyrym's chest, leaning against the plates that protected his heart. Valyrym gently hugged her against himself with his front leg. It was the same gesture Krek made whenever she lay against his chest, as well. It seemed dragons and gryphons shared that instinctive desire to hold those they cared about close to themselves. Seeing Valyrym clutch Alia so tenderly made Kathlyn smile. It also made Kathlyn miss Krek all the more. How she wished he was there right now, to hold her the same way.

"You look as though you want to join us," Alia said, gently. "You're welcome to, if you wish."

Kathlyn smiled, her blush deepening when she realized her thoughts were so clearly written in her eyes and across her face. "No, but thank you."

Valyrym chuckled a little. "You miss him, don't you? Your bird, I mean." He cocked his head, watching as the Queen did her best to hide her flinch. But the long journey through Valyrym's life had weakened her usually impenetrable armor, and the dragon caught a moment of pain flickering in her eyes. "You look at Alia and I together, and you miss your bird. You miss being held by him. You need not hide such a thing from us. We've no one to tell your secrets, and they would call us liars even if we did."

"Yes," the Queen said softly. "I do. Our relationship is not..." Kathlyn pursed her lips, and then laughed just a little. "Not exactly like yours. Yet I could not begin to count the times I have spent my tears in his chest, cradled in his wings and protected in his grasp. He holds me the same way you are holding her." She twisted her hands together in lieu of a cottony stuffed friend. "I wish he was here now, to be honest. And in the days to come as I prepare for my journey I am only going to miss him more. I shall have to leave before he has returned from his business."

Valyrym watched her a moment, and finally gave a great sigh as if giving into some unspoken demand he had long tried to resist. He rolled over a little more, shifting Alia in his grasp. He pulled her to one side of his chest, opening himself up a little further. Alia eased up into the crook of the dragon's foreleg. With his free paw, Valyrym patted the ground next to Alia.

"Come along then, Your Majesty."

"I appreciate the offer, but..."

Valyrym cut her off. "I do not have a soft body, nor soft feathers. But if you listen to Alia, she will tell you I have a very soft heart. And as your bird is not here, I am willing to take his place. I am happy to share and offer comfort to you in this difficult time, if you are willing to do the same." A smirk twisted at Valyrym's snout, and sparkled in his golden eyes. "And I promise not to tell too many of my friends that I was snuggled by the Queen."

The Queen took a deep breath, and found herself smiling. Such a simple offer, such a simple thing. How could it carry so many hidden meanings and connotations within the world of men, let alone the world of royal politics? She never let Krek offer her such a thing in public any more. Though privately she cherished those moments spent laying against his feathers, opening her heart to him. In a way, she was envious that Alia got to spend so much time with the dragon. If only she could spend so much time away from the world with Krek.

Gods, Kathlyn missed him. If he was here now, she'd curl beneath his wing or inside his foreleg for the rest of the day. But Krek was not here, and it would likely be months before she saw him again. She sighed heavily, watching Alia get comfortable against the dragon. They certainly seemed genuine in their offer, and Kathlyn would be lying to herself if she said she would not take at least a little comfort from such an embrace.

"Oh very well," the Queen said, giving into the simpler way of creatures unsullied by politics and protocol. "But only for a moment. And I'm going to pretend you're Krek."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Valyrym said, with only a little smugness in his voice.

The Queen delicately lowered herself down to the floor to sit next to Alia. Now that she had given into it, the very idea of cuddling a dragon made her smile. If Bownen caught sight of her sitting on the dirty floor of the dragon's dungeon, he'd probably soil his trousers. Bad enough he berated her for breaking royal custom and protocol when she sat on the floor alongside Krek in some quiet, hidden room. Let alone that she should do so in the dungeon, with a dragon.

Before Kathlyn had completely settled in, the dragon wrapped his foreleg around her. The Queen gave a very undignified, squeaking yelp when Valyrym gently squeezed her up against him. But she did not resist, and in truth, she did not mind. Though the dragon's leg was both larger and scalier than Krek's the gesture was still a very familiar one. Kathlyn found it was still quite comforting.

Next to the Queen, Alia smiled and leaned her head back against the dragon's chest. Alia idly stroked the smooth scutes that covered the front of the foreleg that encircled her belly. Kathlyn grinned to herself and began to do the same. Kathlyn found the scutes covering his leg to be quite smooth, solid and warm. Valyrym seemed to enjoy having them stroked. Soon, Valyrym began to purr, making no effort to hide the rolling, rumbling sound that oozed like velvet contentment from his vibrating throat. Having his forelegs stroked always made Krek purr too. It must have been a universal comfort to creatures with four legs.

For a little while, Kathlyn closed her eyes. She leaned her head against Valyrym's chest plates, and imagined herself snuggled with Krek. She pretended as though it was fur she felt beneath her skin, not scales. That the creature holding her was not a smug dragon but an even more smug gryphon. She imagined herself laying with Krek in that beautiful place he used to take her. There was a patch of sunlight that always shone down in the midst of a grove of apple trees on the outskirts of a tiny village. Krek used to take her there, and she imagined herself there now. It was so peaceful there.

Kathlyn sighed. With a chuckle she admitted to herself that Valyrym was right. He was very warm, and Kathlyn did feel immensely comforted held snug in his embrace. It was not quite as good as being alone with Krek, but the fact that the dragon was willing to offer her so private and deep a gesture was comfort enough for Kathlyn. Somewhere in that black-plated chest, buried beneath layers of pain and regret and selfishness, there beat the heart of a creature who had tried so hard to be kind. To be a better person.

Kathlyn opened her eyes and turned them towards the far wall. Hints of red and purple light tinted the air as sunset cascaded down through the vents. She could not see the sun setting but she could see the colors changing. For a little while, the three of them simply lay together, comfortable and content.

"If I am to spend the rest of my days here," Valyrym murmured after a while. "Watching the sunset through the vents with Alia, I think I will be happy with that."

Kathlyn only smiled, stroking Valyrym's leg. The Queen no longer felt that was going to happen. The realization was slowly growing in her mind that she already had her answer. She would still give it due consideration, she would weigh the pros and cons and make the best decision she could, because that was how she felt a Queen should conduct herself.

Yet in her heart, Kathlyn knew. When Kathlyn returned from Aran'alia, she would set the dragon free.

---

Chapter Twelve

Valar sat upon his haunches, staring at the bronze-scaled smoked fish he idly picked at. With the news he'd gotten from Krek, even his favorite treat did little to brighten his mood. Valar had no way to know if Krek was right about his mother wanting to slay the Queen. But the black and blue dragon could not deny if the chance was there, Kylaryn would probably take it.

Valar did not envy his old friend having to convey such unpleasant news. It was a heavy burden for the gryphon's wings to bear. A task made all the more difficult by the fact that Krek also had to tell the dragon his father might be going free, and that Aran'alia might be liberated. If only Valar's mother did not prevent those things in her pursuit of wartime victory. With a sigh, Valar reached across the flat wooden table and gently set his paw upon Krek's.

"It's alright, Bird," he murmured softly, looking into the gryphon's green eyes.

Krek lifted his eyes from his own half eaten meal, and gave Valar a little smile. "It isn't, but thank you just the same."

Valar's blue tipped muzzle twisted into a pained scowl. The young dragon could not help but think he was being a little selfish with all his own worries and concerns. True enough the fate of an entire country outweighed the needs of his father, or those of the gryphon. Yet he could not imagine how torn Krek must be. To Krek, Kathlyn was far more than just the Queen of Illandra. She was one of his oldest and closest friends. Kathlyn might even be the gryphon's lover, though Valar wasn't sure. Krek had never confirmed that one way or another.

Valar's heart sank for Krek as the gryphon looked away, unable to meet Valar's eyes any longer. Poor Krek had come all this way to tell one of his two oldest friends that his mother was about to murder the other one.

Valar knew more was being stretched and tested for Krek than friendships. His loyalties, long a tangled web, were about to become far more sharply divided. Kathlyn was Illandran through and through while Valar was always an Aran'alian at heart. True enough he had long since given up that land, but it was not by choice. Valar still considered Aran'alia to be his first home, though Denoria now bore that title for the young dragon. If Kylaryn slew the Queen there was no telling what new wars might erupt between Illandra and the rebels who claimed to represent Aran'alia. No telling how the lands beyond might be dragged into the war.

Yet for Krek it was still so much more personal. It was a very rare thing indeed for Valar to ever see Krek at a loss. Uncertainty was not a trait Krek was known for. Hell, Valar wasn't sure Krek even knew what the word meant. Krek always knew what needed to be done, and he did it. He acted. It made him a little bit like a dragon in that regard. And yet now Valar saw a forest of emerald confusion in Krek's eyes. Confusion and fear and uncertainty all swirled there. He had come all this way in part to tell Valar what was happening, but he had also come here because Krek simply did not know what else to do.

"Mother isn't going to kill her, Krek," Valar said, squeezing the gryphon's paw.

Krek managed a weak smile. "I am not so sure."

Neither was Valar, but right now Krek didn't need to hear that. Right now Krek needed support. "I promise you, Krek. My mother will not kill the Queen."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep," Krek murmured, rustling his black feathered wings. The gryphon heaved a sigh, flaring up his silver crown feathers a little. Then his mobile beak twisted up into a bit of a smile. "Though I do appreciate your willingness to do so."

"Eat yer fishies, Father!" Aylynaryn suddenly interjected, swatting at her father's hind leg. "You gotta grow big and strong!"

Valar glanced down at his daughter, grinning. "I have already grown big and strong."

Ayly whimpered, peering up at the table. She knew her father hadn't finished his fishies, and she didn't want it to go to waste. Those were good fishies. Usually father ate so much smoked fishies that he tried to steal Ayly's too. Well, she'd show him. Steal The Fishies was her favorite game. She whapped him on the haunches again, glaring up at him. Might as well give him one last chance.

"Eat your fishies or Imma eat it!"

Valar patted Ayly's head and laughed to himself. Somehow it seemed she always knew how to brighten his mood, even if only for a moment. An idle thought flickered through Valar's head before he could stop it. Was that how his own father once saw him, before he left to take his vengeance? Had Valar always brightened Valyrym's day when his mood was darkest? ...Apparently not enough. Then he hissed, cursing himself for even thinking such a thing. He knew well enough that Valyrym saw no other way. It did not make things easier, but Valar was not one to blame himself.

Still, it brought back memories. He plucked a few plump morsels of smoked fish away from his dinner and set them down on the ground for Ayly. She happily gobbled them up with her purple tipped tail swaying and Valar found himself grinning. He could still remember his childhood. Even when he was hurt, running around Sigil Stones alongside his father were some of his greatest, most cherished memories. Whatever his father had become in those final dark days could not tarnish the wonderful love they had shared before Amaleen's death.

"What are you smiling about?" Krek asked, a hint of a smirk creeping into his voice. He popped a bit of smoked fish into his beak, and gave a happy little warbling coo. Even in his worst moments there was something magical about good smoked fish. He blamed Valar for getting him so addicted to the damn stuff. The worst part was for all the various delights he could find in the castle, it seemed the Illandrans couldn't smoke a wet log in a forest fire. "You'd better not be thinking naughty thoughts about me again."

"Actually I was just thinking of my childhood." Valar smiled absently, watching his daughter devour the fish. "Sitting with my father in Sigil Stones, eating smoked fish."

"Ah," Krek said, grinning. "I should have guessed. That, or you were about to tell me for the one hundredth time how you threw bread right in his face."

That caught Valar off guard just as Krek had intended, and the young dragon burst out laughing. "Yes, that as well." He laughed a little harder, thumping his tail against the ground. "It even got in his nose!"

"In his nose!" Ayly repeated, thumping her own little tail though she had no idea who they were talking about or why things were in his nose.

Valar laughed a little longer, and peered around the area. He loved this little spot. They sat in a quiet plaza well away from the center of town. It was located at the far end of a peaceful side street, where a grove of ancient elm trees sat alongside the river. Beneath the grove sat a simple fish shop. The shop had a large smoke shed out back where they burned damp wood in a bed of coals and smoked rack after rack of freshly caught fish. The scents of the wood smoke and the fish it slowly cooked were overpowering in the best possible way. Valar could have easily spent every day sitting near that little fish shop.

Valar had been going there for many years now, ever since he first took up residence in the simple village. The shop owners not only welcomed the dragon and his family but had long since moved to accommodate them. Valar and Krek sat on opposite sides of a long, sturdy table built from carefully sanded beams of pine. There were no chairs on either side of that table as it was set at a height suitable for dragons. Valar and his mate, and any family or friends who might visit him could set their meals upon the table and sit around it conversing just like anyone else in town. The other regular-size tables and their accompanying chairs were all set well enough away to give the dragons plenty of room to sit and be themselves without making anyone feel awkward. One end of the table was shaded by the elm trees, the other end often sat in the sun so that the dragons could be warmed by the sunshine on cool days.

The little shop itself also served as home to the family that served the smoked fish, no doubt because they had to attend the fires at all hours. For many years it was run by a lovely old woman. As far as Valar could tell she'd never once said a harsh word about dragons in all her life. That might have had to do with the fact that Valar was a paying customer who probably ate so much smoked fish that he may well have helped her stay afloat in lean years. She'd always been kind to him, and though she'd recently retired, she still stopped by now and then. Since then her children had taken over. Valar was quite thankful that whatever family secrets she knew, she had passed onto them. The fish was as flaky, sweet, and beautifully smoky as ever.

The building itself could use a little work, Valar thought. It was painted a sort of olive green color, with black tiles for the roof. The young dragon couldn't help but notice a few of the roof tiles had long since gone missing, and year by year, the green paint was a little more chipped and flaked. Then again, even as long as he'd been coming here he couldn't recall the place ever looking much better. Perhaps they were just too busy tending their fires and smoking their fish to bother with much upkeep. As long as the place didn't collapse in on itself Valar didn't really care how it looked.

Valar smiled to himself. The wind shifted and rustled the slightly serrated, oval shaped leaves of the elm boughs above them. The gentle late afternoon breeze felt nice against his scales and the sensitive membranes of his wings. Scents of smoke and cooked fish drifted through the air. It was so peaceful here. Hard to believe that somewhere out there, his mother was plotting to murder a Queen.

Ayly prodded at her fathers leg again, licking fish oil from her blue marked muzzle. "More!"

Valar grinned down at her. "Still hungry little one?"

Ayly stomped her purple colored front paw. "I'm a growing girl"

Valar kept smiling at her. He was certain he'd said those exact words to his own father. Well, nearly those words. He certainly hoped he'd never referred to himself as a growing girl, anyway. Valar gently hoisted Ayly up in his front paws and set her atop the table. "There you are."

Ayly looked around, wide-eyed. She felt so tall standing on the table. She giggled to herself, flared her purple and blue edged wings, and gave a little roar. Nearby, the door to the shop opened and the woman peeked out. She smiled at Valar who shook his head. Ayly had the bad habit of roaring when she wanted more food. Valar was doing his best to teach her that humans were not there to be bossed around, but it was slow going with a hatchling.

"No, Ayly, you can finish mine. I'm full." Valar was lying, but he didn't have much of an appetite right now, anyway. He'd worked up plenty of hunger earlier but it had all vanished in an instant when the subject of his mother and the Queen came up.

Ayly didn't even respond with words. She just trotted right over to the large, smoked fish laid out on butcher's parchment before her father. Then she dropped her head and happily began to eat, her little wings twitching with delight. As she ate her haunches and tail swayed as though the fish was producing some kind of music for her to dance along to as she devoured it. Valar grinned, she was probably singing "Fishy, Yum," in her head again.

"She's a darling little thing, Valar," Krek said, smiling. He reached out and gently stroked Ayly's back while she ate. With a little purr, she lifted herself to press into the gryphon's paw. "Just don't let her think she's going to get my fish, too. Whatever I don't finish is coming back with me for later."

"You'd be so lucky." Valar flared out his uninjured wing, stretched it, and then folded it back to his body. "Where are you staying, anyway?"

Krek squawked, and clacked his beak. "Surely you don't expect me to stay in some filthy inn like some common peasant."

"I suppose I could be bothered to ask them to give you their least filthy room." Valar smirked, lifting his spines a little.

"You should ask them to give me a lot more than that."

"I don't think the inn keep would appreciate being asked to stroke off a gryphon." Valar regretted that quip the moment he'd said it, because he was sure Ayly was going to blurt out that phrase at just the worst time in the very near future. He pinned his ears back, chuckling, glancing at Krek. "Don't you dare repeat what I just said."

"Oh, very well, but you're going to do that for me yourself in return for my silence." Krek tilted his head, grinning. He flared a wing, plucked a loose feather, and spat it out. Then he returned to his fish, chirring in delight.

"What, here and now? Not with my daughter about." Valar laughed, grinning right back at his old friend.

"Oh, send her off to play."

"How about instead, I just invite you to stay with Aylyryn and I?" Valar set his front paws on the table. "Since we both know that's what you're angling for, anyway."

"I suppose that's an acceptable tradeoff. Though, I won't complain if you still want to give me a hand-" Krek paused when Valar snapped his jaws. The gryphon smirked. "If you want to help me sleep. I can do the same for you, if you like."

"I think you'd like that more than I would, Krek." Valar chuckled to himself.

"Perhaps we should ask Aylyryn then." Krek clacked his beak a little, then gestured with a sweep of one of his wings towards the narrow, shaded backstreet that lead out to the fish market. "Speaking of which, here comes trouble now."

Valar turned his gaze towards the shady side street that lead away from the market district and off to the fish shop. A smile spread over the young dragon's muzzle as he caught sight of his mate padding down the road. Somehow she seemed to have mastered the art of looking graceful even while lazily ambling about. She had colors he'd never seen on another dragon. All along her back she was scaled in shades of rich indigo and midnight blue. Along her sides the colors gradually bled into beautiful shades of royal purple that faded to a deep lilac along her underbelly. Her hind quarters and tail were marked by a dusting of silvery speckles. A few silvery stripes marked the scutes of her forelegs. Even her wings bore shifting hues. Where they joined her body they were a very dark midnight blue, but faded to a soft lilac at the very tips of her wings.

Her name was Aylyryn. They'd named their daughter after her, as well as Valar's mother. Aylyryn's whole body was slender and elegant, and her haunches held the most delightful sway whether she strode or sauntered. Her horns were a soft, creamy gray with only light ridging and just a hint of an arch to them. Like many female dragons, her eyes held a silvery tint, though in the right light they also shone with layers of nearly iridescent blue. Valar thought she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid his own golden eyes upon.

Aylyryn certainly stood out among other dragons. Valar hadn't even known that purple was a color dragons could possess until he'd first met Aylyryn. Apparently neither had his mother nor his aunt nor Korvarak or Voskalar. Even Aylyryn herself professed that her colors were considered rather rare in her home clan, though there were a few other dragons known to her whose coloration included shades of purple. She also admitted that some of the dragons back in her home clan teased her about it growing up. Valar didn't care. He thought she was beautiful.

Krek was right, though. Aylyryn was trouble of the best kind.

"Mother!" Ayly giggled and hopped down off the table as soon as she spotted her mother coming. The rest of her meal was forgotten the instant she saw someone who needed to hear her Big News. Ayly streaked towards her mother. "Mothermothermothermothermothermothermothermothermothermother!"

Aylyryn smoothly scooped up her daughter in her paws before Ayly had even slowed down and without breaking her own stride. Cradling the young one to her chest plates, she continued forward upon three paws, purring. "Hello, my Lovely."

Ayly happily licked at her mother's chest, giggling. "Mother! Mother mother mother! Motheeeerrrr!"

"Yes, Little Ayly?"

"I meeted a big black birdy!" Ayly twisted around in her mother's paw to point back towards Krek with her own much smaller paw. "And he picked me up and I hitted his beak."

"Oh, did you then?" Aylyryn simply laughed, grinning at Krek as she approached him. Krek inclined his head in greeting, smiling back at her.

"Uh huh!" Ayly wriggled till her mother set her down upon her own paws, and then she ran straight back to the table. This time she skidded to a stop mere inches before colliding with Krek. She put one paw on his hind leg to prop herself up, and with the other paw, pointed up at his face. "That's mine!"

"It is not," Krek squawked indignantly.

"Uh uh! You're my giffid now!" Ayly giggled, twisting her head to peer back at her mother. She pointed at Krek again, and gave the wisest little hatchling nod she knew how. "That's a giffid!"

"Yes, I'd heard there was a..." Aylyryn gave Krek a very smug grin, easily matching that of her mate. "Giffid on the loose."

"Oh don't you start calling me that." Krek ruffled up his black feathered wings, clicking his beak. "You should teach your daughter how to say words properly."

"She'll pick it up soon enough," Valar said, smirking along with his mate. "She's probably just saying it to irritate you."

Ayly giggled to herself, and began to climb up Krek's back again. He yelped and swatted at the air, flapping his wings a little. That of course only caused Ayly to hunker down against him and cling to his feathered form with her little claws. When he stopped flapping, she returned to climbing him until she'd ascended all the way up to his shoulder, where she promptly draped herself out atop him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Krek turned his head, glaring at her.

"Climbin' Mount Giffid."

"I noticed that part," Krek muttered, giving a sigh. "Why are you..."

Before Krek could finish, Ayly cut him off. Her voice held a tone thick with hatchling exasperation. She simply didn't understand why everyone else couldn't see and understand the world as easily as she did. "Cause I's sleepy, Giffid!"

"I am not a bed!" Krek gave another irritable squawk, slapping a paw against the wooden table.

Ayly lifted her head, peering at Krek in suspicion. "Then why's you all soft and furry like a bed?"

"Perhaps you should ask your father," Krek snorted, glaring at Valar. "He's certainly spent plenty of time snuggled up against me in his younger days."

Valar growled a little, but Aylyryn burst out laughing. She settled down on her haunches at the end of the table, leaning over to nip her mate on the neck. "He's got you there, my love."

Valar murmured at his mate's attention to his black scaled neck. He stretched his healthy wing and gently draped it across the female's back. Then he smirked at Krek and his daughter. "That's because Krek The Giffid is a liar. He is, in fact, a bed. Would you like to sleep on top of him tonight, Ayly?"

"Yes!" Ayly immediately chirped.

"No!" Krek said, a moment too late.

"Yes!" Ayly said again, twisting to swat at Krek's neck with her paw. "You be good, Bed!"

"Speaking of bed," Aylyryn said, her voice attaining the edge of a mother who hadn't yet decided if she should be angry or not. "When I woke, my little Love, I could not help but notice you had fled our little nap. And as I wandered about the town in search of you, not only was I told we had a visitor, but I was told you'd been running off on your own again." She flared out her spines, which usually meant Ayly was in trouble. Or Father said something he shouldn't have. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Ayly's silver, gold-flecked eyes went wide as could be. Time to shift the blame. "Father said ass-balls!"

"Father said what?!" Aylyryn burst into baffled laughter.

At nearly the same time, Valar gasped and declared, "I did not!"

"Actually," Krek said, waving a paw as if clarifying the entire situation. "He said ass, and balls. But he said them separately."

"Tattletale," Valar said, giving his daughter a mock glare. "Besides, Krek is the one who said balls. At least the first time."

Ayly giggled and let her tiny pink tongue hang from her muzzle at her father. She thumped her tail in amusement against her bed. A bed which happened to be Krek The Giffid. When he squawked a little, she giggled and did it again.

"Funny bed!"

"I am not a bed," Krek said. He lifted a paw to try and grab her from his shoulder, only to find the little dragoness quickly scrambling around behind his neck to the other shoulder. "Stop that!"

"Aww, she loves her Giffid," Aylyryn giggled. She stretched her neck out to nuzzle Krek's feathers, sniffing him and purring to him. "Hello, my Lovely Bird."

"Hello, my dear Dragon," Krek said, smiling at her. With his paws occupied with the pursuit of the hatchling across Mount Giffid, Krek opened a black feathered wing and used that to gently caress the female dragon's neck. "It's nice to finally see something beautiful around here. Was getting tired of staring at your mate's ugly face all day."

"It wasn't my face you were staring at," Valar said, with a thump of his spined tail.

Aylyryn smirked first at her mate, then at the gryphon. "He never could take his eyes off them, could he?" She licked Krek's ear, laughing as he shivered. "It is nice to see you again, Krek."

"And you as well." Krek purred a little, turning his head to nibble playfully at her nose. "How've you been, Trouble? Besides gravid, and busy with a hatchling, in that order?"

"Believe it or not, being gravid and then busy with your hatchling tends to take up most of your time." She pulled her head back, shaking herself. Her colorful scales clicked a little bit. "And I see you're still calling me that."

"How you managed to shift the blame to me for that barn you burned down I shall never know." Krek huffed, and fluffed up his feathers, grinning. "Impressed as I was by your blame-shifting abilities."

"And it isn't as though any harm befell you from it." Aylyryn tossed her head, grinning.

"They threatened to have me put in some kind of stockade so they could paddle my haunches in front of that whole damn village!"

"Oh, I think we all know they'd have aimed much, much lower than your haunches," Aylyryn said with a smirk. "Even if I had to coax them to do so! You can't just be allowed to burn down a barn."

Krek clacked his beak, flaring up his crown feathers. "But I didn't burn down the barn! You did!"

"Which is why I convinced them it was an accident." Aylyryn made a show of licking her paw. Krek was half convinced she'd picked up the art of casual grooming from him.

"But it was YOUR accident!"

Aylyryn just gave him a casual glance. "And who was it that dared Valar and me to try breathing fire for each other right when we came-" Aylyryn's eyes flicked to her daughter, and she smoothly continued. "-Down from that barn's roof?"

Valar snickered, flaring his spines and perking his ears a little. He leaned over and nosed at his mate. "I tried to tell you not to do that. I'm just glad you weren't looking at me when you did. I've enough scars, I don't need to add a seared snout to them!"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that." Aylyryn smiled and pressed her paw against his own.

"I know, because you're careful," Valar said, licking her neck.

The blue and purple dragoness shook her head. "No, because I've always got my eyes closed so I can think of someone sexy. Like Krek."

Krek fluffed himself up, grinning. "I knew it."

"Yes, you're quite the Love God," Valar murmured, flicking his tail back and forth, kicking up a few dried elm leaves with his spines. "Even if only in your own mind."

"It's not my fault your mate finds me far more enjoyable than you Valar." Krek flicked his wings out, showing off the silver feathers that edged them. "There's no shame in being second. Not for me, anyway. For you I should imagine there's a lot of it."

Aylyryn laughed at that, and stretched her neck again. This time she nipped at Krek's ears. "I should think more creatures would find you incredibly sexy..."

"Of course they should," Krek said in complete agreement.

Then Aylyryn finished her statement. "...if you could ever last more than a matter of minutes, at best."

Krek squawked, flaring his crown feathers indignantly again. But before he could defend himself, Valar said, "It's not his fault."

"Oh? Do you think he's going to say something about gryphons being unused to the feeling of such a warm muzzle and thick tongue?" Aylyryn asked as though Krek wasn't right there.

"Yes, I do," Valar said, nodding. "But the real reason he can't last is because it's been so long since he's gotten under anyone's tail, he's practically a virgin again."

Valar and Aylyryn both laughed at that while Krek glared at them, fur bristling and feathers fluffed out. "Oh, now that's hitting between the hind legs! I am a very important, very busy..."

"At least you have your paw to keep you company," Aylyryn added, giggling.

Krek managed a little smirk. "Oh, my paw and I are very close friends these days. But perhaps tonight, for old time's sake, you and Valar..."

"Could let you watch?" Aylyryn smoothly suggested, clicking her teeth.

"Not exactly what I was going to ask, but better than nothing."

"You'd be so lucky," Aylyryn giggled. "Besides." She lifted her paw, gesturing to Aylynaryn who was half asleep, sprawled out across the gryphon's shoulder. "You'll be busy serving as her bed tonight."

Krek gave a little coo of disappointment. Then with a grin he gently eased Ayly down from his shoulders, and cuddled her against his chest with his forelegs. She murmured and snuggled against him, murmuring something about "fuzzy giffids." He smiled, and then glared at the two older dragons. "At least someone still wants to snuggle me these days."

"Poor gryphon," Aylyryn said, grinning. "No one ever wants to snuggle him because he smells bad."

"I do not," Krek huffed, sniffing at himself to be sure. "Just because I've been traveling for weeks doesn't mean I haven't been bathing. I'd wager I clean my feathers and fur more often than you dragons clean your scales."

"That's because grime doesn't stick to us the way it sticks to you," Valar said, laughing. "Besides, I'd bet your wrong, anyway." Then he rose up, and moved to stand alongside his mate. He gently licked her neck a few times. "Are you hungry, Love? Want me to get you some fish?"

Aylyryn shook her head, purring at the attention. "No, I already ate. As soon as I heard Krek was around, I knew you two would be straight off for smoked fish. I figured you'd eat with out me so I got some roasted oxen at The Filthy Fowl."

"Lovely name for a tavern," Krek said, clacking his beak.

"They named it after you I think," Aylyryn said right back to him, grinning. "We should probably get our little one to bed."

"Is that why you take naps all the time?" Krek asked, canting his head. He drummed a few half unsheathed claws against the pine-hewn table. "So you can stay up all night causing trouble once your hatchling goes to sleep?"

"I take naps all the time because my hatchling wears me out," Aylyryn replied, laughing a little. "I love the little thing more than my own wings, but Spirits does she run me ragged."

"Perhaps you should make Valar watch after her, instead." Krek grinned at his black scaled friend.

"I would, if he wasn't busy all day playing with the humans."

"I am not playing," Valar insisted, grinning. "I'm working. Someone has to earn a living around here."

Krek waved a paw in the air, ruffling up his wings. "Can't you just blow a little fire and make them give you whatever you want?"

"Of course I could," Valar laughed. "But I'd rather have their friendship than their fear."

"I think it just makes you feel fancy to pay for things with coin." Krek swept his tail against the dried elm leaves coating the ground. "You've forgotten how it feels to hunt your own prey, and strike a little fear into your enemies."

"Says the gryphon who travels with a coin purse buckled around his waist."

"I've no coin purse," Krek said, grinning.

"Only because you didn't want me to tease you about it." Valar walked behind his mate and over to Krek. He delicately took Ayly in his jaws, hoisting her up. She squeaked and then hung limp and drowsy from her father's jaws while he deposited her upon her mother's back. "Where'd you hide it this time?"

"I did not hide my coin purse," Krek said, a hint of poutiness creeping into his voice. "I simply stowed it at the inn where I had my lunch, while you were out hauling your heavy stones around."

Before Valar could reply, Aylyryn spoke up for him. "His stones aren't that heavy."

"Hey!" Valar exclaimed, laughing. "They're plenty heavy enough for you."

"I've seen heavier," Aylyryn murmured, giving her mate a quick smirk.

"I'll bet you have." Krek purred to her, walking up alongside the female dragon.

"That male his mother is taken with has a good pair on him," Aylyryn giggled. She did love teasing Valar. Then again, what female dragon didn't love teasing her mate?

"Mine are bigger these days," Valar muttered.

"Oh? Keeping track of other male's stones now, are you?" Aylyryn nibbled his cheek, grinning. "I'd say your brother's stones are going to challenge yours soon, too."

"Half-brother," Valar reminded her, clicking his teeth.

Aylyryn gave a little sigh as she began to pad up the side street. The woman who owned the fish shop peered out the door and gave her a wave. Aylyryn returned it with a little wave of her tail and a flick of her wing. Then she turned her attention back to her mate, fixing him with a long stare. "Must you make that distinction?"

"He does," Valar muttered, growling through his teeth. He flared his spines a little. "I can't so much as mention my father without him piping up, "he's not my father" or something else to that effect."

Krek glanced back and forth between them a few times. Valar didn't talk about his father often. Krek wondered if he was referencing conversations from his childhood. Or perhaps Valar's half-brother had been trying to get Valar to mend things with their mother. For now, the gryphon kept his beak shut. It wasn't really his place to speak up on such a subject.

Aylyryn however continued, though she softened her tone a little. She licked gently at Valar's neck. "That doesn't mean he's not still your brother, even if you only share your mother's blood. You still grew up with him. You still love him, don't you?"

"Of course," Valar said, snapping his jaws. "And I still love my mother, but that doesn't mean I wish to speak to her."

"You're as stubborn as she is, you know," Aylyryn said, nibbling at his neck.

"Yes," Valar said in dismayed agreement. "I am. I'm not sure who was worse, actually. Her or my father. At least I know where I got it from."

"I sometimes think you can be as stubborn as both of them put together," Aylyryn said, raising her wings a little as Ayly shifted on her back.

"That would be impossible," Valar grumbled, swiping at a rock on the street.

"You're not going to stay mad at her forever, are you?" The female dragon paused a moment to gently stroke Valar's neck with a front paw. Her forelegs were blue, darkest at the shoulder and fading towards her fingers, silver stripes across her scutes. Her hind legs were purple, royal at her haunches and fading to lilac towards her paws. "You're a bigger person than either your mother, or your brother."

"Well that is nice of you to say," Valar said, leaning into her attention a little.

"...And as a bigger person, you may have to be the one to begin mending the relationship, even if it means swallowing your pride." She removed her paw, pressed her muzzle to his neck, and gave him a tender lick. "Difficult as that may be for you."

"I'd be impressed if Valar could even fit his pride in his mouth," Krek remarked, flaring out a wing to tickle his friend's scales with his feathers. "Much less get it down his gullet without choking."

Aylyryn giggled and Valar snorted at his friend. "You do know an awful lot about trying to fit things in your mouth, don't you gryphon?"

"And an awful lot about biting things with my lovely, sharp beak, so choose your words carefully, Dragon."

"Keep it up, Gryphon, and I shall punch you squarely in the balls." Valar flicked his tail against his friend's black furred rump as if making a point.

Krek yelped and bolted forward. "Watch the spines, Dragon!"

Valar smirked. "I was."

Aylyryn started forward again, and the other two followed after her. Soon they were back on the main road. By now the sun was setting. The sinking orb threw beautiful red, orange and purple hues across the sky. Sunset bathed the land in a short-lived yet radiant golden glow that would soon fade to a soft purple gloam. In the last of the day's light, the main street through town was still fairly busy. Vendors who worked food stalls were calling out their evening discounts as they sought to sell off the last of the day's wares. Scents of cooked meats and smoke wafted through the air, along with the smells of small herds of sheep and goats driven up the road a little earlier. Several of the villagers shouted out greetings to the dragons and their black feathered friend.

"Quite the popular beasts, I see." Krek said, grinning.

"Given that we've lived here longer than half of these people, I should think so," Aylyryn said, laughing. "I can still remember thinking Valar must be daft when he first asked me to come live in his village with him."

Krek warbled in amusement. "Oh, he was just tired of flying all that way whenever he wanted to get under your beautiful tail."

Valar glanced back at the gryphon, grinning. "I told you that in confidence."

"Oh, I certainly considered that," Aylyryn giggled. "But since he wasn't getting under my tail yet anyway, I knew it must be love."

"I certainly was getting under your tail," Valar said, grinning.

"I suppose you were. It was just over so quickly I never really counted it."

"So no different than now," Krek said, balling up a fist and smacking his friend playfully on the shoulder.

Valar growled, and bumped his haunches against the gryphon. "Watch it, Bird. It's not too late to have you put in that stockade and paddled."

"Oh, I think you'd enjoy that entirely too much." Krek looked back and forth between then, grinning. Then he clacked his beak at the female. "Especially Trouble here."

"Oh, Trouble would love to see you all bound up and helpless." Aylyryn snarled playfully at him, pushing her muzzle against his ear. "With those black-furred balls dangling and helpless."

Krek gulped audibly, shivering. "You naughty thing."

"You've no idea," Valar said with a little laugh. Then he gave his mate a mock glare. "But do try and remember our daughter is on your back."

"And fast asleep," Aylyryn said, glancing back between her own wings to make sure. Ayly was half sprawled out against her mother's back, leaning up against one of her raised wings.

"Has she done that to you, then?" Krek asked Valar, grinning.

"She's done a great many things to me," Valar said, acting coy a moment. Then he twisted his ears back, grinning. "But no, she hasn't put me in a stockade and paddled me, if that's what you're asking about."

"Not yet," Aylyryn said in playful threat.

"Not ever," Valar assured her.

"What if I let you paddle me, too?" Aylyryn waggled her purple and silver speckled haunches, grinning.

Valar licked his nose, considering. "Only if you promise to leave my eggs out of it!"

"Of course," Aylyryn said, as sincerely as she could.

"She's lying," Krek said anyway.

"Yes," Valar agreed, laughing. "She is."

Aylyryn narrowed her silvery-blue eyes, glaring at them both. "You two are no fun. I should paddle both your sets of eggs."

"Ooooh," the two male beasts groaned almost in unison. "Not funny."

"And why not?" Aylyryn tossed her head, shrugging her wings a little. Ayly yowled at the slight disturbance, swatting a paw at the offending wing. "The way I recall it, you two scarcely went a day without hitting each other in the sack when we were all younger."

"Not true," Valar insisted. "It only seemed that way because the gryphon was such a crybaby about it."

Krek ruffled himself up. "It was your fault! You shouldn't have laughed so hard at me when your cousin hit me there."

"Oh, that's right," Valar said, laughing. "The very day I introduced him to Arynyra. She walked right up and punched him in the balls! Said she wanted to hear if a gryphon would squawk. Poor bird was in tears."

"I was," Krek muttered, then glared at his friend. "And you just stood there alongside her, laughing your tail off while I cried. And you wonder why I hit you back."

"I wondered why you hit me in the first place! I wasn't the one who did it."

"But you were laughing like you had. And I couldn't well hit Arynyra back, could I?" Krek tucked his wings tightly against himself, laughing. "Really, it must have been the doing of that wicked mother of hers. It's amazing your father and uncle ever put eggs in anyone."

Valar laughed again, shaking his head. He smiled a moment, and Krek grinned at him. After a moment, the gryphon asked, "How are they, anyway? Aside from that particular incident I always rather liked them. Very friendly for dragons. Unlike you."

Valar scowled a little, his pebbly scales scrunching up, eye ridges knitting together. "I've no idea to be honest. Haven't heard from them in ages. And if my mother has, I wouldn't know about it. Should go and visit them, perhaps. Last I visited them was years back, don't even know if they're still in the same lands."

"Where were they then?"

"Well south of Illandra. Some fairly flat land, actually, but with some nice rolling hills, and lush forests. Korvarak loved it, easy for him to get around even without Nary's help."

"Ah," Krek smiled a little, then winced in sympathy. He glanced back at his own wings, sympathetically tightening them against his body. He could scarcely imagine what it would be like to go through life without flying. Poor old green dragon. "Perhaps when this is all over, we shall go and see them together, then."

"I'd like that," Valar smiled, nudging his friend. "Though...first we're going to have to make sure you'll have the chance to bring your Queen. Though I don't think we'll be telling anyone who she is."

"Oh?" Krek lifted his head. "We'll have to do what, now?"

"Don't be coy, Krek," Valar said, hissing. "Though food and my lovely mate have improved my mood, I still don't want to hear you dance around the subject and act as though you've merely come here to deliver news. Everything you do has hidden meaning. To this day, I am not yet sure if that is gryphon nature, or if it is merely in your nature to be duplicitous even when you do not intend it."

Krek glanced away, his ears pinning back to his head. Coming from Valar, that actually hurt. He knew the dragon didn't mean it to pain him. But it hurt because he knew Valar was right. There was a reason he was here that he hadn't yet told Valar. Krek's heart sank when he thought about that hidden reason. He didn't want to break Valar's heart. The gryphon narrowed his green eyes as if to try and keep any of his emotions from shining through. Still, his body language said plenty. He stared into the distance a moment, and gave a fluttering coo.

"I am...sorry, Valar. I do not mean to be duplicitous or dishonest with you, of all people." He swallowed hard, clicked his beak, and then sighed. "I fear I have spent far too many years serving as a spy in far too many lands. I sometimes think it has changed me. Or at least, pulled out the worst parts of me and thrust them into the light."

"Nonsense," Valar said, shaking his horned head. "We buried the worst parts of you years ago. And keeping your secrets to yourself is simply part of your life, now. I am sure it has kept you alive more than once. There are certainly people you have had contact with who would cut your feathery throat if they knew you served the Queen of Illandra as her personal spy."

"I should have thought you'd given that up years ago, Krek," Aylyryn said, smiling at the gryphon. "Surely there are agencies out there who would pay better than Illandra."

Krek merely chuckled, and Valar spoke up as if on his behalf. "Krek does not serve Illandra, anymore. He lets them believe that, but he knows the truth. And so does his woman. Isn't that right, Krek?"

Krek muttered to himself, swishing his tufted tail. "Valar speaks the truth. I care little for Illandra. It is an ugly place, full of repressed people blinded by their own bigotry. That nation is full of so much selfishness I cannot help but be reminded of the creature I once was. But Kathlyn is different. Kathlyn is a torch in darkness. She is a guiding star for all her people to follow, if they would but be willing to do so. I serve Kathlyn, and only Kathlyn." He paused, and leveled his gaze at Aylyryn. "As I was telling your mate, Kathlyn stands poised to transform Illandra into a nation I would be proud to call my home. But first we must convince Kylaryn not to kill her."

Aylyryn blinked. "...What?"

Krek sighed a little as he walked down the road, heading for the large house just beyond the edge of town that served as home for his dragon friends. "I came here under pretense of being the bearer of news both wondrous and terrible. Kathlyn plans to liberate Aran'alia and Vurnel and all the other conquered lands Illandra clings to so stubbornly. Yet I believe Kylaryn plans to slay Kathlyn long before she ever gets that chance." Krek hung his head a little, closing his eyes. His wings trembled. "I did not know what else to do. I know not who else to turn to, Valar. You are the only one who can help me lead Kylaryn from this terrible path."

"How can you be sure?" Aylyryn hissed at the gryphon. That seemed like an awful lot of speculation to her. Speculation that might further damage her mate's relationship with his mother's family for no real reason, if the gryphon was wrong. "You are making an awfully large assumption here. Perhaps your years of serving as spy have simply made you paranoid."

Valar grit his teeth. He flattened his ears back against his skull, his crests all pressed to his head. He unsheathed a few claws, scratching at the cobblestone beneath them. "Krek is...well informed. And we know who really leads them, Ayl."

Aylyryn scrunched up her pebbly scaled nose in a sour expression. "We do. I am just thankful she does not try and recruit us anymore."

"She wouldn't do that to me," Valar said softly, stretching his neck to lick his mate's nose. "Or you. If there's one thing she understands about me, it is that I want nothing to do with her war. I have been driven from enough homes as it is. But...I think Krek is right. You've seen her home, Ayl. My father told her to lead this war, and she has never given up that cause. If she has a chance to cut the head from her enemy, she will take it."

Ayl hissed, shifting on her paws. She hated to admit it, but Valar was probably right. He certainly knew his mother better than anyone. Still, she found it an unpleasant parallel that her poor mate's mother now seemed poised to attempt the exact same act that had once wrenched Valar's father out of his life. She would not point that out to him, as she was sure that was on his mind, too. Instead she just brushed herself up against him, licking his neck a few times.

Valar in return pushed himself up against Krek. The black gryphon looked distraught again. His head hung, his wings drooped, and his feathers seemed uncharacteristically slicked down against his body. The gryphon's eyes were still closed as well. That was unusual for him. Normally, the bird's eyes were constantly shifting, his ears always swiveling. Valar knew him well enough to know that while he might not be able to hide his body language, he could hide his eyes. Valar suspected the gryphon was feeling ashamed of himself. Krek knew Valar did not speak to his mother anymore, and yet Krek had come all this way to plead with Valar to help him talk some sense into Kylaryn. Even if he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"It's alright, Krek," Valar said softly. He licked Krek's ears a few times. "I'm not angry at you. I would do the same in your place."

Krek smiled a little bit, eyes still closed. "I doubt it, but thank you for the sentiment. I wish...I hate having to put this burden on your wings, Valar. You don't have to talk to her, if you do not wish it. If you could just accompany me, to make sure she doesn't kill me when I broach the subject."

"Ah," Valar said, trying to lighten his friend's mood at least a little. "So what you really want is for me to stand between you and her and act as your shield."

"Better you than me," Krek said, smiling. He lifted his head a little, opening eyes to slits. "You...will help me?"

Valar nodded a little. "Yes. It's about time someone talked some damn sense into her. Besides, I suspect you'll need someone to show you the way."

Krek clicked his beak, smirking a little. "I know where she lives these days Valar."

"Do you?" Valar cocked his head, his tone flat.

"I am a spy, Valar." Krek flared out his wings a little. "What is it you think I do all day?"

Valar couldn't help grinning. "I suspect you laze about the Queen's quarters, extolling your own magnificence to all her servants."

"That is but one of my many important duties."

Valar grinned, and butted his head against Krek. Then he pulled it back, and gave his friend a long stare. "Krek."

"Yes?" The gryphon turned his eyes back to Valar. For the first time, Valar saw fear shining in the gryphon's green eyes. Krek was afraid of what was coming. Afraid he was going to lose someone very important to himself. Valar knew that fear well.

"What will you do if you are right, and we cannot talk her out of it?"

There was no hesitation in Krek's voice. "Then I will fly to Kathlyn, and I will protect her."

"I do not think you can best my mother, Krek," Valar said, fear rising in his own voice, as well. Some terrible dread tingled at the base of his spines. There was something else Krek had come here to do, and Valar was starting to fear what it may be.

"Nor do I," Krek said. "But I will stand before her or anyone else to protect Kathlyn till the very last drop of blood has oozed from my body. If your mother means to slay my love, she will have to take my life, first."

Valar and Aylyryn exchanged a glance. That was the first time Valar could recall hearing the gryphon call Kathlyn that. He wondered if the feeling was mutual. Not that it mattered. Either way he felt his heart sink. He was starting to fear what Krek may have really come to say, and it was a horrifying thought. Krek would die before he let Kylaryn harm the Queen.

Valar felt sick. Earlier he thought Krek was distraught because he feared he was going to lose his best friend. Now Valar realized there was far more to it than that. Krek knew he was no match for Kylaryn. Yet that would not stop Krek from sacrificing himself to save the woman he loved, if it came down to it.

Valar licked his friend's cheek. He smiled, and put a paw atop Krek's shoulder. "We will go and see her together, Krek. We will talk her out of this madness. It will be alright, I promise."

Krek smiled back at Valar. He lifted a paw and gently stroked his friend's scutes. There was a strange, wistful quality in Krek's eyes and in his voice that Valar had never seen from his friend. "Thank you, Valar. You have always been a good friend to me."

"I do my best," Valar murmured. Then he blinked and pulled his head back a moment. That tingling dread grew ever stronger. "That's an odd thing for you to say."

Krek warbled softly, and glanced away. The gryphon puffed up his feathers, and slowly sighed. Valar peered at him, suspicious. Earlier, he thought Krek had been hiding the fact he'd come to ask for Valar's help. But that wasn't it. Krek wasn't just here to have Valar take him to see Kylaryn. Hell, Krek probably didn't even think that would work. The gryphon wasn't exactly an optimist. Valar doubted that the gryphon expected them to be able to change Kylaryn's mind. Yet he had come here anyway, flown such a long distance to try something Krek probably thought would fail. Why go to such trouble...unless...

"You sneaky bird," Valar hissed, half angry, half horrified. His voice shook and his spines flared. "Always been a good friend? That's why you're here, isn't it! To say it!"

"Yes, Valar," Krek said, hanging his head.

"Well, save your breath," Valar growled, giving his friend a hard shove. "I don't want to hear it. I've heard that enough over the years." Valar grabbed Krek by the scruff of his neck with his paw, shaking him a little. "We will change her mind, alright? And if we can't, you'll just have to tell your Queen to stay at home, where she's safe."

"She will not, Valar." Krek's voice was soft and filled with pained resignation. "She will undertake this journey no matter the risk."

Valar sighed, and held up his paw. "We'll figure something out. I refuse to lose you, Krek. Even if it means I must stand at your side before the Queen and help you turn my mother away from this madness by force." Valar trailed off, looking down at the ground. "Just...please. Don't say it."

"Say what?" Aylyryn asked, concern growing in her voice as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

Krek glanced at her with wet eyes. Valar didn't want him to say it, and so he wouldn't. He swallowed hard, blinked away a few tears as his heart pounded in his chest. When Aylyryn gasped in understanding, he looked away again. Krek stared at the sunset. The sun was but a red sliver burning above the far horizon, and the drifting clouds had all been painted in shades of vivid purple and fading orange. It was beautiful.

Krek glanced back at the two dragons. They had their noses pressed together, stroking each other's necks. They understood now. They knew why Krek was here. Yes, he'd come to ask for Valar's help. If anyone could talk Kylaryn out of her madness it was her son. But if that did not work, Krek had come here for another reason. Krek would never let harm come to Kathlyn so long as he lived.

Krek had come here to say goodbye.

---

Chapter Thirteen

Sylva took a deep breath as she walked to the stone ledge at the edge of the street on which her inn lay. She leaned up against it. Cool mountain winds whipped Sylva's curly black hair about her rounded, olive-toned face. She placed her palms atop the pitted stone of the ledge, peering over the edge. Gritting her teeth, Sylva sought to keep the queasiness that roiled around in her belly under control. She'd never liked heights, so standing halfway up a mountain and seeing city roads drop away below her in a series of terraced ledges was wreaking havoc on her breakfast. Still, at least she was getting used to the idea now that she'd been here for a few days.

Sylva had always called the place the City Of Stairs. It wasn't the official name, but Death In The Night had long ago adopted the dragon habit of giving places their own names based on what they resembled. Even Death In The Night referred to their long lost capital as Sigil Stones. If nothing else, it kept any documents that Illandra got their hands on from revealing the actual locations of meetings and safe houses. Sylva had heard the real name a time or two and it always made her smile. She wondered if it was a historic name or something they'd adopted more recently.

The City Of Stairs worked just fine for Sylva, however. It was the name she had always used. Tarek and all her other various contacts used the same name. Until a few days ago, she knew of the place but had never actually visited it in person. Death In The Night had lived by secrecy for so long, it was often against Sylva's long ingrained instincts to visit any location where many of their members were. After all, the more you gathered in a single place, the easier it was for your enemies to target you. Still, it was unlikely Illandra could easily find this place even if they tried.

Sylva was here now and she wasn't sure she could find her way back. Hell, she had to fly on a damn dragon just to get here. Not that she disliked dragons, in fact quite the opposite. Sylva found them fascinating creatures. Given the fact that their sympathies so often seemed to lie with Death In The Night, as well as the shared history their people had, Sylva found them all the more likable. What she didn't like was getting a message for a surprise meeting with The Wind That Carries, and arriving at the small village indicated only to find a different dragon who insisted on carrying her the rest of the way.

Sylva also didn't like the fact that while they were kind enough to secure her an inn room free of charge, they'd done so at one of the highest possible altitudes in the whole damn city. For a city that was built halfway up a mountain, that was saying something. Why they couldn't find her a room on one of the lower terraces, or Gods forbid, even down on the ground she'd never know. Probably some dragon's idea of a prank.

The City Of Stairs had two main districts. The upper district was where the city got its name. It was built into the side of a mountain that had no name as far as Sylva knew. In fact the upper city had been carved directly into the rock of the mountainside itself. Roads had been cut in a series of massive ledges well up the mountainside, with each road a little further back than the one that preceded it, giving the whole upper city the look of a staircase suitable for a world-striding titan. Each road had a stone wall along the edge for safety, and the other side of the road was lined with all sorts of buildings. Many of the buildings were themselves carved from stone as well, or set beneath ledges that jutted out to provide natural shelter. There were homes, shops, inns, smithies, all the sort of things one would find in any other city.

The only difference was that these particular homes, shops, inns, and smithies all clung precariously to the mountainside in a way that made Sylva's stomach churn just to think about. Truth was, they'd been here for generations and were probably as sturdy and safe as the mountain itself. Yet it was the idea of building homes and storefronts along the side of a mountain that put Sylva ill at ease. The view from her inn room was a breathtaking one in all the wrong ways. Where she wished she could see beauty in the vast sprawl of sunlit gray spires and emerald forests far below, Sylva saw only a long fall with a quick stop at the bottom.

To think they had an entire city stretching out upon the ground below them. You know, like a normal city. Sylva snorted, peering down at the lower city. She tried to keep her stomach from flip flopping as she watched people move about the in streets far below. They looked like the bugs that crawled about beneath a rock. Gods, just how high was she? Why couldn't they have just given her a room in the lower city. Hell, set her up a tent in the forest for Spirits' sake, and she'd have been fine with that.

Though the City Of Stairs was divided into both upper and lower cities, it was not a division based upon class or race or anything else. Rather it was merely a simple term to differentiate between the section of city built up along the mountain, and the section of city that spread out in a roughly fan-shaped sprawl well below it. Sylva imagined that once all the land had been used in the upper city, it was only natural for them to spread out below it into the lands that had once been used for farming and livestock. But there were just as many inns and shops and taverns and perhaps even more homes in the lower city than there were in the upper city. The people there were no worse off than anyone else. Many people lived in the upper city and worked in the lower and vice versa.

When Sylva had flown in the other day, she'd tried to get a strategic lay of the land from atop the dragon she rode. Granted, her fear of heights made that difficult and she spent most of the flight trying to cling to both the dragon bearing her, and her Koraa'gi friend who was riding with her. Still, Sylva had noticed a few things. An old stone wall that stretched around much of the lower city was clearly under extensive repair and improvement. Watch towers had been erected in many places. And while much of the city's farmland remained outside those walls, Sylva also noticed an impressive array of crops and livestock inside the walls, as well. She also saw that quite a few of the old stone buildings in the upper city now had roofs covered with dirt and crops and small gardens. Chickens and goats and other small stock were kept throughout the upper city's stone streets. If they closed off the upper city it would be nearly impenetrable to all but the most powerful forces. If the worst ever came, The City Of Stairs was built to withstand a lasting siege.

Hopefully that day would never come. Though, it was a shame Death In The Night had not yet discovered this place back during the conquest of Illandra. Granted, if not for being driven from their homeland, Sylva's ancestors and their dragon friends probably never would have found cities like these and their highly welcoming people. The inhabitants of the City of Stairs had welcomed the Aran'alian refugees with open arms, and for that their descendants were ever grateful. They'd also welcomed the occasional dragon, and if rumors were to be believed dragons had protected this land once before.

As far as Sylva knew the City Of Stairs was in fact an independent city-state. It lay in the middle of a vast wilderness that for the most part was even more rugged than the lands of Aran'alia. Only a few roads ran through these lands, used mostly by traders and merchants, and by travelers and envoys from the other city-states. Sylva wasn't sure how many such states there were, perhaps a half dozen or so. All separated by vast swaths of land with only a few small villages eking out a living here and there in between.

If Sylva had her history correct, all of the city-states were once provincial capitals of a vast mountainous empire built on the dual blades of trade and conquest. Yet as empires so often did, it had grown too fat to sustain itself, and eventually crumbled under its own weight. In time, each of the former provincial capitals declared their independence, and eventually the empire itself dissolved. That of course was many ages past, long before Illandra's armies had even glimpsed Aran'alia. Each of the remaining city-states was now quite successful in its own way. Each state also bore enough of an army to defend itself when needed, but without so much greed as to overreach and attempt to invade each other.

Sylva also liked the City Of Stairs because it seemed quite welcoming to dragons. As far as she knew the same was true of the other city states. So long as the dragons were not there to conquer or cause trouble, they were welcome to visit or stay like anyone else. And the last thing that the dragons who fled Aran'alia wished to do was conquer. Many of them had fled for even more isolated areas. Caverns and forests which humans would never set eyes upon. As far Sylva knew, even The Wind That Carries herself had once fled to a such a place to raise her children. In time she had found other dragons there, from other parts of the world. She and her children had later found other welcoming places such as the small but open land of Denoria.

In time, The Wind That Carries came to the City Of Stairs. Sylva knew that The Wind had been a great help to this place. How Sylva wasn't exactly sure. But whatever she and her brood had done, they had earned a place in the hearts of the local populace long before Sylva was even born. In time, so had Death In The Night. They were welcome here, as the City Of Stairs welcomed anyone who was happy to fight back against a tyrannical state. The City Of Stairs did not want to be Illandra's next victim, and the family of dragons that lived above them would help ensure that never happened.

The Wind That Carries called this place home now as did almost her entire family. Sylva had met The Wind several times before, in secret places, but she had never been invited to Wind's home. It was quite an honor, and Sylva could not wait to meet the magnificent and powerful dragoness again. In fact, her escort should be here any moment to pick her up and...Her stomach twisted. Carry her aloft.

Wonderful.

Sylva sighed and turned away from the ledge overlooking the beautiful yet nausea-inspiring view. Peering down such a long ways had given Sylva the shivers. As she turned around she drew her cloak around herself. Despite the altitude it was actually a pleasant afternoon aside from the cool breeze. Yet she was glad to have the cloak while she fought off height-induced goose bumps.

Sylva had always liked the cloak she wore. It reminded her of the deep forest. The cloak was shades of dark brown leather laid against each other like patterns of dead leaves covering the forest floor. The whole cloak was edged in dark green oak leaves. She wore a matching, dark green blouse with golden threading along the arm length sleeves. Simple black trousers with plenty of pockets completed her outfit, along with well worn black leather boots with bronze buckles.

Sylva sighed, resigning herself to trying to get used to being up so high for a while. After all it sounded as though she was going to spend a week or two in this place, going over plans with the Wind. As Sylva was one of Death In The Night's top operational leaders along with Tarek, it was not that unusual for her to go over plans with allies. Yet this was the first time she'd been to The Wind's home. Sylva supposed if Death In The Night ever did have a home city again, this would be it.

Sylva glanced at the inn in time to see her Koraa'gi friend and bodyguard striding out the red-painted door. His name was Gothaal, and he had basically made it his life's work lately to see that Sylva remained safe. Granted, she could do a damn fine job of keeping herself safe but she certainly was not going to turn down the idea of having a bodyguard. Two sets of eyes kept better watch and two sets of blades cut more throats. She smiled at him, and waved at the Koraa'gi.

Usually Gothaal had plenty of weapons strapped to his brown and gray furred body. He also usually wore more than the single pair of dark blue, lightly pleated trousers he currently had on. The cool breeze ruffled at the thick fur across his chest and face. Much of his fur was mottled shades of gray and brown, though it faded to a white along his muzzle, with his ears the color of sand. Golden-brown eyes settled on the woman, and a smile tugged at the corners of the Koraa'gi's snow-furred muzzle.

"Morning," he murmured, walking right up to Sylva.

"Good morning," she said with a little smirk. "Forget our shirt, have we?"

"Wanted to feel the breeze," the wolf said, idly rubbing at the fur on his own chest. Muscles rippled beneath it.

"Thought you wolves liked it hot?" Sylva asked, still smirking.

"I like it cold," The wolf replied, shrugging. "Or hot. Doesn't bother me much either way. But I figured as long as we're up in the mountains, I might as well enjoy a respite from the summer heat."

"So you're just going to strut around naked?" Sylva made a show of looking him over, grinning. "Not sure how the locals are going to feel about that."

"I'm not naked," the wolf said, sulking a little. He pinned his ears back, then slowly twisted one of them forward into an upright position. "But I can drop my trousers, if you want. See what kind of a reaction that gets."

"Perhaps later," Sylva said with a little laugh. She reached out and gently ran a hand along the wolf's side, stroking his fur. She leaned forward and gave his chest a little kiss, then grinned at him. "I've got important business to attend, first."

"So do I," The wolf said, perking both ears again.

"Getting drunk doesn't count as business."

"But it is important."

"Actually," Sylva said, reaching out to ruffle the tufted fur around the wolf's neck. "I'd rather you not get drunk up here. I'd hate to think what might happen if you tripped and stumbled in the wrong place."

"What, you're still afraid of a little bit of height?"

"This is not a little bit of height," Sylva said through grit teeth. She waved her hand at the vista stretching out behind her. "This is the edge of a Gods-forsaken mountain, and-AAAAH!"

Sylva squealed as Gothaal suddenly grabbed her and shoved her towards the edge. In an instant he'd pressed her back against the ledge, his arms wrapped around her. The wolf started laughing, and Sylva glared at him, squirming. "That's not funny!"

"Oh come on," the wolf laughed, shaking his head. "It's not like I pretended to tip you over it or anything. I had a good grip on you the whole time!"

"And that is the only reason I haven't already kneed your furry balls up around your ears!" Sylva snatched one of those ears in her hand, twisting it till the wolf gave a very canine yelp. "Now let me go!"

"Alright, alright!" The wolf pulled her away from the ledge, and when she released his ear, he released her as well. He rubbed his ear, giving her a hurt look. "Why's it always my ears or my balls with you?"

"Because those are the only things that seem to get your attention when you act like a bratty little pup."

Sylva retreated across the road to lean up against the gray stone walls of the inn they were staying at. It was a simple enough looking place. Gray walls with a few colorful murals painted on them of a golden sun rising above a green hill, and a bright blue sky stretching out over some sunlight-drenched mountains. A sign above the red-painted front door displayed the name of the inn as The Sterling Vista. Lovely scents of baking bread and sizzling sausages were drifting through the windows as the small kitchen inside continued to prepare breakfast. Sylva had already eaten, though thanks to Gothaal's little stunt her food wasn't exactly sitting well.

"Still don't know why they couldn't put us down in the lower city," Sylva grumbled.

"Aw, don't be cranky," Gothaal said, padding back over to her.

Sylva lifted her knee threateningly as the wolf approached. "I wasn't, until you decided to scare me nearly to death."

"Just a bit of fun," the wolf said, half pouting. His sandy furred ears drooped.

"For you, perhaps." Sylva made a show of gathering up her leaf-edged cloak around herself as if she was going to sulk for a while. "So long as you're out here pestering me, be a good pup and fetch my pack. Make sure the documents and maps are in there."

The wolf gave a growl, baring his teeth in a playful snarl. "Shall I also polish your boots for you?"

"After you fetch the pack," Sylva replied, grinning. She waved her hand as if shooing him away. "Hurry along now, I want to be ready when she gets here."

The wolf huffed and pinned his ears back, but turned to make his way towards the door of the inn. As soon as he did Sylva reached out and slapped him sharply on his blue-trouser clad rump. He gave a canine sounding yelp, his tail fluffing up. When Gothaal glared at Sylva over his shoulder she quickly pointed to a little old lady in a white shawl standing well down the road.

"It was her!"

"Then I shall have to go and slap her bony ass later," Gothaal said, laughing. He vanished into the building.

While Sylva waited for his return, she contemplated returning to the ledge to peer down again. Her nervousness about being at such a height wasn't going to cure itself after all. But she decided against it, she knew well enough she'd be at a far higher altitude before long. At least the trip up to the top of the mountain would be a blessedly short one. Though Sylva wasn't exactly looking forward to what was likely to be a very steep, swift climb.

The mountain upon which the City Of Stairs was built was capped by a monolithic stone citadel. Sylva imagined it had once been an even more impressive castle, back when this place was capital of a sprawling empire. Over the many generations since the empire's collapse though the castle had fallen into disrepair. Much of the old keep was carved from the very stone of the mountain itself, while other buildings had been constructed of massive blocks of stone. A landslide in ages past had taken out the castle's original front courtyard and guardhouses that once stood well before the front entry. Fallen towers marked the slopes below with large, rounded chunks of stone. Over the ages they'd been partly obscured by layers of moss, lichen, and came to serve as home for animals.

Much more of the old castle still stood, however. Though the city's government had for the most part abandoned it in day to day use, the rulers of the city-state had kept it safe and stable if not entirely in good condition. As far as Sylva knew a multitude of tunnels and stone stairwells hidden inside the mountain itself lead up into the keep from below. The only obvious external road that once wound its way up to the castle had been taken out by the same landslide that removed the old guardhouse. Yet people continued to come and go and move supplies to help restore the fortress to something resembling fully-operational capacity.

From the city below three main buildings were visible atop the mountain. All three were squarish, sturdy looking granite fortifications, like the helmeted head and armored shoulders of some stone-plated god. The central building was by far the largest, with walkways that stretched from it to the two smaller but no less impressive structures. Though they appeared to be separate buildings, Sylva knew that they ran deep into the mountain and were connected by plenty of hallways and shared rooms beneath the surface. Like the City Of Stairs itself, the citadel was built to last.

Rumor held that dragons built the mountaintop fortress or at least helped with its construction. Having dragons help certainly would have made it easier to conduct such intricate yet large scale delving into the belly of a mountain. And as old as the former empire was, Sylva wouldn't have been totally surprised to learn it had in fact been ruled by dragons. They did often like to claim there was once more to their kind than scattered clans and solitary conquerors after all. Not that Sylva herself knew all that many dragons. Yet this place did seem as though it would have made a suitable home for dragons long ago.

Hell, it made a suitable home for an entire family of dragons now. The Wind That Carries lived atop the mountain, watching over the City Of Stairs alongside her mate, and her children. The coming meeting was an almost surreal thing for Sylva to imagine.

To meet the great and historic leader of Death In The Night in her own home.

The very idea had Sylva beaming with pride, her cheeks flushed. She scarcely noticed when Gothaal emerged from The Sterling View, holding Sylva's brown leather pack in one hand. She stared off into the distance, still smiling till Gothaal waved his hand in front of her face. She blinked, and swatted at his gray furred arm, glaring at him.

"Cut it out, Pup."

"Not exactly the thanks I expected," Gothaal said with a snort, twisting a single ear back. He flicked his bushy tail as he held the bag out to her.

Sylva snatched it from him, rolling her eyes. "Oh, hush." She peered down at the pack, giggling when she saw a soft, stuffed blue muzzle peeking out at her. "Aw, you packed Little Wind."

"Seemed appropriate. Besides, I know how much you like that little stuffed toy."

"Of course," Sylva said, laughing. "She doesn't just give them out to anyone."

"What are you talking about?" The wolf folded his arms, grinning. "It's the symbol of our cause. Especially here, from the looks of it. I've seen those sitting in windows all over the place here. And children with them."

Sylva smiled and gently rubbed the soft felt of Little Wind's nose. The wolf was right about it being a symbol. A stuffed blue dragon had come to mean a great many things to Death In The Night. A traveling wagon with one in the window meant they were part of the cause, gathering information or helping out the local agents. A merchant displaying one meant they had goods and supplies for those who struck in darkness. An inn who hung a banner of a blue dragon provided a safe bed for someone in danger of capture. Yet very few people held a stuffed dragon like the one Sylva carried with her.

"Not like this," Sylva said softly. "Not an original. Not even Tarek has an original." She glanced up at the wolf, her eyes shining. "This one is an antique, an heirloom. This one came from Sigil Stones. This one came from the Wind herself."

"You never told me that," Gothaal said, reaching out to gently run his hand across Sylva's fingers.

"I'm not really supposed to," Sylva admitted, laughing a little. "But I trust you more than just about anyone, Gothaal."

"So why doesn't Tarek have one?"

"Because Tarek works for Death In The Night." Sylva's voice dropped a little bit. "He's one of our most important strategists, he has command over a large contingent of forces and operational cells..."

"I'm confused," Gothaal interjected. "We work for Death In The Night, too. You and I."

"We do," Sylva said, chuckling. She smirked at the wolf. It was fun toying with him now and then.

"Just spit it out, already." He snorted at her.

Sylva scowled. "You're no fun lately." Then she lightened up a little bit, drawing the wolf off to a secluded alcove. "The difference is in the fact that this is an original, an antique. Many members of Death In The Night have a blue dragon, stuffed or otherwise. But only about six of us have an original. The Wind That Carries gives them out herself."

"Arrrooo!" The Koraa'gi made a curious canine noise. Then he perked his ears, silently beckoning for her to go on."

Sylva slowly pulled the stuffed blue dragon with the leathery wings from her pack. She gently held it against her breast, hugging the relic. "This signifies that I work with Death In The Night, but I do not work for them." Sylva smirked a little. "This means they work for me. And this means that I work directly for The Wind That Carries. That behind all this secrecy, behind all our splintered factions and amorphous structure, the truth is we do have a leader. We have always had a leader. And that leader has always been The Wind That Carries."

The wolf merely smiled at that, gently stroking her arm. "I get it. That just means you get to boss people around."

That made Sylva giggle, and after she tucked the stuffed dragon away again, she leaned up to kiss the wolf's cheek. "It means I know the greater plan. The six or so of us who have been given an original doll have all personally met The Wind. We have all met the leaders of our factions, and we all know the greater plan."

Gothaal blinked. "What greater plan?"

"That killing the Queen is only the beginning." Sylva's smile grew. "That it is just the first step in the endgame of this war. Right now, the others with an original doll have spread out through Illandra, to the major cities, to start informing our faction heads of their part of the plan. We tell the others that The Wind will help us, that The Wind will fight for us. But the truth is, it is the other way around." Sylva drew her cloak around herself, her pack hanging from an arm. "And the six of us answer only to the Wind."

"Well, I hope when this is all done and we can say once and for all that Illandra is vanquished, you fancy-pants antique-holders will still remember the small people who helped you get there." The wolf chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her up against his body.

"Oh, my dear Wolf," Sylva said, reaching up to stroke his muzzle. "I could never forget you. But do recall that everything I've told you is in great confidence."

"So I'll just tell that little old lady who slapped my ass, then."

Sylva laughed, and leaned her head against the Koraa'gi's warm, furry chest. Strange to think how much she'd come to care for him over the last few years. It was a shame she didn't get to see Tarek very often, anymore. She still cared for him, too. Yet their tasks and operations dictated that they stay far from each other most of the year. Tarek worked more directly with units and cells engaged in both direct assaults and in sabotage, while Sylva worked behind the scenes with information and assassination. And she worked to further the Wind's plans.

Plans that would soon see her beloved Aran'alia restored to its full glory, and Illandra reduced to the crumbled husk it so deserved to be. Sylva smiled at the thought. "In the grand scheme of things, my dear Wolf, it will not be long now."

"Not long till what?" Gothaal gently rubbed her back.

"Till there is no more Illandra." Sylva smirked up at him. "Perhaps we shall rename it, the Twenty-Fourth Province of Aran'alia."

"Think I'd go with Stinkhole, myself," The wolf said, chuckling.

Sylva laughed, but the gradually rising sound of vast wings beating soon drew her attention. With a sigh, she kissed the wolf's bare, furry chest and then pulled away from his grasp. "Sounds as though my ride is here. Do be a good boy and don't get too drunk without me, hmm?"

"No promises," the wolf said, grinning. "We both know you'll catch up as soon as your meeting is over."

Down the street, the female dragon that had carried Sylva here from another secret place swept in along the side of the mountain. Blue wings edged in black stretched out at her sides, holding her in the air as she glided along the terrace-like street. Gradually she descended, and as she neared the stone-paved road she slowly folded her wings in until she simply dropped out of the sky. The blue dragon landed upon four black paws, and trotted to a stop. She peered around, crinkling her black marked nose, and soon silvery eyes flecked with gold alighted upon Sylva.

Sylva shouldered her pack over her cloak, and gave the Koraa'gi a little wave. Then she turned away from him and began to stride down the street towards the dragon. The mostly blue-scaled female dragon had come to a stop in front of a few vendors pushing wooden carts hawking a variety of meats. Each of them was offering her something different to sample, and the relatively young female dragon certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. She plucked each offering from the humans hands with a front paw, made a show of sniffing and examining it, and eventually popped it into her muzzle.

Sylva took the opportunity to look the female over. She was not all that large by dragon standards, but Sylva wasn't really sure what the size difference between males and females was, or how long dragons continued to grow. Sylva was pretty sure the female was an adult, but for all she knew her breed might continue to grow throughout their entire lives. She was a rather lithe looking dragon, more curves and lean muscle than bulk and power. She took after her mother in that regard, though her mother's body had been honed by years of war.

Most of the young dragoness' body was covered in blue scales, though they were of a paler hue than those of her mother. Her back and her wings were the darkest blues, almost an indigo hue while the rest of her gradually faded to a sky blue along her sides and a robin's egg tone along her belly. If the old images were reliable, her mother had born similar hues when she was young as well. Unlike her mother, this younger female had a multitude of black markings. Each of her paws was black, and each limb held a slightly different proportion of the inky tones. Black fingers on one front paw, while the other held a black sock that rose nearly to her elbow joint. Her hind limbs held similar patterns. She also bore a black mark upon her nose, and at the tips of her tail. Yet more black color marked the edges of her wings in swirling lines and blotches.

"Hello, Sylva," the female dragon remarked when she'd finished sampling all the treats the vendors had to offer.

"Hello, Azure Tempest." Like most of the dragons Sylva knew of, it would be a rare day when she allowed a human to use her true name. She had chosen a suitable moniker and given it to Sylva and the townspeople. Sylva walked up to the dragon, and when Azure Tempest lowered her head, Sylva reached out and gently rubbed her nose. The young female seemed quite friendly with humans, and Sylva already knew what sort of attentions she enjoyed. Azure Tempest began to rumble a soft purr and nuzzle Sylva's hand. "How're you this fine morning?"

"Quite well," Azure replied, closing silver eyes speckled with gold and pushing against the human woman's touch. "How about yourself? All ready to fly again?"

The spark of mischief in Azure's voice made Sylva tense. She flinched inwardly. "Perhaps I should take the tunnels, instead."

"Nonsense," the dragon said, smirking. She lowered herself onto her belly and flared up her small spines in smug amusement. "They're dark and confusing and full of stairs. The view is horrible, unless you like rocks and lanterns and pools of slime. Now climb upon my back."

"Wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting," Sylva muttered in resignation. She walked to the dragon's back, and carefully began to climb up. She made sure not to dig her fingers into the dragoness' wing joint this time. Azure hadn't appreciated that the other day. She placed her boot against the dragon's scales a little tentatively, trying to push herself up without hurting the dragon. "Is this alright so far?"

"Oh, just haul yourself up there. You only irritated me last time because you were digging your nails into my flesh." The female tossed her head.

Sylva wasn't so sure, but she did not want The Wind That Carries to wonder what was taking so long. So she took a deep breath, and simply dragged herself up onto the female's back with a grunt of effort. She settled in near the base of the dragon's neck with a leg on either side of her. She peered around, taking a last look at the ground, then leaned forward a little against the back of Azure's neck.

"How's that?" Sylva asked, nervousness creeping into her voice.

"Perfect," Azure Tempest replied with entirely too much trouble in her voice for Sylva's liking. "Now hold on tight. Really tight!"

Uh oh. Azure wasn't thinking..."Don't you DARE!" Sylva shrieked when Azure turned right towards the stone ledge at the edge of the elevated road.

"Here we go!" Azure said, laughing.

In one smooth motion, Azure ascended the ledge and leapt right off of it. Instantly the blue dragon was plummeting towards the next level of stone-carved city. Sylva screamed like a terrified child as they hurtled towards the terrace road immediately below them. Peering down from above it had seemed so far away but now as they streaked towards it, it was suddenly right in front of them. Sylva felt herself lifting up from the dragon's back, and clung as tightly to Azure's neck as she could. Sylva kept screaming until at the very last moment Azure threw out her wings and broke off her dive. She pulled up, and Sylva crashed down hard against the dragon's back as they swept over the top of the buildings alongside the road. Rooftop crops swayed and bent in the force of the wind beneath the dragons wings. Azure beat her wings a few times, and burst out laughing as they began to ascend.

"You bitch!" Sylva screamed before she could stop herself. She punched the dragon in the back of the neck, scraping her knuckles. Somehow she was sure that hurt her hand more than it hurt the dragon's neck. "You scared the living hell out of me!"

"Humans," Azure scoffed, still laughing. "So afraid of a little diving."

"I would call that falling! It's the falling I'm afraid of!"

"That's because you don't have wings!" Azure stroked her own wings against the air, pulling the two of them higher as she began to ascend in a tight spiral. Sylva pressed herself to the female's neck, too rattled to really argue any further. "Just be glad you're female!"

"Why?"

"Because! Last time I tried that trick with a male rider, when I broke my dive I think I broke his balls as well!" Azure burst out laughing all over again. "Poor human was walking funny the rest of the day."

The image brought a smile to Sylva's face, but it didn't make her feel any better about the dragoness' trick. "You should be glad you're female, too! If you were male I'd kick yours into your skull for that little stunt!"

"I like your spirit," Azure laughed, tilting her head back to peer up at their objective. "But don't be cranky. You've got to learn to deal with heights somehow."

"No I don't!" Sylva tightened her grip around the dragon's neck again, clinging to her. Cold mountainous winds whipped her black hair around her head. "All I've got to do is put up with them for a little while at a time. We're almost there, aren't we?"

"Can't you tell?"

"No!" Sylva said. She had her face buried in the scales on the back of the dragon's neck, her eyes closed. "After what you just did I'm not opening my eyes till we land."

"Believe it or not, if you fall, you'll hit the ground whether your eyes are open or not!" Sylva could practically hear the dragon's smirk. "So you may as well enjoy the view."

"Not funny, Dragon!" Sylva spat her words through grit teeth.

"You know," Azure mused aloud, teasing Sylva as she ascended towards the citadel. "For a high ranking spy and assassin, you're awfully easy to frighten."

"That's because I can't put a knife in the sky, and I can't fight my way out of a freefall!"

"But we're not in freefall. We're ascending."

"So far..." Sylva shivered at the idea. "Don't you dragons ever fear you're going to topple all the way back down?"

"No," Azure said, chuckling. "But thank you for putting that image in my head. I'm sure I'll have wonderful dreams now." She cleared her throat with a growl, then glanced back. "What I fear is being shot down. To fall and be unable to stop myself. But if I feared my own flights, I wouldn't have much of a life to enjoy, would I!"

About the time Sylva was starting to wrap her mind around the sense that made, she could feel them starting to descend. Only a few moments later and she was jostled upon the dragon's back when Azure touched down. Azure trotted a few steps and came to a stop. She folded her wings, brushing them against Sylva in the process.

"You can open your eyes now." Azure chuckled, gently easing herself down onto her belly. "We've landed."

"Thank you," Sylva murmured, slowly easing away from the dragon's neck. She opened her eyes and swung a foot over Azure's back, and then hopped down to the stony ground upon which they'd landed. "Where are we?"

"The courtyard," Azure said, pushing herself back up to all fours. "The three buildings you can see from below are over there." She gestured with a paw across a vast, stony courtyard that seemed to be hidden away in the middle of the citadel that topped the mountain. "And over there is the meeting hall where my mother awaits you."

Sylva quickly glanced around the area. There were stone buildings on both ends, and areas of mountainside carved into flat walls that were marked with old windows and doorways cut through the stone. Some of them looked totally inaccessible, blocked off by debris and brush. Others looked as though they'd recently been cleaned up and repaired, fitted with new doors painted in colorful hues. Many an ancient, gnarled tree grew throughout the courtyard, bristlecone pine and hardy fir. It seemed the citadel was not quite so elevated that even trees could not grow, but only those most fit for long, cold winters lasted.

Near the center of the courtyard, coiling wisps of steam rose from what looked like some kind of hot spring. The air was tinted with a slightly sulfurous hue. Old stone planters and well worn benches lined the area around the spring. Four especially twisted looking trees were evenly spaced around it. Given the way their forms had buckled in years past, it looked as though they'd once been used to anchor some kind of canopy or enclosure around the spring. Probably used to trap in the hot steam and warm the place in wintertime. Lanterns and banners hung from iron rings and wooden poles. Though Sylva would have enjoyed just wandering around the place exploring what was left of the old garden and how it was being restored, she knew she had little time for that. Perhaps later she'd get a chance to see the rest of the place.

"Your mother?" Sylva asked simply.

Azure walked towards the largest of the buildings on the far end of the courtyard. Sylva followed her, passing between rows of wooden, cross-shaped poles. At one side mirrored lanterns hung from simple hooks, and on the other side hung banners depicting silvery, crescent-axe shaped raindrops and white daggers. Others held outlines of dragons silhouetted against blue skies.

The meeting hall seemed a large enough building to have served as fortress in its own right, yet it was just another part of the citadel complex which The Wind That Carries called home. The meeting hall was cut from simple gray stone, rows of narrow windows marked it at each of its multiple stories. Battlements crowned its roof and walkways, and there were simple towers at its corners. Remnants of old murals and images still covered its drab but sturdy frame here and there. A set of massive double doors marked the entrance to the sturdy, rectangular building. The doors were clearly new. They were painted a bright blue color, with a stylized pair of golden-edged dragon wings stretched across them. Aran'alian runes from ages long faded were painted in silver all around the edges of the doors. Sylva still recognized most of them.

On either side of the doors hung massive silver banners at least as tall as Sylva. Each banner held a dragon's head on it. The banners looked as new as the doors did. The banner on the left side of the door bore a dark blue dragon's head emblazoned upon it, along with the phrase The Wind That Carries. Her real name was written in several languages beneath it. Sylva knew the name but it somehow felt inappropriate to use it without permission. The other banner held the image of a male dragon with scales a deep, burnished bronze in color. The phrase Fury Of The Earth stretched above it. Beneath it, the real name of The Wind's mate was offered in a few more languages.

"Those are nice," Sylva said, smiling.

"They're also new," Azure explained. "In the last few years, anyway." Then she huffed and pouted a little. "I don't get one yet. It isn't fair, though. I want a banner, too."

Sylva chuckled a little to herself. "Perhaps if you ask your father for one. It often seems as though fathers have a hard time telling their daughter no. At least among humans."

"I can't," Azure said, tossing her head. "My father isn't here."

"Where is he?" Sylva asked, innocently enough, glancing up at the bronze dragon's head. Not much of a resemblance.

"In the Queen's Dungeon," Azure said, quite flatly.

Sylva's eyes widened and she gasped, taking a step back. Oh, Gods. She hadn't even been thinking. It wasn't as though it was some great secret. She just..."I'm terribly sorry, Azure!" She bowed her head, flushing scarlet. "I meant no offense, I wasn't even thinking. I cannot apologize enough..."

Azure Tempest burst out laughing. She flared her spines, shaking her head. "Oh, hush. I'm only having a bit of fun with you." Azure reached out for the large, lever-like handle on the door. The handles were designed specifically for dragon's paws. "Come along, quit acting so apologetic."

"Are you...certain?" Sylva slowly straightened it. As she realized the dragon was just pulling a prank on her, her cheeks only reddened further. A hint of embarrassment crept in, though she was glad she hadn't offended the female. It wasn't often someone tricked her that way. Usually she was the one doing the tricking.

"Yes, I'm certain," She said, still grinning. "I don't consider him my father. The one I do consider my father isn't here simply because he's off on a mission. Now come along, already."

Sylva stepped forward, smiling sheepishly. "As you wish it, Azure. I simply did not wish to offend. I just...wasn't sure of your feelings towards...him. I did not wish to upset you if you still cared for your real..." She paused, that probably wasn't the right word. "Your biological father."

"Nonsense," Azure said, a growl creeping into her voice. She twisted around so that she might hold the door open with a hind paw, and better regard the woman she was speaking too. "Why should I care about him? I have little care or regard for someone who would father me and then simply leave. Nor have I any interest in caring for someone who would leave his own son behind to bear the weight of his father's sins."

Azure paused a moment. She hissed through her teeth, gesturing angrily with a paw. "My older brother may have pined for him growing up, but I certainly did not. Valar's father was not there to worry for us. Valar's father was not there to raise us. Nor was he there to love us or teach us. And he certainly was not there to hold mother as she cried. But someone was! My father. My father was there for her every day. My father was there for all of us every day. He might not have sired me himself, but that is the dragon I consider my father." Azure snorted and tossed her head. "As far as I am concerned, my brothers and I all have the same father, and his name is Voskalar. Now, go inside. You've kept mother waiting long enough."

---

Chapter Fourteen

Sylva paused a moment to let her eyes adjust inside the grand meeting hall. Even with a bit of fiery mountain sunlight streaming in through the narrow windows, the place was still a bit dim. Lanterns hanging from bronze fixtures embedded in the stone walls helped a little. The doors she'd just passed through lead her to a small, hallway-like antechamber that quickly opened up into a very large and much more impressive room.

When her eyes had adjusted, Sylva could see the meeting hall itself was a grandiose place with enough room for a whole family of dragons to lounge about in. It rose several stories above her. At the back of the room there was a raised stone balcony. It had elegant railings of spiral-cut white marble that continued down along the curved staircases at either end. Though the floor was gray granite, thick rugs and soft carpets coated the floor in hues of gold, burgundy, and dark blue. A few large mahogany tables stood here and there. Immense hearths lay at the left and right ends of the room. Each hearth was a wondrously constructed thing, built from stone blocks of all shapes and sizes all carefully mortared together into the shape of a dragon's head with a gaping maw. Fires burned brightly in the stone dragons' mouths. Several doorways and halls lead into chambers beyond. Banners hung from the balcony's railing, as well as the railing on the staircase.

Sylva paid the room's decoration little attention because her eyes were immediately drawn to The Wind That Carries.

"Hello, Sylva," the old blue dragon said softly.

"Hello, Wind," Sylva replied. She gave a formal bow despite the fact that Wind was not looking at her.

The Wind That Carries lay sprawled out near the hearth on the left side of the room. Firelight painted her indigo scales in dancing shades of orange and red, casting her in fiery hues. From Sylva's perspective it almost looked as though The Wind herself were the one that was burning. Sylva smiled a little. Wreathed in burning flame seemed an appropriate idea for the dragon who would soon put the Queen of Illandra to the fires of vengeance.

Wind closed the large, leather-bound book she'd been reading. She carefully tucked it away into a secluded alcove shelf occupied by a few other books, and slowly rose to her feet. She turned around and padded towards the center of the room. As she moved away from the fire, the burning glow around her body faded. Instead she passed through shafts of sunlight which seemed to intensify the almost midnight blue hue of the scales on her back, where her colors were darkest.

As The Wind settled upon her haunches in the center of the room, near one of the large tables, Sylva looked up at the banners that hung from the balcony above the dragon. Each of them depicted a different dragon. The one in the center was a young blue female. For a moment Sylva wondered why Azure had been complaining, clearly she had a banner inside the meeting hall. Yet Sylva quickly realized the blue dragon in the banner had no black markings at all. The name of the young blue dragon in the banner was given in several languages.

Kylaryn.

"I'm not as pretty as I once was," The Wind murmured with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Sylva replied, smiling a little. "I did not mean to stare at it."

"Stare all you like," Wind said, smirking. "I did not rescue them as Sigil Stones fell to have them be ignored."

"That answers my next question, then," Sylva said, craning her neck to peer up at the banner. She glanced at the others. Some of them she recognized. There was a young black dragon, with a few faint blue markings. He looked a little like his son. And the bronze dragon was certainly Fury Of The Earth. But the green dragon, and the black female with golden markings, she did not recognize them. At least not right away. Probably either gone, or simply not part of the cause anymore. Sylva flicked her eyes back to the earth-toned dragon, and did her best not to giggle. "Your mate was..."

"He was a runt," Wind said with a laugh. "Tiny little thing. Barely even had a set of balls back then."

Sylva giggled and shook her head, blushing just a little. The things these dragons said. "You were all so young back then."

"Yes," Wind said, glancing up at the banners. Her eyes lingered a moment upon The Dread Sky. "We were."

Sylva caught her gaze but did not mention it. While Azure Tempest may want nothing to do with her father, Sylva wondered if The Wind still missed him. While The Wind was distracted, Sylva took a moment to glance back and forth at the banner depicting her younger self, and the older dragon sitting before her. They were clearly the same dragoness and yet there were clear differences, as well.

The Wind That Carries' colors had deepened greatly over the years. What had once been burnished cerulean and indigo along her back had darkened to a midnight blue that was nearly black. The rest of her colors had followed suit. Her wings were shades of midnight nearest her body and dark royal blue near the tips. Most of her body, once a rather bright sky blue, had long since darkened to a deep indigo color. Nearer her belly the colors gradually began to fade but what had once been the shade of robin eggs was now the color of the late afternoon sky.

There were other obvious changes to The Wind as well. She did not look quite as lithe and curvy as she once did, though perhaps Sylva was not knowledgeable enough about dragons to know for certain. But a lifetime of war both open and secret and more battles than Sylva could possibly count had hardened The Wind's body in ways most dragons would never know. All dragons were strong, but The Wind was steel. Scars in gray lines and pink blotches marked her body, each of them a wound that had only managed to make her stronger. And her eyes...Sylva could scarcely stand to look into them. They shone like pools of silver fire that would burn away the world itself if The Wind but wished it.

The Wind was the strongest soul that Sylva had ever known. She had known more pain and more hardship than any other one creature Sylva could think of. The Wind saw her family murdered and searched a lifetime for a brother she would never find. The Wind had her home stolen by men and steel. The Wind had the greatest human she'd ever met ripped away from her by murderous flame and saw that loss drive her love to madness and ruination. The Wind raised The Dread Sky's son and daughter and kept them safe even in times of war. And all that long before Aran'alia had even fallen and life grew harder still for her.

For all her long life The Wind That Carries had known pain and endured unspeakable hardship and it had only made her stronger. That strength would soon carry Aran'alia and Death In The Night to victory, and drive Illandra to its end. Sylva would follow The Wind until her dying day because The Wind was the greatest soul Sylva had ever encountered.

With a smile upon her face, Sylva took her pack off, and set it upon the heavy burled mahogany table. She pulled Little Wind out and set her down on the corner. The Wind cocked her head, and laughed softly at the sight of the faux version of herself.

"Carrying that around with you, are you?"

Sylva's smile turned a bit sheepish. "Everywhere I go. It is...a comfort to me, knowing you found me worthy of such an honor." She reached out and stroked the soft head of the stuffed dragon. "And it is a reminder of how hard I must work to ensure that I remain worthy of this gift, and your service."

"If you didn't work hard enough, I wouldn't have given it to you." The Wind reached out, and patted the toy's head herself. "Vos thought I was crazy when I snatched up a crate of these things before we fled Sigil Stones. But I knew they'd serve me well, some day." She glanced up at the woman. "I hope Kylyra didn't give you too much trouble?"

Sylva blinked, tilting her head. Black hair spilled sideways. "Kylyra?"

"My daughter," rumbled The Wind, curling her tail around her paws.

"Ah, yes," Sylva said, grinning. "I know her best as Azure Tempest. And she scared me so badly I nearly pissed my breeches."

"Did she," The Wind murmured. Sylva couldn't be sure if she was amused or angry.

"Unfortunately for me, she's already figured out I don't like heights," Sylva shook her head, digging into her pack. She pulled out stacks of documents. Some were sealed with wax sigils. Sylva also took out a few hardened wooden scroll cases. "So she thought it would be funny to jump off the edge of the road and dive for a while. See how loud she could make me scream before she finally threw her wings open."

"Ah, that old trick," The Wind murmured. She lifted a paw and scratched around the base of one of her gray, ridged horns. "I think we all try that out when we first start carrying riders. She'll grow out of it, eventually."

"Hopefully before she accidentally sends me plummeting to my death," Sylva said, grinning a moment. She set her pack aside, and quickly checked the sigils pressed into the wax of the most important documents. A curved dagger inside a raindrop with a crescent shape marked each blob of blue wax. "Everything looks good."

"And what have you got there, hmm?" The Wind asked, reaching out to put a single digit on one of the documents and slide it towards herself.

"You know perfectly well what I've got," Sylva answered, chuckling. She tapped a few of the sealed forms. "These are all updated information about our numbers in their city and villages." Then she tapped another paper. "This is information on preparation levels and supplies." She lifted a third document, folded and sealed, and shook it with a smile. "This one is about the stones, or so I'm told."

The Wind cocked her head, peering at the paper beneath her paw. "And this one? Looks like your writing."

"Recognize that, do you?" Sylva nodded, leaning forward. "A list of targets, basically, and projected impacts following their capture or elimination."

Kylaryn reached for another paper, also sitting by itself. "What about this one?"

"That one was drawn up by me as well, after meeting with multiple sources." Sylva tapped a finger against the outline of a feather drawn in black ink. "Known locations where the Bird's been spotted. Contacts we think he has. Places we think he goes. Some of the people on that list are also on my target list. Wouldn't hurt to give The Wings of Illandra a few less reliable contacts if we have the chance. Hell, with enough people, we might even be able to..."

"If you feel his contacts might be a threat to our existence, do what you must." The Wind licked her nose, chuckling. "That is why I put you in this position, after all. Not just because I trust your ability, but because I trust your judgment. If they are spies for Illandra, deal with them." Then she hardened her tone, boiling mercury eyes fixed directly on Sylva. "But leave the bird alone. Is that understood?"

Sylva pursed her lips. "As far as we know, he's their only winged-"

"The moment you think you're about to ambush him in his sleep is the moment he rips you and your ten best men apart, Sylva. Right before he returns to the Queen to report his success in eliminating our spies with an ambush of his own." Kylaryn snapped her jaws, waving her paw. "Who do you think she sends when she needs someone eliminated without tipping Illandra's hand?"

"All the more reason to remove him," Sylva said, then softened her tone. "In my opinion, Wind. Of course, that matters little if we do not have a clear shot at him." She folded her arms. "And admittedly, we do not."

The Wind That Carries hissed through her teeth. "It does not matter, because under no circumstances are you to engage the gryphon without my explicit permission. I will not have you risking yourself in an attempt to eliminate him needlessly when we are this close to success." Wind lowered her head, narrowing her molten silver eyes. "Is that understood?"

Sylva bowed in acquiescence. "Yes, Wind. Completely."

"Good," answered the blue dragoness. She pulled her wedge shaped head back, her neck curling into an S. "Beyond that, he means a great deal to my son. I do not wish to put him through even more agony unless there is no other choice."

"And if the bird is there, at the Queen's side when we strike?"

The Wind That Carries took a deep breath. Sylva saw pain flicker behind the dragoness' eyes. She knew then that this gryphon meant something to The Wind, as well. He'd been a friend to her son when her son was in a very dark place and Wind truly did not want to have to harm the Black Bird. But that pain was burned away in an instant by the fiery determination shining in her silver gaze. "I will end him myself, if I must."

"So be it, Wind," Sylva said softly. She walked around the table and gently placed her hand upon the scutes of Wind's foreleg. "We are here for you, if you need us."

Wind looked down at her, smiling a little. She lowered her head, and gently brushed her dark blue nose against the woman's forehead. "Thank you, Sylva. Now. Have you brought the maps?"

"Indeed I have." Sylva returned to the other side of the table and began to open the scroll cases. She gestured with one of the wooden cylinders at the various stacks of sealed documents spread across the table. "Those are all in the usual code, as well."

"Good," murmured the blue dragon.

Sylva soon pulled a few sets of maps from the scroll cases. She set most of them aside, and unrolled the most important of them. She used the cases as anchors on the corners of the map to keep it flat against the table. The map depicted the entire northern half of the continent, including Illandra and all of its provinces, as well as the bordering realms and the lands that lay beyond. A winding line had been traced upon the map in blue ink. It wove through Illandra, sometimes upon major roads, other times through the countryside. It passed through various conquered provinces and eventually wound its way to Aran'alia, before looping back the way it came.

"This is her route," Sylva said softly. "There may yet be changes, but we believe this to be all the major points she plans to hit, and the roads and trails she plans to take."

"And where did you get this?"

Sylva chuckled. "From your agent in Illandra's capital. One of your Six." She smirked a little. "I like her wagon."

"A little piece of home," Wind murmured, following the blue inked line with her eyes. "Does she think her source is trustworthy?"

"Oh yes," Sylva said, gesturing to another document. "This one is a letter to you, from your agent in the merchant wagon. Explaining about her source, and the general details of her acquisition of this information. She gave me the gist of it."

"Who is the source?" Wind tilted her head, still peering at the map.

"A noble, actually." Sylva tugged idly at the hem of her cloak, just as a smirk tugged at her lips. "From the Twenty-Fourth Province of all things."

"Really?" Wind lifted her silver eyes from the map, her spines flaring in suspicion.

"Yes, I was worried as well," Sylva said, pulling her cloak around herself. "But I know you trust her, and so do I. According to what she told me, this noble is purposefully slipping Death In The Night the information because he wants them to eliminate the Queen."

"Why would he..."

"To have the ear of the King," Sylva explained. "The Twenty-Fourth province, and other noble houses do not get along well with the current Queen, it seems. But quite a few of their younger members have made friends with the Prince. They wish to see him ascend sooner rather than later because they believe they'll be able to wrap him around their fingers."

"Hah!" The Wind That Carries gave a nearly explosive laugh. She thumped her tail in amusement. "Those treacherous fools don't even realize they'll never have that chance. Their King will have scarcely warmed the throne with his ass before we've cast him from it and toppled his kingdom around him."

A smile spread across Sylva's lips. "My thoughts exactly. At any rate, we believe this information is accurate."

"Good."

As The Wind That Carries returned to studying the Queen's route, Sylva watched her a moment. Sylva released her cloak, and folded her arms beneath her breasts. She pressed her lips together, then gave a little sigh. "I assume by now you've heard what your agent in Illandra did with her doll? Or rather, who she gave it to?"

The Wind That Carries paused. Though she did not lift her eyes, Sylva saw the specter of a smile creep across her snout. "I have. She sent a message my way the day it happened. To think that it would find its way to Valyrym..." The Wind gave a slow sigh, her smile growing for a moment. "When I first sent her to Illandra, to that city, I almost told her to leave it for him. To send it through the bars of his cage while he slumbered. I even cradled it to myself for a night or two, so it would have my scent. And then I thought..."

The Wind shook her head, settling her spines against her self. "I thought...no. It felt a cruel reminder to give the old bastard now. And yet it finds its way to him anyway, and through his warden of all people." She paused as pained memories unrolled themselves across her silver eyes for long moments. Her muzzle twitched, her ears drooped. "I hope it has brought him more comfort than he brought his son." Then she hissed, and slapped her paw soundly against the table. "Enough talk of Valyrym."

"Yes, Wind," Sylva said with a simple bow. "Do you see any place that looks suitable for an attack?"

"I see several," the blue dragoness murmured, trying to draw her mind away from her old mate. It made her feel foolish now to think of how badly she had stumbled over the very love she had tried to share with him for so long. If only she better knew how to express and share that love back then, things might have been so different. Yet it would do her no good to dwell upon the past. Then something else caught her eye. She leaned in, peering at the map. "This place, here."

"Yes," Sylva said simply. "I thought about that, as well."

"Is that where I think it is?"

"Yes," Sylva said again. "The Queen plans to spend some time there. It is my understanding they have a memorial site there now."

"They do," replied The Wind. "I have seen those graves."

"Ah," Sylva murmured. "It sounds as though the Queen wishes to pay her respects to them."

"Then that..." Kylaryn tapped the marker on the map. "That is where I shall plan the attack. It seems a fitting place for another Queen to die."

"She will be well guarded," Sylva cautioned. "There is ample space there to set up defenses, a perimeter. Her party will be relatively small but they will be her best men. Her bird may be there, and if he is, he will likely be in armor."

"So will I," Kylaryn said, lifting her head from the map. "This must be done. Illandra's tyranny must be ended, and our people must be made free for all time." A determined growl crept into Kylaryn's voice as she spoke, flaring out her spines. "I will slay her men. I will tear her Bird from the sky. If he forces my claws I will end him. I must do the same to anyone who stands at his side!"

Kylaryn turned away from the table to peer up at the banners hanging from the balcony. Firelight flickered in her eyes in brilliant red hues and her voice was naught but a burning whisper. "Illandra's sins have echoed through the ages until at last they have fallen upon their Queen. It is time for those sins to be counted. Illandra's deeds now bear down upon the heads of anyone who sees fit to defend this bloated tyrant. Be they man or beast, all those who stand between the Queen and her reckoning will die upon my claws."

A smile slowly spread across Kylaryn's muzzle as she thought of a better future. A future without Illandra. "The news of the Queen's death will spread across the land like the tolling of a bell that calls our people to rise. And rise they will. For when the death-bell tolls, our hidden army shall tear the tyrants from their bloody thrones. At long last, Illandra shall pay for its sins."

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Thus ends Echoes Of Sin. My sincerest thanks for reading. If you've enjoyed it, please Fav the story, and leave a comment with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear them. Until next time, my friends.