Torn Dandelions
・✦・
Waning gibbous,
Sun in the Northern Serpent,
Year 404,
Kreon's Era
・✦・

The new human settlement had its foundation laid and the last of the woollen tents erected by sunrise the next morning. The humans had marked the boundaries of their little village with wooden spikes driven into the ground at an angle and torches soaked in walrus fat. The fires kept the gryphons at bay. The dragon looking after them had by then marked his territory around the village and the surrounding forest, letting the gryphons and the occasional reptilian trespasser know of his presence.

The snowpit he had promised himself to build took a few hours to complete and in return, he was pelted in the eye with snowballs by children with horrible aims. Once the dragon had been apologised to and assured of his safety, the children set out to make humans and dragons of snow. Some of the shyer children had decided to snuggle next to him instead of playing. The warmth their bodies radiated was lulling him to sleep when a voice called for his attention.

"Yes, little bird?"

The child was fidgeting around; he could hear the anxiety in the soft brushes and rubs of his sleeves against the body of his fur coat. He smelled of panic and timidness.

"Can I braid your mane, Lord?"

"Sure," Hess whispered. "Go ahead."

A pair of soft mitted hands stroked a patch of his neck and tended to the crop of silver mane-scales sprouting from there. His eyes drooped and shut under the rhythmic tug and release of the child's fingers.

Look at him, said a voice in his head foreign to his own. So blissfully unaware of what he has done.

Pathetic.

The child's fingers stopped and his friends turned their heads at the whistle of a guard.

"Dragon," cried the guard. Hess wondered why Ianara had decided to encroach on his territory on the day of the covert meeting he had planned.

Unlike the annual Gathering of the major clans, the details of this alliance meeting would be left unrecorded by the Archivists and the Imperial Archives wouldn't know of it. The meeting would decide if the clans of Thalassus would stand by Gleyssier for the coup, no matter what their underlying reason would be. Hesperion couldn't afford to be swayed by Caeliors at the last minute.

The female dragon awaiting him at the borders of the human village wasn't Ianara. The air dragon was built leaner than her ice dragon counterparts to tear through the sound barrier while diving to the earth. As she shifted her weight from one pair of legs to the other, Hess felt his heartbeat grow faster. The gold of the dawn sky behind her dulled the brilliant blue of her hide but it complemented her honey-coloured eyes. The two leather crests behind her golden horns rose and fell with her breathing. Blood rushed to his muzzle as the sea breeze blowing uphill filled his nose with her scent. It washed over his senses with her identity.

Rybon always had that well-practised, elegant sway to her tail that irked one too many purebred cloud dragons. Her lips curved up towards the beginning of her muzzle in a confident reptilian smile.

It was that smile, he realised. The tense one she always wore when there was pain to be masked.

He would have licked her tears and asked her who had hurt her in the past.

The dragon standing before him had no tears left to shed and the one responsible was him.

He could feel it tear a new gash in his chest.

Maybe they might have had a future together when they were fledgelings. Perhaps they had had a chance of ending up with each other when they were innocent, pure, untainted by clan politics. All of that was gone now. They were simply a pair of strangers who were supposed to interact.

There was no going back, no undoing what had happened at the last Gathering of clans. The damage done was irreversible, permanent.

He had to let go.

The memories of her violent outburst at him were still raw in his mind, and the palpitations in his chest grew stronger as he walked up to her. Just as he opened his muzzle to greet her, his throat dried up.

Why wasn't his syrinx working all of a sudden?

"Your sister wishes to meet you before the event starts, Hesperion Aleunor," Rybon said before he could get a word out. Her tone was cool, dignified and directed to address a stranger. Not her best friend. Not someone she grew up with.

Sunshine, she used to call me her sunshine, he could hear a part of himself whispering in his mind. His beating heart was ripping open the gash in his chest, and it did without spilling a drop of blood. The worst wounds like the best assassins left no marks on their victims.

Stop, he told himself. Get this over with quickly.

"Hmmm," he managed. He swallowed his saliva like he hadn't drunk water for days. Her golden eyes bore into his as she waited for him to continue. Little did she know that Hess was lost in them, looking for something long gone.

Hess' talons dug into the earth and he cleared his throat.

"Where will she be...she be expecting me?"

"This meeting of yours is at the Second Crown isn't it, she said she'd be waiting for you at her usual perch there."

Pruina would be waiting where she usually sunbathes, on that peak on the southern face of Mons Albine, he told himself. 

"Why a chat right now?" He asked her.

The intensity of her glare grew soft.

"To talk some sense into you and by extension, into your brother."

Her voice faltered into a whisper, she lowered her gaze to the soft grass covering the knoll they stood on. Her breaths grew quick and shallow. Hess felt his hide heating up, and he wished he would just melt into water and seep into the ground. Rybon looked emancipated, tired, and weaker than usual. When her wings shifted on her back, he could see that the parts of their membranes caught in the light were riddled with holes. Dragon wings could heal quickly from punctures but Rybon wasn't eating enough to help with the healing.

Are you...starving? Can't you hunt in the open ocean? What is going on, Rybon?

She wasn't just some mongrel to him. She wasn't just a mistake hatched from an egg Livia Caelior had laid after a passionate evening with an air dragon noble from the Air Heritage Dowager's court.

Rybon had tried to tell him that, screaming at him before the crowd of cloud dragon clan representatives at the Gathering, putting her reputation and dignity as a vigil at stake. She and other mixed-heritage dragons were more than mishaps of love or glorified slaves, they deserved land to hunt, drink and sleep on as any purebred dragon did. She had stood debating with the other clan orators, throwing argument after argument trying to convince them how ghastly the proposal was till her voice grew hoarse and faint.

Hesperion Aleunor had just shaken his head and silenced her with the accounts from the Archives, accounts of how overpopulation, increased crime rates and communicable diseases like pearl scale rot ran rampant in mongrel populations. He had stated with a triumphant lash of his tail on how he planned to bring these under control with his new proposal.

Hesperion's proposal was simple and harmless, all citizens just had to trace their heritage so that a plot of land belonging to their clan could be allotted to them. And with that proposal, Hess had done away with whatever land rights mixed breeds had until then. No purebred clan born dragon would give a mongrel their land, much less claim them and admit their infidelity to their clan and carefully maintained pedigree.

That night saw his influence, power and respect amongst the clans rise. But the rise in social standing had come at a hefty price.

Oh, how confident he had felt then, with fire rushing through his veins as he towered over the other clan orators and representatives. That rush of having the gathering's undivided attention, having them agree to every word out of his mouth, to have them fight and bring opponents down for his cause- that feeling of power over the others had made him feel invincible.

He had lost control. He had revelled in it. He was drunk on the high. He had hurt those who had been loyal to him regardless of clan alliances.

It wouldn't have changed a thing had he gone straight for Rybon's neck instead.

The air dragon was silent for a long time, watching the grass blades covering the land flutter.

"People change skins so quick these days."

The knot in Hesperion's throat grew bigger.

"I-" he began

"Don't bother," she cut him off. Her voice had a slight tremble while speaking.

Gleyssier's words broke through the silence in his head. His mane scales pricked up as they echoed within his head.

When people say you've changed, what they mean is that you've stopped being the version of yourself that's useful to them. That you've stopped being the person they can manipulate.

No, he told that voice, no, you will shut up. She's not what you think she is. She never was.

We had a chance, he thought, his eyes and throat burning.

A chance. Maybe if I had held my tongue, maybe if I had asked her before I went ahead, we would've had a chance. She wouldn't have been hurt, she would've been fine. We could've been hunting whales in the Cynthean Ocean together, she could've had three square meals of gryphons off my land. She could've slept peacefully in my cave near me, I would've... would've preened her mane-scales, licked her wounds, hunted for her while her wings healed.

And she would've done the same for me in a heartbeat.

A fleeting image appeared before him, a rather theatrical image of himself as a fledgeling baring his fangs at his adult self.

The fledgeling me would've fought for that cause at the Gathering, he would've seen through the falsehoods. He would've torn the proposal apart and would've picked fights with Gleyssier and Pruina without a second thought. He would've taken down the one who had attacked her and torn her wings. He wasn't blind to Gleyssier's and the nobility's bias.

He drew in a haggard breath. He couldn't make himself speak to her. He could see her eyes glazing over as they stood near each other, her raised muzzle wasn't up in pride, it was her trying to hide her tears.

When did they blind me?

I miss myself.

Do you though? asked his voice in his head.

The fledgeling-you had nothing to lose. He was fed by his mother and siblings, he didn't have to fight for land, food and shelter. He didn't have to bother keeping his neighbours happy because Gleyssier and Pruina were handling them on his behalf.

What you had been, he continued in his mind, was a thankless brat who made his adult siblings' life miserable.

Look at you now, you have a territory thirty thousand wingspans wide, facing the coastline and able to house a small tribe of human pets. You are respected as an Aleunor, you have powerful cloud clan Matriarchs asking the Temple to have you court their heirs, saving you from the need to go mate-hunting. You could even get away with murder thanks to your connections, the clans would vouch for your innocence and speak on your behalf.

For the first time since your hatching, Hess, Gleyssier loves you and you have a loving family free of backstabbing snakes. 

What more could a cloud dragon ask for?

"Good day, Lord Aleunor," said the air dragon. Hess just nodded and watched her walk away from him.

Finally, I have stability but at what cost have I achieved it? He asked himself.

A worthy sacrifice, he assured himself.

There's always better catch in the ocean. Why must I settle for less?

Less.

He heard Rybon grunt and turned around to see her wince as her talons got caught in a patch of weeds. Her claws ripped the tuft from the ground as she pulled them up.

"By Quersis," she hissed. "Damned dandelions."

Hess' breath hitched in his throat.

━━━━・✦・━━━━
Waxing crescent,
Sun in the Northern Serpent,
Year 264,
Kreon's Era
・✦・

"What are you wishing for?"

The spring air smelled of freshness and promise. Hess turned to blink at the fledgeling lying by his flank watching him with half-open eyes. Rybon looked exhausted after her vigil training session but had agreed to accompany him to the dandelion field he had discovered earlier that day. Fat bumblebees and fuzzy bees buzzed and hovered over the yellow flowers and white dandelion heads, dipping down occasionally to collect nectar for their honey.

One of the ancient edicts stored in the Thalassine Archives held a tale, one that said that the first dandelions had sprouted from the spirit Imespes' fallen mane-scales. And when someone blew on them with a desire in mind, the seeds would fly back to Imespes and whisper the wish in the spirit's ear. If the wish was made with enough dedication, Imespes would grant it come next spring.

Hess returned to staring at the mature dandelion head waving its seeds at his face.

"It wouldn't work if I told you the wish. Go back to sleep."

"Come on sunshine, spill, what are you wishing for?"

Hess felt his cheeks and muzzle grow hotter and his mane-scales sprang upon his neck. His tail curled into a ball trying to contain his embarrassment and the little spines on his rose and fell.

"Nothing and I told you to stop calling me that," he said with an annoyed flap of his wings. He caught Rybon's tail dancing behind her, unbothered and carefree with the dandelions in the breeze.

"What's wrong with me calling you sunshine?" She asked.

"It's embarrassing and Cyremon teases me about it all the time. He said that it made me sound like I'm a soft fluffy gryphon cub. Now every morning it's 'Hey, bird-lion face' or 'Oh look, it's fluffball Sunshine'. I'm just tired of hearing it."

Rybon chuckled and rolled over onto her back with a gentle thud. She spread her wings over the soft leaves and petals of the grasses and their flowers carpeting the ground. Pollen grains and dandelion seeds flew upwards.

"Cyremon's got a big mouth for someone who can't spend a day without his jaw slamming into the ground while trying to stay airborne."

Hess's jaw opened wide in joy. "Really? So that's the reason for the bruises, the newt's been lying to Gleyssier about having bullies who hit him."

"The only person bullying him is himself. And it's terribly fun to watch. You should come see it sometime. We'll see who's the one whining like a gryphon cub after he falls." 

They both chortled at the thought of hearing Hess' brother Cyremon cry.

"Well," Rybon said as she pulled herself upright and sat on her haunches. Her irises gleamed in the setting sun like they were carved out of the finest tree-sap amber.

"Make a wish, Hess, it's getting late."

Hess nodded and closed his eyes. He held the picture of the dandelion before him clearly in his mind and whispered to it without a sound. He inhaled and then exhaled softly on the head.

A scattered dandelion parachute trailed its seed across his muzzle and forehead.

He opened his eyes slowly to the sight of a gigantic cloud of dandelion parachutes floating around him. His jaw dropped as thousands of dandelion seeds circled the two fledgelings as if caught in a whirlwind with them at its epicentre. A hundred bare heads of dandelions stood around him.

When he looked to his right, he saw Rybon looking at him with an open-jawed grin. The two leathery crests behind her horn stubs were erect like a cockatoo's crest. He didn't know much about those except that the crests helped the air dragons perform their elemental magic.

"What-?"

"Oh, I just amplified your breath. It's an air dragon speciality. Why wish on one dandelion when you can wish on twenty at the same time? Whatever your wish was, sunshine, I hope it comes true."

Hess felt feverish when she touched his muzzle tip with hers and his heart drummed in his ears. Her scent washed over his senses. They both found themselves smiling like fools.

I wished for you, Rybon, I wished for us.