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tamion vildor zaldrīzes (to tame a wild dragon); dragon arlecchino & reader; 5.4k words. game of thrones/house of the dragon inspired. told in brief myth prose, no content warnings. possibly grammatically incorrect High Valyrian.

Your first encounter with a dragon was in the castle grounds. A hundred meters from the nearest door to the towering stone prison and cloaked in the shade of the labyrinthine hedges, your eyes drew skyward as a shadow seventeen horses long blotted the sun in two long seconds. You remember feeling the rush of air it dragged along with it, powerful enough to send you tumbling into the grass beneath your feet; had you not held on to one of the hedges, you would’ve surely tasted the ground.

Bewildering as it was momentarily, it had subsided into an encompassing awe when you caught a proper look at the monster strong enough to send the grasses rippling like the waves at sea. It bore a long, powerful body, wrought with muscle that extended into two spanning wings at its sides. It beat them only once to rise back to altitude in the air, muscles straining whilst it pushed up into the sky as if it commanded the air beneath it to bow. Horns sprouted from its head in a crown of bone. From the base of its skull to the very tip of its tail, spines ran a course directly down the center of its back. Menace and majesty alike entwined within the body of this monster, and by heart, you knew its name.

Dragon. Kings of fire and air. Ruthless rulers of the land that no man could emulate. Monsters, as the layfolk called them; the high class called them beautiful.

You agreed even back then, young and helpless against a dragon that you later learned was young like you. You’d only watched the beast circle the castle grounds, scouring the gardens, head angled to aim one eye to the ground in search. The sun caught the coarse shine of its grey scales with every turn and bank, and when the sun found the membranes of its wings, you saw flashes of pinks and reds like the sunrise. You’d stared, mesmerized, for what felt like hours. Beautiful was the only word you could think of to describe it.

At some point the beast had sharply turned midair and taken off far into the distant forest, towards the eastward Mont Esus. It did not return.

You ran inside then, racing for your lady-in-waiting, then for your Queen Regent; your mother. You told her of the beast circling the grounds. Of its scales, of its power, its size, its majesty and magnificence. Without a rider, you provided, when she’d pressed you for any sign of it being a claimed mount. None. None at all, and to your mother, you weren’t sure if this was splendid news or terrible. She had sent you inside that day, and decreed that you were to remain inside until the palace scouts had ensured of its departure from the kingdom outskirts.

When you slept that night, you dreamt of winged beasts and the sun on your back.

. . .

The dragon did not return for another year. When you found it again, you were in the gardens again, beneath the grand mallow tree in the very center of the castle grounds. The wind sung low in your ears and the hedges rustled restlessly. Like the low roar of a lion, the air seemed to bellow in your ears whilst your blood thrummed and your heart hammered to its song. You felt it then, in your deepest being, that the dragon returned. Moments later the shadow scoured the grass in front of you and the air rushed from behind you. You looked up.

There. The grey scales and spanning wings had returned. In all of its magnificent, dreadful glory, the dragon returned to the castle grounds and you witnessed it. In the year that followed the beast’s absence you were sure that your sighting was a machination of your mind. At night, you wondered if you dreamt it; your mother’s rebuff of your inquiries about the dragon solidified that in your mind. Seeing it then had reminded you that it was no puerile game of make-believe nor a yearning dream, but a reality made flesh in a beast as long as six carriages. Two arm-wings spanning what must be ten carriages or fourteen horses, membranous and red where the sun shone through them; two powerful legs thick with corded muscle and talons long as swords; a tail that trailed behind it in the sky, ridged with spines and what appeared to be thin, short sails. Those spines and sails carved mountains along the beast’s back until it reached its head, with that same magnificent crown of horns.

Once more you were awash with awe. The beast had grown much larger in the year’s time it spent last on the castle grounds, though you were never too sure by how much. You simply knew it was larger than before and equally more splendorous.

Beautiful, you muttered to yourself. The dragon was beautiful. There was no word to describe the shimmering of its scales in the sun, the sheer power in every slow beat of its wings, the living wind in its grand chest as it breathed and exhaled. With every heaving breath it drew in, it must have been enough to fuel a fire to burn all the world’s kingdoms away. How magnificent. How terrifying. How exhilarating.

You hadn’t noticed that the beast spotted you until you felt the wind howl and roar around you as it circled closer. The wind tousled the leaves of the mallow tree, sent the grass waving every which way, and blew your summer garments flush against your body. You focused then, when the silhouette of the beast had swooped so low the wind had sent you flat onto your back. A bellowing filled the air, and amidst the scream of the air in your ears, you heard your mother call for the castle guards.

Heart racing in your chest, you sat yourself up onto your forearms to peer over your shoulder as the shadow – and the beast – circled around the tree once more. As it descended ever closer (to you!) you watched its wings flare forwards, slowing its traversal forward and ensnaring the wind to bring it to the ground.

That was when you realized it was landing near you, and you had the decency to be afraid.

Fire incarnate was circling you, stalking you, and you’d done nothing but gawk like a naive fawn as it slowly circled closer. You scrambled to your feet and steadied yourself against the trunk of the tree as the beast trained one blood-red eye on you. You ducked beneath the canopy of the tree to break its line of sight, but your back met the trunk. Its shadow followed you wherever you ducked, the both of you circling one another; one hunting, one hiding.

You were foolish, you scolded yourself. Dragons are every bit the monsters the layfolk sung of, and you are no master of war or battle capable of striking death on wings from the sky. A dragon is an untamed force of nature made flesh, and this one has trained its eye on you.

A thunderous crash shook the earth the moment you ducked behind the tree’s trunk. A brief earthquake sent shockwaves into your knees and through your spine, your ribs, your teeth as your fingers clutched the coarse bark of the trunk for stability. The tremors ceased moments later. The air stopped rushing.

You peek around the edge of the trunk.

Gods.

There, paces away, was a dragon. The dragon. Perched upon its wing-limbs and back legs, the beast was far larger upon the ground than you’d estimated it to be in the air. You thought it would’ve been six carriages, but you’re seeing a monster that is ten carriages long, and taller than the castle’s drawbridge at its fullest height. You saw its jagged grey scales and the faint soot-grey countershading that concentrated towards its dorsal, the powerful muscles, the heaving of its grand chest in every deep, bellowing breath it breathed.

The dragon’s crimson-red eyes were focused on you. The moment you locked eyes with it, you held statue-still, so overcome with a powerful and flooding sensation that you could only freeze. You could only describe it as life, like a fire, being breathed into you. It lit a flame in your veins that ignited dormant embers in your blood, searing vividness bone-deep within you, lighting your nerves until you forced yourself to breathe in.

When you exhaled, the dragon’s slitted nostrils dilated to breathe in time with you. You curled your fingers into the tree bark and it sank its wing-claws into the manicured soil beneath it. It saw you. You saw it.

It saw you.

Dragon, your mind supplied, plenty helpful. This dragon. Such conviction, so sure. You could not place it, but then, you simply knew you and this dragon were tied. As you breathed, it did too; as you shifted and slowly peeled yourself from the trunk of the mallow tree, the dragon’s head lowered to meet you at eye-level. It was no bow. Dragons do not bow.

You stepped closer. Closer, closer, cautious and entranced by the beast of fire and death lowered to the ground before you, you approached this beast and beheld its glory. You could not bring yourself to rip your gaze from its own, by some force beyond yourself; a feeling deep down told you it was far larger than the dragon itself, somehow. An entwining warmth told you that you were the home with this dragon. This beast was the warmth of the summer sun upon your skin and the nip of winter at your fingers; spring rain and fall breeze. It is nature and so are you, and you both were linked as two halves of a whole; man and nature. You shuddered as you exhaled, mere paces from its powerful jaws and the jagged outline of its horned head.

Two halves of a whole. Your hand raised slowly, searching, reaching.

Then a horn sounded. A scream of your name followed, and the shock broke your focus on the monster. The fire left your veins as the vivid warmth faded from within you, the dragon’s vertical pupils thinning to slits when you rip your gaze away to look over your shoulder.

Cavalry on horseback. Guards. You whipped your head around and realized you were close to a dragon! You staggered back with a startled cry and the dragon’s head reared to its full height once more with a sonorous warble. It sounded like a furious, frustrated snarl, and it kicked the animal part of your brain into gear to run.

The dragon’s jaws parted in a growl-roar, something resembling a cry of a lion and a monster from hell, rearing onto its hind legs and flaring its wings as the hoofbeats of the cavalry neared. It could crush you. You knew fire burned in the belly of this monster, and it could burn you; no fire burned in its throat when you ran from it.

The cavalry drew their weapons and the dragon beat its grand wings. The gust was so strong it sent you tumbling to the grass below, and the horses squealed and whinnied in fright as the beast lifted from the ground and took flight. It roared, bellowed, cried into the sky as it cut through the air and slammed its wings to fly, each beat a clap of thunder amidst the shining sun. Up, up, up, it flew, further and further away whilst the palace guards surrounded you and one pulled you to your feet.

You couldn’t explain it then, but watching the dragon disappear onto the horizon tore a hole in your chest. You felt almost physically pained watching it disappear eastward. You cried as its silhouette disappeared, as you were taken back into the safety of the palace and returned to your mother.

You cried, for your half was gone, and you were so very cold and afraid.

. . .

You were not permitted to be on the castle grounds unaccompanied for a good, long while. Not after your mother had caught her sole child far too close to a wild dragon. Your ear had been practically screamed off by your mother. Wild dragons will devour any unsuspecting maiden of your stature, she’d said. No dragon will simply arrive at your doorstep begging to be tamed. You are incredibly lucky I stopped it.

Your mother had spun you tales of dragons and the ancient kingdoms from a continent long gone. Dragons and humans first entwined with lowly shepherds in the old continent, feeding from their flocks and growing just complacent enough for a shepherd to make first contact. The first touch, Mother told you, was a seal on a bond so ancient it predated history. As man’s hand met dragonhide, their bodies were effectively one, binding their souls in an ironclad tie only severed by death. Dragons take only one bonded rider in their lifetime.

As you sat through the tongue lashing, binding your corset, you wondered if mankind only took one bonded dragon, too.

There were dragon riders in high society. Your father even had a dragon. You perked up then at the mention, and your mother exhaled sharply through her nose as your bright, bejeweled eyes fixed on her with childish wonder. Father had a dragon? You felt something swell in your chest, a deep want for knowing. Mother’s tone took a snarl, lip curling as she spoke of your father’s absence from the throne, of his focus on the beast rather than his child and kingdom. The dragon stole him from us. Make no mistake, child, dragons will devour you one way or another, just as they devoured your father. I will not let a beast steal another thing from me.

She was sure to remind you of the cutthroat nature of dragon riders. It was no place for a maiden as fair as you; sheltered, delicate, soft as you are. She decreed that you are to be followed, and that the wild dragon is to be chased out of the kingdom.

For two seasons, you endured the constant flanking by your mother’s closest guards. You watched the seasons slip by through the castle windows, a knight at your side, watching the skies in search of something you were sure would never return to you. Dragons do not simply ask to be tamed. No self-respecting dragon, especially wild, will simply fall into the arms of a being far weaker than it and ask to be friends. It’s a naive and childish notion not worthy of even a thought. You nearly died the day you came face-to-face with the wild dragon with grey scales.

Still, you stared out into the sky and wished for its return. Your chest ached with something hollow every moment you spent yearning.

At times you attempted to turn your traitorous heart away from the beast by trying to imagine it as a murderous monster. You tried to conjure the image of its teeth spearing you through tens of times, tips sharper than daggers and longer than any sword man-made. Though the images sickened you, you couldn’t bring yourself to regard them as possible; the dragon would not devour you so violently. You weren’t sure why you thought this. It frustrated you.

Your knight left you one night. You weren’t even thinking, so swathed in restlessness, that when they disappeared down the hall you clambered from your window to drop the five feet into the castle grounds below. You disappeared into the darkness then.

The moon was your sole guide in the darkness as you broke into a jog. Its gentle glow did not illuminate what the sun could, but it shone, and that was adequate. Anything was better than captivity in your room, alone, without anyone. Without the dragon. Your chest ached.

Your feet met stone, then grass, and then you were no longer paying attention to where you ran; you had to run somewhere, to escape the hollowness. Your head pounded and your throat ached as if you were on the verge of sobbing because you simply felt so empty, so without. You lacked. You needed your other half. You were missing a vital, important part of yourself, and you were feeling it like a physical wound in your empty ribs. Anything would not do. You wanted your dragon, and it terrified the last sane portion of your mind to yearn for a monster so deeply.

You cried into the night. You hoped, childishly, that your dragon would hear and swoop from the skies to fill that missing piece of yourself. You hoped its flames would burn the frost that’s taken root in your veins in its absence. You dropped to your knees at that very mallow tree and wept, tears and all, for the cavity rotting you from the inside out.

Just when you were sure the frost would devour you and the mire would decay you, you felt it. Your heart swooped and your chest swelled with the embers of warmth for the first time since summer. Your half. Your dragon. Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, you felt it far beneath the pain and the rot. Somewhere. Your dragon was somewhere. You stepped from beneath the tree to check the skies first, but only stars and darkness met your eyes. During the day, catching sight of your dragon was easy. Now, darkness cloaked you both.

You searched deep within yourself for answers when the night brought you nothing. Where was your dragon, your other half? Where was the relief you’d been seeking for nigh six months? Where, oh, where could it be?

There were stars, and then there were not. The earth beneath you rumbled. The air around you trembled. You looked up, just so, and you were met with a silhouette so dark and large you were sure the night melded into a mountain right before your eyes.

Fire flooded your veins and your chest filled with something indescribably good. The hollowness died and fulfillment flooded your body like a monsoon. Everything was right, perfect, just as it should’ve been. You were whole.

The dragon– no, your dragon was there.

From childhood you were taught the tongue of the scaled beasts. You were taught many tongues, in truth, but the most important was the ancient language of dragons. No royal family member, especially the Queen Regent’s sole child, would go without learning the draconian tongue of old. Your lips part in the biting midnight chill to draw the icy air into your lungs and speak.

“Zaldrīzes,” you breathed into the night air, breath fogging into a cloud. The word built fire in your chest and the flame in your veins roared to life. “Māzīs urnen nyke.”

Dragon, you told it. Come. See me.

Silence swathed you so thickly you did not hear the crickets sing. The night was plunged into a darkness so quiet you knew that all the world had bowed its head to the king of fire in your presence, all the world hushed in fear and awe of this beast. Only the moon held its gaze upon the land, but you could not find the eye of the monster amid the darkness.

Beneath the wholeness and warmth, you felt a twinge of fear again. You do not let it seize you.

When you wondered if you were even heard, a sonorous, bellowing rumble shook the night. It reached your chest and rattled your very bones, shaking your very being until the sound reached the deepest recesses of your heart and stoked the flame within. You’d mistaken yourself for blind, but the blotting of the stars and the near invisibility of the moon was no doubt the silhouette of your dragon. Mere feet from you must be the beast’s head.

You nearly walked into its jaws.

The next breath you breathed lined your throat with ice and shuddered as it left your lungs.

“Ao issi vestri,” you whispered. “Great gods.” You are here.

Your dragon exhaled slowly through its nostrils, in much the same staggered, stuttered fashion you had. Was it copying you? Mocking you? Were you being toyed with before being devoured? Dragons were uniquely intelligent creatures, but you had no way of knowing just how conniving one could be. You’d only ever seen the one. Tapestries didn’t count.

“Dragon,” you murmured in Common this time. “Stars and Gods, a Dragon.”

The dragon exhaled as you did. You breathed slowly one moment, then suddenly the next, and listened as the dragon’s breath matched you. It was copying you. You held your breath suddenly, and the dragon’s deep, low breathing ceased just as yours did. You exhaled sharply and it followed.

“You’re mocking me,” you dared to accuse it. The dragon’s breathing deepened in a sharp exhale, nearly a growl, and you flinched before realizing it huffed in indignance. It scoffed at you. Scoffed! When you softened and the tension melted from your shoulder, the beast’s rumbling took a gentler, warmer tone. “...You aren’t. My- my apologies.”

It simply breathed in response. You felt as though it was a mollifying gesture. You were off the hook.

In the dark of the night, you raised your hand in search of the monster. You hoped you would feel the rush of its breath against your hand to gauge its distance, or perhaps the faint warmth you imagined it would radiate. Your fingertips met coarse, firm scales, and your fingers sank into the grooves before you could halt yourself. The very moment your palm met the jagged surface of the monster’s hide, your mind quieted and focused solely on where you had touched.

You remembered your mother’s words. When you touch that beast, you are bound.

You cannot recall the rest of the night after you touched the dragon.

. . .

The morning sun greeted your eyes much the same way the screaming of war horns and hollers of armed men lovingly caressed your ears. Which is to say, you awoke in a clamor of noise and light, all whilst unaware that you had slept at all. There were screams, cries, the screeching and whinnying of horses, and then there was the deafening cry of a giant monster just above you.

Your eyes shot open to be met with cacophony and calamity. Yelling. So much yelling. Something whistles through the air just above your head and strikes true into a body above you, a roar so piercing ripped through the air in response that you swore the world around you screamed in pain. You covered your ears and groaned, curling fetal into yourself.

“They’re alive!” A male voice shouted. “Hold your fire, lest you shoot Her Majesty’s child! They’re alive!”

Hooves pound against the ground as you opened your eyes. A legion of mounted palace guards had arrived right to the mallow-wood tree that you last saw your dragon. They spread in an anxious cluster with their horses armored and their weapons drawn, shifting from hoof to hoof whilst staring down the space above you. “Back, beast!” one guard shouted, and brandished their weapon in your direction. Had they lost their minds? Were they truly speaking to their royal heir with such contempt so confidently?

A dark silhouette bowed above you and you saw teeth as long as swords flash in the dim morning light. Heat sweltering as the summer sun washed across your back as a furious roar bellowed from the jaws of a monster.

Your monster. Your dragon. Dragon!

You scrambled to your hands and knees and looked upwards in hurried fashion as your dragon’s jaws snapped shut and the roaring ceased. Surrounded on all sides by the beast’s body, you discovered you were beneath its enormous chest, just between both of its wing-arms and the armored hollow of its throat. Beneath its shadow you were enclosed, held in a haven of shadow untouched by the rising sun and unharmed, mercifully. Its massive wings shifted in your periphery as a mounted guard attempted to draw closer, its long neck craning above your prone body in the grass to meet the guard head-on. It snarled and bared those fearsome teeth until the guard retreated. It whipped its head and snapped at another, defensive.

Beneath your dragon, you witnessed the wild beast defend you from your own palace guards. It bared its teeth and roared once more. You felt its rage swell in your chest while its tail whipped from side to side some meters away. You rolled onto your arms and knees, then you tried to sit up onto your legs just as your dragon lunged forth to snap at a guard. Its wing-arm smacks into your shoulders and you meet the ground, grunting from the impact. Your dragon stills, the snarl in its throat silenced, then quieting to even breathing.

You pushed up once more, slower this time, to be met with solid warmth pushing into your chest. Fire burned in your veins. Steadying your hands on the warmth, you meet coarse scales upon your delicate hands and heavy, rushing breaths so warm you’re sure they could burn you away. You blink.

Red eyes. Crimson, blood-red, brighter than any fire and richer than any jewel stared into your own eyes. You met the gaze of your dragon as its broad muzzle steadied you, braced you to rise to your feet, and held you still until you found your balance. It did so in total silence, the only noise being the rushing of its breath from its nostrils, every heave in time with your shallow inhales and exhales. It held your stare as it did, and your heart swelled with warmth and fire every second you shared eye contact.

“Your Majesty!” A guard shouted from the safe distance your dragon kept you at, helmet removed from his head as his horse fussed and nervously paced from hoof to hoof. “Are you well? Unharmed?”

You tore your gaze from your dragon as its snout pressed to your chest, relishing the warmth of its breath upon your body in the cold air.

“I am well,” You called in return, somewhat stilted and lacking wind. “Fine. Unhurt.”

The liege of guards all continued to hold their ground. The guard speaking to you, your mother’s most favored, dared to approach closer two hoof-paces. You felt your dragon’s swelling rage before it snarled like molten steel bubbling in your gut, but you placed a hand upon the ridge of its nose before it could unleash another harsh roar or screech. The blinding heat faded to a dull simmer.

The guard spared your dragon an anxious glance. “Your mother has sent for you. She feared you may have been…”

May have been killed by the wild dragon. You knew that fear of your mother’s well. She was sure to remind you profusely that wild dragons, not the sort that the royal family raised, were volatile and monstrous. All dragons were monstrous, yes, but wild dragons were more monstrous indeed, and a delicate waif such as yourself could never hope to tame a wild dragon.

Yet there you were: surrounded by the wild dragon, touching it, your weight shouldered with its head. Only a fool would not know the significance of your hands upon the dragon’s scales; in addition, the dragon’s acceptance of your touch, and its vehement desire to protect you.

“Fate chose differently,” you said, an empty phrase that meant nothing. You knew it meant nothing, for the dragon chose you, and you chose it in turn. Fate had no hand in it.

The guard nodded tersely. “So it seems. You and this dragon, have you named it?”

You shook your head. No, you did not name this beast, for you did not know if it had a name before. Did dragons keep names before humans bonded to them?

“I will retrieve your mother,” The guard declares. “Remain near, your highness. She will wish to hold counsel with you about this.”

You watched the guard dismiss his liegemen and gallop to the castle to fetch the Queen. Every pounding hoofbeat sent them further away, and your dragon ever closer to your chest as it shifted from pressing the tip of its snout to laying the flat side of its jowls across your belly. You felt its muscles shift to peel back its lips and bare those fearsome teeth.

“Gīda, zaldrīzes,” You soothed the beast in a low tone. It rumbled and parted its jaws to gently wail into the air, protesting your quieting. “Lykīrī.”

Truly, you had no right to tell a dragon to calm down and be quiet, but given it had not ripped you to shreds for the insolence of touching it, you supposed you were within its good graces. The beast’s jaws slid slowly shut, so as to not snag your flesh or your clothing, and it returned to pressing its snout into your body. Gentle was the only word you could think to use to describe it. You held it like one would hold a beloved companion.

You held it until your mother arrived.

When she saw your dragon in your arms, she did not scream, nor did she command for it to be shot down. She stared it down with icy contempt brewing deep in her grey eyes, fire meeting ice, and simply turned away to look at you. You had expected far worse to occur, such as your mother commanding the dragon riders of the court to kill the wild dragon. Your tension bled into your other half, and it had bent its head further to shield your vital organs; you knew deep in your bones that the dragon was protecting you.

“So you’ve claimed it,” the Queen announced. She posed no question, left no room for argument or dissension. It simply was: you’d claimed the wild dragon, against all odds in her mind, and it sat before her plain as day. “You’ve not named it?”

“I’ve not named her, no,” you murmured. Since when did you get the notion that the dragon was female?

“Name her,” Your mother barked. “Swiftly. I cannot believe you let yourself go without naming her.”

You wracked your brain amidst the tension breathed anew in your body. A name, a name… what a troublesome little ritual. You hadn’t thought of a name for a wild dragon because, you supposed, that a wild dragon would have a name given to them already. Alas, this beast bore no name, and you were blessedly devoid of any dignified things. You were tempted to name her Dove, or the Dragontongue equivalent, but she was no demure beast. Doves were delicate and fickle, and your dragon was magnificent and intrepid.

You thought to fairytales, then, and conjured the image of an old tale of a realm of fire and blood, and a brave maiden. Perinheri, of the old continent; though you supposed naming your dragon after an unfortunate maiden who glimpsed death and suffered lifelong was begging to invite said fate to your beloved beast. So, you improvised.

“Peruere,” You decided then, speaking it into the air. Your dragon rumbled a sonorous growl that you felt was satisfied. The flames in your blood – the fire of your bond – flared to life brighter than ever until the heat suffused every inch of your body. “Your name is Peruere.”

Peruere closed her crimson eyes to lean her snout ever further into your body, and your mother nodded resolutely. You welcomed a dragon into your arms, a wild dragon, and you’d tamed it.

“She will be christened as one of our own on the moon’s fullest night. Until then, I will make arrangements for her roost. Decide which color of leather you’d like for her saddle. You cannot skip your measurements, nor your fittings; not for you, or for that wildborn beast. Am I understood?” Your mother told you.

You merely nodded. "Yes, Mother."

“And you will receive flight lessons from the northward vassal.”

“Fuck.”

a/n: possibly my longest piece of fanfiction yet, and it's all exposition to another fic I have lined up. Most of these myths mentioned are canonically accurate to the Game of Thrones universe, including the myth regarding the first dragon riders, but I've changed and melded it to how I see fit. Imagine dragon arlecchino to be the same age as she was when she was first indicted into the Fatui, which would make her the dragon equivalence of an 18 year old felon for reasons not yet revealed.

oh, and the northward vassal is Pierrot.

#fang writes #genshin impact #genshin x reader #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino gi #arlecchino genshin #platonic once more #oh how i love writing for dragons #if the word count was not evidence enough.#perhaps if y'all are good i'll include a drawn design i've made of dear dragoncchino. we shall see.