Aslesa’s small talons brushed lightly against Royeaux’s wing as the young imperial sobbed in the rushes. “Would you like to come back to the caves now?” she asked.
“No- no- there’s too much life there, too many people I could tear apart by mistake,” choked Royeaux between sobs, tears streaming out from under her carven butterfly mask.
Aslesa settled down on the bank of the stream, her antennae trailing in the water, and waited quietly. Eventually, Royeaux sniffled and sat up, brushing away the flowers that had begun to grow in the cracks of her muddy scales. “I don’t deserve this,” she said quietly. “You should have kicked me back to the Wyrmwound.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” said Aslesa with a smile. She hesitated. “Unless you wanted to go back to Plague?”
“Oh, no,” replied Royeaux quickly. “But all of you are so kind, and so brave, and I’m nothing like you.” Her wings drooped, and where they touched the mud reeds began to spring up and wind themselves through her red feathers.
“Being kind is a choice,” said Aslesa. She stood, flicking mud from her talons, and turned away, sunlight casting a glowing halo on her mane. “Bravery is trickier, but it gets easier when you have faith.”
With a last flick of her tail, she began to climb the slopes of the valley, back towards the clan caves, and Royeaux settled back into the mud. She stirred the silty water with one claw, and she thought.
She ran down to the mouth of the river, and the mud squelched soothingly between her paws. Curling into the warm mud and the tall, waving reeds, Royeaux shivered. Her claws twitched, and the reeds knitted themselves into a blanket, laying over the young dragon’s shoulders.
“Royeaux?” called Madoc, making his way down to the river. The slopes were not so steep here, and the ground was marshy and wet. Madoc shook water from his claws and twitched his antennae, seeking out his friend’s troubled thoughts.
He came to her at last, almost laying in the water and woven into a cocoon of roots and reeds. She blinked up at him, ruby-red eyes bright in the late afternoon light.
“What happened?” Madoc asked, drawing a little closer. He could feel emotions roiling off of the other dragon in waves, waves so strong they threatened to plunge him back into- no. Stay here. Royeaux needs you.
Royeaux whispered something under her breath, and the plants around her began to loosen and uncoil. She shook the mud out of her wings, splattering Madoc’s claws (like blood, blood- NO!) and pressed against him, leaning into the skydancer’s feathers.
“It happened again,” she said, in a cracking murmur. “I was... I was so scared, Madoc. And I took over Kaerio, he fell out of the sky and I could feel him, I could feel when his wing snapped,” her voice broke, and Madoc sat back, rubbing the stump of his own wing.
“Madi, I can’t do anything with these powers except hurt other people,” whispered Royeaux into his side, and he awkwardly patted her muddy mane. “And I’m not even a fighter.”
Madoc looked off at the setting sun and sighed. “Everything happens for a reason,” he said (these are the lies keeping me alive) “And I’m sure one day we’ll learn why you have your... abilities.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” he whispered, and he actually believed it.
Poor Royeaux, a swamp witch who controls living matter, isn’t sure she’s at all worthy of her gifts. Aravir has tried to teach her, but she remains nervous, frightened of other dragons and of herself.
