Dragon!Angelique AU word dump that I wrote on a whim just to see how many words I could write in 20 minutes on my phone (it was 569. 1327 total in about 40 to 50 minutes total). So don't expect anything shiny.
_
They were all supposed to be dead.
What they didn't know was that when the goblins ransacked the little village of Joie in Loire, the creatures had been drawn to a lurking power.
"He was a soldier," Angelique had told Clovicus about her father, nothing but an old grief tugging at her heart.
She hadn't said anything about her mother.
But it wasn't like it was a secret, anyway.
There wasn't much to hide when you found a child, eyes blazing a cold and unnatural silver, something hard and scaly and glowing on the sides of her face, teeth bared and sharper than a child's teeth should be.
Mama was supposed to be invincible.
But in a world where an ogre can be felled by nothing more than a youth and her cat, where a man-turned-beast can be tamed by a snarky ranger, where a demonic mirror can be contained by a mortal with her human power and love - even goblins can fell an ancient monster.
"You should practice using that power..."
And what right do you have to say that? Angelique had thought, eyeing the irritating teenager training under Clovicus. He didn't understand the pain that the lurking beast inside her had caused. He didn't understand that without it, she might have a family, not be someone taken out of pity by a man who didn't even like children.
And yet, six years later after being discovered, when Evariste had invited her to stay in his home as she tried to figure out what she wanted to do with her life, she'd accepted. When the Council protested, he simply had bared his very human teeth and claimed he'd teach her magic.
(A mage?, they'd whispered, voices horrified. Why would Lord Enchanter Evariste teach a monster to be a mage??)
Just to spite them, Angelique - planning to stay quiet, subdued, discover a way to run - decided to learn.
Even if Evariste kept insisting she use her horrible, heinous power, even if he kept insisting that it was beautiful, she stayed and thrived.
Of course, she refused his asinine insistence for her to train that other side of her.
The memory of her mother, in the process of transforming, cut down by one of those creatures, still burned in her mind. The whispers surrounding her, the people who barged into Clovicus' home to see her, make sure she was controlled, that she wasn't dangerous. And even now, people sent by the Council harassed Evariste - all these memories kept her tranquilized.
"Is your little beast tamed?" the visitors wouldn't say, but imply with all their words.
Evariste would shield her, and Angelique longed to sink her teeth into these people, show them what an untamed, wild, and free beast really looked like. But for Clovicus and now for Evariste, who was protecting her on some strange basis of loyalty from growing up together, she'd stay tame.
And now...he was gone.
He'd been gone for nearly six years, taken from under her nose, right in his own home.
Shielding her.
Just like her parents.
Everyone was always left or taken, and maybe now Angelique understood those stories where the dragons kidnapped royals or young people or entire villages. Creatures like her must have been fated by the gods or some deity to forever be alone, so they took and hoarded and kept whenever the opportunity rose. Because it would be taken anyway, in the end.
You have all the power to take back what is yours, young one, the stars had told her once.
They had called themselves Pegasus, a swirl of stars knit together into a constellation she could ride.
We had an agreement with your human mage, Pegasus told her. But the stars will only bow to those who can reach them.
So Angelique did not have to unfold her own wings, transform into something that would make children quake in terror. Instead, she became the beautiful enchantress who rode the stars, in search of a friend who had taught her the beauty of human magic and abyss-deep love. She was the one to tame men turned into beasts, who transformed a destitute duchess into a queen, who fostered a mage of creation, who destroyed only to protect and save.
That was how it was supposed to be.
Angelique, at 18 and about to leave the world behind before Evariste invited her into hers, would have been happy to withdraw into the shadows and fade as another bad memory of the world. But then she'd risen to become a hero, to become someone who was great enough that she didn't need to unleash the beast shaking in the cage of her soul.
"You can't hide it forever. You can't hide from it forever," Emerys warned her once, something gleaming - something that looked like hope and joy - in his eyes.
And now, he repeated the words to her again, cradling the form of his wounded human lover. It made Angelique's heart squeeze painfully. An elf of the forest from a land far away and a mortal woman who accepted who he was, loved it even.
"Please, Angelique?" Emerys begged her, himself bloodied and bruised.
So how had it come to this?
It had started with her father, loving Angelique for who she was, calling her and Mama his "little fire stars." And then it was Clovicus (Angelique now knew how unfair she'd been to the man, who may have not liked children all that much but had loved her and Evariste), giving her a home when the Council had called for her to be killed. And then...Evariste, who had given her a home and an alternate solution to survival in his beautiful, human magic. Then Emerys and Alastryn, Roland and Gabrielle, Elle (who had discovered it because of course the former spy would), and now....
"It always comes to this," Angelique muttered to herself, not even aware that she was speaking.
Something hot - and she didn't know if it was rage or love - burned in her chest. The fire of it all spread from her core into her veins, forcibly squeezing through her muscle onto the organ of her skin, hardening it.
"No matter how much I give, I always have to give more," she said, almost a sob and yet so full of resigned desperation. "You had all my humanity. And this, finally, is the rest of me."
Because she would have burned long ago if it could have bought her parents to life. Or if it would have saved Evariste.
Trained to hide it all her life and told by those she loved to set it free.
Fine. Here I am.
And the fire burst out in full, encasing her in a cocoon of silver flames. She felt herself rise with the fire, the unsteady floating stabilizing when scaly wings were wrenched out, the flying coming to her instinctually.
It wasn't a full transformation, no. She wouldn't give them that.
But the scales were on her face again, as they had been long ago when they'd found her. Her back had grown wings as large as the wonder from the soldiers below, and they propelled her as she raided the sky and became the wind of this windless day. There was no fire out of her mouth - her humanoid body was not made to contain it - but it didn't matter.
An ancient, deep, powerful magic danced in her blood, merging with her human spells and setting the horde of the evil beasts alight. In seconds, the encroaching armies became ash and dust, scattered in the winds of her flight path.
Inside of Angelique, there was a contended rumble, as if from a creature long-chained set free.
Welcome home, it whispered, startling her.
Home?
As she landed back to where Emerys and Quinn, both gazing at her with...with awe, of all things, staying put as Angelique willed the searing burn of her magic into a healing warmth to flow over them - as she looked into their eyes and smiles, something within her shattered and mended and sang.
It sounded like the voice of her mother, opening her arms wide to an Angelique shrieking in delight as her father tossed her up and down.
Her voice, low and soothing, was even - if a bit cautious. Considine couldn't help the smile that tugged on his lips, and for the first time in decades, he wished he could see.
Something about this Slayer was...precious.
"You didn't offend me," he waved off before the silence grew too much. "I'm fine to tell you how I lost my vision."
His path of cultivation had given him a long life, longer than most other cultivation sects. That was how the Vampire sect worked, some kind of blood magic that wasn't blood magic and lots of training. Considine's mentor had broken off from that sect and developed techniques that had elongated that lifespan and taught Considine all about it.
So while he wasn't too old yet, it still had been a few decades now.
Ambrose himself had come from the Vampire sect, joining Considine when the latter first came down from the mountains and travelling together. Theoretically, Considine had known about the animosity between the Slayers - the rogue cultivators who were only grouped as such for their loose relationships to the Vampires - and Vampires.
He hadn't considered himself one and convinced Ambrose that it would be fine to visit some Slayers and learn from them.
Long story short, a spat had broken out while the two were visiting, the Vampires killed Ambrose's Slayer lover, and the Slayers had retaliated by blinding Ambrose himself.
"So you gave up your vision for him?" Jade concluded, and Considine wondered if she was staring at the blindfold covering his eyes.
A precaution of sorts, so it used to be before it simply became habit. Ambrose's eyes had once been Considine's, and that meant that somehow, Ambrose could "see" through Considine's empty sockets at times.
Their few run-ins had not been very pleasant, and Considine had wondered why his friend had even bothered to seek him out if it was only to end with the both of them spiralling into useless guilt and pain and arguments.
He'd never received an answer either.
He'd heard bits and pieces about Ambrose's new family throughout his travels, a new clan of the Vampire sect. And then when they'd run into each other one day - completely by coincidence - there had been no words, only a desperate plea to protect a new family and a dying breath.
"I'm so sorry," Jade said.
Her touch on Considine's shoulder was hot, and he almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"You remind me of him, just a little," he told her. "Brave souls who wanted to start something new, to do things different. You both wanted to change the world, and you had the sense to do it."
The silence was deafening, and Considine was only a little bothered by the fact that nearly 4 decades weren't enough to do away with the grief.
Only now did he understand that Ambrose had only told him to get lost in anger and grief, that instead of pushing him away whenever Ambrose came back, Considine should have trusted in their friendship and apologized instead of asking why he was here. Maybe those apologies would have been empty, but he should have given Ambrose the choice to forgive.
"I hope not too similar," Jade finally said, a welcome interruption to his regrets, "I'm not thinking of leaving you."
Considine snorted and easily found Jade's shoulder to nudge. "Is that so, Second Breakfast?"
"Indeed so, old man," Jade sniped right back.
It was good to hear her laughter when he protested he wasn't even a century old.
Discussing TFT couples on how likely they are to swear because I'm bored
Elle - absolutely swears, but not as much as you'd think. She's just too good at being unfazed by everything in life and gremlining her way through everything.
Severin - doesn't swear, somehow. CAN but rarely feels inclined to, though Elle sometimes pulls it out of him because of her shenanigans
Elise - she speaks like an academic paper. Swearing? I don't know her
Falk - foulest internal voice ever but he's a prince, so he doesn't swear. He does manage to make normal words sound like foul language, though
Rune - of course not. He has a reputation to uphold. He does cuss his brothers out sometimes, though, because being around soldiers and commoners have taught him things
Cinderella - yes. She won't. But she also absolutely will
Friedrich - he might be a colonel(?) and prince, but he's always been one to engage with his fellow soldiers and sometimes that includes swearing. He doesn't use it in his everyday vocabulary, but if he's angry enough, he sure will
Gemma - don't know. She keeps to herself most of the time. Just know that if you made her angry enough and she happened to decimate you verbally to oblivion, Stil would die on the spot from how hot that is to him
Stil - ye. Tries not to in front of Gemma but when she just remains unfazed, he goes "ah whatever" and drops the clean vocabulary. Especially around Linnea
Dylan - oh absolutely. When she was mute, she was seething that she couldn't give every single annoying person a piece of her foul-mouthed mind. Callan finds it hilarious. Cagney is sighing. Dooley is slightly lost.
Callan - no, but he does find it hilarious whenever Dylan does it. If he DID swear, Cagney and Dooley would look at him as if he lost his mind ("throwing knives and now cursing. Love sure brings out the violent sides of Callan" - Dooley, probably)
Gabrielle - of course. It horrifies Roland every time she does it, so she does it more because it annoys him. She doesn't really like it that much, though. Reminds her too much of those nasty village boys
Steffen - he'd die if he swore. His perfect image, I mean! He should swear, though. It would do him some good
Odette - she probably could teach Stil some new bad words and he her. And no, she doesn't censor herself when she becomes a princess (not that she likes thinking about that.) The queen is cackling at that, btw.
Alexsei - you wouldn't expect it from him, but he would. You just need to scratch past that polite exterior.
Briar - she strongarmed the soldiers into teaching her words and uses them with relish. Not often but enough to give her grandfather a headache.
Isaia - no. He's like such a noble knight character and he's so in love with his feisty wife
Ariane - ye, but the palace kind of gave her the habit to not do it as much.
Lucien - nah. He just didn't see the point. Plus, it wouldn't fit the pompous image he was going for. He probably would tell Elle to censor herself
Quinn - yep. She's a soldier. Strong language is like good alcohol. Maybe not the most ideal way to cope, but an effective one for short term stress relief. And less disabling of inhibitions
Emerys - Alastryn would kill him if he even tried to do so in front of his people, but you should know he has an arsenal of foul language just waiting to be unleashed. Would he use it if he could? Kind of like Elle, not really because he gremlins his way through life
Snow - she knows OF them (reads a lot) but wouldn't swear
Fritz - he just doesn't vibe as the type of guy to swear, sorry. Also, he vibes as someone who secluded himself from society until he probably stumbled across six rich people and went "...okay, you're gonna die if I don't help you", so not really
Angelique - didn't use to but after her mask broke, she does not hold back and Evariste is so far gone because he finds it shocking but delightful and he's such an idiot in love
Evar - inside, he's cursing people out. Outside, it depends on the situation. Clovicus taught him
"Okay, but are you really not going to tell me how you recognized me?" Leila prodded, poking Rigel's back and laughing when he stiffened at her touch. "Relax, relax, Rigel. I'm sorry. I know you don't like to be touched. I won't do more than the occasional friendly slap."
She thought it was a little funny how he visibly relaxed and continued to walk in front of her.
Not at all thrown off, Leila skipped to join his side, still feeling a little awkward in this new body of hers. The worst part was how short it was - still tall for a woman and average for a Fae, Leila supposed, but it was a far cry from the near 185 cm she'd been before death.
"Hey, wait up!" she yelped, rushing and pulling Bagel with her. "My legs in this girl's body are so much shorter. And you still haven't answered my question!"
Rigel glanced at her and adjusted his pace accordingly.
"You really don't know." It wasn't a question but a statement, a statement said with slight incredulity.
Leila eyed him suspiciously. "That is why one asks questions, isn't it? Come on, Rigel. We were married in my past life! You don't have to be so frosty!"
Of course, that was the wrong thing to say, and Leila winced even as the words left her mouth.
But in a way, she didn't regret bringing it up, if only to gauge Rigel's reaction.
In her past life, she'd been barely able to read him, thrown into the Night clan (and jumping into this marriage to survive) as she'd been despite the cries against her parentage ("daughter of a farmer!" had been the most popular protest, never mind that her father was from the Night clan). They'd been so eager to nab her at first, though, for her power over animals and her inventions and her friendships with the more powerful clans of the Wizard and the Vampire sects.
It might have even been tolerable, Leila thought, despite her general dislike of the Fae sect and its many clans. She thought she'd had a friend in Solis and Skye and Indigo, a...well, maybe not a friend in Rigel, but someone who didn't look down on her and treated her as he did everyone else - that is to say, with guarded indifference and suspicion.
But betrayals happened, prejudices against "lesser blood" Fae were brought up, friends died. And Leila hadn't been powerful enough to make a lone stand when Solis had been the one standing against her with centuries of elitism backing him up.
Back then, Rigel had asked her to stop and think, but she'd been too angry at the injustices. He'd said she was being too bold, too brash, too kind, too...much. But he hadn't stood against her when she'd spoken up for the "low" Fae.
He hadn't supported her either (and only recently had Leila learned of the geas Solis had put on him.)
And now, the past brought up, Rigel finally turned to face her, expression as unreadable as always.
"Let me ask you, then," Rigel said. "Back then, when you said you loved me, were you telling the truth or lying?"
And, well. Fae can't lie (or they could, just at the price of their cultivation).
Leila could in her old body, but this body was 100% Fae and, thus, incapable of lying.
Love him, huh?
She pressed her lips in a closed smile, almost laughing at the irony.
Back then, Leila would have given anything to let this pigeon-winged bastard know she'd been telling him the truth. That she would have stayed with the toxic Night clan for him.
She hadn't realized how indifferent he'd been to her - how much he, too, had disliked her. Though at least for Rigel it hadn't been for her bloodline as much as it had been his lack of trust in her word and the way she spewed off lies and sarcasm like they were her lifeline.
Back then, they kind of had been, and she hadn't spared anyone from those lies.
If he thinks I'm gonna embarrass myself and confess again to someone who doesn't love me, he has another thing coming, Leila huffed to herself, ignoring the small voice in her head that sounded like the long-gone Skye scoffing at the notion of her having any shame at all.
"And why would that be relevant?" she hummed, keeping her face light and bored.
He made a face, and Leila was rather pleased to realize she understood it. It was subtle, but something in the way his eyebrows smoothed and the tension left his jaw clued her into the fact that he probably already knew the answer.
Nope. She was not going to be annoyed about that.
"Then, I fail to see why how I recognized you is relevant," Rigel countered. "All that matters is that I did."
The words knocked her breath away, and Leila found herself slightly gaping at Rigel. If he was anyone else, she would have absolutely called it some kind of declaration of love.
Unfortunately, she now knew exactly how he felt for her - friendship and probably some guilt built from the constraints of his old geas, but ultimately not passionately in love.
And jokes on me for still being in love with him! Leila raged in her head, elbowing Rigel just for the sake of it.
He blinked at her once for it but made no comment, simply once again quickened his pace to match her dramatic, long strides. A quiet but peaceful presence on her right, just like old times...
