From the Heart
FFXIV Vidofnir x Marigold Fogg (WoL) 913 words
A birthday gift for @finalfartasy ! <3
It was stupid idea. What gift could a dragon even want? But there was no way Marigold could turn back now. The Dravanian Forelands were treacherous between its ferocious beasts and harsh landscape. She presses on, staff in hand as a walking stick, down into the Chocobo Forest. The large trees and sharp rocks are a familiar sight. Much of her youth had been spent wandering its wild trails, much to her father’s chagrin.
Perhaps it was her namesake, but Marigold always carried fondness for flowers of any kind. Coneflowers and periwinkle litter the ground and she bends down to admire the bright colors. A smile comes to her lips as she carefully gathers enough for a bouquet. She finishes the job by tying a purple ribbon around the stems and casts a spell to preserve the freshness of the petals. The forest is home to more than flowers, but herbs, perfect salves and tinctures. For the next several hours, Marigold continues her hunt.
Pleased with her rewards, she begins her trek to Anyx Trine. The towering structure is impossible to miss even in its worn down state. Vidofnir and her kin have welcomed Marigold with open wings. Having moved past the initial distrust, residents were eager to share their knowledge and culture. In return, Marigold provided healing and performed chores to help upkeep their home. A dream come true for her younger self to be living among a brood of dragons.
Her throat tightens in anticipation as she draws closer to her destination. Vidofnir had been extremely accommodating to Marigold during her stay. Supplying her warm sleeping quarters and other mortal amenities via her connections with the Gnath. Marigold wanted to repay that kindness. But even more than that, she truly cared for the wyrm. Perhaps more than she ought to.
An internal heat floods her cheeks unbidden at the thought of Vidofnir. Biased she may be, but the Great Wyrm Hraesvelgr paled in comparison to his first born. Vidofnir’s beauty was understated. With her scales a soft gray like on a clouded day, pierced through by crimson eyes. Though smaller in statue the her sire, her frame was strong and muscular, crowned with a large pair of horns which curved to frame her jaw. Marigold’s time with Vidofnir was precious. She savored every moment at the dragon’s side like a last meal she selfishly hoped would never end. Undoubtedly, her obligations as the Warrior of Light would drag her from Vidofnir’s side. Her grip on the flowers tightens.
A young dragonet greets her at the entrance of Anyx Trine. It is naturally curious, having never beheld the sight of a bouquet. Marigold smiles and holds the flowers out for the dragon to inspect. It loses interest quickly once it realizes coneflowers are not appetizing. The mother watches the exchange nearby, keenly interested in what Marigold is holding.
Dragons do not have facial features or expressions like those of mortals, but even from this distance Marigold can read the mother’s displeasure. It takes her a minute to realize the source of the negative reaction. Flowers, particularly in Ishgard, are a common gift exchanged between lovers. She hadn’t made the connection until now.
It was not her intention for her gesture to be seen as romantic. Regardless of her personal desires, Vidofnir would surely never reciprocate. Man and dragon together are not meant to be. Heart heavy, she removes herself from the mother’s judgment.
Vidofnir is found in her usual haunt, proud and noble as always. Marigold pushes down her earlier unease and steps forward. It is Vidofnir who speaks first, the rumbling dragon tongue reverberating within the small room.
“Hail, Warrior of Light. What bringeth thee to mine chambers?”
Marigold swallows thickly. “Greetings, Vidofnir. I come bearing gifts.”
The dragon tilts her head, eyeing Marigold.
“A gift? I would accept but I have nothing to offer in return.” Marigold quickly shakes her head. “No, no! Not that kind of gift. Please accept what I have brought today. I wish to thank you for all you have done for me. Please.”
She hastily presents the bouquet. Flustered, she continues, “I also gathered medicinal herbs for potions!”
Each second of Vidofnir’s silence is punctuated by the sharp beat of Marigold’s heart. Despite not being particularly religious, she prays to the Twelve that her efforts will be well received.
“Thank you, Marigold. I will see to it that these ingredients are put to good use.” Marigold grins widely at the praise, joy threatening to explode out of her. Her internal celebration is interjected by Vidofnir speaking again.
“The flowers are fine specimens, but I do not see your namesake among them.”
“Oh! Well, marigolds don’t grow in Dravania since the weather isn’t suitable. They favor direct sun and warm weather.”
“I see,” Vidofnir remarks.
“I can bring some back for you sometime!” Marigold eagerly adds. “They are one of my favorites, afterall.”
A subtle glaze of affection softens Vidofnir’s stare, though Marigold is uncertain if it is merely her optimistic imagination.
“I shall fly us to them if thee are willing to share the location.”
“Wait, fly?”
“Yes. I have wings, do I not?” Marigold’s jaw falls open in awe and she resists the urge to squeal in excitement.
“Come on, come on! Let’s go now!” Vidofnir releases a sound akin to laughter at Marigold’s childishness as she positions to carry a rider. Whatever becomes of their odd partnership, it is theirs to discover together.
