Gegeruju is about to learn a valuable lesson: perving on Titan's Bane is dangerous but doing it while her dragon husband is close by means he's going to fucking *die*.
(One of two different sets because I couldn't decide.)
It was Ysayle who first noticed that Vrtra’s sleep was growing restless. She felt the slight unevenness of his breath, the tiny shudders that ran through him, the tension growing in his muscles. She sat up next to him, and gently squeezed his shoulder.
“Vrtra. You’re dreaming.”
From further down on the bed, somewhere around the level of the small of Vrtra’s back, the stygian circle that was Phina unrolled with a soft “bbrrrr” and became Miqo’te-shaped again.
“He’s dreaming about Vanaspati,” she said, moving to sit by Ysayle. In the dim light, her pupils were enormous, eclipsing the gold of her irises. Her gaze was intent as she took Ysayle’s hand and then moved both their hands to curl around Vrtra’s.
Ysayle knew the gesture. Phina’s Echo allowed her to walk in the dreams of others, and see their hearts; if their sleep should be vexed to nightmare, Phina could intercede and un-vex it.
“Vrtra,” she said in Dravanian, “you’re dreaming.”
She could ground you, and wake you gently.
Speaking of waking - Yshandre wasn’t yet fully awake. However, even still surfacing from the bottomless seas of deep sleep, he moved to comfort Vrtra too. Shifting under the blankets, he became one himself, his lanky frame a comforting weight.
Ysayle felt him start to rumble.
Vrtra came awake with a shivering gasp, and for a moment he stared straight ahead at nothing.
“You were dreaming,” Phina said, this time in Thavnairian.
“…I dreamt I was at Vanaspati,” Vrtra said. “I dreamt you were all slain.”
Yshan spoke, his voice blurry with sleep: “You had a nightmare. it’s okay. I’m alive. Fandaniel can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Vrtra chuckled shakily, and the tension slowly ebbed from him. “I suppose not.”
“Definitely not,” mumbled Yshan. “I’m six-thousand times more tenacious and annoying than he could ever dream of being. Advisor of Allag, my ass. Try enthralled warden of the asphodels. I’ve been at this annoying-bastard business way longer…”
Ysaye blinked, uncertain of what Yshan meant.
Phina said, “He’s remembering a life before, I think? He feels like he is. He’s not really fully awake.”
Yshan snuggled as close to Vrtra as he could, nuzzling his hair. “I’m non-awake,” he agreed. “You should be non-awake too. Everybody be non -awake with me. I’ll eat the nightmares, Vrtra. It’s not your fault. Nightmares are fucks. I have lava salt and sun lemons to go with ‘em. Lahabrea gave me flatbread. Nightmares are edible. I’ll eat ‘em. Calisse du saint-ciboire d’osti ta gueule maudit cauchemar tabarnak…”
He trailed off into murmuring and purring as Vrtra dissolved into silent laughter.
Phina shoved her face under a pillow and wheezed, and Ysayle’s efforts not to laugh aloud brought tears to her eyes.
it took them a while to compose themselves.
“Even asleep, he’s soothing,” Vrtra managed, smiling now. “He speaks from the heart.”
Yshan nuzzled Vrtra’s shoulder.
Phina said, “He said what we were all thinking, anyway. I’ll handle the bad dreams for the rest of tonight. Not necessarily by eating them? but i can stop them.”
“You needn’t trouble yourself…” Vrtra started.
Ysayle stroked his hair. “It’s no trouble to her, or the rest of us. As Yshandre said - sort of - it’s not your fault that disaster struck here. And you did the best that you could for your people. You acted with compassion and wisdom, and allowed others to do what you could not. And it’s all right now. You’re here. We’re alive. It’s all right.”
“And if the dreams tell you otherwise,” Phina said, “I will inform them that they are lying.”
She curled around Ysayle and Vrtra, somehow.
“A diminutive big spoon, you are,” Ysayle chuckled.
“I am the wall,” Phina mumbled. “I am the bulwark guarding sleep.”
Ysayle stoked her fluffy ears, then kissed Vrtra’s forehead.
“With our sleep so guarded, I doubt nightmares will trouble us further,” she said, and settled down again.
“Indeed,” Vrtra rumbled. “Sleep well, Ysayle.”
“Sleep well, Vrtra. We love you.”
The sounds of Phina and Yshan’s counterpoint purring soon lulled Ysayle and Vrtra back to sleep.
to think an eons old wyrm of the first brood might fret as a lovestruck maid fearful her beloved would find her wanting. but he could not decide, and so by the miracles of al-kamiya were my dreams made manifest in twain: satrap and radiant knight.
WELP I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN AGES AND I'M WILDLY RUSTY
oh well
have some Yshandre-and-Vrtra.
***
I. alchemy.
It was late in the evening when Yshandre arrived in Vrtra’s chambers; he carried a ewer, a bundle of folded snow-linen cloths, and a pitcher of cold water. His gait was determined, and his mind was made up.
Vrtra’d given generously to them all; Yshan wasn’t about to not return that generosity.
“I can’t sleep either,” he said in response to Vrtra’s questioning rumble. “And I want to do something about that sore patch you have. I know you can endure a lot more pain than I can, and that you didn’t ask me to do this…but…”
He gestured at the reddened area on Vrtra’s shoulder.
“That’s still…”
He trained off. Gestured again.
Vrtra made a questioning hum.
Yshan sighed.
“I don’t want you to have to just endure that as it is, Vrtra…not if you don’t have to.”
He approached, holding up ewer and pitcher.
“So…could I do something to make it easier to endure? The alchemists at the Great Work lent me a hand creating this salve, so I know it should work right.
Vrtra nodded, blinking slowly at Yshan. “I trust you, and them. You may proceed. …Thank you.”
“You’re welcome? It was mostly the Great Work. I was just the initial suggest-ee, I can’t take that much credit, and I wouldn’t have known where to even begin without them,” Yshan said. He poured cool water over one of the linen cloths and set to carefully cleaning Vrtra’s shoulder. (This wasn’t exactly necessary - of course the people of Radz-at-Han wouldn’t allow Vrtra’s wound to get inflamed or anything - but Vrtra seemed to enjoy the contact and the cool water. So Yshan continued.)
“I’ve never made any medicine for a dragon before. I’ve made ‘em for people like me who have dragons’ blood in us on account of deeply-unpleasant historical events, but not legitimate dragons. …If I’m doing something that you dislike, let me know? I’m not scrubbing too hard or hurting you?”
“Not in the least,” Vrtra rumbled. “You’re very gentle.”
“I’m going to apply the salve once I’ve finished with this distilled water business. Nidhana suggested doing it this way just to ensure no ambient dust had gotten on your wound. I know your alchemists and healers have been taking care of you, and so does she. It’s just procedure. We do this in Ishgard, too - sometimes we salt the water slightly after distillation, because that can help alleviate the kind of inflammation that occurs after abrasion. This isn’t abrasion, though, and you’re not as squishy as we are. On top of that, your body’s internal alchemy is different. So - regular water…with a little attar-of-rose in it, I think?”
Vrtra squinted, and he radiated amusement at Yshan’s narration. “It’s very pleasant.”
“I’m talkin’ a great deal.” Yshan chortled.
“That’s pleasant, too. Your company is enjoyable.”
Yshan felt himself begin to blush - the tips of his ears were warming. “I’m glad I’m not talkin’ overmuch.”
He took up another linen cloth and began to apply the salve to Vrtra, whose reaction was immediate. The dragon let out a long sigh and visibly relaxed. Tension ebbed out of his muscles (Yshan felt them shift beneath the linen and his hand) and his wings folded back just a touch.
“That feels very good,” he said. “My thanks to those at the Great Work, and to you.”
Yshan poured more salve onto the linen, then moved slightly down toward Vrtra’s flank to ensure he didn’t miss the lower edge of the wound. The key, said Nidhana, was to be sure all of the injury was covered, edge to edge, so it didn’t become dry and irritated. That would ensure the wound healed evenly, and there would be much less of a chance that the skin could chap or crack as the scales re-grew.
Yshan breathed in the scent of the salve - rose and lavender and mint - and exhaled slowly.
“May I use my aether?” he asked. “Just slightly? I know that actual curative spellwork isn’t what’s needed in this case, but…”
Vrtra tilted his head, curious. Then he said, “Yes.”
Yshan smiled. “Thank you. Remember that if it feels weird you can tell me to stop…”
As Dell’d taught him to do, he let his aether flow slowly, slowly, from deep within himself - from his heart through his arms to his fingertips. Slowly, slowly, a little a a time. A gentle encouragement to Vrtra’s body. A suggestion, an invitation: rest, recover, be well.
Vrtra relaxed even further, settling down and even sprawling out a little. The very tip of his tail moved back and forth slowly, and he began to rumble.
“…Please continue,” he said. “What you’re doing is welcome.”
Yshan rumbled back. “I will. I’m glad.”
He continued. Slowly, gently, until the ewer was empty.
When it was done, Vrtra turned his head and delicately nuzzled Yshan’s shoulder.
“You are a capable healer,” he said. “Thank you.”
Yshan leaned back against Vrtra. “I do my best to be. I’m glad in this case I could be. …Will you be able to sleep better now, do you think…?”
“I will,” said Vrtra. “And you?”
Yshan nodded. “I will.” He picked up the pitcher, the ewer and the cloths. “Good night, Vrtra. Sleep well. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”
“Sleep well, Yshandre,” Vrtra replied with a warm look. “You’re most welcome.”
