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Chapter Text

“I am off to hunt,” Sintara announced as Thymara steadily backed away from the queen’s unfolding wings, and almost bumped into a dragon-sized bathtub behind her “I expect to be scrubbed and polished when I get back. Be sure to be here when I arrive.”

“And when will that be?” Thymara asked, gritting her teeth and expecting an ambiguous response.

“Do you expect me to limit myself to mortal cycles of time?” The blue dragon asked disdainfully. “We, dragons, don’t care for it, as we are free from the gross decay of your bodies. Even as an elderling it won’t affect you as much,” Sintara fell into a lecturing tone. “So, you should know better than to ask these questions. You will spend your day here, at the baths, awaiting my return.”

“It is my birthday today and I am not going to spend it catering to your whims,” Thymara groaned, trying to offend Sintara as much as possible. She wanted to make her care. For once, she wanted to make a dent in Sintara’s feelings big enough that the dragon would actually pay decent attention to their conversation. Thymara wanted Sintara to actually consider her as an opponent and not as an annoying distraction. Her plan seemed to work as Sintara slowly turned her head to actually look at Thymara, who was now sitting at the edge of a bathtub. Their faces - Thymara’s with sharp features and adorned with blue scales and Sintara’s, almost the size of Thymara’s full body. For a few moments their heads were only a hand’s length away from each other.

In the next second a wave of dragon glamour hit Thymara at full force. She held, but just barely.

“You make the same mistake twice,” Sintara sneered, “perhaps you are not as smart as I thought you were when I picked you as my keeper. Your duty, as a human, is to me, and so you will see to following my instructions diligently.”

“But Tats is preparing me a surprise,” Thymara hated how weak and pleading her voice was, but it was all she was able to manage without slipping into the adoring and reverent state the glamour was suggesting.
Sintara actually flicked her tail in annoyance which Thymara acknowledged with grim satisfaction. It was the only victory she was ever going to get in a word battle with Sintara, so she treasured it.

“Just tell him to wait,” Sintara said, falling into her lecturing tone again, while revealing part of her emotions to Thymara - just to show how bored she was by their conversation. “You are too attached to him, even despite refusing him as your mate. Remember, you are a queen. You make the demands and he has to comply.”

With that, the blue queen sent another wave of glamour over Thymara, which finally worked. Thymara’s hatred and annoyance washed away, replaced by reverence and a desire to do everything to please the magnificent creature before her. A distant part of Thymara screamed at that but was unable to do anything.

“Oh, great dragon!” Thymara said loudly, falling to her knees. “I understand that such a lowly creature as I am should only serve you and no one else, but, please, didn’t your ancient ancestors grant boons to their caretakers for their service? And, oh, please, don’t take that as an insult, magnificent queen, I would have never even dared to insult you, but couldn’t you please grant me just this one day to spend with my friends? If that pleases you of course, and given that I will give you my undivided attention once the celebration is over.”

“Yes, boons were once granted to elderlings for their services,” Sintara’s voice was full of contempt and condescension, “but only for those who performed extraordinarily. Your service so far has been adequate at best. You are annoying and boring me with your absurd demands. You will do your duty when called to it and you will do so willingly, without complaints.”

With that Sintara flicked her tail again, deliberately striking Thymara’s cheek. The wound wasn’t deep enough to be dangerous, but blood immediately started dripping down Thymara’s face. At least the pain brought some clarity and, unfortunately, hatred for just how self-deprecating and worshipful Thymara was just seconds ago. A wave of air hit her a second later as Sintara took off into the sky. Thymara was left standing on her knees, glamour slowly fading. She felt sick and exhausted from being forced to submit again and again.

Alise found her there, some time later, still on her knees. She understood what happened instantly, without explanation. All of the members of their initial expedition were aware of her and Sintara’s difficult relationship. Some, Thymara knew, judged her, blaming her for never establishing a close bond, perhaps even friendship they had with their dragons. Those who were closer to her, like Alise, were regretful, but knew better than to blame Thymara for what was happening. In recent times, as dragons grew more and more independent and started coming and going less frequently, some keepers who previously gave Thymara critical glances suddenly started giving her pitying looks instead. It was hardly better, but Thymara didn’t complain.

“Don’t sulk,” Alise said with a smile, “while she is gone, the day is yours. And we are going to have the best celebration you’ve ever had.”

“Thank you,” Thymara said truthfully, getting up. Then she caught a strange smirk in Alise’s smile that the older woman immediately hid when she noticed Thymara was watching. They went through the labyrinth of the narrow streets surrounding the baths and finally stepped out into one of the wider, main ones that went down to the docks. The crew of Tarman was unloading the supplies, with Leftrin on deck shouting orders. Then, three more people appeared. One was Tats, helping two other people step from the shaky deck onto the ground. Thymara didn’t have the faintest idea of who they were. There weren’t supposed to be any passengers on board, as far as she knew, only supplies. From Alise’s knowing smile Thymara suspected they had something to do with whatever surprise Tats was preparing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” Alise asked and they headed down the street, Alise always a step ahead of Thymara blocking the clear view of the docks and the mysterious group of people. This was clearly related to the surprise Tats was preparing and Alise was in on it.

About halfway to the docks, Alise turned and led Thymara into a small space between two houses. Small, by Kelsingra standards, of course, which still meant that they were bigger than the Trehaug trader hall, but a dragon would have trouble fitting there. The yard was lined with several tables and whatever little decorations they could conjure up with their limited resources. Sylve was still running around, placing the last of them. When she noticed Thymara and Alise approaching, she smiled conspicuously and darted off before Thymara could utter a word.

“I am going to leave you now,” Alise said with a wink, “they will be here in a few short minutes. If only you knew how much time it took for Tats to persuade Leftrin! Enjoy your special day.” With that, Alise slipped away too, leaving Thymara to wonder what this possibly could have been about.

As Alise had predicted, it hadn’t taken Tats and the mysterious visitors long. Soon, Thymara heard voices, and finally saw the three figures turning around the corner and stopping as soon as they saw her. One of them was Tats, beaming with pride and joy, but Thymara’s attention was on the two people beside him. They were about the two people Thymara least expected to see among the ruins of an ancient Elderling city. Her parents.

***

For a few seconds Thymara just stared, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. They wore travel clothes, her father still carried bags in both hands, which he swiftly put down as soon as he saw her. His expression was of utter shock and relief. Thymara’s mother, on the other hand, didn't even look her daughter in the eyes. Instead, she stared somewhere past her with an appalled expression. Almost as if she didn’t control her own body, Thymara approached them. She was shaking, tears started falling down her face, and by the time she reached her father, her legs finally gave out and she practically fell onto him. He caught her effortlessly, just as he did many times before, when she was about to fall off a branch. She felt her father’s touch on her wings, light, as if he was afraid to damage them. Strange, how she practically ignored their existence now, accepted them as a natural part of her life. Oh, how everything had changed since her parents last saw her…

After some time, probably a few seconds at most, even though it felt like it had been hours, Thymara finally felt strong enough to stand. She carefully stepped out of her father’s embrace and turned toward her mother who still wouldn’t look her daughter in the face. Instead, with a shaking finger she pointed at Thymara’s back and whispered with a barely concealed shock and terror:

“What… What is that?”

“I think we should sit,” Thymara said, sighing and dreading trying to find words to explain to the people once closest to her, who their daughter now was.

She took their bags, despite her father’s insistence that he will not have his daughter carry his belongings for him. Her mother didn’t make a sound, only moved her hand to stop Thymara, but stopped short of touching her, seeing the thick blue scaling that now covered her forearm. Thymara turned and quickly walked away, not wanting to face her mother. Her father, on the other hand, as always sensing her feelings, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, as if to tell her that he was still there and everything was back to normal. It wasn’t.

When they sat down, no one wanted to start talking again. It seemed that no words existed to explain all that had changed, all that they wanted to say. After some time of pointless staring at each other, Thymara’s father spoke softly:

“Oh, my girl. My wonderful, beautiful girl.”

“Beautiful for these barbarians maybe,” her mother said sharply. “Did you see how that one looked at her? There was hunger in his eyes, Jerup, I am telling you. They love to catch ones like her. Young, unassuming, trusting, the ones rejected by everyone else.”

“Mom!” Thymara exclaimed. “It was Tats! The tattooed boy who helped us back home, remember? He is my friend!”

“Him? Well, I am not surprised then,” scoffed the older woman, “always vying for your attention, that one. Don’t you think I saw right through it? Your time spent on those branches, playing, laughing, don’t you think, I remember it all? He had his eyes on you, even then. And look where it led you!” She waved her hand around at the sky and the stone buildings that surrounded the little yard.

“Mielda…” her father began and immediately cut himself off.

Thymara opened her mouth to speak and found she had nothing to say. Or, rather she had too much to say. She wanted to protest against every word of what her mother just said. She wanted to tell her that Tats would have never forced her to do what she didn’t want to, that he was her friend, that she was happy in Kelsingra and that she was no longer naive or unassuming. But this woman, her mother, looked at the city, at the magnificent ancient buildings, at the glistening river, at the green fields and didn’t see beauty in it. Thymara didn’t know if she could even argue with a person who was so fundamentally different from her, a person who seemingly hated so much of what was Thymara’s life now.

“Oh you poor dear,” the woman continued when Thymara didn’t react, her face softening. “I know it is hard for you here. It is a long way from home, but when the river captain offered us to go see you we jumped at the opportunity. He should be going for supplies again in a few days, so you will have time to say your goodbyes.”

“Say… My goodbyes?” Thymara asked, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.

“To…” her mother paused, “well, whoever you would want to. Two days is plenty of time, isn’t it?”

“Wait, wait, I don’t understand,” Thymara shook her head, praying that she misunderstood what her mother was saying, “you think I am going to go back home with you?”

“Of course you are,” said her mother quickly as if brushing any doubts aside, while in reality Thymara’s confusion only deepened.

“And you?” Thymara turned to her father sharply, causing him to sit upright, snapping out of an absent expression. “Did you also assume I was going to pack up my things, leave Kelsingra and return to Trehaug with you?

“Well, I, uh…” Her father looked to the side, not wanting to meet her eyes. “I just thought that, I mean I didn’t exactly, but it, uh, never occurred to me that you wouldn’t…” He trailed off, looking at his wife.

“Well, I am not going back,” Thymara said, “there is one thing you both don’t understand here. This place is my home. And those “barbarians” you speak of, mother, are my friends! In fact, by your definition, I am a barbarian myself, perhaps the most barbaric of them all. I am bonded to a dragon, do you understand that? A literal, flying, acid-spitting big dragon, not some weakling on the brink of death. She accepted me, changed me, made me her elderling and most importantly - made me belong.”

Inwardly, Thymara thought she gave Sintara more credit than she deserved, but if it was what convinced her parents that she was serious about staying, so be it. Her mother’s next words shattered that hope.

“You are going back home, young lady,” she said using the same condescending tone that always infuriated Thymara, “you have played this game long enough already. Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have let you go on that expedition in the first place! You have no idea how dangerous it all is! Anyone could take advantage of you and you wouldn’t even know!”

Thymara’s father made a protesting sound, but it was too late as Thymara could no longer hold the flood of angry words from coming out. Standing up and staring her mother in the eyes she said:

“I am not some young and naive girl who doesn’t know what goes on around her! That’s what you both can’t understand! I chose this life and I know all the risks. I am not confused, delusional or being manipulated! I may have been when you last saw me, but not now. I am staying here, wherever you want it or not.”

She turned, praying that her mother didn’t see the tears streaming from her face. Not having the strength to face her or father, Thymara started walking away, then running until she turned the corner. If only her father had called her back, asked to stay, Thymara would’ve turned back that second. But all she heard as she slumped down on the ground, trying and failing to hold back the tears were her mother’s angry shouts and demands.

Chapter Text

Eventually, her mother stopped shouting. She hadn’t gone to check up on her daughter or try to talk. Someone else did, however. Thymara almost didn’t hear her father approaching her, but knowing how to step quietly on a branch high up in the trees didn’t teach you how to walk on flat ground. He offered her a hand, steady as always, but more callused and somehow smaller than Thymara remembered. She got up, but still didn’t look him in the eyes. Why was it that she felt shame? Was it because she didn’t hold her feelings and lashed out? Was it the inevitable consequence of disappointing them with her refusal to come back, no matter how correct it felt? Or was it, perhaps not shame at all, but dread that sooner or later they would have to realise that their little girl was no more?

“Let’s walk, shall we?” Her father suggested in a tone that was meant to be warm, but had a hint of pleading desperation in it.

“Let’s walk”, was what he always said after Thymara got into a fight or an argument. It was their little ritual, a thing only the two of them shared. They walked, talked about other things if they wanted to, letting the feelings settle and the anger cool off. It wasn’t something that Thymara thought of often nowadays and it was bittersweet to remember it now. Despite that, she nodded and gripped her father’s hand tighter.

They didn’t pick a direction to go in, but the city suggested one itself. It was only natural to walk down the wide empty street. The sun shone and reflected off the river so brightly, Thymara couldn't look up. It was oddly peaceful, for such a giant place, so unlike the narrow bridges above a sea of green leaves Thymara remembered when thinking of these walks, but calming in its own way.

“So much open space…” Thymara heard her father whisper with awe, “You could grow crops here, so many crops… You don’t need to rely on hunting to feed the people, Thymara, it’s wonderful! Finally, the people of the Rain Wilds have safe land to live on!”

“You wait until you see dragons, dad,” Thymara chuckled, “then this place won’t seem so big then.” He looked a bit deflated, so Thymara quickly added, “but, you know, I thought of the exact same thing when we first saw this place. We were exhausted, well, except for Rapskal, of course, he is always enthusiastic, even though he nearly died in that flood. Well, he was always enthusiastic, I mean he still is, just in a different way, ever since…”

Her father stopped her word flow with a hand gesture.

“Thymara,” he said, “you may perhaps have forgotten this, but I don't know anything about this new life of yours. To me,” he emphasized these last words, “you are still my little girl. Please, tell me everything from the moment you left on that expedition.”

The implication that she wasn’t his little girl anymore stung worse than the harshest of Sintara’s insults, but Thymara was forced to admit that she had wanted her parents to understand that. No sense complaining when one of them did. Instead, she tried to focus on telling her story. It was easier to find words once she began, going through every river misadventure, every friendship and rivalry, the eventual discovery of Kelsingra by Rapskal and Heeby, and everything that has happened since.

“What you told me about this place is enchanting,” her father said after Thymara finished her story, “but also extremely dangerous. Your story of what these visions did to that young man, Rapskal, troubles me. You are chasing an animal, without knowing how it looks, where it might be or what its defenses are. All you have are marks on a branch.”

“«Marks» was all we had when we went searching for Kelsingra too,” Thymara argued, “and look what marvelous beast we caught!”

“You don’t know if your success will repeat,” he warned seriously, “but please don’t think I have become such an old soul to consider all change bad. What you and your friends are doing right now seems to truly be the future of the Rain Wild Traders and even, Sa help us, the world beyond.”

“Then, that future seems empty, crumbling under the weight of time,” Thymara pointed at the stone buildings around them, “also full of dragons, as well as people who will try to take everything it has to offer only to themselves”

“Oh, but the future always seems bleak and miserable,” her father put a hand around her shoulder, “right up until it comes. Then, you find beauty in it.”

“Let’s hope you are right,” Thymara said with a sigh. “Come on. Let me show you the baths.”
They walked in silence for a while, avoiding the especially memory-stone heavy streets. Her father didn’t see the ghosts of the past Elderlings and Thymara suspected he was just like Sedric before he drank dragon blood. In her opinion, it was for the best. Through back alleys and quiet streets where the absence of memory stone in some buildings allowed for vines to grow on the walls, the pair of them eventually made their way to the Square of Dragons. As they stepped onto the mosaic tiles that covered the square, the dragon statues along the four corners lit up, startling Jerup, who cursed softly.

“If these statues look any bit like the real creatures, I understand why they were so feared in the old days,” he said, looking around cautiously.

Thymara decided not to tell him that the stone replicas were the same to a real dragon that a newborn puppy was to a grown dog, not to mention that there was a very real possibility that the Elderlings who made the statues poured all their senses and memories into the stone with the purpose of it being awakened one day. Instead, they ascended the stairs of the grand building and entered. It was dim inside and it took a while for their eyes to adjust from the bright morning sun. When they did, Thymara’s father was more shocked by the sheer size of the building than the mosaic that lined the walls or even the bathtubs that filled with warm water at command. How ironic, Thymara mused. I began this day arguing my way out of staying in these baths any longer than necessary and yet, here I am.

For a while no one said anything. Then, Thymara took a deep breath, turned to her father who was examining some mechanism with a look of sheer delight on his face and asked:

“Why don’t you ever say anything when mom and I are fighting?”

Her father held up a finger. “Uh-uh. Remember the rule. No talking about the thing that upset us while we are on The Walk.”

“Dad, we are not on The Walk anymore,” Thymara argued desperately. She needed to get answers before he retreated into his shell. “And with you having only two days here, we have little time to talk about those things.”

“So be it,” he said with a sigh, “forgive me for saying this, but you and your mother are more alike than you would both like to think. You both stand your ground fiercely, defending your position and your dignity sometimes to ridiculous extents. Your pride is so important to you that you never back off, always go for the win. Those are admirable qualities. They also mean that you almost never settle for a compromise. Thus you wouldn’t want my help even if I offered it.”

Thymara realised she had clenched her fists at what her father said about her similarity to her mother. It was infuriating and, unfortunately, Thymara saw where her father was coming from. Ever since her relationship with her mother went downhill about six years ago or so, when Thymara started to come of age, she had become more stubborn, iron-willed than before. Having to put up with Sintara every day, in turn, set those qualities in stone.

“I would, actually, love to receive your help sometime,” she said bitterly, “for you to take my side, voice your opinion for once. I would welcome this.”

“No, Thymara,” her father shook his head stubbornly,” I can take your side later, in private talks with your mother, and I do. But that is between your mother and I and we are not discussing this further. Better you tell me about this dragon of yours. What is she like? Can she really talk to you?”

For a second Thymara wanted to stubbornly resist the abrupt topic shift and continue arguing. Something in her father’s expression, however, convinced her to take the bait.
“Sintara,” Thymara said, pausing to decide how much truth to tell, how much of the illusion to keep, “she is cruel, actually. Arrogant, dismissive of my needs. She believes that all the humans are beneath her kind and exist only to serve them. I was supposed to wait the whole day at these baths just because she didn’t know when she would come back from her hunt and want a bath. You would think that a creature that can tear a deer in half with ease would know how to bathe herself!”

“That's… That's horrible!” her father gasped, wide eyed. “Why would you even consider staying with her?”

“Why do you stay with mom, dad?” Thymara asked without thinking.

Her father stared at her with his mouth hanging open. He exhaled sharply, took a deep breath to speak, but evidently didn’t find any words. Finally, he exhaled again and spoke quietly, but angrily:

“How can you even compare your mother to a dragon?”

“You say that she is a dragon as if that explains everything about Sintara!” Thymara practically shouted, her voice echoing. “They are all different! Yes, Sintara isn’t a good example, but, dad, please, listen to me. Mom doesn’t care about what I want, she cares only about doing things the “proper” way. The way convenient to her. When was the last time she and I had a normal conversation? You are living in delusion!”

“What am I doing?” Thymara thought. “Screaming at my father after seeing him for the first time in more than two years? Comparing my mother to a dragon? What has happened to me?”

Her father, his face distorted with anger, moved closer and grabbed his daughter’s hand.

“You're quick to make assumptions, young lady,” he said slowly, “and quick to shout about them too. I am neither stupid nor delusional about your mother’s flaws. Despite that, I will not allow you to insult her to my face. As to my distrust of the dragons, well, wouldn’t you say it is logical to consider a flying creature the size of a ship, who possesses human intelligence and, by your own account, a disregard for human life, dangerous? If anything you should consider whether or not you have created an illusion for yourself. Ask yourself, do you want to stay with her, truly?”

“I do!” Thymara said truthfully. “I have my reasons to, and I am sure you do as well! All I am asking is for you to tell me those reasons,” her voice was almost pleading when she said, ”please.”

“You want to know the reason why I love your mother?” Thymara nodded to that. Her father sighed and sat at the side of the bath, motioning for her to do the same. “As you know, your whole life people have come up to me and told me, without much sugar coating, that I shouldn’t have gone after the midwife on the night of your birth. I listened, told them I regretted nothing and tried to avoid talking to them again. There was something I didn’t tell any of these people about that night. When the midwife carried you out the door, your mother, Mielda Dormind, still weak from giving birth, opened her eyes, looked at me and whispered: “Jerup, don’t let them kill our child.”

They sat in silence for a while more, Thymara contemplating her shoes.

“She fell unconscious after that,” her father finally continued, “all I had were those words to go off, to make the impossible decision. In the end, I couldn’t bear the thought of looking her in the eyes and telling her that I didn’t rescue you, so I went after the midwife and brought you back for your mother to care for, to nurse into health, to not sleep when you were awake for the next year and to slowly convince me that I made the right decision that night.”

Thymara finally gathered the courage to look her father in the face and saw that he had beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Your mother has always loved you,” he said intensely, “she may have the wrong methods, but I know for a fact she never wanted any harm to come to you. I think,” he said softly, “that she was so afraid that you would die, injure or somehow hurt yourself when you were little, that she never let go of that, never realised how her worry was hurting you too. I really hope you can see that.”

“I do,” Thymara whispered.

“There were times where it was not easy to love her,” Thymara’s father said, talking more to himself than to his daughter, “but we all love things that hurt us, don’t we? We love them, because we know that it would hurt even more if we let go.”

“This is exactly how I feel about Sintara too,” Thymara hoped that it would finally persuade him, “she saved my life in that flood and made me her Elderling and even…” No. Best not to mention the glamour, the feeling of being loved more than anything in the world. It was fake and Thymara knew she shouldn’t want it, no matter how much pleasure it was. “Even that doesn’t explain everything I feel toward her. But despite everything, I am glad she is a part of my life now.”

“It’s just so hard to think of you, there, with a dragon who could kill you on a whim,” Jerup said bitterly.

“It is not in her best interest to kill me,” Thymara found herself actually chuckling, “who would she boss around and demand baths from? Sintara wouldn’t do anything to me, please, trust me on that.”

Before her father could answer, he was cut off by a distant scream.

Chapter Text

They ran. The high pitched screams continued, echoing in Thymara’s ears: one, another, then a longer one, with even more terror in it. Suddenly, a roar of a dragon, powerful and full of rage, rumbled nearby. It was long and ended with a crescendo, that rang in Thymara’s ears as she almost tripped on a loose cobble, only to be caught by her father, who tried to plug his ear with his other hand. They turned a corner, so that the sun was on the left of them and Thymara could finally raise her head and look at the sky. Blue as a skymaw flower Thymara originally named her after, Sintara hung in the air above the street, her wings beating intensely, trying to hold the body in place. A woman in half-torn dress hung from Sintara’s claws, screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to free herself uselessly, as Sintara’s grip on her, no matter how uncomfortable, was the only thing that stopped the poor woman from a three-story drop to the cobbles below. As Thymara and her father ran the last length of the street between them and the place where Sintara hung they got a better look at the woman. Jerup recognised her before Thymara did.

“Mielda!” he screamed and darted toward, pushing his way through a small crowd that had already gathered at a safe distance from Sintara and Thymara’s terrified mother in her claws. Unlike the crowd, Thymara’s father didn’t stop at a distance and ran right through it. Suddenly, he stood alone against Sintara who, despite his protests, didn't spare him more than a passing glance. Instead, the blue queen watched Thymara intently as she approached. All eyes on the plaza turned to Thymara, the Elderling crowd parted to give her way, Jerup looked back at her with pleading eyes and even her mother up above had stopped screaming. They rightfully expected her, as Sintara’s Elderling, to deal with the situation, but Thymara’s options were few and chances slim. With a corner of her eye she noticed someone, who was clearly smarter than all who gathered here, running away and disappearing in one of the alleys.

“This human,” Sintara started lazily and jerked the claw she held Thymara’s mother in, causing the woman to shriek and curse, “has been most disrespectful to me, calling me “dumb beast " and "lizard ". I will deal with her as I would with anyone who dares to disrespect a dragon in such a way. There is no need for this to be a spectacle as you, humans are prone to unnecessary sensitivity about such things. I do not require the presence of any of you, save for my Elderling, who will escort me to the baths after this is over.”
For only a second the ridiculousness of Sintara's rapidly flapping wings and strained body - clearly not accustomed to hanging in one place for a long time, distracted Thymara from the horror of the situation. Then, her heart sank once again as she noticed that a part of her mother’s dress was stained with red blotches, right where Sintara held her.

“She's going to make me watch my mother get eaten,” Thymara thought, almost not believing what she had just heard. “She is going to eat my mother and there is nothing I can do.”

Jerup didn’t hear what Sintara was saying, but must have sensed that something was going on and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say something that would’ve made the situation worse, Thymara pulled him back and screamed:
“This is my mother!”

“I am aware of that,” Sintara said, but something about her tone suggested to Thymara that she was lying.

“Please,” Thymara begged, trying to force tears out of her eyes, “please, g-great dragon. Do not harm my mother. I am most sorry for her insolence and would go as far as to suggest that all the blame is to be placed on me for not teaching her the proper etiquette for communing with dragons. You must forgive her, oh, queen of the three realms, as she is weary after a long journey and comes from a remote place. It is of course not in any way an excuse for such horrid misconduct, but in your benevolence you must surely see the benefit of putting this woman in my care. After all, would you rather have just an additional meal or a human, trained in the rules of courtesy and knowledgeable in the ways of caring for dragons, bound to you through me, by blood?”

Thymara’s mother cursed, swearing she would never do anything like this and urging her husband to do something about the situation, but Thymara ignored her. She would deal with the consequences of what she said later. Right now it was about saving lives.

“Your flattery will have no effect on me,” Sintara said, clearly pleased, “you do not mean the things you say, even if some of them are correct. I am not benevolent and certainly not merciful or prone to forgiveness. It is a thing of the humanfolk, not the Lords of the Three Realms. As for your proposal, it’s laughable at best. None of the present Elderlings know how to properly care for a dragon, much less how to teach one to do so. Ah, if only you could see what we had,” Sintara’s expression became distant and Thymara knew that she was seeing memories of a time long gone, “we had such wonderful services. Baths were open at all times with attendants ready to not only wash, but also scrub and polish any dragon at their mere request. Minstrels crowded these streets, singing their songs to anyone who wished to hear them. And the dragons…” Sintara closed her eyes, clearly reeling in the pleasure of memories. Then she shaped them open and said with terrifying calmness, “the dragons did not tolerate rudeness.”

She opened her gaping red mouth with sets of stark white teeth and, still hanging in the air, slowly lifted Thymara’s mother to it.

A few things happened at once. Thymara, her mother, her father and the remaining crowd all screamed. Jerup went as far as to dart forward again, a brave, desperate and useless attempt, as Sintara still hung about thirty feet in the air. From a short distance, something that sounded like a war cry sounded, and suddenly Heeby, scarlet and gleaming in the sun, rose into the air with Rapskal on her back. His black hair was bound into a warrior’s tail, exposing his handsome, scaled face. With a few sweeps of her big wings, Heeby approached Sintara, stopping only a short distance from her, their noses almost touching. The wind stream from the intense beating of two pairs of dragon’s wings so close to the ground was almost enough to knock Thymara off her feet. Sintara hissed at the obvious challenge, while Heeby remained silent. Thymara could feel her dragon’s rage. Rapskal or Tellator - Thymara didn’t know who he was these days, raised his hand, asking for the people to be quiet and, amazingly, everyone complied. The only sounds remaining were Thymara’s mother's quiet whimpering and Sintara’s breathing.

“You will release this human right now!” Rapskal-Tellator announced in a commanding voice. “For in capturing her, you have disrespected Amarinda and by disrespecting her, you have disrespected me! And my dragon,” the pride in Tellator’s voice was unmistakable, “does not take these things lightly.”

Heeby’s poison sacks started to swell and she pulled her head back in preparation for one, immense spit. Sintara produced a roar, unlike any that Thymara had heard before. It was a roar of a challenged queen, a dragon denied what she considered to be her right. It was meant to instill fear and it succeeded. Jerup looked at his daughter with pleading eyes, but Thymara was too paralyzed by panic to say or do anything. Sintara moved her forepaw from her mouth, Thymara’s mother hanging limp in her talons.

“Move one more muscle,” Sintara hissed at Heeby, “and she will fall to the ground.”

“You even think of doing anything to that woman,” Rapskal said in a voice that made a shiver run down Thymara’s spine, “and you will know the full might of a real queen. She will have as much mercy for you, as you had for that woman.”

He took a deep breath, probably to say something that would’ve made the situation even worse, but Thymara finally found her voice.

“No!” she screamed, “Rapskal, no! My mother!”

He let out a laugh, wild and hearty, suddenly so different from the commanding general he was a few moments ago. A wide smile filled his face and he half-closed his eyes in pleasure as he turned his head to look down at Thymara.

“Oh, Amarinda,” he said dreamily, “you have always been so cautious, haven't you? I suppose it’s how you do things, working with Silver… Don’t worry, my love, I am going to protect you forever. You will never have to worry again.”

He was having one of his episodes again. For the most part now he kept the memories and influence of the ancient Elderling contained, but sometimes they got out and Tellator took over. Oh, why did it have to happen in a life and death situation?

“Rapskal, I need you!” Thymara cried out, “you, not Tellator. You are never going to catch my mother in time if she falls! Look around you, please, I need you!”

They were speaking aloud, but she could tell the two dragons were listening. Sintara breathed heavily and was clearly about to unleash her venom at any moment, while Heeby stopped filling her poison sacks and focused her attention on keeping her body level with Sintara’s in the air. Thymara’s mother didn’t move. Rapskal-Telator smiled, his expression still distant and dreamy. Heeby finally lost her patience and with a few sweeps of her wings that shook Rapskal-Tellator back into awareness, tried to gain an advantage in height. Sintara followed her closely, challenging the red dragon with a snarl and a half-open mouth. “One move and I will spit,” it seemed to say.

“Why isn’t she attacking?” Thymara wondered. “Sintara hates being challenged, she would never let something like this slide. Is she afraid of the venom hitting the important parts of her at this close range? But then, why wouldn’t she strike first to prevent that?” In the midst of the confrontation, everyone, but Jerup seemed to have forgotten about Thymara’s mother who hung, unconscious from Sintara’s claws. “What is going on?” Thymara’s mind raced, “Are they talking? Or is Sintara just… Embarrassed? Did she realise that this went too far and doesn’t want to push further if she doesn’t have to?” Dare Thymara hope? Her thoughts were cut off as Heeby opened her mouth, ready to end the confrontation and the life of Thymara’s mother.

***

A couple of heels clicked together and Thymara’s father threw his hand up in a salute. It wasn’t the same one the ancient Elderlings used in the visions, but it was remarkably similar to the gesture river sailors used to signal the acknowledgment of an order.

“General Tellator!” Thymara’s father shouted. Surprisingly, that got the man’s attention. He put his hand on Heeby’s back which, Thymara suspected, was a signal. She snarled, but closed her mouth. From the intense expression at both her at Sintara’s faces they were talking in their minds.

“Yes, soldier?” Tellator asked.

“Sir, first, I would first like to know who I am speaking to,” Jerup continued in a voice that again reminded Thymara of how Swarge, Bellin and others talked to Leftrin. Where had her father learned to talk like this? “Should I refer to you as Rapskal or Tellator?”

“You may refer to me as "General " or "Sir ",” Tellator responded sternly, “as for my name, it is Rapskal, but I have taken on the memories of the Elderling Tellator from the time of the ancient dragons, along with my own.”

“So, the memories of the boy that my daughter told me about are still there,” Jerup called, hand still in salute, back straight. “Can you, perhaps, remember that boy for a moment, sir?”

“He was stupid,” the man scoffed, “he didn’t know how to properly court a woman let alone handle a dragon and is now useless. Get to the point, soldier. What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything from you, sir,” How was her father handling the pressure? Now was he so calm? “But my daughter needs her friend.”

Thymara didn’t notice when she started crying. It was so hard to look up at the sky, trying to make out all the details. They all needed to squint, because the sun reflected off Heeby's and Sintara’s scales, obscuring the details of Tellator’s reaction.

“Rapskal?” Thymara asked, pleading. In her head she begged for all of this to be over, one way or another. She couldn’t handle the pressure anymore.

The man on the red dragon - whoever he was at the moment, relaxed, his unnatural straight-backed military posture gone. He leaned over and looked directly at Thymara for what seemed like the first time that day.

“Thymara?” His voice was laced with genuine care. This was Rapskal’s voice - the voice of the new Rapskal, not the always positive, at times annoying youth he was when Thymara first met him. But it was not the commanding general of the Elderlings or the delusional and lovestruck Tellator either. It was her friend and that was wonderful.

Rapskal slowly turned his head, as if seeing the situation for the first time and then gasped softly when his eyes focused on Thymara’s mother hanging in Sintara claws. Mielda hadn’t screamed or whimpered for a long time and Thymara just hoped the woman was unconscious and not dead. She hoped for the sake of her father who, no longer aided by the need to behave like he was a soldier or a sailor, stared up with a terrified expression. She hoped for the chance to get to know the woman her father told her about, the woman who convinced him to save their child. She hoped for the sake of her and Sintara’s relationship that the damn woman was alive. A voice, calm and quiet, suddenly spoke in their minds:

“I think,” Heeby pronounced words slowly, as if thinking about each one, “that we have all reacted too strongly. There is nothing in this… Situation two dragons can’t… Resolve.”

There were murmurs of agreement from all the nearby Elderlings - apparently they were included in the conversation. Rapskal smiled proudly. Sintara slowly turned her head, noting every person, every happy face. Some quickly dropped their smiles when faced with her intense gaze, but some looked hopeful. Finally, Sintara turned to face Heeby eye to eye again. Thymara could practically feel the wheels turning in the dragon's head. If she insisted on a battle right now, after another dragon admitted that the situation could be resolved peacefully, she would be seen as impulsive and petty, which would undoubtedly be a hit to her treasured reputation. Now, Sintara practically had to agree with Heeby, lest she lose the respect of not only the Elderlings, but possibly the other dragons too.

“This is how we train you,” Thymara thought with satisfaction, making sure Sintara couldn’t hear her thoughts, “not with screams and arguments, but by threatening the only thing you care about - your reputation. If we target that, you might just learn when it’s worth it to be nice.”

Sintara still hesitated, not wanting to give in. Thymara held her breath, Rapskal gripped his saddle. Jerup, who couldn’t hear the conversation, was frantically looking around for someone to explain what was happening, but no one was paying attention, anxiously looking to the sky. Finally Sintara stopped beating her wings, slowly circled the square and started descending. On her fourth or fifth loop she suddenly came in straight at the crowd, sweeping low and lowering Mielda right into Jerup’s waiting arms.

Chapter Text

It was fairly cold on top of this building even by Kelsingra standards. The wind blew through Thymara’s hair as she sat and stared at the darkening sky. She could already see the first stars of the night and knew that she should probably get down and join her friends. For some reason she couldn’t bring herself to. Everyone offered their condolences - Sylve, Alise, Leftrin and Tats who apologized profoundly for the ruined reunion. Thymara assured him that what happened wasn’t his fault many times, mostly to get him to leave her alone. The celebration was postponed of course, but only to tomorrow, since Sylve and Alise wanted her parents to make it. Thymara didn't have the heart to tell them that one of those parents would rather be anywhere else than there. Rapskal came too and his visit didn’t go as bad as Thymara expected. He mostly sat and listened as Thymara tried to find words to explain the events of the day. They ended their conversation with a big embrace that somewhat brightened Thymara’s spirit for a few hours.

Hasty steps distracted Thymara from her thoughts as her father scurried up from a side street. Thymara realised she was waiting for him to come. Jerup climbed the steps that led to the flat rooftop and sat down near his daughter, his legs hanging from the side of the building.

“What did she say?” Thymara asked.

“She is still mad,” Jerup replied, “but I convinced her to go to your celebration tomorrow.”
After she awoke, her mother did not waste any time, immediately telling Thymara that she no longer considered her a part of the family.

“You’ve made your choice,” her mother had said in a hushed, furious tone, “you saw what happened up there and you chose the dragon over your family. You took her side, didn’t order her down, didn’t break whatever connection you two had, didn’t tell her that you were leaving. Well, if that beast is the family you choose over us, let it be that way. You are no longer a part of mine.”

Thymara didn’t know what to answer then, and still didn’t know hours later. In fact, she didn’t want to think about what she would say. If they were lucky she wouldn’t have to give any answer at all. Sinatra flew away after giving them Thymara’s unconscious mother and still hadn’t returned, so that conversation was yet to come. Hopefully, she won’t show up until her parents have left.

“You are still going back to Trehaug, right?” she asked her father, hoping and expecting a positive answer.

“We are,” he confirmed, “there is so much open land here that growing crops won’t be a problem. My dream is to give people who weren’t as lucky as you the same opportunity. I hope you understand.”

Thymara nodded her head. She did understand. Her father’s dream was to learn to grow crops high up in the trees, in the crevices and on thick branches, giving the people of the Rain Wilds a sustainable food source so that they wouldn’t have to rely on hunting and trade so much. It still stung even though Thymara knew he would choose to pursue his passion.

“We,” Jerup cut himself off, “I will visit. I promise.”

“I don’t know, dad,” Thymara said bitterly, “I heard there is a saying in the Six Duchies - “a horse can't wear two saddles”. Maybe that’s what we are trying to do. To do the impossible, keep together a family that doesn’t want to be kept together. You want to visit me, while living with a woman who hates me. How do you think this is going to work?”

Her father inhaled sharply and swallowed at Thymara’s words, but decided not to argue. Instead he looked up at the sky, where first stars had just started appearing and said:

“Well maybe the expression is wrong. Maybe you can find a balance between being torn apart by different people and shutting off someone completely. If you are mad at me, I ask you only to have a little grace for an old man whose sin is that he is, perhaps, too forgiving.”

“You are not old!” Thymara exclaimed. “And I am not mad at you, not really. I just wish the world went back to being simple and easy to understand.”

“I wish for that too,” Jerup admitted, “but we will never understand it, unless we try, don’t we? Come on. Enough sitting here in the cold and talking about unpleasant things. There is still enough time left in this day for you to introduce me to your friends.”

Chapter Text