Chapter Text
The first time the Warrior of Light had stood before her, Vidofnir had not been quite sure what to make of her. On the steps of Anyx Trine, Vidofnir thought Rider Kisaragi might be just another simple, foolish child of man that had swayed Ysayle with her overconfidence. A fascinating little creature to be sure. A spot of color amongst the grays and browns of Dravania. It was hard to take such a frivolous creature seriously upon first glance. She seemed as though she’d hardly been touched by tragedy or strife. And then for the first time in Vidofnir’s presence, she spoke.
“Thal’s balls ! Would you please stop talking ?!”
Vidofnir had been so embroiled in her own fury at the presence of an Elezen bearing Nidhogg’s eye that the sudden outburst took her, and all others present, by surprise.
The Miqo’te had hissed, ears pointed back in frustration as she chastised the Azure Dragoon after he suggested gouging Vidofnir’s own eye in response to her fury. “All you’ve done this whole time is snip and snipe and threaten what is supposed to be a mission to protect your people! I’d have left you to rot in the chocobo dung back in Tailfeather if Alphindaud wasn’t so fond of you!” The way the little feline snapped her teeth at the Azure Dragoon as though he were a misbehaving child nearly had Vidofnir throw her head back to laugh. But given the dire circumstances she held her composure.
Still, this “Warrior of Light”, whatever that might mean, was a fascinating little spark, somehow refined and vulgar in equal measure. The one little Ysayle called “Rider” spoke freely and boldly, looking no differently at Vidofnir than she seemed to any other in her presence. “If the little bugs summoned a Primal, I’ll just get rid of it.” Her tone was so matter of fact, coupled with a nonchalant shrug of the shoudlers, that Vidofnir barely believed the little mortal had spoken it. She talked of ridding Dravania of the Gnath’s god, who had already felled so many dragons, as though it were a simple rat in the grain stores.
Vidofnir had assumed as she lifted back to her perch, that it would be the last time Ysayle’s new company would darken her door. She knew better now. After so many moons hearing the tap of sturdy heels and swift mounts running through Anyx Trine to her resting place, that same little spot of color seemed the brightest joy in her life. The sound of it was its own form of song, and perhaps her favorite.
“You have come again, Warrior of Light.”
Vidofnir cocked her head to watch as the miqo’te strode blissfully across the carved floor of Anyx Trine. Her presence had become commonplace so much so that the other dragons did not stir even a hum to acknowledge her arrival as they would any other child of man. But Rider Kisaragi was not just any other child of man. She had ended the Dragonsong War and prevented the fall of the star many times over. Hresvalger’s brood considered her as kin belonging to their eldest sister Vidofnir.
Rider carried an interesting box, and perched atop it was the small mass of aether, shaped not unlike a dragonette, formed by the sire of her sire. He seemed uncharacteristically excited. Rider set the box at Vidofnir’s feet, grinning like a hatchling with their first prey. “I wanted to show you what we came up with!”
Ah. The results of her last visit. Vidofnir had been curious a day or so ago when Rider had come with some little lapine creature and a little machine of the sort that had driven Midgarsormr to the star on which they now lived. The tale they told of shades of the Dragonstar, forever wallowing in their despair brought an ache to her heart and she could see that it left an ache in her champion’s as well.
She had come to know Rider to be a very honest creature. She knew not how to hide her feelings or desires, and shared them earnestly with all, friend or foe, man or beast, mortal, dragon, or god. It was equal parts charming and frightening. And so when the “lopporit”, as Rider informed her that kind was called, suggested that a meal reminiscent of their homeland might be suitable, Vidofnir was curious. The idea sounded ridiculous on its face, but so had Rider marching off to fight Ravana, to fight every obstacle in her path all the way to the ends of the universe, and she always returned to Anyx Trine victorious.
And so too had she now, striding in triumph to set the box at Vidofnir’s feet, one hand scooping Midgardsormr, sire of wyrms, up like a hatchling as the other lifted the cover of the box to reveal a recreation of her grandsire’s home star in confections. Still, somehow, she could only come up with one response. Lowering her head to Rider, Vidofnir asked, “Did this bring the shades of mine ancestors comfort?”
Gently, Rider lay a hand on the side of Vidofnir’s muzzle, “Oh if you could have heard her sing,” she said, lifting her head to meet Vidofnir’s eyes, “The dynamis itself reformed the holy mountain from the Dragonstar. It was amazing, wasn’t it?” She turned her head to smile at where Midgardsormr sat perched on her shoulder.
“Twas just as I remember from eons ago.” Midgardsormr agreed, “Somehow you hath woven yet another miracle, Warrior of Light.”
Rider threw her head back and laughed, “Don’t be so dramatic, you little avocado. All I did was pick up some rocks and do some baking. It was the dragons in Ultima Thule that the dynamis reacted to.” Midgardsormr lifted off of Rider’s shoulder as she batted at him, moving to perch on Vidofnir’s horn. He let out a soft hum, gentle dragonsong that Vidofnir matched, both of them unsure if the miqote was just being modest, or if she truly did not understand the weight of the feat she had accomplished.
How much time had passed since that first evening Rider Kisaragi had followed Ysayle into Anyx Trine? How many adventures had she seen? Lives had she saved? And yet somehow she had never lost that overconfident innocence that bordered on infuriating, were Rider not so earnest in her love for the world around her. She had hardened somewhat. Vidofnir could see Rider tense at certain sounds, the way feline ear would flick around at the sounds of rubble shifting or a distant roar, but the spark in her eyes, the life in her laughter, was no different than that first day Vidofnir had been introduced to her. As Rider settled to share the aux marrons, Vidofnir prayed that spark in her would never die.