Chapter Text
Gaining something comes with the possibility of losing it. The joy brought by a sibling inherently carries the grief of losing a sibling, eventually. Nel is an intelligent, logical dragon who weighs her options and does not take unnecessary risks. She did not choose to be a sister to Alear and Veyle out of spontaneous whim. It was a calculated risk, to put it bluntly.
The first person to learn that Nel had gained a sister was Rafal; lips pressed into a line that shouldered both joy and fear at once, Nel brought the news to him in a quiet murmur. Rafal hadn’t quite known how to react, but he nodded and asked her how she was faring.
“Quite well, given the circumstances,” had been her response, before she turned and swallowed down her memories of shared blood spilled. No more red. No more Fell killing Fell. It will be different this time, in this world.
Rafal admires her bravery. She continues to be brave every day, and as much as Rafal might lay claim to a cold heart, he smiles when he sees Nel approach the Divine Dragon and greets him with Brother .
“Hey, good for her,” Framme quipped about the topic once. “Opening up can be hard, y’know?”
Nel’s struggle is noble. She works to break down the wall built up over time to protect herself, understanding that the castle in her mind is no longer necessary. She will always be a little aloof, strict in her demeanor, but brave enough to push open the heavy doors once chained shut around her heart.
Rafal trusts her judgement. He thinks that perhaps, he could follow her lead again.
“Rafal! Look, come look!”
Blinking at the sudden call of his name, Rafal turns with confused interest. Anna the merchant waves her arms over her head from the cafe terrace, beckoning him over. Her trade routes rounding the continent always include Lythos, and Alear is more than happy to have a friend stop by.
Anna is one of the few who does not call Rafal by a title. At first, it had been a child’s petty retribution for the damage he had done to the Divine Dragon, but through time she seemed to gather that Rafal does not particularly want to be anybody’s lord. He is still liege to the Winds, technically speaking, but he considers them Nel’s knights. They should not follow a leader who willfully left them to die.
“Lady Anna, what could possibly require my presence?” he asks her as he approaches. She continues to grin as he steps under the roof of the cafe, and spots Alear sitting at a table. Nel and Veyle accompany him, the latter with her head on the table bursting with strange giggles.
Rafal stares at them.
“You cannot trick me into drinking poison,” he tells Alear.
“It’s not poison!” Alear replies with affront, which only sends Veyle into further laughter. “It’s just... kind of bad, I’m told.”
“It will not poison you,” Nel clarifies. “However, I question the assertion that the little ones could consume this.”
“So rude,” Alear grumbles.
“It’s true, though!” Veyle chimes in. “Rafal, tell us if you think this lemonade is good.”
She pours him a cup from the pitcher sitting innocently on the table. It looks to be the lemon drink that Alear recently discovered an affinity for. Rafal finds it merely passable when humans mix it, so he takes the cup with trepidation.
“If this kills me, I will kill all of you,” he warns them before taking a tiny sip, and choking immediately.
Laughter bursts from Anna and Veyle as he slams the glass back onto the table and splashes lemonade everywhere. Nel pulls back in her chair to avoid becoming collateral damage, while Alear sits and stews in utter dismay.
“I thought it was good,” he mutters to himself as Rafal accepts a napkin from Veyle to wipe his tongue on.
“This is unadulterated lemon juice!” Rafal splutters, pointing an accusatory finger at the pitcher. “Is it not the point of this drink to make lemons more palatable?”
“It’s not unadulterated,” Anna says. “He added apple cider vinegar.”
Rafal stares at Alear in horror.
“I don’t want to hear it from the person who makes pastries so sweet that they burn,” Alear retorts. “You put sugar on your bread!”
“This could be weaponized,” Rafal replies, grimacing at the lingering taste of pure sourness as Anna and Veyle continue to derive mirth from his misery. “This is far worse than eating a raw lemon.”
“He did that earlier,” Nel adds, putting her elbow on the table to prop her chin up as she glances at Alear. “He peeled a lemon much like an orange, and ate the sections.”
“I also don’t want to hear it from the person who eats so much salt that her presence alone could kill a bucket of slugs.”
Veyle is noticeably not receiving any criticism for her flavor preference, despite it being the most likely out of everyone’s to actually cause death.
“I am never accepting food or drink from you all ever again,” Rafal says, tossing the napkin onto the table next to the lemonade mess. “Unfathomable. An attempt to poison me. I already told you that I will only accept murder attempts in the form of formal duels.”
“This makes us even,” Alear replies with a grin, no longer so affronted at the idea of being slightly mean to Rafal. “You tried to kill me with sugar, I tried to kill you with lemons.”
Rafal pauses.
“As brothers do, I suppose.”
Alear’s face brightens far too much for someone who just created the worst liquid masquerading as a drink known to sapient life.
“Do not make me take that back!” Rafal shouts as Alear jumps out of his chair and throws himself at Rafal, laughing exuberantly. He tips backward with his arms caught in Alear’s hug, prevented from landing on the floor only by Veyle’s quick movement. She laughs as well despite the weight of two dragons bearing down on her, and Nel rises from her seat to prevent them all from falling over.
The four dragon siblings tumble over, regardless, sprawled across the floor of the Somniel’s cafe as Anna watches them laugh.