Chapter Text
This time, Valerian came alone. He needed no aid to traverse the yellowed skies of the damaged Allagan research-city-- His own mana cutter more than up to the task. He first cast his gaze upon the bay of Helix, where Geroldt waits for him, impatiently drinking his way through the day. Then, to the central containment ship, where Krile and Urianger remain, eagerly sorting through the destroyed remnants of the prison of three false gods. Then, above that. To the Singularity Reactor, the heart of the facility. Two Ascians and another primal, dead.
But he’s not here for any of that. Not right now, and hopefully never again.
So in the end, his gaze turns south, to Delta Quadrant. The home.. If it can be called that, of the Merycadian dragons, most long driven insane by their tortures, despair, and isolation. But one still remains as sane as the day she was brought here, bound in a prison so highly bound that anything less than a primal would never be able to escape.
“Tiamat,” Valerian says, sitting down on the same ledge that Midgarsormr had once launched him off of. “I wanted to talk to you.”
A dragon so consumed by sorrow and regret that she’d remained within the agonizing embrace of the Allagan’s neurolink bindings to this day.. A forceful reminder of the grief that chained her in an abyss of despair.
She turns her head to look down at him, the force of her aura bearing down on Valerian like a physical weight.
He’s shouldered heavier burdens.
“[Child of man....],” She says, speaking in the tongue of dragons. “[You have returned to this benighted place.]”
“It’s pretty ugly, isn’t it.” Valerian says, eyes turning to stare out at the rest of Azys Lla.
Tiamat’s laughter is a horrifying wail.
“[You look upon the remains of the land of dragons, mortal. The land of my cage, they ripped from the ground of Meracydia itself.]”
She pauses.
“[But you are not wrong. Time among the polluted stars has done the land no favours.]”
“Do the stars pollute the land, or the land the stars...?” Valerian trails off. “That’s not what I came to speak to you about. Some months ago, I sent a friend of mine your way. He--”
“[Nidhogg’s Slayer],” She says. “[Nidhogg’s Shade. Nidhogg’s legacy. The avatar of foolish vengeance given flesh and given form and given power.]”
“His name’s Estinien,” Valerian says.
“[Wyrmblood. Is that not what I said?]”
“I wanted to know where he went,” Valerian says, politely. “I haven’t seen him since.”
Tiamat’s voice hurts to hear.
“[The whereabouts of Nidhogg’s Eyes,]” She says. “[He does not believe them lost, monument to agony that they are. Even in the depths of the abyss, agony calls to agony, and he believes they shall be found by those it resonates with-- those who would use them to raze cities, torment nations. Corrupt hearts.]”
Valerian blinks, head cocked slightly to the side as he processes this information.
“Do you think that’s what will happen?” He asks, finally.
“[I am not blessed with future sight, child of man. I have not felt the presence of the Eyes since that foolhardy priest-king did use it with the Ascalon, the lance that slew my sister.]”
Valerian pauses.
“...Lance?”
“[Was it reimagined in the fires of primal rebirth? Ratatoskr fell to the lance, such is my brother’s hatred of the instrument and its wielders.]”
“It was reimagined as a sword from Haldrath’s corrupted corpse,” Valerian says.
Tiamat’s contempt curdles the air around her, the keening of her magitech prison whining ever louder as the machinery strains to hold the ancient dragon.
“[Death begets death, child of man. Leave me to my torment. Leave me to the silence.]”
“But death didn’t beget death,” Valerian says, strong and sure in the face of a being as strong as Nidhogg with both his eyes. “I brought them back. Well, some of them.”
For the first time, Tiamat moves her head to stare down at the diminutive Warrior of Light.
“[And what does mortal life mean to me, oh singer of the Dragonsong?]” Her voice roars in Valerian’s ears, deafening him. “[Oh you who has cast his eyes ever higher, you who’s own soul echoes with the cry of a fallen star!? Pray tell me. What do the lives of Ishgardian sinners add to the choir of the Heavens?]”
For the first time since alighting in Azys Lla, Valerian smiles.
“Can’t you hear it?” He whispers, mind echoing with the melody that permeates all of dreary, blood-soaked, beautiful Ishgard. “Can’t you hear their feeble new voices present in the Song?”
In his mind, in his heart, the tale is never ending.
Children of the land Answer this
Why must you turn to empty bliss?
Tell me why break trust, why turn the past to dust
Finding solace in the abyss.
“[It’s changed...]” There’s a small, endless pause. “[You are close to my father, singer of the choir. I know what you came here for.]”
“No one is meant to suffer forever, Tiamat,” Valerian says, very, very quietly. He bows, solemn and small against the might of Azys Lla. “All any of us can do is keep our eyes forward, towards the next journey.”
“[Your kindness is its own cruelty, Oh singer. But perhaps... I understand the change of this era, now.]”
Tiamat shifted, and once more grew still as a statue, quiet with her own thoughts.
“I’ll miss Ishgard,” Valerian says, suddenly. “I’ll be leaving soon, and even if I come back, I think I’ll miss it til the day I die. It will never be as cold as when I first stepped foot in it, ever again.”
There’s no response, just the whine of magitech.
“Good night, Tiamat,” Valerian says, walking slowly away until he reaches a certain distance. Then he smiles. It’s an awkward, off kilter expression, ill suited to his face, similar to the strange look in his eyes as he looks off towards Helix, and beyond that to the black void between the stars.
“Good night, Ysayle,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “You did it.” There’s a soft wonder in his eyes, as if he’s finally found something beautiful in Azys Lla.
His shoulders shake, unable to contain the enormity of grief.
“‘Night, Haurchefant. I didn’t kill him after all. Sorry.”
He shivers in a nonexistent wind, purple eyes edged in red. Then he straightens, voice smoothing out, the jagged edge of his mourning replaced with the calm, forward clarity of his purpose as his linkshell rings.
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be there right away. In the Dravanian Hinterlands, you said? Don’t worry, I’m close by. I’ll head right over.”