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Seteth took his sister by the hand, many years ago, and led her away into the wide world.
They had not known happiness since then -- the Death Knight had haunted their steps for too long, seeking the unique power Flayn held in her blood. The Death Knight had a master they did not know and had never seen with their own eyes, an emperor from a long way away who cast a shadow even longer still.
They spent all their days walking, hoods over their hair and shielding their faces from curious onlookers. The Death Knight was not the only one who would wish to steal them away, and Seteth was nothing if not a man beleaguered by caution. Flayn had spent most of her life only in the company of her brother, sheltered despite their difficult life on their road, a lonely girl. She wished, in the secret dark of night, that some day the two of them might know love and companionship that was not each other’s. She loved her brother dearly and knew that he wished only for her safety but that did not stop her gentle daydreams of a softer future.
One of these long days, wandering in the deepest woods far the human eyes and rumors which might lead back to their eternal hunter, they ran across a spring. Since they had long run out of water, Seteth betrayed his normally vigilant self and knelt to drink. Flayn, however, heard the spring whisper to her. This was not unusual, with the magic that sung under her skin, but the words the water spoke struck fear into her heart.
“Who drinks of me will be a giant bird, a bird who will tear any and all asunder” the water babbled. Flayn pulled her brother back and begged him not to drink, terrified he would turn into a bird and tear her apart like the spring warned of. Seteth obeyed her and let her shaking hands pull him away.
They came upon another spring soon after and Seteth, anxious to relieve his horrible thirst, knelt again. As his hands reached for the water, Flayn heard the spring speak again.
“Who drinks of me will become a great wolf, a wolf who will tear any and all asunder.” Flayn cried out for her brother a second time and pulled him away again, this time with greater difficulty.
“I will wait until we come to the next spring,” he promised to her, “but only until then. My thirst is too great, and I know yours must be as well.”
They finally came to a third spring, and Seteth was already kneeling and drinking before Flayn could hear the water speak to her. “Who drinks of me will become an emerald dragon, a dragon without fire, with dull fang and claw, who will always be hunted and afraid”.
Flayn reached for her brother, but instead of grasping his shoulder she felt the harsh scales of a glistening dragon with her brother’s eyes, just as the spring promised. There by the traitorous spring did she weep for a time, her tears rolling off his scales as he curled around her and shed tears of his own.
It was only as the sun began to set that she wiped her eyes and pulled a clip from her hair to attach to a cloth she tore from her dress. She tied the clip around her brother’s neck and said “Do not worry, brother. All these years you have protected me, and now I will do the same for you.” Wrapping her fingers around the cloth, she led him gently further into the woods.
For many weeks they wandered that forest, looking for another spring that might return her brother to his human form. The Death Knight never came, and there was plenty to eat from the earth and many uncursed brooks to drink from, and for a while they knew peace. They could not exchange words as they once did but Flayn sang songs in the long silences of the night and told tales she had heard on the road in the brightness of day, and her brother listened with the same gentle affection he always had.
After a time, however, they came too close to the edge of the woods. By ill fortune, a hunting party from a nearby monastery stumbled upon them there, bows drawn and dogs barking at their heels before the siblings could flee.
“Please! Please, do not hurt this dragon. He is my brother, turned by magic we cannot undo. If you kill him, you will kill me as well.” Her plea and soft voice moved the hunters, the leader of whom offered her their hand and introduced themselves as Byleth. They knew little of magic, they explained, but there were many more mages in the monastery further into the mountains who may be able to help her brother while the high stone walls would shelter them both from the approaching winter. Aware that the Death Knight was sure to be searching for them and afraid of the harsh weather in her future, Flayn took the hunter’s hand and let them lead her and Seteth away.
There, in that monastery up in the mountains, they all lived happily for a time. Flayn and the dragon wanted for nothing. Although Seteth could not breathe fire or slash with his claws or bite with his fangs, he could fly higher than even the clouds and he spent many a day soaring happily with his sister, free from the fear that had plagued them their whole lives. Flayn also finally had the company she had craved for so long, friendship found in the many mages and hunters and students who roamed the broad halls of the monastery.
But a darkness was lurking in the corners and tight passages of the siblings’ safe haven, clawing up from the ground to pull their lives apart. It had been waiting for them for some time and after many months of joy, it stole into Flayn’s room and took her away while the dragon slept peacefully outside her window.
The Death Knight had come to the monastery, unbeknownst to all the powerful warriors and mages who secured the stone walls, and even Flayn’s own magic could not save her from his hands. Her disappearance was not even noted beyond the trashing and strangled weeping cries of the dragon echoing through the mountain passages, crying out for his sister that he had been taken while he slept. She was a small girl in both stature and voice, prone to exploring the great halls when not under the watchful eye of her dragon brother, and so most who noticed her absence assumed she had taken to sneaking away while her brother slept for some wandering in the woods or in the secret passages of the monastery. His cries, wordless and anguished, were written off as the pain of a protector whose charge was growing up. After all, what could happen to Flayn here in these safe corridors?
But deep beneath the monastery, in the tombs that were set heavily in the earth, Flayn wept alone. The Death Knight could not spirit her away while her brother still lumbered through the grounds, so they were forced to stay until the dragon died of grief. She was alone again, as she had been most of her days, but without the comfort of her lifelong companion. She could hear his cries echo throughout the stone around her but could no more comfort him than she could comfort herself.
The only time she could move was at night, in her dreams where the Death Knight could not reach her and her magic could give her soul a form. There, as her spirit left her and wandered the grounds, was she able to lay beside her sleeping dragon and run her hands along his back.
It was on one of these nights, soon before Flayn would be stolen away forever, that Byleth found them twined together under the glowing moon. The hunter had been sleepless in the midnight hour, pacing through the grounds in search of some peace. Upon coming upon the scene, Byleth gasped, frozen in fear. Flayn, ghostly and glimmering, looked up to her friend.
“How fares my brother? How fares the dragon? Twice more shall I come, then never more.”
She faded away as the moon began to dip toward the horizon and Byleth had no time to answer her. They took her place at the dragon’s side, running callused hands along his back, and considered. The dragon was wasting away by the day. It could be seen in the dullness of his scales, the sorrow in his eyes. Flayn too was clearly in danger, somewhere far away from helping hands. With only two more nights remaining, there was precious little time to waste.
They were ready the next night, leaning against the dragon when Flayn appeared. She took her position as she had before, stroking the dragon’s scales with tender affection. She did not meet Byleth’s eyes or answer their questions as the three of them sat under the waning moon, for she could not look away from her grief-stricken brother, crying even in his troubled sleep. It was only once the moon began to set again that she spoke, as she had the night before.
“How fares my brother? How fares the dragon? Once more I shall come, then never more.”
Byleth came to their feet but Flayn was gone before they could ask where she was hidden or who was keeping her. They had only one night more, and Byleth began to fear deeply for the fates of the brother and sister.
The next day, sleepless but determined, they spoke to many of the great mages and knights of the monastery and formed a plan for how they might find the missing girl and save her dragon in the process. There was not much time and even fewer options, but as the sun began to set Byleth took their place at the dragon’s side with hope in their heart.
Midnight came. Byleth watched solemnly as Flayn appeared yet again and curled up near her brother’s face.
“Flayn, your brother is dying. Your dragon is so sick with grief that he will not live through the night. Where are you hidden? Where might we find you?”
She looked up to them, surprised, and then down to the ground beneath her knees.
“My brother is dying,” she repeated, voice weak with tears “my dragon is sick with grief. This time I come, and never more.” She met Byleth’s eyes and placed her hand on the dirt. Understanding dawned upon the hunter and they stood abruptly.
With her awful final words spoken, Flayn began to fade. Byleth was running across the grounds before she was fully gone, a rallying cry echoing throughout the monastery. “The tombs! The tombs!”
The mages and knights flooded down below into the abyss, where the Death Knight was preparing to depart with a sleeping Flayn thrown across his horse. The girl was wrenched from his hands and a judgement placed on him then and there for all his evil deeds.
His punishment was fair and just and upon deliverance it was found that the magic binding Seteth to his draconic form was broken. The Death Knight had commissioned a witch to lay a trap for brother and sister, and bound the magic to his own soul to better pursue them across the lands once one of them had drunk from a cursed spring.
Upon the revival of his human form, Seteth and Flayn wept for joy and embraced, never again to be parted. They spent many years content in the monastery, finally at peace in the wide world.
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