Archive of Our Own

It was told in whispers in the wind and water: how the ground shook and that once luscious trees, thousands of years of age, were felled by a dragon. And a dragon in Pomu’s forest simply wouldn't do. So she wandered to where the grass was bent and the barks of trees were rent open to reveal their cores, where tracks and clumps of blood soaked dirt were kicked up.

And she could feel it, when she entered the meadow. The presence of something great and mighty, something capable of felling armies and slaying kings. And yet it was merely a woman, dressed in white and sky blue silks stained with blood and grass. Her hair was long and blue, parted to cover one eye. She had a glove on one hand, the one larger than the other. She was holding something in her arms, what appeared to be a small creature who’s lifeforce sang out to Pomu in pain and terror.

“Sorry for crushing your flowers,” The woman suddenly said, not looking up while shushing the whimpering creature soothingly. “I just needed a place to land, you see.” Her voice was like music to Pomu, one of the first voices that she had heard in a while other than her own. When the stranger turned to look, her smile was bright, and her eye was as blue as the sky with a slitted white pupil. Indeed, this was a dragon, and Pomu felt the delicious mix of terror and interest scrape down her spine.

“It’s alright,” Pomu said, slightly dumbstruck. She took a step forward, even when the hair at the back of her neck pricked up at the sight of the woman’s fangs; how their length and size could undoubtedly tear through flesh. “Do you, uh, need help?” Even Pomu found herself surprised at the words she was saying, cheeks warming in the sunlight as the dragon looked grateful, sliding forward without a sound.

“Really?” She asked. “That would be,” The woman looked down, looking shy all of a sudden. “That would be nice,” She whispered.

“I’m Pomu,” The fairy stuck out a hand with a smile, the dragon taking it in her gloved hand’s grip. The material was soft, and yet underneath it Pomu could feel the toughness of scales, of sinewy muscle that ran up the forearms and to the dragon’s broad shoulders.

“I’m Elira,” The dragon squeezed Pomu’s hand slightly, her grip strength making Pomu eep quietly, and the grin Elira gave her showed that she had heard. “I’ll be out of your hair in a week.”

- - -

She wasn’t though, but Pomu didn’t mind the company honestly. There had been a slash on Elira’s leg, the cause of which the dragon had not explained to Pomu. But the fairy still patched her up, brought her to her lakeside cottage and stitched the wound closed while humming a song.

Elira’s calves were strong, she mused, glad that Elira’s eyes were closed so she couldn’t see her blush. Though she was a dragon, she grew pale when Pomu said she needed stitches.

“Are you done?” Elira said, voice shaking. Her hands clenched at the fabric of the overalls Pomu had lent her.

“Yeah,” Pomu said. She inspected her handiwork, before wrapping it up with some bandages. She pressed a kiss to the wrapped thigh, before immediately regretting it.

“What was that?” Elira laughed out as she stood with a wince.

Pomu grumbled, putting her supplies away. “It was to help it heal, obviously. Nothing more.”

Elira raised an eyebrow, making Pomu flick her on the shoulder lightly, chuckling. “I am never fixing you up again.”

“But Pomuuu,” For a dragon that Pomu had just met, Elira had learned to weaponize her pouts way too quickly. “That’s so cruel of you, aren’t fairies supposed to be kind and sweet?”

“And aren’t dragon’s supposed to be fearless?” Pomu put the bag of supplies back in its cupboard, beginning to set up the table for lunch. “The both of us aren’t what we are supposed to be.”

Elira bit back her response and frowned all the way through the meal.

- - -

There were flowers on the table, set in the center in a mug that Pomu honestly couldn’t spare. But Elira had looked so proud coming back from a walk, a mess of flowers gripped in one hand, the other darkened with dirt.

“A little thank you,” She had explained, as Pomu took what some could consider a bouquet with a smile. “For your generous hospitality.” Elira’s voice had deepened in pitch at the last sentence, aiming for a snobby accent as a joke. But the tone was genuine, and Pomu found herself blushing even as a clump of dirt fell from the tangled roots to plop on her clean floors.

“Thank you,” Pomu sniffed at the petals, the mix of scents a chaotic thing, yet beautiful all the same. Like Elira, who now looked like a puppy that had been praised, tail wrapping around Pomu’s ankle for a split second as Elira entered the home and flopped on the couch, patting the seat next to her. She had inserted herself into Pomu’s life with a smile and a laugh and a tree knocked over. Pomu found it in herself to forgive, and then couldn’t find the strength to ever say goodbye.

- - -

Elira had also come with a small creature in her arms, a dragon that was named Pikl. He lay curled up on Pomu’s window sills, soaking in the sun like a lazy cat, albeit one with wings and more eyes. In the beginning, he wouldn’t leave Elira’s side, curled up in her arms and looking at Pomu with a three eyed gaze of distrust.

“Why doesn’t he like me?” Pomu whined one day, after having narrowly missed a slash of claws when she tried to pick him up.

“Maybe he just knows what’s up,” Elira said, shrugging, before hastily apologizing at the glare Pomu sent her way. “I dunno, he just takes a while to warm up to people,”

“You’ve been here a month, Elira,” Pomu said deadpan, lying on the couch limp and staring at the small dragon that lay in his usual spot by the window. He looked way too smug as he stretched, paws kneading at the air as he rolled over and fell off the ledge with a thump and a yowl. “I feel like he should at least allow me to be less than three feet near him.”

“Maybe stop trying so hard,” Elira offered, hair tied up in two buns as she cleaned up their meal and busied herself with smaller tasks. Pomu knew that she was doing it as payment, in return for letting her stay in Pomu’s home, but a little part of her whispered in glee at how domestic it was.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Pomu stared up at her ceiling, squinting at a darkened spot and making a note to check the roof again. “Nobody got anywhere standing still.”

“And nobody can take a breath when they’re running around,” Elira countered, plates clattering into the cupboards with a yelped out “Sorry!”

“I didn’t know we were trading top ten quotes proven to change your life,”

“Pomu,” Elira stood up from where she was hunched over sliding the drawers closed, leaning back with a groan and a pop of her spine, tail swishing around. It had taken a few messy days for Elira to get comfortable in the layout of the home, her excitability making her tail wag and slam into chairs and doorframes. Some of the bruises had yet to fade. “It’s like when I first came here, ‘nd started banging into walls and stuff. This is all new to him, give him time to settle in and make adjustments.”

Pomu huffed, but she went outside to trim the flowers and inspect the garden, the thoughts of Pikl and the smooth curve of Elira’s arched back pricking like thorns into her mind.

She took Elira’s words to heart, giving Pikl space and instead working more on helping him be comfortable. Little toys made out of chunks of wood smoothened into balls. (That had been a mistake, Pomu realized later, when she lay on her bed as thumps echoed around the living room from what was presumably Pikl scurrying around.) A bed made of long grasses and sweet smelling flowers fluffing up a soft cotton bag, a bed that was ignored as Pikl instead slept on the counter, windowsills, the couch, and his favorite; Pomu’s pillow. Pomu shrugged at this, and began to use the immediately shunned bed as a pillow instead. That was when Pikl decided it was good enough to shed scales on.

Pomu had forgotten something important, and it hurt her that she had. That animals had no place for trust, as all the could know was what it ate, and what ate it. It took time, like growing a flower; the sowing of the seed and the gentle care for it, the effort put in blooming in the end. And it happened so fast, it was almost just like when Pomu took a glance at where Elira had been sleeping, on the bumpy couch made of nailed together sticks with pillows stacked atop it, and immediately told the dragon that under no uncertain conditions that she would now sleep in Pomu’s bed.

She had been cooking, Elira sitting at the table looking out the window, with Pomu stealing glances at the serenity on the dragon’s expression, when Pikl came over and twined himself around Pomu’s shins. Now under any other circumstances, Pomu would have squealed and gushed over the cuteness, but in this moment all she could do was curse loudly and like a sailor as she tripped over Pikl’s lithe form.

The floor rushed towards her and Pomu cursed every nature god in existence until strong arms wrapped around her torso, her nose inches from the ground. Pikl huffed a sneeze, trodding back to his place on the windowsill to soak up the last few hours of sunlight for the day, unaware of the state he had left the two in.

I hate everything. Simple and to the point, Pomu’s mind was as Elira helped her to stand, the dragon who had just caught her and now fretted over her while also occasionally turning to Pikl to tell him how the bedroom door would now be locked.

“Are you okay?” Elira’s words finally pierced through the haze brought on by embarrassment.

“All good, I’m ok,” Pomu sat down on her chair with a sigh, her pride bruised and face fortunately not. “At least he likes me now.”

- - -

Time moved on, and summer neared, the heat more overwhelming than usual. It beat down on the two as they worked, their schedule now basically figured out to one of simple subsistence gardening and general lazing about for their free hours. It was when Pomu was searching through her closet for an outfit that was ok to stain and also wouldn’t cause her heat death within ten minutes that she realized some of her clothes were missing.

It was honestly to be expected, as she now had a (permanent?) guest in the house, one who doubtlessly needed to be clothed. But that didn’t explain how some clothes disappeared for a week then reappeared the next day. Though Pikl was indeed guilty of snatching a few sweaters to curl up in at night, the amount missing could only be blamed on Elira.

“Hey, can I-” Pomu tried to start the conversation like a normal person, cool and simple. But her friend, roomate, confidante, whatever they were was working outside, a sweat building up and making her muscles shine as she worked in a shirt that was clearly too small for her. A shirt that was definitely in Pomu’s closet yesterday.

“Is that my shirt?” She blurted out, deciding to blame the heat for her blush and reminding herself to go drink water later.

Elira jumped, almost uprooting the not quite ready carrot she was inspecting. She turned to face Pomu, wiping sweat from her forehead as she walked towards the porch to sit down in the shade. The cotton of the shirt was stretched taut over her generous chest, her abs clear through the material as it stuck to her body, defined enough to cut steel and break Pomu’s mind in what she thought was the best way possible.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” Elira said sheepishly, taking a sip from a cup that sat on the porch, probably warm by now. “It’s like a dragon thing, I uh,” She looked away, hiding her face in her mug as the wings on her head fluttered and her tail curled around her legs. “Your scent on your clothes, it comforts me,”

Pomu blinked once. Blinked twice. Nobody came to help her. “I see,” She squeaked out, heart running a mile a minute. “I’ll go grab you some cooler water,” She turned and robotically walked through her front door, closing it with a thump behind her. She stood there for a beat, mind completely wiped clean saved for the eternally repeating sight of a drop of sweat trailing down Elira’s neck down underneath the shirt collar. “She’s been here for three months, Pomu,” She scolded herself, moving to the cupboard to take a cup out, pouring some cold water out from their pump. “And yet you have managed to embarrass yourself every three seconds.”

Pomu stood there, mug cool in her hand and gathering condensation as she watched Elira work from the window, her hair pulled up and revealing the dewy nape of her neck. Pomu found herself taking a sip from the mug to cool her cheeks, before whispering to herself, “Like she would ever like you back…”

- - -

When it had happened, when it had started, Pomu did not know. She couldn’t explain at which point Elira’s smile made every single muscle in her body ache to be intertwined around Elira’s own, when Elira’s hand on hers made her heart start causing avalanches in her ribcage, tsunamis on the brain, drowning in thoughts of Elira, Elira, Elira.

She supposed she had Elira’s sister, and the friends that she brought, to thank for the change.

Pomu didn’t know, though, that when she lay dead asleep and Elira lay beside her, body curled away from what it wanted, the dragon’s tail would betray her and wrap around her wrist whenever Pomu started to shift and mumble from the weight of bad dreams. Pomu didn’t know that Elira had thunderstorms in her hands whenever she was around her, live wires for veins filling her with energy to hold and love the one that had let her in so kindly. But Elira knew that was the dragon talking, knew that was animal instinct. She wished being human didn’t come with the weight of the knowledge that there were gaps between her fingers that needed to be filled.

But Elira wasn’t human, knew this by her tail and her hidden hand, only pretended to be by the faintest, weakest veil of glamour. Her younger sister was better at it, at the hiding, though she didn’t seem to try. And that bit like a mosquito, a snake wound that throbbed with venom; not deadly, but always there, under the skin and scale. Elira’s want to be something other than what she was, dubbed monster by villages and kings leading to swords swung with the greed of glory and riches behind them.

But Pomu made her feel different, like human and dragon were flesh and blood and bone and in the end it wouldn’t matter. Because if you could grow flowers, and smile in the rain, and excuse her little quirks that afflicted all the little things she did with a laugh and tender teasing, then Pomu would like you. No matter what.

And when Elira’s sister came, with friends, with a family she had gathered all on her own, the envy that Elira now knew lay within her burned away at the vicious pride she felt over Selen.

- - -

There were the two troublemakers, the ghost and the penguin, a mermaid and another dragon, the goddess of luck and demons and writers and sorcerers. Storybook figures that now lay on the crisp green grass by the lake, shouts and yells now commonplace, mixing so discordantly and yet wonderfully with birdsong and the lapping of the waters. Elira had left her family, for it had not been right, and her sister brought family to her. And this sat in her chest with the dragon that lay waiting, for the beast to chuff in delight at what she had found.

“It’s crowded now,” Pomu commented as the two watched the newcomers set up a site by the lake for them to stay.

“Is it too much?” Elira asked worriedly.

Pomu hummed, leaning her head on Elira’s shoulder, unaware of the earthquakes shuddering through the dragon’s bones. “It’s just right.”

And Selen ribbed Elira, teased her for every glance the solar dragon shot the fairy’s way, because what else were sisters for.

“You like her,” She would croon, the night loosening her tongue as the moon waxed, feeding her lunar energy to the point where she was loopy and loving, not the Selen the others knew. “You wanna kiss her, dontcha?”

“And you want to kiss Finana,” Elira retorted, though the back of her neck prickled with scales and heat at how easily her sister had seen through her guard.

“That’s not a no~” Selen cackled, her laugh grating but so homely to Elira that it made her tail wrap around Selen’s wrist in happiness.

“You didn’t say no either,” Elira pointed out, but still how her cheeks burned.

And one day the sun bore down with a fervor that Pomu said she hadn’t seen in a while, its light blinding and burning and sending everyone into either the shade or the lake. Some got sunburns, Elira got practically sun drunk.

“Pomuu,” Elira draped herself over Pomu’s lap, feet kicking over the arm of the couch. Her cheeks were flushed, eye glowing with blue light. Her smile was comparable to the sun, fangs extended out farther than Pomu had ever seen them, milky white sending shivers down her spine. “I wanna hug,”

“You’re already in my lap, dummy,” Pomu laughed, hand carding through Elira’s hair. How the dragon kept it so soft while living in a forest for a few months, she would never know. “You’re so needy like this,”

Elira pouted, hands cupping the sides of Pomu’s cheeks, not noticing the flush or the intake of breath. “I wanna kiss then,”

Pomu stared, hands pausing midway through untangling a knot in Elira’s hair. “You do?”

Elira smiled toothily, booping Pomu on the nose. “Yeah,” She giggled dreamily, eyes beginning to flutter shut. “Always dreamed of it…”

She trailed off, before beginning to snore loudly, Pomu still staring at her in a haze.

“But, you never did…”

- - -

This was a good time, Elira thought, as she watched Pomu fuss around in the kitchen, everything now prepared for lunch before she went outside to join the others. Everyone was outside at the lake swimming, Elira and Pomu being the only ones in the home right then.

”Why is Pomu avoiding me?” Elira sighed out to no one, tail wrapped around her legs as she lay within the roots of a great big tree, one of many in the forest.

“I dunno,” Elira screeched as Selen plopped down next to her sister, her tail wrapping around Elira’s curled up one, a gesture of comfort. “Maybe ‘cause yesterday was the first time you acted so touchy with her,”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve acted like that around her,” Elira frowned, rubbing the soft fuzz of a leaf with her thumb. “I love her a lot.”

“That’s the thing though,” Selen leaned against Elira’s shoulder, wings fluttering lightly. “You love her, and you show it too, but never like that.”

“But, why does it matter?” Elira asked. “Why does it matter how I love her, as long as she knows?”

“But she doesn’t know, dummy,” Selen sighed, flicking Elira on the forehead. “She just thinks you’re good friends,” She added air quotes for emphasis, chuckling a little. Selen sighed though, looking a little more solemn. “Love is weird, isn’t it?”

The wind blew softly, chillier than usual, a welcome respite from the day before. “It is,” Elira leaned her head back against the tree with a soft thump, closing her eyes.

“There’s a lot of ways to show it,” Selen continued. “And they’re different for everyone. Maybe Pomu just needs a little push to get on your wavelength?”

Elira crumpled the leaf in her fist, the delicate thing laying shredded atop her palm. “But I don’t want to ruin what we have,” She whispered, looking at the broken leaf.

Selen rested a hand on her shoulder, a small smile on her face. “Then take it slow, apologize first. Falling in love, it’s like flying, you know,” She stood with a grunt, tail swishing behind her. Elira noticed the bracelet that was wrapped around the end, seashells and flowers in a delicate braid. A gift from Finana, probably. Selen reached her hand out to help Elira stand up, Elira looking her sister in the eyes and seeing a maturity she had never seen before. Selen grinned. “If you want to soar, you got to jump.”

So that was that, Elira would apologize for the mistake she had made, for hurting Pomu so. She stood up from the couch, fingers fiddling with the loose strap of her overalls, the ones Pomu had given her when she had first entered the forest, relishing in how it still held Pomu’s scent. Lemony and bitter, with a tinge of sweetness. Bright, was how Elira would describe it.

“Pomu-” Elira started, before jumping at Pomu’s screech of pain.

“I burned my tongue,” Pomu said, the spoon she used to taste the soup dropping to the ground with a clatter, her words muffled as she scrambled for a cup of cold water.

“I could kiss it better,” Elira said absentmindedly, thoughts moving from scripted apologies and going back to their first meeting, oh so long ago, where Pomu had patched her up. But then her brain caught up to what she had said, Elira’s head shooting up as she awkwardly fumbled for an excuse. “I mean! If you want! Wait no, I mean like, are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Pomu was a similar mess, having almost dropped her cup of water at Elira’s words. “I, uh,” They stood there, staring at each other, as their friends messed around by the lake, shouts and screams failing to enter the little bubble the two had made inside the cottage.

Elira swallowed dryly, wishing she had Pomu’s cup of water right then. “Pomu,” She stepped forward, not knowing where this bravery came from but accepting it as it came. “Remember what you said? When we met and you were patching me up?”

Pomu blinked. “Uhh, something about you being brave?”

“And you being kind and sweet,” Elira continued, taking Pomu’s hands in her own. It was as if the whole world had gone silent, Pomu being the only thing that Elira could see. There were light freckles across her sun tanned face, so light that Elira hadn’t ever seen them before, but she cupped Pomu’s cheek, traced the constellations they made with a thumb. Pomu radiated heat from the touch, breath stuttering and eyes fluttering as she gazed at the soft look on Elira’s face.

“You are the most beautiful and kind person I have ever met,” Elira whispered, as Pomu’s hands came up to cup the back of her neck, tickling the baby hairs that curled at the nape. “And I take back what I said then. And I’m sorry for the other day, with my touchiness and shit.”

“Elira, that was months ago,” Pomu chuckled, her voice wobbly as she avoided eye contact. “And you were drunk that time too. We both know each other better, we’re best friends now.”

“Is that all we are?”

Pomu seemed to stop breathing, biting her lip as her hands traced the broadness of Elira’s shoulders. “Is that all you want to be?”

Elira kissed her and the world stopped. Everything remade itself around this singular moment; at the softness of Elira’s lips and the warmth of her mouth. At the steadying pressure of her palms pressing against the small of Pomu’s back and the way she sighed into Pomu’s mouth.

Pomu was ablaze, dragon’s breath the culprit, cutting and sweet and burning hot. Her wound was forgotten, the heat it had felt nothing compared to this soft bubbling warmth, her body a forest on fire.

“I’m sorry again,” Elira pressed a kiss to Pomu’s cheek, moving in a circle up to her forehead, to her other cheek, and back to her mouth.

“Just kiss me again, you dork,” Pomu rolled her eyes, complaint shut down by Elira doing just that.

“You wanna go outside?” Pomu murmured into Elira’s mouth later; maybe hours, maybe minutes, time moving like syrup around them, the two of them pressed so close on the couch that they had fallen onto.

“Anywhere you want,” Elira promised, pressing a soft kiss to Pomu’s jawline, nuzzling at the baby hairs on her throat with a muted purr.

And when they left the cottage hand in hand, immune to the shouts of their friends telling them that it had taken them long enough and the sun beating down warm on their heads, Elira pressed a kiss to Pomu’s knuckles.

“Took us long enough, huh?” She asked as they made their way down the path that had been worn by all the feet of the people who lived here now, their little group.

“Nah,” Pomu squeezed Elira’s hand, gazing at their family. “I would’ve waited forever for you, anyways.”

“Wow,” Elira raised an eyebrow, trying her best to seem aloof but her blush betrayed her. “You’ve been reading way too many of Finana’s books, huh?”

The grin Pomu gave her had Elira’s heart skipping beats as it flew. “Like you wouldn’t do the same,”

“Stop flirting and get over here!” Millie yelled, even as Enna splashed her again, drenching her. The lake devolved into chaos, as sides were chosen and betrayed, Nina and Ike sitting on the beach watching with exasperated but loving gazes.

“Shall we?” Pomu asked.

Elira grinned, rolling up the legs of her overalls.

“Let’s crush ‘em.”

It was told in whispers in the wind and water: how the ground shook and that once luscious trees, thousands of years of age, were felled by a dragon. And that a fairy went to meet them, lecture like fire in her throat until she caught sight of the culprit. It was told in tales by campfires, in the warm beds of lovers, how that lake the fairy lived by was host to a plethora of marvelous beings, the dragon and fairy leading it all like queens. Together, always, bound by flame and forest.