Work Text:
Another ripping pain surges from the navel, wet and very, very human. It is repetitive, frantic rhythmical, that she can tell, not unlike the waves that crash on the beach where Vhagar waits. Some are soft and to be expected, others come rushing, attacking the rocks with vengeance deep from the sea, ancient nature making itself known— making itself to be terrifying when men and creatures alike try to survive in denial; the tides torturing her rider are more violent than the worst storms Vhagar flew over ever.
It is late…for her Laena, she is certain. In each maddening pain that is this reproductive rite, Vhagar misses hearing the beat of the hatchling. The humans carry their eggs, within delicate flesh and coppery blood, they carry them and are torn by them, the soft weaklings grow too fast and never large enough. It started a couple of sunrises ago, a pulling push and a humid sense of urgency, the rider was taken away by people dressed in soft linen, and the dragon waited. Wordlessly she chose a rocky clear from the beach, enduring the torture of her Laena without raging, it will pass, and she would come and present the babe, exhausted and proud.
The men are so overjoyed with eggs and hatchlings, Vhagar knows they must have picked one to cradle with the weakling—she can’t remember from which batch they have taken the egg, mayhaps could be from hers. It is something she can entertain herself with, now in the darkness, very little she can do to distract herself from her girl’s suffering, from her frustration and already somber mourning; is something unnatural to ignore a rider’s pain, she feels as restless as her Laena is distressed, but they must remain and go through the rite, it will pass and they would soar the skies again.
Another rising agony, now the rider’s roaring can be heard across the distance. The housing must be near enough, their throats are not that powerful, the stridence of men came in masses and war… So many times the men are to be regarded as noisy and dramatic, they are frail and prone to cry. It is with the long years that the mystery was revealed, simple enough to not be obvious. When Visenya met her fate—she had taken everything of herself too, gone was the raw richness that comes with the feeble life of a rider, to share their passions and sorrows is to carve a dent in one's essence.
Fleeting and remarkable are their riders, death is nigh for the last one, is to claim her, not by soldiers and spears but by her brood refusing to make their path to the world without harming their mother.
Suddenly the fear imposes over the labor, there is more chattering, some shouts, inside the tower where the healers and riders are nesting. Vhagar lifts her head and tries to pinpoint if her Laena is coming already. She is to present two bundles, call them ‘babes’ and repeat their names until they too make a dent in the ancient creature, another human to suffer with, to protect from the machinations they are forced to live in… Baela and Rhaena, those are the—
Certainly, she can see a vague figure, tumbling down the steps like a discomforted duck…There is something wrong with the woman, her arms grasp at anything she can, clawing the rocks before the earth reclaims patience. The rider still carries the egg inside her flesh, visibly stuck like it was for half-dozen moons, the light dress creases around the inflated stomach, and the sand behind her darkens, dragging the unspoken misfortune, another wave of pain is translated into little whimpers, even though it shakes through Vhagar like the worst frost biting her scales… The girl wears such a soft fabric and her beautiful curls look ashen, framing her grimacing face, greenish gray is her skin, dripping with sweat and anguish—
Vhagar plasters herself to the rocks, extending her neck to close the distance, her rider is here, she is as sure as the sun comes in the morning. The girl wears a shiny blue dress and says her dragon name with reverence and yearning, there is a small army of men ready for battle behind her but is the woman that makes the most urgent strides, extends her hand, and speaks plainly—
“Vhagar, dracarys. ”
Behind her comes a man, shouting too, demanding like the babe weighing inside the woman. The thumping pain extends through her core, brazing until her throat wheezes some orders, making Vhagar confused by what is being asked of her.
“Dracarys!”
Laena comes and her smile is crooked, her skin is kissed by the sun and there are the two bundles strapped to her breast, fabric secured in multiple layers. The little things are not awake yet they are savagely making their way onto the dragon’s heart, she peers behind the young mother, regarding with disdain the men and women behind her. They call her ‘lady’ and call for precaution, preposterous to think they can stop her; her rider smells more of sweet joy than acrid effort, the exhaustive rite has passed and it comes a new one, it is just logical, these hatchlings are born without wings so they must know the skies in another matter—
“Dracarys!”
Vhagar offers herself, bends her head, and follows with her eye the girl that skips more than walks, eager to touch the sky, the earth can not contain her. The knights and keepers are on guard, speaking of obedience as if the girl hasn’t already charmed her with contagious delightness…the soft lady presses a hand to the dragon and Vhagar’s heart thumps harder than it has in years, akin to being in open skies after a season of the volcanic caves, she is refreshed, elated, her blood rushes anew, loosens her wings and synchronizes her heartbeat with the human’s rapid one—
“Dracar…Dracarys!” Pants the woman, grunts, and falls onto her knees. “Dracarys.”
The woman offers herself and cries another order, cry she does, despite the dryness in her eyes, she is drenched in failure and Vhagar can only stare. The dragon wishes an unnatural wish, she wishes to have their tongues and ask directly. From the moment they found each other she understood this woman, yet everything on her being is revolting against what her Laena seems to plead. The man comes running now, a pesky annoying thing. The desperate woman closes her eyes in total surrender and Vhagar panics like a dragon has no right to do, her rider can not be stranded.
Vhagar breathes in, resolved, her rider face clears up, the grimacing leaving her with plain resignation—yes, yes, Vhagar has missed something but she is going to catch up, with a final nod that Laena mirrors she exhales flames, blazing the people coming to take her away, she hasn't acknowledged the man, the man is— Vhagar protects her rider.
A scream, guttural and surprised. Some gasps from the growing crowd, they are not archers, a small relief, this close to the ground they could have been an obstacle.
“Nooooo!” Shrieks her Laena with renewed fright and Vhagar chances to assess her, no matter how dangerous it is to lose sight of the enemy.
“Vhagar! How coul—” Wails the woman, rejecting the snout of the dragon, rising with difficulty to watch the burning flesh of the man that was pursuing her.
Vhagar digests the reaction, no insult from the strange behavior, as incomprehensible as it is. Her rider has been attacked, and the nostrils of the dragon filled with blood alert her that the danger is still close, she needs, her rider needs her, needs to get away from whoever made her bleed. With her closed jaw, Vhagar pushes Laena before she goes further, dreading the stiff roundness she finds between the fabric— the babes, where are they? her brave girl growls sharply, and harsh decisions are to be made. First to the skies, then they can search for the human hatchlings, Vhagar keeps bumping Laena, pressing urgently that she climbs. They need. Vhagar could find, below the sea, between the great housings. She would find the sea-salted blood, the scarlet-spikes dragon, and even the wyrm should be near too, their riders would fight for her life, if they do not, they would be put to fire too.
“What did you do!?” Yells her Laena, grappling with the force of the dragon, her clawless hands scratch the scales below Vhagar’s eye, it breaks the skin, making the creature try to shrug her delicately, she is already losing blood. The movement only manages to make her tumble, she clutches next to the fangs that stick out, making the flesh hiss, but not as menacing as the stream of reprimands that come from her mouth.
Bizarre as it is, Vhagar contends with the fact that her fierce rider is not on the condition to flee, much to her discontent, the human only rages and hits the maws.
They are disconnected, must be the pain’s doing, but when the rider wavers the worthy dragon rises to the challenge and makes sure they live for another day, such is their united destiny. Another look at the beach and fortunately the people there do not look enticed to attack them, Vhagar crouches slightly and advances both of her front legs, encasing her Laena with her body, she hears her sniffs and grunts, and another painful tide crashes— the energy leaves her in a spurt of fresh red and between her laments Vhagar maneuvers her to lay down.
In the sand, her rider writhes violently, and the dragon whimpers with each of her howls, breathing with her, sometimes lighting the sky when the ordeal threatens to blind her girl with the pain. It is a dreadful process for humans to hatch a babe, her Laena should have been accompanied by her kin, on the cliffside that is her home and clawing at her mate's skin... wonder where he is, humans often hatch in company and Laena is alone tonight…
With another wail and some sobbing, Vhagar bends her neck and hides her rider from the world, lest it takes her away. Laena is not alone, she has come to Vhagar and as a dragon, she would guard her rider's pain. An attentive eye scans the beach, following the creatures that crawl instead of fly. Her strong Laena shall not die, the babe will come out, cold and blue perhaps, they still would fly—the labor continues, the white cloth stains more and the egg hatches and Vhagar growls a question, an exhausted dragonrider answers with tears.
The ripping pain subdues and the waves salute in grief, Laena takes the little body and shrinks on herself, and Vhagar imitates her clumsily, they cradle what could have been together, two heartbeats instead of three, what a burden is to be human, what a prestige to feel it with her.