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Griffons are divine creatures. That’s what all the story books said.
That’s what Father and Emyr had said too. Dimitri seeing his cousin do so with affection and love in his eyes. They were meant for the skies. To be free and warm their feathers under the light of the sun, or to fly all the way to the land of the dead to rescue the same spirit from her prison. A griffon had been Loog’s mount and companion. Sent by the Goddess herself to help free Faerghus.
Griffons are divine creatures.
So why was Sirin locked up and being treated like nothing more than an unruly animal?
Dimitri pressed his fingers against the freezing glass. Craning his head to look where the stables were on the castle grounds. The blood from earlier was now covered by a wave of freshly fallen snow, but he could still almost hear the cursing of the stable hands as they passed by to find a healer. That had been the fifth time in the last few weeks.
Sirin had always been a bit notorious. While never outright dangerous to anyone, Emyr was really the only one who could get close to mess with her feathers or fur.
“She just has her boundaries,” his cousin had said.
No one else but him could ride her at all unless they clung to Emyr’s back. Dimitri had done it. Felt the freezing wind in his hair–looked at Fhirdiad grow smaller beneath them–as Sirin’s wings beat silently against the current. Every bit as strong and graceful as every legend ever told said. Other times he’d watch from the ground. Glenn and Emyr, both, nothing but little black dots in the sky while they raced around each other. It was like they belonged up there.
But Emyr was gone. All he left Dimitri with were a few broken promises…and griffon who was now languishing in the stables. Not even Uncle Rufus had been successful in getting her to eat.
There were footsteps behind him. Turning, Dimitri tensed as he prepared for it to be a guard or maybe his uncle, and then relaxed as he only saw Dedue. His friend was frowning. Eyes darting around as he strung together the words he clearly wanted to say, “Are you okay…Dimitri?”
“I…yes, more or less…” he gestured over to the window, “Thinking of my cousin’s griffon.”
“Griffon? Is that an animal?”
Nodding and pondering a way to explain, Dimitri crossed his arms, “Yes, more or less. They’re both real and animals from story books. Protectors of kings, treasure, and spirits of the land. Umm, they look both like a bird and a lion. It’s the animal on Faerghus’ flag, even.”
Dedue’s brows rose, shock clearly covering his face. Dimitri was about to ask what was wrong when his friend collected himself and came closer to the window. “Your cousin had a shirazal? I…have only heard of those in stories.”
It was Dimitri’s turn for surprise. His interest piqued just a little for what stories Dedue could know. If any resembled what he knew. But he dare not ask, the last thing he needed to do was pry and drag up painful memories. He shoved down his curiosity and simply nodded. “He did–does. She’s still his even though he’s missing. But I fear she’s not being cared for properly…so I’m going to go and look at her myself.”
“Is the shriazal–the griffon–the animal the hands have been injured by?” Dedue worried with his hands, “Dimi–Your Highness, are you sure?”
“Yes. If no one else can care for her, I have to at least try.”
Mind made up, Dimitri pushed away from the window. Dedue’s footsteps fell into a familiar rhythm behind his as they walked down towards the stables. The castle felt dark and cold. More silent than it had ever been. He kept his eyes off the portraits of his family. Especially those of Father, Emyr, or Katya. They watched him anyway.
All the while his thoughts drifted. Back to the dark and his cousin’s glowing, strained eyes.
Did Emyr know? They said a griffon was bonded with their rider, something spiritual that couldn’t be explained. Sirin loved his cousin. He wouldn’t have left if he knew she would suffer–
‘Yet he left you alone.’
Biting his lip, Dimitri shook his head and waved the thought away. He didn’t know why Emyr left, not in the slightest. Besides this wasn’t about him. This was about Sirin and making sure that she was okay.
Dedue’s hand brushed against his. Dimitri grabbed it, against his better judgment.
He refused to let go even as they reached the door which led to the stables. The guards barely acknowledged them as Dimitri pushed open the door. They wouldn’t be leaving the palace grounds. His Uncle couldn’t object to this anyhow. Freezing autumn wind snaked its way around them the first steps they took outside.
The moon was hanging low in the eastern sky, and the last vestiges of daylight refracted off the first snow in the west. It wouldn’t be long before the sun vanished from sight for the next two moons. Snow crunched underfoot in the way only fresh fall could. Dimitri eyed the thick, dark stone of the royal stables beyond the gardens. There weren’t any hands around now. Nightly chores done and dinner on its way.
Leaves skittered across the ground in an array of autumn colors. Their color akin to fire juxtaposed against the stark snow, and many continuing to rot further into a simple brown. Ashes of the spring and summer. Dimitri wanted the green back. He used to love the autumn and even found beauty in the winter. This time used to be his favorite. Despite how the land greyed.
The Founding Feast was less than a month away. Father always had less to deal with in the winter and more free time to spend with him while they were cooped up in the palace. His friends and other family even made trips to stay during the long night. It was still a time of joy and life. But now…
Dimitri looked up at the sky. Choosing instead to wonder after when the lights would appear.
“Your Highness?” Dedue asked, again.
He forced his lips to curl into a smile, “I’m fine. Just thinking. Now, let’s go see after Sirin, shall we? Let me approach first since she knows me.”
Dedue didn’t look convinced, but let the matter drop. Letting go of Dimitri’s hand to follow at a distance as they entered the stables. He, in turn, took a deep breath. Brushing his long hair with his fingers in an attempt to make himself look more like Emyr. As if that would put the griffon at ease. The horses were tense. Ears pinned back and their tails whipping the air.
There were dark feathers scattered about. Gathered more around the end stall at the back, one that had more open air than the others. Remnants of blood stains were there too. Splashed with water which turned the dirt there to mud. Dedue tensed the closer they got. Once again warning Dimitri of the danger and suggesting that they perhaps leave this to the stable hands.
“I’ll be fine Dedue, though your concern is appreciated,” Dimitri said.
He ducked into the side room next to the stall. Covering his nose once the smell of raw meat hit it. Grooming equipment and buckets lay scattered about. One was still filled with feed. Rabbit and other small game from the butchers no doubt. It must have been left after the accident.
Riding gear was kept here too–on a wall at the left side of the room. Dimitri could see the blue and gold that his Uncle decorated his horse with, along with the horned armor that adorned the head. His father’s various saddles gathered dust. His eyes glazed past them. Instead finding the empty spot where his cousin’s riding gear had been. Uncle must have put it away.
Ignoring the saddle wall, Dimitri approached the grooming equipment and picked up a familiar wooden box. Made of sturdy maple wood with a top delicately carved into the scene of a hunt. He smiled at the archer on griffon back. Letting a gloved hand brush over it and the memory of his cousin before he tucked it under his arm; then he turned to pick up the bucket of feed.
Arranging themselves, Dimitri drew himself up. Their steps made no sound as they approached the stall. Yet he could hear the rustling of straw and the movement of a body. A strange mix of lion growls and bird hiss the closer they got. He raised a hand. Dedue stopped walking, but his expression was set. Clearing his throat, Dimitri stepped forward. “Sirin, it’s me. I know you’re upset, and I’m not Emyr, but could I see you?”
The hissing did not abate.
Reaching for the door anyways, Dimitri slid it open.
Sirin was standing. Not quite at her full height, but still far larger than him in every way. Dimitri’s heart wretched. She was in such a sorry state.
Her feathers were matte and had nearly lost all of their regular glossy appearance. Any rainbow to be found in the black feathers of her head was completely lost. The golden color of her wings and tail was faded. Patches were even missing. With so many covering the floor, Dimitri wondered if she had been pulling at them from the stress. Fur and feathers were tangled together. If he wasn’t mistaken she was already so thin compared to what she had been.
More the image of a dying animal than the noble creature he knew her to be.
Dimitri sat the bucket on the floor as Dedue grew closer. “Is she sick?” he asked. Sirin’s golden eyes locked onto him, and her neck feathers ruffled as she brought her wings up more. Eyeing the claws ejecting from her paws, he raised a hand to keep Dedue from coming any closer.
“I don’t think so. I think she’s just sad.”
“They say shirazal are bonded to their riders for life, though I only knew of divine warriors ever getting the chance.”
Dimitri nodded, “Faerghals say the same. Before my cousin, the way of raising and riding griffons was lost. Many people thought Loog was the last one, but they’re ridden in Sreng too.”
The full extent of the story would have to be saved for later. He could see the partial confusion on Dedue’s face, but there were more pressing issues. Trying to sooth the irate creature, Dimitri choreographed every move he made as he reached down into the food bucket. It had been easy for Emyr to get her to eat. Though he wouldn’t dare just approach Sirin right now. Holding up what looked like a skinned rabbit, Dimitri let Sirin see what he had.
Then he threw it into the stall.
It landed with a thud. Sirin screeched and drew up. Beating her wings in a show of rage that had Dedue grabbing him and throwing himself in front. The storm only lasted for a few seconds, Sirin only choosing to not charge them from the door being open. Heart hammering in his chest, Dimitri looked over Dedue’s shoulder as his friend’s frightened breathing slowly calmed. The griffon had settled…somewhat. She had stepped back down. Wings still ready to beat and fight at any moment even as she inspected the meat at her feet. A spark of hope lit in his chest when her beak tore at it.
Pulling off pieces bit by bit.
Dimitri took a few tentative steps out, cooing at the griffon with the same little sounds he heard Emyr make. “That’s it. That’s not so bad is it?”
He waited for her to finish. Grimacing only at the crack of bone when she went to fish out the marrow. Elated once he eyed the bucket.
“I’m going to get closer,” Dimitri stated, already pulling out another skinned rabbit.
“Dimitri– Your Highness, no, please. What if she attacks?”
“Then it’s a risk I need to take.” His brows knit together when he looked over all the bent feathers and mattes from how her fur had overgrown, “I can’t leave her like this.”
Handing the box to Dedue, Dimitri took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold of the stall. Sirin watched him. He held the rabbit out in front of him. Cooing and chirping, hoping she recognized him. Knew he wasn’t a threat. The whole time she just watched; not backing away or moving other than breaths. Once close enough Dimitri held out the rabbit and averted his gaze from her’s.
She snatched it from his hand. Dropping it at his feet before beginning to eat the other just as she had before. Sirin’s wings finally dropped–folding more against her sides. Taking the chance, Dimitri approached further. Doing nothing more than brushing his hand against the feathers on her neck.
They ruffled, but settled just as quickly.
A sigh of relief left him, and Dimitri took a moment to scratch at her neck in the way Emyr had shown him. Smoothing out and freeing feathers that had become caught and tangled. His ears perked when he heard her purring and chirping. “Dedue,” he called, “Could you bring in the bucket and the box I gave you? Don’t worry, I think she’s fine now.”
He looked reproachful, unsure of the direction, but Dimitri continued to coo and sooth Sirin further. She looked up, but didn’t protest when Dedue walked into the room. The bucket was emptied next to her head. The griffon chirped in delight at all the offerings. While still a bit tense, Dedue warmed enough to come a bit closer and raise a hand to her wing.
“She’s so…” he paused as his brows knitted and brush down a snagged feather, “What is the word for when something feels not thorny or rough?”
“Soft, and she is, isn't she? Even more so when she’s properly groomed. Would you help me?”
Dedue nodded, smiling just a little, “Of course.”
Dimitri took the box from Dedue once it was passed. Opening it to reveal all of Emyr’s grooming equipment still in-place. He first took out the feather comb. Not really sure what everything did, but he would figure it out if need be. Together, they carefully removed every broken and shedding feather. Dedue exiting briefly to find the emergency feather oil so he could massage it into the brittle things.
They spoke a little as they worked. About legends and griffons. Dimitri knew he was nowhere near animated or well with storytelling like his father was, but Dedue listened to him ramble on anyways. Offering a few stories he knew best he could between them. Then, Dimitri spoke of Emyr. Of how he cared for his beloved griffon and the few chances he got to fly with them.