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Evariste had only seen Angelique's dragonesque form once, but he didn't count that. She'd been thrown out like a spectacle in the middle of a cold and disgustedly fascinated crowd.
But it still was the only time he'd seen that form.
He remembered silver scales and eyes that glowed an unnatural silver color to match. He thinks there had been a long tail and wings, too, but he can't recall their form.
(Once, Angelique had scoffed when he'd tried to describe what he remembered of her appearance to her, then snarked, "My true dragon form doesn't have wings. I can fly without them."
Cue Evariste's curiosity piqued. "True dragon form?"
She hadn't said anything more than that.)
But even if he'd never seen her dragon form again, there were moments where he saw flashes of her dragon nature
Teeth a little sharper than normal when he egged her on. Eyes flashing dangerously - pupils narrowing into slits for a split second - when someone antagonized him or Clovicus. A warmth during wintertime that made him prone to snuggle up to her for hugs (the first time he'd done that, she'd almost bit him. But one day, after a trying meeting with the Council, he'd accidentally fallen asleep on her and had woken up to her reading a book with him draped over her. She sometimes stiffened when he hugged her without warning, but she didn't protest anymore). And surprisingly, she ran cold during the summer, which didn't help with curbing his hugs.
The second time he saw her dragon form was with the troll in Alabaster Forest. He'd been trying to convince her to use her dragon abilities, train them.
And then the troll had gotten too close to him because Evariste was an idiot, and Angelique had went, "No!", transformed, shoved him aside with a brute strength Evariste had not at all been prepared for, and...
Actually, it had been a bit foggy after that.
He's seen the wings and a searing fire, and he thought he heard the sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking.
But again, that didn't count. The seeing Angel's dragon form, that is.
"You are such an idiot," Emerys said to him for the fifth time as he was bandaging Evariste's wounds. "You're lucky that Angelique was able to heal you a bit with her enchantress magic before bringing you to us. Congratulations on making her more afraid of her true form. Dunce. Fool. You overeager puppy."
Evariste had taken the scolding and insults, knowing he deserved them.
But it wasn't something he could fathom.
What would it be like to be afraid of simply what you were? Everyone had a nature that they could choose to fight, hide, embrace, accept, or hate. But what was the right response to one's own nature? Was it okay to hate being born in the body or race or person you were?
"How should I know?" Emerys muttered, and Evar realized he'd wondered those questions aloud. "But all we can do is accept Angelique for who she is and what she struggles with. Don't force it."
And this coming from the man who had told Angelique a few years ago, "You can't hide it forever. You can't hide from it forever."
Maybe he really was an idiot.
After that, Evariste felt like there was less of those flashes of her dragon nature. Even her warmth and cool seemed a little diminished, though he didn't relinquish his hugs.
She was also much more polite to him, which was... bizarre. Ever since they'd had to officialize Angel's indefinite stay with him as a master-apprentice thing to get the Council off their backs, she'd become more reserved, more smiley, less...dragon.
"Like I said, Evariste," Emerys sighed to him one day. "Just let her be."
"But she's stifling herself," Evariste had protested, brushing Pookie's fur. "You can't tell me this is a good thing!"
"Of course it's not!" Emerys sniped, and if glares could kick, Evar's shin would have been smarting. "But what can we do? She's my friend, too, Evariste, and we elves have history with the dragons. Unlike most humans, we were horrified at their extinction. But she's our friend before she's the last of the dragons."
After a small silence, Emerys narrowed his eyes sharply at Evariste. "Well, she's my friend. I don't have a clue what's going on between you two, though."
Well, that made Evariste grimace. "Nothing. Right now, she's decided to keep her distance and just be teacher and student. So I'll respect that."
"For now," Emerys muttered, and snorted when Evariste threw the brush at him.
He really was hopeless...and truth be told, Evariste had resigned himself to the fact that he may never see Angelique's dragon form ever again.
And yet...trapped in the mirror, he thought of those glimpses of the dragon within her that he'd seen.
A being more ancient than this mirror, a memory that saved him from being swallowed by the despair within it. Her fire and warmth and cool. Her blazing eyes hiding a fierce love and vast despair.
Angelique. His first love and what was looking to be his last love.
In here, he was slipping, only held together by a strange sort of sharp relief thay seemed to overwhelm him with visions of silver in a hazy grey and red world.
"EVARISTE!!"
And then?
She was here, her dragon form so alive, so...tangible, that even if Evariste had thought it another dream for a split second, that realness burned him from the inside out like an unexpectedly lit match of pure joy.
It was her.
Pupils narrowed into slits against mesmerizing silver eyes, cold like blades but burning hot nevertheless. Dark hair flickering around her face like flames, with silver horns adorning her head like a crown. Hands - alight but warm, not hot - grasping his.
The visible parts of her shoulders were marked with scales, as was part of her face. And all around, the throne room was swallowed by silver fire, flickering like light borrowed from the moon.
She was here - real and alive and not hiding who she was - and he loved her.
"I love you," Evariste blurted out, and Angelique gave him an odd, startled look that told him her dragon senses had picked up his words amongst the roaring flames and clashing blades.
Ah...well.
Whoops?
Well, they'd have time to talk about this later. But for now, Evar was taking it, at least, as a sign that she didn't hate him for that when she embraced him tight and snarled at the chaos.
He'd missed this - embracing her. It was like all the world was right again, burning away the nightmare that had been the past few years he'd lost count of - and yet lulling him to a dreamless, restful peace.
The nightmare was over, and Evariste was awake.