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“Longan Dragon?” Millennial Tree looked around, his eyes locking onto the figure draped in white and gold just ahead of him. They simply stood there, shoulders slumped and hands limp at their sides. Their tail laid against the pale ground, unmoving and still. This was nothing like the cruel and merciless dragon he had come to know, nor the stoic and steady one from eons past. This was something heavier. He wasn’t blind to the makeshift graves that waited before them either, the bright colors of fruits, flowers, and a stone stark against the bleak surroundings. The Pale Expanse. The personal thinking ground of Death themselves.
He approached them carefully, coming to stand beside them. The graves had clearly been here for a long time, and yet they seemed cared for. A jackfruit, acai, starfruit, plumeria, and hibiscus too. The fruits were not rotting, nor were the flowers wilting. Grief radiated off of the small pedestal the memorials laid on, and the dragon who stood before it.
“..My fallen brethren.” They spoke after a long silence.
“You took in many forgotten and abandoned hatchlings if memory serves me right.”
“Yes,” they seemed lost in thought, their gaze blank as their voice wavered. “Starfruit Dragon always wanted to meet you one day. They would beg to come with me on my visits.”
“Their presence would have been welcome.” That received a sound that might’ve once been a laugh.
“And if Starfruit Dragon wanted to go, then so did Sunstone Dragon.” A small smile graced their features, the most emotion he had managed to drag from them in years.
“The Peach Dragon, and the Amber Dragon.” He had seen their shadows above the Maze Grove, and in angry rants from the thunder itself. “Two halves of a whole.” The dragon shook their head slowly.
“They were close, but they were not the closest of us. Plumeria Dragon and Hibiscus Dragon were outcasts from the Flower Dragons.. Twins in every way but biologically.” Longan explained, memory inching through their mind.
“I cannot imagine the kind of trouble those two must have caused..” He smiled, thinking of every pair of twins he had seen throughout the millennia.
“Acai Dragon was our youngest. Barely hatched when the Lotus Dragon arrived,” they huffed, tail lifting barely. “They were the first that the Blue Dragon truly trusted beyond a surface level alliance.”
“And what of the Jackfruit Dragon?” He asked, smiling softly. He remembered the stories they used to tell him of their kin. Each and every hatchling they welcomed into their palace
“They were paired up with Durian Dragon and Ananas Dragon from the start, just as Pitaya Dragon and Lychee Dragon joined forces with Atemoya Dragon.” Suddenly they stopped, body going rigid.
“Longan Dragon?” He leaned back slowly, giving them space. Clearing the area meant for wings and scales, not antlers and bark.
“Have you come to mock me?” Their head snapped to him, gaze sharp and heavy.
“I would never do something so needlessly cruel.” He clasped his hands together, looking up at them.
They were silent for a moment, their gaze fierce and hard. “…Those who remain. My kin,” they whispered, eyes shifting to the graves once again. “They trust them. The ones who took them from us.” A small flame rose from their finger as they lifted their hand, their gaze softening ever so slightly at the red-green tint.
“Please do not take my words as defamation,” He took their hand, the motion laced with a tenderness that was lost to time. “But, your kin have seen the path that fortune has carved out for them, and they chose to follow the direction that benefited them most rather than the principle of grief.” They leaned against him, a small clink from his antlers meeting their helmet. Their tail curled loosely against his ankle, the furred tip making the edges of his robe sway.
“The vermin have bid our kind to bloody doom, and they still waltz with them. They accept their offerings, they grant their wishes. Have they forgotten our fallen brethren? Will they make me mourn then as I did the rest of our kin?” They pulled back, pupils shaking in faint horror. Their tail snapped back, lashing as they looked down at their hands. The blackened claws that had taken so many lives so ruthlessly, and yet.. Fondness surged through the nature god’s heart.
“Your kind is not yet gone, dear Death,” Millennial Tree placed his hands on their cheeks, tracing the scales there slowly. “You have no obligation to forgive. But you do have an obligation to those who remain. Will you really forgo your gilded bond of kin to indulge in lonely hatred?” A calloused hand rubbed against the metal helmet that the dragon wore.
“But how can I..? How-” they stopped, placing their hand over his. “It doesn’t.. I can’t let go. I would be.. Disgracing everyone we have lost.” A glance towards the graves, heavy and yet all too hollow.
“Your brethren remain,” Millennial Tree murmured, looking down at the gem on their chest. “All is not yet lost, my love.”
“I protected this world at your side for so many eternities, and yet even we did not foresee what our efforts would result in.” They hissed, draping over him again, tucking their head into the crook of his neck. “Do you not despise it? How they desecrate you with every motion?” He froze, his hands hovering over the spine like structure attached to their back.
“..They are like all other creatures in that sense,” he mused, placing his hands underneath the structure carefully. “Most beings abuse my generosity, few truly respect the mercy I afford them.”
“So why do you let them?” They wrapped their arms around his waist, claws digging into his sides through the thin fabric of his robes. “You do not have to tolerate any of this, you could make this right..”
“It is in my nature, it is my purpose to allow time to pass by its own will. Our power is great, but we mustn't let ourselves be consumed by agony carved by grief.” They went quiet at those words, stiff in his hold. The dragon orbs closed in around him, behind him and before him.
Their grasp tightened on his waist before letting go and moving back. Their eyes were wide, bright and calculating. “You do not allow yourself to feel the rage that courses through your roots,” their claw moved to cup his cheek, looking down at him with a gaze that was both furious and obsessed. “But you still feel it.”
“You’re not entirely incorrect, sometimes irritation surges through me when my dear peace is disrupted unprompted..” He admitted, leaning into their hand. He knew it was selfish, to find comfort in the one who sought complete and total destruction of something that had merely changed from what they remembered. And yet, that persistent loneliness he knew all too well seemed to be quelled in the presence of Death.
“You are not nearly as merciful as you claim to be.” Their eyes narrowed, a dark claw stiffening on his cheek.
“And you are not as cruel as you pretend to be.” He placed a hand over theirs.
“You seek fulfillment and companionship in my presence.” A faint tilt of the dragon’s head.
“You seek comfort and peace in mine.” A small smile graced the ancient tree’s face.
“I am the antithesis to everything you have protected since my slumber began. Why?”
He glanced at the graves, and then back at the being who cared for them. “My own Guardians fear me,” he admitted. “Cookies only wish for my power. The Sacred Swan cares but she is blinded by her own ambitions.”
“But I will listen. Is that why you so often comfort me? Why you ask questions you already know the answers to?” Their gaze softened almost imperceptibly, a slight loosening of their grip on his cheek.
“Maybe, maybe because you seem to be the only being who values me for more than my power.” His chest tightened, a somber sigh leaving his lips.
“You remain as I remember.” They whispered, the dragon orbs rising around them. “Just as willing to hear my words.”
“Ironically, you have changed since then, and yet your allegiance remains the same.” He closed his eyes, his other hand rubbing at his robes in faint anxiety.
“That will never change.” Their voice hardened, ever so slightly.
“Is that so?” He smiled softly, his eyes opening again to stare at the ancient beast.
“Do you doubt my words?” They tilted his head up, taking a step towards him.
“Answer me this,” silence filled the void as he thought. “If you could gain all the strength you needed to fulfill your goals, would you kill your kin-?”
“Never.” They interrupted, claws drawing golden blood as they dug into his cheek. “That reality would be the opposite of the perfection you know is right.” He laughed, carefully prying their hand away from him. Gilded blood dripped from their claws and ran down his cheek in thick rivulets.
“The world has shifted, you know that as well as I,” a small chuckle escaped the god. “And time itself cannot be undone.”
“But I know how to reverse that shift.” They let their blood stained hand fall limp at their side, the sound of dripping blood interrupting the tension between the two gods.
“Time itself will never stand still, dear one.” He entwined his fingers with theirs, smiling almost smugly as a faint flush rose on their cheeks. His blood still coated their fingers, something that seemed to surprise and almost fluster the dragon.
“..You will be there, in the perfect world. I know you will be.” Their tail curled around his ankle again, tighter this time. “In your rightful form.”
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He woke up, back in the Maze Grove. He looked around, the quiet majesty was all the same. Familiar and comforting to his suddenly troubled mind. The dragon’s words were not unfamiliar, he had heard similar monologues from them before. But those last few lines.. That he would be there, his consciousness returned to the tree he was sitting against; strong and towering over this form. It was strange. The Longan Dragon had only ever spoken of their fellow dragons being there. And mentions of what they would need to discuss with the Sugar Swan once their plans were complete, but.. They had never mentioned that they needed- no, wanted him there. It was strange, and unexpected. He knew they wished to reverse the course of time and revive all they had lost. There was never any implication that they would allow him to be a part of their perfect fantasy.
“Father Millennium Tree, are you alright?” He looked up, seeing the guardian of the wind standing before him. His bow held in tightened talons.
“Ah… Of course.” He smiled, rising slowly as new thoughts coursed through his mind. Their conversation had been familiar, that same subtle hatred mixing with forgotten memories of much missed affection.
And then the way they pried. So expertly digging up his own loneliness with almost effortless ease. And oh so bluntly saying that they would ensure he would be there for their perfect era.
And the Great Millennial Tree, god of all life and the tree that held the very earth together, would be lying if he said the sentiment didn’t make his face flush.