dragon au catch-all for nophicascounsel

[personalinterest]

Continued from this thread, just spinning it out into an entire AU now!

Some notes to keep in mind:

• Aymeric drank Vidofnir's blood and is now a member of Hraesvelgr's brood. He spends his time primarily within the confines of Zenith and Asah, though he makes forays to Anyx Trine to visit the dragon colony there. While still considered something of a broodling by his 'sire,' he has every intention of becoming a dedicated guardian of Zenith, just like Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir.
• Has renovated one of the dwellings within Asah for his personal use, which also serves as a secondary residence for Ariane, as well. Is somewhat involved with the local moogles working to restore Zenith to its former glory.
• Due to the nature of the covenant forged between him and Vidofnir, he is incapable of reverting fully to human form (for now). His current form resembles that of a bipedal, gargoyle-esque creature, or perhaps a more draconic version of an Au Ra male. (Art forthcoming.) His entire body is covered in indigo scales, save for his face and ears, and a heart-shaped patch on his chest. Thickness of scales varies depending on placement, but more heavily armored scales are located on back, shoulders, arms, and legs. Smaller, softer scales are in more flexible areas, including his belly. Claws and horns are black, along with his dorsal spines. He is capable of flight but limited to carrying smaller burdens, maximum weight allowance of one (1) adult Elezen.
• He recently gained the ability to shift fully into dragon form, thus increasing his combat capabilities exponentially. Despite the coloration of his scales, he is not ice-aspected. He can breath fire and also has some limited control over Holy spells, similar to other white dragons.
• Is currently in a polyamorous relationship with Ariane and Estinien.
• Is capable of laying eggs and has fathered two broods with Estinien and one with Ariane (technically no genetic material was exchanged, but it counts!).
• Can reproduce asexually like any other dragon through methods similar to real world lizards, most likely parthenogenesis or self-cloning. The process often requires sexual stimulation in order to induce ovulation, though many of the greater wyrms can do so without a partner. Aymeric isn't old enough to do the latter yet.
• More to add as I think of things!

Comments

First Brood

[personalinterest]

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Second Brood

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Third Brood

[personalinterest]

It had been three months since last he saw Estinien. The former Azure Dragoon had absconded with their broodlings to Anyx Trine to teach them how to hunt properly, where game was plentiful and the weather more mild. The Churning Mists still teemed with Nidhogg's brood, and while they were no longer beholden to their master's whims, there were many who still felt rancor toward those belonging to Hraesvelgr's brood. It wasn't unusual for dragons to eat the younglings of their rivals, and those belonging to Nidhogg's brood displayed a disturbing penchant for cannibalism.

Yes, it would be better to let his broodlings spend some time with their brethren at Anyx Trine, where there would be more eyes to keep watch over them and fewer opportunities for predation by Nidhogg's brood.

So, it was something of a surprise when Aymeric felt his belly begin to swell with another clutch a few weeks ago, long after Estinien had left. He could tell by the weight and subtle aetheric signature that this was a viable clutch, though such a thing should, by all rights, be impossible.

At least, it would be, were it not for the fact that dragons can reproduce asexually, without any genetic material exchanged between partners. Midgardsormr himself sired the First Brood without a consort, a feat not unusual among the great wyrms. What was unusual, Vidofnir had explained, was that someone as young and underdeveloped as Aymeric should be capable of such a feat.

Which means that something had to have triggered it, and there was only one person other than Estinien with whom Aymeric was sexually active...

He paced sluggishly about the room, impatient for Ariane's arrival. She'd been called away for a few weeks to tend to other matters of import in Ishgard, and thus was unaware of these recent developments. Had this been merely a clutch of duds, he wouldn't have bothered, but since this very definitely was viable, well... she deserved to know, didn't she?

Especially since she might indirectly be responsible for it!

[nophicascounsel]

Ariane isn't sure what she was expecting from his rather nonspecific missive, but it wasn't for him to be... well, expecting. Again.

It comes down to Aymeric being a dragon made, rather than born. As Ariane understands it, his body is still following rhythms more appropriate to the elezen he was, not the wyrm he is now. Hence his having borne two broods of hatchlings already, when a pureblooded dragon in peacetime might space theirs out by a decade or more; hence, more atypical still, the regular clutches of unfertilized eggs. Though most if not all dragons lay a dud clutch from time to time, particularly newly mature adults in their first breeding season, those clutches come on a basis of years, not months as Aymeric's have. While they do have Vidofnir's assurances that this will settle down in time, she hopes for his sake that time comes soon.

"Oh, love..." Ariane pauses only to drop her bag by the door and set her gift for him— a very familiar potted plant— on the closest table before she beelines to his side. Wings and eggs in the way make him a difficult man to hug, but she makes an admirable effort. With her arm wrapped around his waist, she snuggles up to him from the side, resting her head upon his shoulder.

"Blanks again?" she says sympathetically, rubbing his egg-swollen belly in gentle circles. What else could they be? Estinien isn't back yet. His continuing absence was pretty obvious when she got here, not to mention she hasn't been mobbed by a flight of excited dragonets greeting their "mother".

"Come, you should sit." She gives him a gentle nudge towards the couch. "You tell me when this started, and I'll tell you all about how the Firmament's coming along, how's that?"

[personalinterest]

Ariane isn't the only one hoping that his biological cycles settle down soon! Aside from the obvious physical discomfort, he still clings to the notion that he is male, and that by all rights he shouldn't have to be dealing with pregnancy in the first place. But dragons don't ascribe to the very limited notion of one's gender being dictated by a "biological sex," and there are plenty of male dragons that go through the same breeding cycles as females.

Maybe he'll become more accustomed to the idea in a few years, or maybe a decade...

His ears prick up at the sound of Ariane entering, and he turns toward the door, watching as she quickly sets aside a very familiar potted plant on the table. He reaches for Ariane as she wraps her arms around his waist, drawing close to his side. Her hair smells of carnations, as always. He presses his face briefly against the crown of her head, drinking in her familiar scent. It never fails to set his heart at ease.

He doesn't answer her question right away regarding the "blanks," as it were. This is the sort of news that should be taken sitting down, he thinks, and is grateful when Ariane suggests they do just that.

"About that..." He says, following Ariane's lead as she nudges him towards the couch. He takes a seat, carefully arranging his tail toward the side to avoid sitting on it. (It hasn't quite come as second-nature to him, not yet. But perhaps, one day.) "I first noticed symptoms around three weeks ago. My appetite had spiked dramatically, as it usually does before a clutch begins to develop. I ate well, I assure you!" he adds quickly, hoping to stave off any undue concern. "That meal should last me for at least another week, by which time I should be ready to lay these eggs..."

Gods, he can't even think about eating right now! His belly is so distended, there's no way he could make room for a decent meal, not will all these eggs crowding out his other organs. There's probably at least ten of them, his biggest clutch to date.

He pauses for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "Ariane... I have reason to believe that his clutch is viable.." Reaching forward, he rests his hand atop her own. "And I... would like you to be here with me to deliver them."

[nophicascounsel]

Viable? Ariane looks at him with eyes wide with shock and, perhaps, dismay. A third live brood so soon? They can't keep going at this rate or they'll soon have more mouths than they can hunt enough to feed, to say nothing of the toll she fears so many back-to-back clutches must be taking on him. And nobody was even here to fertilize the eggs! Certainly she isn't equipped to do it.

She turns her hand over to clasp his and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. There's a weight to his words that strikes her as strange, but her answer is the same either way, and immediate. "Of course I will. I wouldn't dream of leaving you on your own."

Really, he chould have called her sooner! Francel appreciates her help, and she enjoys the time she spends working in the Diadem to procure materials for the restoration, but the effort won't fall apart without her there. Aymeric doesn't need a scolding right now, though, he needs her support, and can she really say she wouldn't behave the same way in his shoes? The important thing is she'll be here for the most critical, delicate step.

"Only, we must speak with Vidofnir soon," she says firmly. "There must be some way to— to prevent conception, at least, before we're literally up to our ears in dragonlings."

(Short of the three of them keeping their hands off one another for the foreseeable future. If he's getting fertile clutches on his own now, even that wouldn't work, anyway...)

(Give her a minute. She'll figure it out.)

[personalinterest]

There's a very audible sigh of relief at her answer. Not that he doubted she would stay with him; Ariane is nothing if not maternal in her nature, practically adopting any stray—human or otherwise—that wasn't specifically accounted for! She was already fully invested in the rearing of his previous two broods, so this one shouldn't be any different?

Except, well...

"I've already spoken with Vidofnir at length," he says slowly. "We're working on a solution, but the most obvious forms of contraception aren't really, ah, compatible with draconic anatomy. And in this particular instance, it wouldn't have made a difference. You know as well as I that dragons are fully capable of producing a clutch without the aid of a consort, at least as far as sharing genetic material is concerned. Of course, they generally do require a partner to, ah, stimulate an ovulation..."

He can feel his ears burning with embarrassment. Gods, why is this so hard to say?

Taking Ariane's hand, he drags it toward his swollen belly and holds it there. The scales are stretched apart beneath the strain of so many eggs, of which Ariane might be able to discern some of the individual shapes. His skin is fever-hot, fueled by the wyrm's fire burning within his belly, now serving as an incubator for his latest brood.

His lifts his gaze to stare into Ariane's eyes. "I... have reason to believe that you are responsible for this clutch." His lips twist into a wry smile. "Congratulations, Ariane. You're about to become a father."

He has to inject some bit of levity into the situation, else he's liable to break beneath the tension!

[nophicascounsel]

He scarcely needs drag her hand, as she finds it drawn there regardless. Feeling the minute gaps of softer skin between the scales where they've stretched apart makes her wince in sympathy for how full and uncomfortable he must be. He's bigger than ever, she's certain of it— just how many are in there this time?

"To stimulate... You mean—" Her ears color as the memory comes to her of that night a few weeks prior. Having come into possession of a formerly-heretical fertility idol, so to speak (just say dildo, Ariane) that she was saving for a special occasion, she'd brought it out to give him a night to remember before she left for the Firmament... And she gave him far more than that, it seems. Was it the resemblance to a dragon's cock that fooled his body somehow?

Just as she's coming to that conclusion herself, he confirms it. She stares back, a smile slowly dawning amidst her shock. She flattens both her palms against his rounded belly, feeling the contours of the eggs pressed against his skin, and in the innermost recesses of her soul an inner dragon of her own sits up and roars, Mine.

"Well, well, well," she says weakly. "I can honestly say I never expected to become a father."

A laugh threatens to burst forth from her, half nervous and half elated, and to keep it in she leans forward and kisses him instead.

[personalinterest]

Ariane isn't the only one thinking back to that incredibly hot night a few weeks prior! There was an almost feral gleam in Aymeric's eyes when he beheld the artfully crafted fertility idol (just say dildo, you fool) riding between Ariane's legs, and he insisted that he be thoroughly restrained before she used it on him. For her own protection, after all. Unlike Estinien, she lacked the strength or the armored hide to protect her in case he got a little, ah, overly enthusiastic in their love-making.

Merely recalling the events of that night (in which he got absolutely railed into the floor by his beloved), is enough to send a pleasured flush across his face. It's almost shameful, really, how much he's turned on by the idea of her fucking him senseless again, despite the fact that he's already carrying her clutch.

Her clutch. Yes, it's just as much hers as it is his, even if she was incapable of spilling her seed inside him. It hadn't stopped him from imagining it, though, gripped as he was in the throes of passion, his face pressed to the floor with his wrists shackled, reduced to little more than a mindless beast in rut. He never imagined that he would ever be able to couple with Ariane in such a fashion, in which they could both indulge in their baser urges with such wild abandon!

She flattens both her palms against his belly, moving her hands in small circles to better feel the eggs—her eggs—growing inside him. His eyes go half-lidded beneath her soothing touch, and as she leans forward to kiss him, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close; pulling her against his swollen belly. There's some measure of discomfort, yes, but it's far out-weighted by her closeness.

He breaks off the kiss, smiling against her mouth. "We'll need to break the news to Estinien, at some point. I daresay, I'll likely have a dozen eggs to present to him ere he returns from his hunting foray!"

Well, maybe not quite a dozen, but it certainly feels like it! He groans softly, feeling a subtle shift in their positions as Ariane leans against him. And with the way things are going now, he might not even need to wait a week before he's ready to lay these eggs...

[nophicascounsel]

That was really something else, the way they both got carried away. The wild high of having a dragon at her mercy, the guilty pang afterwards of seeing the imprint of the rug upon his cheek and realizing how uncharacteristically rough she had been with him... You're okay, right? she'd asked him anxiously as she untied his bonds. That was okay? You took it so well, my treasure. A better consort I couldn't imagine...

Yes, it was a wise choice to save that idol (dildo) for something special. An experience like that should stay fresh! They'll get too used to it if it happens often... Among several other reasons to put that thing away for now. Possibly as many as a dozen reasons.

"You think it's that many?" Ariane peers down at his belly, thinking of the previous brood and how the individual eggs compare to him now, grown huge with her clutch. (Hers!!) In her rough estimation it's... not implausible. Her gaze lifts to meet his, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I want to be there when he sees them. Not even a dragon, and I gave you more eggs than him!"

She's just about to kiss him again when he groans, and immediately she draws back to give him a little breathing room. Though she keeps her hands upon his belly, she can't feel anything different. Not that that means much— she isn't the one carrying them, after all!

"Is everything all right? Want to go lie down?"

Perhaps he'd be more comfortable in his nest?

[personalinterest]

"It's closer to ten, I'm fairly certain. We dragons have a way of sensing these things, you know?" He offers her a wry grin. That's two more eggs compared to his last clutch. "Just try not to boast about it too much in Estinien's presence. You know how competitive he is, and I would prefer not have to contend with carrying another brood again so soon!"

Though, there's certainly something to be said about the mental image of Ariane and Estinien fighting one another over the right to breed him, a thought which shouldn't even be entertained by the rational, human part of his brain. But the hungry, irrational part of his brain that houses his inner dragon very much likes this idea, and it's become increasingly difficult as of late to shut out those sort of thoughts.

He's going to chalk it up to his inner dragon being extra loud lately due to his brooding instinct taking over. Yeah, that's probably it. Most definitely.

"I... I'm fine," he gasps softly. "The eggs are just shifting a bit, that's all! It happens from time to time, though with increasing frequency when they're ready to be laid..."

Yeah, scratch that, he's definitely not going to last a week before it's time to lay these eggs! Hopefully, there won't be any unforeseen difficulties with giving birth to such a large brood this time. (It's two extra eggs, it can't be that bad, can it?)

He shifts his weight beneath Ariane, glancing longingly at his nest. "I think... that would be for the best." He gives Ariane a meaningful look as he struggles to his feet. "Join me?"

Aymeric settles himself within the overflowing pile of blankets and pillows in the corner, laying himself carefully on his side, wings folded out of the way. He sighs contentedly now that the weight of his belly is no longer pressing down on his spine. He smooths a hand across the rumpled blankets in front of him, making a space for Ariane to tuck herself next to him.

Would that he could simply lay here and sleep, curled protectively around Ariane until he's ready to give birth. He always becomes exceedingly sluggish in the days leading up to giving birth, and he wouldn't be surprised if it happened sooner rather than later.

[nophicascounsel]

Before following, Ariane goes back to the doorway to retrieve her gift. She brings the potted carnation over near the nest, setting it carefully upon a windowsill where its spicy scent might waft down to him. Perhaps it will be a comfort to him in the uncomfortable days that precede laying. It seems she was wiser than she knew when she decided it was time to bring it home!

"Peace, my heart, I have no intention of egging Estinien on," she says, kneeling to kiss him on the forehead before she moves into the space he made for her. (Was that an intentional pun? Only Ariane knows, and she's letting on nothing.) "Knowing him, he would insist upon giving you a dozen next!"

Seriously, you three. Have you never heard of quality over quantity?

She cuddles up against him, her hand once again coming to rest on his round belly. She thought the novelty had worn off after two broods of dragonets and the dud clutches in between, but this one— this time, she just can't seem to keep her hands off of it!

"You know, it's really rather unfair when you think about it. He could at least lay a few blanks once in a while."

Careful what you wish for, Ariane. How much do you want to deal with a cranky, egg-laden former Azure Dragoon?

[personalinterest]

"Egging him on?" Aymeric covers his face with one hand, groaning loudly. "Oh, that was bad, even for you!"

Leave to the bard to inject a bit of clever wordplay into the conversation, even if it's only in the form of a bad pun.

Once Ariane settles against him, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. His tail curls around their entwined forms, almost in the manner of a cat readying itself for sleep. His chest vibrates with a low purr as her hand rubs soothing circles against his belly once more. He blinks slowly, the nictitating membranes fluttering against his eyes, a sure sign that he's relaxing beneath her touch.

"Knowing Estinien, he'd be so mortified at the thought of carrying eggs that he'd probably disappear into the wilderness rather than endure us fussing over him." Laughter rumbles deep within his chest. "His pride has ever been his weakness, you know?"

Though, it would be interesting, to say the least, to witness the former Azure Dragoon with his belly as round and pale as the moon, languishing in his nest beneath the strain of carrying so many eggs. Aymeric really shouldn't be lingering on this thought for as long as he has, but now that Ariane has put it there... well.

His eyes slip closed as he presses his forehead against hers. "Maybe it's for the best that only one of us is carrying eggs, at the moment. If we were both brooding at the same time, I imagine it would be difficult for you to rub both our bellies."

Yes, Ariane, keep doing that. He likes it. He likes it very much.

[nophicascounsel]

Ariane snorts. "As though he would let me!"

She wouldn't be wholly surprised were Estinien to respond to belly rubs as the cantankerous stray cat he is: claws out! But that just leaves her hands free for the one who does like them, doesn't it? Ariane continues her slow caresses, gradually moving in an outward spiral to cover as much ground as possible. Idly she wonders if they have any of that auri-made salve left; it would do his scales good where they're stretched to the limits. She would have to get up to get it, though, and she's really quite comfortable, and from the way that catlike purr rumbles through his chest it seems that holding her close is doing him more good than any lotion, potion or cream.

"He wouldn't disappear for long. Between you, me, and a flock of eager broodlings who believe they're playing hide-and-go-seek? Why, our Estinien wouldn't stand a chance." Ariane flashes him a wicked grin. "If all else failed, I could always call upon Tataru."

(Now, Ariane, there's no need to be mean about it.)

She closes her eyes, briefly entertaining the thought of joining forces with Aymeric; not to chase down Estinien, but to get him into his predicament in the first place... not that they should try just now! But if they did, perhaps using the fertility idol (Dragon. Dildo. Just say it, Ariane.) on him for inspiration first... The eggs shift slightly beneath her gentle touch, startling Ariane out of her reverie with a gasp.

"Now you stop that." She scoots down so she can press a kiss to the curve of his belly. "He's just gotten comfortable, and I'll ask you all to let him stay that way a while longer."

[personalinterest]

"He might protest, at first, but once the discomfort truly settles in, I doubt even Estinien would recoil from your touch." He makes a soft noise of contenment in the back of his throat as Ariane continues to caress his belly. "Besides, he trusts you, and for all his grousing he can be a surprisingly good patient when he knows the consequences for resisting will likely only prolong his misery."

For all that he pissed and moaned about staying abed while recovering from Nidhogg's possession, Aymeric knew it was all bluster, for Estinien had yearned to lay down his spear and simply rest after spending every waking hour of his life lost to vengeance and bloodlust. He was prideful, yes, as were many Ishgardian men, but Estinien especially hated to admit any weakness, unless it was around those whom he intimately trusted. And surely Ariane had earned his trust a thousand times over since they traveled together during the Dragonsong War.

At the mention of Tataru, Aymeric can't help but rumble laughter. "I have heard tell that the Scions all collectively demure to Tataru's requests. She is something of a force of nature, is she not?"

Even Estinien had cause to acquiesce to her requests no matter how insufferable, though Aymeric had yet to learn the true reason why he demurred so readily to her. No amount of coaxing or wheedling on his part would loosen Estinien's lips on the matter, and thus it has remained a mystery for the ages!

He moans softly as the eggs shift again beneath Ariane's gentle touch. He's not pained in the least, but it's not quite the pleasurable sort of touch he's seeking, either.

(Though, once the labor well and truly begins, Ariane might be surprised just how painless the whole process really is...)

His ears redden as Ariane's lips press against the swell of his belly, her touch eliciting a curl of heat to flicker within his lower regions. It's not unheard of for pregnant women to become insatiable in their sexual appetites well within the last stages of pregnancy, and this wouldn't be the first instance of Aymeric becoming aroused while his belly was full of eggs.

(Yes, he and Estinien absolutely fucked during that time, much to Aymeric's enjoyment.)

"I... I don't think I'm going to last the week, at this rate..." he says, nervous laughter bubbling up. "I suppose these broodlings are just so eager to see their mother that they can't wait much longer..."

He cups his hand against Ariane's, pressing it more firmly against his belly. "Why don't you sing to them a little, hm? So they can learn the sound of your voice. They're surprisingly aware of their surroundings, even while in the egg."

In fact, broodlings inherited a great deal of knowledge and even shared memories from their brood-mother (or father, as they case may be). It was how they could speak from the moment they were born, and possessed a basic understanding of their history and culture. It was a common practice among dragonkind for everyone to sing the old stories to the younglings, even while they were still in the egg, so that they would already become acquainted with those who would bear the responsibility of raising them into adulthood.

[nophicascounsel]

"Sing to them?" Ariane drums her fingers (lightly!) against his belly, thinking. Of course, she has a sizable repertoire to choose from and therein lies the rub: choosing one! Perhaps the one about the end of the Dragonsong War that had so fascinated the older dragonlings when she'd played it for them? Though that's heavy fare for infants... or...

The answer strikes her, so obvious it could hardly be anything else. Smiling softly, she hums a few bars of an old, familiar melody before lifting her voice in song. The words are older than either of them, drawn from Ariane's earliest memories of childhood: a simple lullaby about a baby bird.

She closes her eyes, and behind them the ghost of Marielle's kindly face gazes down upon her; the echo of her voice sounds in Ariane's ears, subtly rougher and a shade lower than her own. As she sings the final phrase, she can almost feel the phantom brush of lips upon her forehead, as though even now her mother were kissing her goodnight and bidding her go back to sleep...

She wraps her arms about him, pressing her forehead to his stomach, and lies silent. Just for this moment, the swell of emotions within her chest crowds out the possibility of words.

[personalinterest]

The melody may be unfamiliar, but he knows the song for a lullaby even before Ariane begins to sing. How different it was from the songs of his youth—hymns to give praise to the Fury, dirges to honor the fallen, ballads extolling the heroic deeds of dragon slayers who died a glorious death. Even the lullaby his mother used to sing to him in the cradle was not free from the influence of war, though the message was a yearning for days long past when their people once knew peace.

Even so, it had brought him comfort in those days, when he would sit at his mother's knee while she sewed for him coats and smocks to protect him from the harsh winter air. His eyes drift closed as Ariane's voice evokes memories of those bygone days, when Aymeric had been so small and innocent—when he knew nothing of the rumors surrounding his birth nor the struggles that would await him later in life.

He could almost imagine his head laying against his mother's lap, her fingers smoothing down his unruly curls as she stroked his hair...

Many moments pass in silence once Ariane finishes her song. Aymeric cracks one eye open, peering down at Ariane while the tip of his tail lashes gently back and forth.

"That was a beautiful song, Ariane. Did your mother teach it to you?"

sneaks this in while my student naps

[nophicascounsel]

"Mm-hmm." Ariane draws back just enough to look him in the eye. "She had a fair few of them, but that was always my favorite."

She chuckles. "Why, I think I used to get up in the night on purpose, just so she would put me back to bed!"

Ariane gives his belly a last fond pat before scooting back to her former position at his eye level. There's a faraway, nostalgic quality to her smile, the one that so often comes over her when she speaks of her late mother. "I wish you could have met her. She would have liked you, I think."

(Really, who wouldn't?)

"It was just us, you know?" Yawning, she snuggles up closer, tucking her head beneath his chin. "We paid so few visits to the city proper, I hardly knew Grandmama and Grandpapa and Uncle until I was out on my own. I always used to want a big family when I grew up..."

She grins. "And you certainly gave me that, didn't you?"

[personalinterest]

He can easily imagine a young Ariane in her little nightgown peering furtively through an open doorway, hoping to slip unawares into her mother's bed. The thought brings a fond smile to his face.

As Ariane pulls herself back to her former position, Aymeric lays one arm across her waist, nudging her close. Her verdant eyes have that faraway look to them, and he knows that she must be reminiscing about her mother. It was rare for her to speak at length about her late mother, so Aymeric was always attentive on those occasions when she chose to reveal that part of her past.

"Your mother must have been an incredibly strong woman to have raised you all on her own." He gazes at Ariane through half-lidded eyes. "And I know that she would be proud of all that you have accomplished, and not merely as the Warrior of Light. All the lives you've touched in small yet myriad ways, the stories you've shared... I think any parent would be proud to see what a kind-hearted and radiant woman you've grown to become."

A shadow of melancholy passes across his face as he thinks of his own parents, both of whom passed away before he attained the rank of Lord Commander of the Temple Knights. They were already quite old when he was given into their care, but they loved him dearly, which made their short time together all the more precious. Though he learned early in his youth that he was an adopted child, there was never any doubt in his mind that he was wanted, and his only regret was that he was unable to truly care for his parents in their old age.

"So, you were an only child, too?" He shifts slightly as Ariane tucks herself closer to him. "I confess there were times when I felt envious of my peers who had siblings, such as the Fortemps family. I told myself that if I ever became a father that I wanted to have many children, so that none would ever experience the loneliness I felt growing up... Of course, I put that dream aside once I became Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, but that was before I met you, my love."

He kisses the crown of her head, smiling against her hair. "I know it's not exactly what either of us had imagined, but I can say with absolutely certainty that I wouldn't trade my current lot for anything. Whether human or dragon, those children are our future, and I intend to see that each and every one of them is loved and cherished, as they should be."

He hopes one day to introduce the broodlings to the children of the New Nest, that they might learn from one another, thereby strengthening the bonds between man and dragon, thus paving the way for friendly relations in the future.

[nophicascounsel]

"I was. My father— though that seems too strong a word, really— left before I was born, as you recall, and as far back as I can remember Mother never got involved with another man. I don't know if she didn't want to risk it again, if she hadn't gotten over him. Or if it just wasn't as important to her as other things— like me, and her work." She sort of shrugs one shoulder. "I asked plenty of times and never got the same answer twice. I wouldn't really say I was lonely, since we had each other... but it would have been nice to have more children my age around."

She reaches up to brush his bangs off his face. Her expression is soft, the melting tenderness he brings out in her through hardly more than existing in her presence.

"It may be a little late to have this conversation..." Since he's near giving birth to his third round of broodlings, and no longer the right species to get her pregnant even if they tried. "But I'm glad that we're on the same page. Our children will never want for love. Or playmates!"

Just as she says "playmates," there's a knock at the door and a familiar chorus of kupo!s from outside.

"Delivery for Ser Aymeric, kupo!"

Ariane sighs. "Make the door open itself, darling. It's cozy right here."

"Kupo-po? Is anybody home?"

The door does not, in fact, open itself. Reluctantly, Ariane rolls over, taking her time in pushing up to her feet while the moogles outside chatter amongst themselves. When she finally answers the door, a good half dozen of the flying fuzzballs stream in, each carrying a colorful, clearly handmade basket in their tiny paws.

"You, er, seem to have forgotten the delivery part...?" Ariane asks, nonplussed, looking at the empty baskets.

"Oh, no, kupo. These are the delivery!" one of the moogles chirps, setting theirs down next to Aymeric's head.

"One of the men that's working with us at Barr Lehs was talking to Mogton and he said, 'don't put all your eggs in one basket'—"

"And we heard Ser Aymeric had eggs!"

"So we brought him enough baskets for all of them, kupo!"

Woven by moogle paws to moogle scale, each of the baskets might fit a single dragon egg.

[personalinterest]

The sound of unannounced visitors causes Aymeric to surge into an awkward, half-sitting position, not unlike a cat rudely awakened from a comfortable nap. He turns toward the door, pupils thinned to mere slits as his tail lashes with agitation.

It takes a moment for his draconic instincts to settle after having been startled into "fight-or-flight" mode, but as soon as he registers that it's only a bevy of moogles at their door, he visibly relaxes.

"I wasn't expecting company, certainly not at this hour..." He shrugs helplessly, fixing Ariane with a pleading look. "Would you mind terribly...?"

Ariane is already getting to her feet before he can finish his request. As the moogles flutter in, Aymeric pulls himself into a more comfortable seated position, not wishing to greet their guests lying down.

Old habits die hard.

He blinks owlishly as one of the moogles sets a basket beside him. Upon hearing their explanation, a slow, tired smile spreads across his face. He hasn't the heart to correct their misunderstanding, nor to inform them that the scale of their project is just slightly off.

However, as he gently picks the basket up, he can't help but admire the craftsmanship. From the tightly-woven fibers to the colorful cloth lining and silk ribbons adorning the handle, it's obvious that a lot of time and effort was put into it.

"A lovely gift, and quite thoughtful, as well." Aymeric offers his most diplomatic smile. "I daresay I needn't worry over any of my eggs breaking should they be housed in such exquisite baskets."

"You really think so, kupo?" One of the moogles twirls with delight. "See? I told you all that practice would surely pay off!"

"Okay, you were right, kupo! But my poor little paws have blisters from all that weaving..."

"Kupo-po, me too! If only there was something to take our minds off the pain..."

"Whatever happened to 'hard work is it's own reward'?" Aymeric chuckles at the sudden wave of crestfallen looks. "However, it would be remiss of me to send you all home on an empty stomach, wouldn't it?"

He gestures toward a small barrel near the door. "Pray, help yourself to some kupo nuts. You have more than earned them."

With a chorus of kupo!s and don't mind if I do's, the moogles immediately beeline toward the barrel, pushing and shoving one another as they greedily gather up as many kupo nuts as they can carry in their tiny little arms.

"Pray, give my regards to the Temple Knights upon your return!"

"Oh, we will, kupo!"

"Sorry we can't stay longer, kupo. So much work, so little time, and these kupo nuts won't eat themselves!"

And then, just as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone. Aymeric sighed, carefully setting the basket aside before flopping heavily upon his nest once more. Maybe it was due to his condition, but being in the presence of so many energetic moogles had left him feeling suddenly drained. More so than usual, at any rate.

"Never a dull moment when they're around, hm?" Aymeric smiles tiredly at Ariane. "Do you think we ought to tell them or...?"

Nah, let someone else explain the idiom. Or not. Maybe someone else will get some free baskets out of it, too?

[nophicascounsel]

Does Aymeric, too, ever stop and wonder about the life choices that led to them keeping kupo nuts on hand by the bushel for the purpose of appeasing moogles? Not that Ariane is complaining; for all that the little fuzzballs can be a nuisance at times, they're just irresistibly cute, and:

"They've become quite the artisans," she remarks, examining another one of the baskets. How did they manage such a strong, close weave with those stubby little paws? "I'm rather proud of the little fellows, aren't you?"

She holds the basket up in line with the far windowsill, humming thoughtfully. Perhaps if she lines a few up over there... and those wildflowers growing up by Four Arms would go beautifully with the color of the ribbons... yes, perfect. Ariane gives a satisfied nod.

For now, though, she gathers them up to pile on the dining table. Decorating can wait. Her beloved needs a good long rest, and she has a mind to join him.

(Morning...)

Ariane knows she was dreaming a moment ago, but the details are already faded into cobweb tatters, leaving only a brief and disorienting feeling that she ought to have wings. She blinks blearily, vaguely bemused to find herself with her arms wrapped about his legs, using his belly as an awkward pillow. That wasn't at all where she was when she fell asleep...

Subtle movement beneath her cheek. The eggs shifting again? Ariane's lips curve into a small smile. Her eggs. She turns her head slightly to plant a kiss upon his warm scales.

"Morning, 'm'ric," she mumbles, then something that might be "my love" but blends into a yawn. "You awake?"

somewhere in the [handwave] future

[nophicascounsel]

Thou art correct. Vidofnir's toothy maw isn't built for anything recognizable as a smile, but the intent shows through in the shape of her eyes.

"Ah. Thank you," Ariane says faintly, taking a heavy seat upon a chunk of rubble. It's funny, really, how a few words can shake her world to its very foundations. Words only confirming what she already suspected, no less!

The great white wyrm crouches low, bringing her head to Ariane's eye level. Ariane automatically reaches up to rest her hand on Vidofnir's muzzle, as though she were a mere chocobo rather than a dragon big enough to eat her whole. Thankfully, she doesn't seem to take offense, emitting the quiet rumble from deep within her chest that serves as her version of a chuckle.

How dost thou feel, little one?

"Queasy?" Ariane suggests with a self-conscious laugh. Where does she even begin? Her head is spinning with hopes and fears, delight and anticipation and too many plans that require planning. "I mean... that too, but honestly everything. All at once. I thought once he changed we couldn't— and that's fine, of course, I love the hatchlings with all my heart, just—"

Thou needst not explain thyself to me, Vidofnir says gently. Hast thou shared thy suspicions with thy consort?

Ariane shakes her head. "I wanted to be certain first."

Thus didst thou seek my counsel. Her eyes crinkle again in a draconic smile.

"Thus did I seek your counsel," Ariane agrees. She shuts her eyes, leaning her head against the dragon's snout. "Thank you, Vidofnir." (When did she drop the "great" before her name? Probably around when Aymeric gave her his first brood of grandchildren. Vidofnir is family now, and she no longer feels the need to be excessively formal.) "For this, and everything else you've done for us."

Thou art not of my brood, warrior. But thy consort is, and thou, friend of Ysayle, hast long been an ally steadfast and true. It is no burden to assist thee from time to time. Now... Vidofnir rises to her full height, so that Ariane has to crane her neck to look her in the eye. If thou shalt return to Zenith now, one of my brood shall bear you home. Do not tell me thou needst it not— the way is long, and thou art weary...

So it is that Ariane arrives at Asah by dragonback as dusk falls. Her ride home isn't inclined to linger, giving her time only to give them a grateful pat before taking off again in a flash of white wings. Ariane yawns (she may have wanted to argue, but Vidofnir wasn't wrong; she did doze off for a bit on the way here) and stretches out the travel stiffness, noting that Estinien and the broodlings are nowhere to be seen before she heads in. She's grateful for their absence, honestly. Aymeric alone should be the first to hear the news...

"Good evening, love," she greets him cheerfully, coming up to embrace him from behind as much as his wings allow (which means more "lean upon" than "embrace," really.) "Vidofnir says hello. Stayed out of trouble while I was away, I hope?"

[personalinterest]

Though a fully-fledged member of Hraesvelgr's brood, Aymeric still devotes himself to human toils, such as aiding the moogles with restoring Zenith to its former glory. Though not nearly so skilled with his hands as those craftsmen dedicated to such labors, he can still lift stones and lay mortar. But, more importantly, he can stand toe-to-toe against any one of Nidhogg's brood, serving as a deterrent for those who would seek to devour a few defenseless moogles while they excavated the ruins of the landlord colony for materials.

It's not a glamorous life, but Aymeric appreciates the opportunity to work with his hands in such a tangible way. There's something incredibly satisfying watching the walls of the plaza rise higher and higher, brick by brick, a testament to the joined labors of man, dragon, and moogle. It's certainly more satisfying than sitting at a desk and signing reams of paperwork!

With the day's labors at an end, Aymeric returned home to begin preparing dinner. Not for himself, since his appetite skewed more toward raw meat these days, but Ariane was still very much human, and therefore needed to partake of human fare. And Aymeric would continue to stubbornly cling to these last few vestiges of normalcy for as long as he is able, and even if the day should arrive when he could no longer stomach cooked food, he will continue to provide for Ariane as best he can.

After all, he is a talented culinarian! No sense in letting those skills go to waste!

He turns from his place at the stove as Ariane enters, smiling broadly. "Welcome home, love."

He shifts his wings slightly to better accommodate Ariane as she leans against him, tail twitching at her feet. A low purr vibrates within his chest at her closeness. "To the best of my knowledge, yes. Some traders from Ishgard arrived to deliver more tools and materials for the reconstruction efforts, and I was able to replenish our supply of spices. I wanted to try something different from our usual fare, so I bartered for some spices from Gyr Abania to make buckler stew. It's hearty fare, popular among soldiers. I've certainly heard no complaints from the Temple Knights stationed here!"

Pulling the ladle from the pot, he blows the steam from it and offers it to Ariane. "Try it and tell me what you think. I've only prepared it a few times, so be brutally honest!"

[nophicascounsel]

Just from looking at it she expects it to smell delicious. It does smell delicious, in fact, but in a way that's almost overwhelming; the richness of unaccustomed spices sets her stomach roiling like the cloud sea in a bad storm. He looks so proud of himself, though, and she would hate for him to think his cooking is the problem! So she takes the offered sip, trying to appreciate the flavor even as she can feel her body rebel against it the whole way down.

"Mm..." She closes her eyes in mock contemplation, though in truth she's waiting a moment for the nausea to settle before she dares to speak.

"Truly, you've missed your calling," she says at last. "Just think, you could have been the darling of the restaurant world."

(Inasmuch as Eorzea has a restaurant world outside Limsa, anyroad.)

"The recipe's fine. Don't change a thing. But..." A white lie about having eaten on the road offers itself up and she discards it. She means to tell him what's going on anyway, doesn't she? "I fear I didn't really bring my appetite," she admits, stepping away. "Save some for me, and I'll take dinner later?"

[personalinterest]

A flush of pleasure tints his ears at her enthusiastic compliment. "I doubt it would win ten stars at the Dellemont d'Or, but perhaps a seven? Maybe eight, if I'm feeling generous."

Ever the picture of humility, even in jest. Though, he is rather proud of how well he's balanced the flavor profile while using unfamiliar spices. He sips what's left in the ladle before setting it aside, grateful for the fact that he even still finds human food appetizing.

It's a shame his broodlings aren't around to sample this meal. Perhaps he'll make some more once they return from their hunting foray in the forelands.

However, his expression falters once Ariane mentions her lack of appetite. "Are you not feeling well, my love?" Immediately, he leans forward, pressing his forehead against her own in order to check her temperature. "You don't feel feverish..."

He draws back, frowning slightly. "Surely, you must be exhausted from your long journey. Why don't you sit and rest for a bit? You can tell me all about the latest news from your travels."

His eyes flick momentarily toward her belly before he herds her toward the couch, a small line of worry creasing his brow. He knows full-well that Ariane is not ill, at least not in the strictest sense of the word, but he does know the source of her discomfort. It's barely been a moon since he sensed the subtle changes taking place within her womb; he didn't think she'd be coming down with morning sickness so soon!

Surely, she has no idea that she's carrying their child? A woman doesn't begin to show until her third moon, which means she can't possibly know, right?

He'll have to break the news to her at some point. But not right now. Right now he just wants to hold her close and pretend that this secret he's been carrying for the past few weeks isn't gnawing away at his conscience.

[nophicascounsel]

Ariane chuckles, reaching up to ruffle his hair when he leans in. "You're warmer than me, you know," she points out. "Fear not, my darling mother hen. You'll be the first to know if aught is amiss."

(She's more right than she knows!)

That token protest out of the way, she lets him steer her over to the couch, only to turn and lightly push him down first. She nestles into his lap with a grateful sigh, resting her head upon his shoulder. Now this feels nice, especially after the long flight up here a-dragonback!

"Well, as I said, Vidofnir says hello." She shifts a bit, getting even more comfortable until she has to hold back a yawn. "She and her brood are doing well. In fact, there's a new clutch due to hatch soon. Perhaps we could take ours down to meet them..."

Their little family is still almost impossibly prolific by dragon standards, but in its own slow way the rest of Dravania is seeing a minor baby boom in the wake of the peace treaty. Without Ishgardian dragonslayers to threaten their nests, more dragons are finding the conditions acceptable to bear eggs of their own and slowly replenish the numbers lost to the war.

"What else... ah, they needed my assistance for a trade with the Vath. It's easier to send someone like me because of the incense they burn all around the place, you know, the one that repels dragons."

Honestly, after this trip she understands how a simple incense blend can keep dragons at bay! It was doing an awfully good job at repelling her too this time. She doesn't think she's ever been so grateful for fresh air as she was when leaving Loth ast Vath, her stomach sour and a headache threatening to bloom within her temples.

"Oh, and a couple younglings were recently returned from the city— friends of Ehll Tou's. They were quite impressed with the Firmament!" She smiles fondly up at him. "You know, we should pay a visit there soon. Very soon. You need to see how far it's come!"

[personalinterest]

"You know how much I worry," he says with a chuckle. "If there's not a gaggle of children or dragonlings for me to fuss over, I'll find some other helpless target to turn my attentions toward. It just so happens that you're nearby more often than not."

She pushes him down against the sofa before crawling into his lap, almost in the manner of a rather demanding cat. Not that he minds, in the least. He draws a nearby blanket across her shoulders, keeping one arm wrapped loosely about her waist. The heat radiating off his body should keep her sufficiently warm, but old habits die hard.

"I suppose it's a good thing that Estinien has already taken the older ones to go hunting in the forelands. That means fewer broodlings I'll have to chase down and round up myself. I swear, those moogles are becoming a bad influence on our children!"

He doesn't mean it. Mostly. It's true that his latest brood has developed a particular fascination with the moogles of Asah, and they take great delight in emulating their more playful, prankish nature. Now, if Aymeric could only convince them to stop distracting the workers from their labors and contribute to the reconstruction efforts...

He reaches up to smooth one hand against her hair. Luckily, her trip on dragon-back must have blown away any lingering traces of the incense, else Aymeric would be sneezing and tearing up from the foul odor. "Oh, I know quite well! I'll never forget the day you came home after treating with the Vath and you fairly reeked of that foul incense. I couldn't bear to come near you until you had bathed thoroughly and washed the scent away."

As if to emphasize his point, he presses his nose against the crown of her head, drinking in her scent. The familiar scent of carnations and other wildflowers greets him with a warm familiarity, and he sighs softly as Ariane finishes her account. "I would like that very much. It's been so long since I paid a visit to Lucia and Francel. And Marcelloix and his family, and the children of the New Nest, of course..."

His hand moves unconsciously to press against the slight curve of her belly. It's far too soon for her to be showing, but he can sense a faint spark of aether not her own flickering within her womb. And it will surely grow stronger and stronger as her belly begins to swell in the months to come.

"We should probably make this trip sooner rather than later," he says, trying to steer the conversation in such a way where he can break the news to her gently. "Between your duties here and in Ishgard, I think you've been working entirely too hard! You should take the opportunity to rest and relax for a bit, don't you think?"

[nophicascounsel]

"Now who do I know who works too hard?" she says, with that particular impish smile on her face that's reserved for teasing Aymeric specifically. He's not wrong! Even after stepping out from beneath the Scions' banner, she's managed to find about a hundred things to keep her busy, and that's when it's not her turn to look after their small army of dragonlings. But really now, he's scarcely better!

Ariane plants a playful kiss on his chin. "I know you, Aymeric de Borel. If business doesn't find me, it'll find you. That's not to say I'd turn down a vacation..."

She trails off, looking down at his hand. Coincidence, surely? Just a convenient place to rest it. Certainly she never seems to keep her hands off his belly for long when he's full of eggs. She's reading too much into a small gesture, finding intent where there can't be, because it reflects her intention to tell him. Still...

The whole ride home (at least, the part of it she was awake for,) she had been turning over and over in her head the best way to break the news. Should she ease into it, or just tell him straight away? Shall she present it with a bardly flourish, or is the news itself sufficiently dramatic that it needs none? Would it be best to wait until after dinner? Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her until now that the best way to say it might be not to say it at all.

Ariane smiles, the meltingly soft smile of a heart that's full to overflowing. She folds both of her hands over his and pushes it a little lower, closer to her womb. Looking up into his eyes, she holds his gaze and scarcely breathes, watching for the spark of understanding...

She nods. "Soon."

[personalinterest]

Oh, he knows that look! Not a day goes by that Ariane or Estinien or some other trusted friend isn't gently admonishing him for being such a workaholic. Even without the responsibilities of overseeing an entire nation weighing on his shoulders, he still has his duty to protect Hraesvalgr's territory from interlopers, not to mention acting as an emissary between human and dragonkind. He cannot resign himself to a life of idleness, but he has learned to share the burden of his work among others. After all, Zenith wasn't built in a day, nor by a single pair of hands. And the reconstruction efforts would be no different.

"Then I will simply inform Lucia that our next visit to Ishgard is purely for pleasure." His lips quirk into a wry grin. "I am certain that whatever business might need my attention can be delegated to other qualified individuals."

In other words, Lucia will handle it with her customary aplomb, as she has always done.

As Ariane's hands fold against his, Aymeric's eyes widen, lips parting with a soft exhalation of breath. She already knows? But how?

His fingers spread wide against her lower abdomen, pressing gently for a firmer contact. She's not far along enough for him to feel a physical presence, but he swears he can sense that spark of aether flicker a little brighter, almost as if in response to his touch.

"I know," he says softly, his voice wavering with too many emotions to name. "I've known for a while now, but I was trying to find the right moment to tell you..."

He nuzzles against her hair, huffing a laugh. "Ariane, my love. You're going to be a mother!"

[nophicascounsel]

"And you're going to be a father." His laughter is contagious, not least because she feels slightly silly when she puts it that way— if he wasn't a father before, then what are the hatchlings? But no, she knows exactly what he means, intimately as she knows the jumble of emotions she hears in his voice.

"Oh, Aymeric..." She can feel her eyes grow hot with the threat of tears and turns, hiding her face in his chest. There's too much raw emotion inside of her right now; it has to get out somehow, but she would hate for him to think she's upset when that couldn't be further from the case.

"'re a dragon," she mumbles against his skin. "Thought it wasn't possible..."

That's why she hadn't had the charm on her ring renewed when it wore off; if anyone had needed contraception at the time it was Aymeric, anyway, as he swelled with eggs time after time. Enough time passed to seemingly prove her right, and with the dragonets and everything else to keep her occupied it had slipped her mind up until she realized she'd missed her cycle.

[personalinterest]

As Ariane buries her face against his chest, Aymeric clings desperately to her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. His wings lower to fold about her shoulders, as though to shield her from some unknowable threat looming upon the horizon.

This should be a joyous occasion, and yet Aymeric cannot suppress the thread of worry worming through his thoughts. It was an unprecedented situation, after all. As far as he was aware, there had never been any offspring produced between humans and dragons, though that could simply be because there had never been a union between a human and dragon before!

(He still doesn't know whether Hraesvelgr and Shiva ever coupled, and the great wyrm has never once given him a straight answer.)

"I know," he says, endeavoring to keep the tremor of fear from his voice. "I didn't... think it was possible, either. There are no records of humans and dragons producing offspring..."

But Aymeric wasn't a "true" dragon, was he? He was a man, once, and a trace of human blood still flows through his veins, as it flows through the veins of all his broodlings. Would his human half breed true? Or was Ariane carrying some half-formed abomination that would not survive to term?

It was the latter thought which frightened him most of all: that whatever was growing within Ariane would prove too powerful, too unwieldy for her frail human body to contain, and thus neither would survive the ordeal.

But he can't voice those thoughts just yet, not when Ariane is still reeling from the news. He could very well be over-thinking the situation, as is his wont.

Even so, the thought of losing Ariane due to his own selfish choices is one that doesn't bear consideration. Drawing an unsteady breath, he forces those thoughts to the back of his mind, endeavoring to stay present with Ariane in this joyous moment.

"But you know, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

[nophicascounsel]

He doesn't have to voice his fears. Knowing him for the worrier he is, Ariane sees the little signs. It's the shaky breath, the catch in his voice that squeezes her heart in an unseen fist. The way he holds her, like he expects she'll be blown away if he lets go, his wings draped about her as a shield.

She can't even say he's wrong to worry about her. Pregnancy is a risky endeavor under normal circumstances, and she has fears and doubts of her own. It's not her own survival she questions as much as whether the baby is destined to make it to term. Is she getting her hopes up now only to be carrying some sad, misshapen creature that won't survive the light of the outside world? Would the fates possibly toy with her and Aymeric so?

No, no, no. She inhales deeply, letting the warm dragonfire-and-incense scent of him steady her nerves. Vidofnir hadn't seemed alarmed, had she? Lightly amused, if anything. Whatever her alien senses showed her, it must not have been amiss. They can do this. They will do this, and at the coming of spring they'll greet a perfect, healthy, beautiful girl or boy. It should be impossible, but when has impossible ever stopped them?

Ariane lifts her head, and though her cheeks are a little damp her smile has scarcely dimmed. "Ever the trailblazers, you and I. So... how long did you say you knew?"

She won't hold his silence against him. She assumes that, like herself, he was reluctant to speak before being absolutely certain. Wholly understandable.

"I confess I underestimated you, my darling." She chuckles, her eyes bashfully downcast. "I went to Vidofnir because she's, well, she's older, she's more experienced... I thought a dragon could tell, and yet it didn't even occur to me to ask you! But that does explain why it seemed as though you had something on your mind lately."

[personalinterest]

She lifts her head, smiling through her tears, and Aymeric brushes one knuckle against her cheek to halt their flow. His expression softens, mirroring the smile Ariane wears for his sake. She's trying so hard to be brave, and here he is worrying over a future that might not come to pass!

He needs to be strong for her, and for their child yet unborn. Ariane has always supported him—as both the Warrior of Light and as his lover. And he intends to support her during what may be the most important ordeal of her life.

His lips part as though he meant to answer her question, but words aren't forthcoming. A look of guilt flits across his features, but eventually he says, "Nearly a moon has passes since I first noticed a change in your aether. Or, rather, the spark of aether growing inside you, similar yet distinct from your own."

He draws her close, resting his chin atop her head. It's difficult for him to look her in the eye now that his subterfuge has been revealed. At least, this way, she can take some comfort in his closeness.

"Insightful as ever," he murmurs against her hair. "I should have known better than to think that I could hide my worries from you forever. Truth be told, I should have said something sooner, and for that I apologize."

He draws back, just enough to that he can look Ariane in the eye once more. "You spoke with Vidofnir? Did she... offer any counsel on the matter?"

The anxiety gripping his heart begins to subside. If Ariane had already spoken to the great wyrm, then surely most of her fears have already been laid to rest!

[nophicascounsel]

This smile is genuine to every ilm, ser! She only hopes it conveys that the tears he brushes away have their origin in joy, not sorrow. As he does, she leans into his hand, almost like a cat (or a Miqo'te) seeking to be pet.

Her eyes widen when he says nearly a moon. She hadn't even suspected it for half that time! Perhaps she ought hold his silence against him after all, just a little— but almost sooner than she can think that, he apologizes, and she simply doesn't have it in her to be cross with him.

(Though Estinien had better not have known and been sitting on it too. Honestly, these men!)

"Not much, but I can hardly fault her for not answering questions I didn't ask," Ariane admits with a somewhat sheepish expression. "I was— rather overset by the news, even though I expected to hear it. I simply didn't know where to begin!"

She gives his hand resting on her belly a gentle pat. "I daresay you know the feeling." That storm of emotions, the everything, all at once she had confessed to Vidofnir.

"But if it makes you feel any better," (it certainly makes her feel better!) "she didn't seem to be concerned. She didn't say it in as many words, but I believe she's happy for us."

She snuggles into his chest with a yawn, her eyes drifting shut. Contented. Hope he wasn't planning to get up anytime soon. "Perhaps we might stop at Anyx Trine first on our way to the city, and barrage her with questions until she shows us out."

[personalinterest]

He huffs a laugh as Ariane leans against him. "A sound plan, yes. I, too, have a few questions of my own, questions which only a dragon as old and wise as Vidofnir might answer."

Already, a plan was forming in his mind. So long as he had an objective to work toward, he could focus his energies toward more productive efforts rather than wallowing uselessly in anxious fretting.

However, it did bring to mind another issue, one he had long since kept buried deep within the darkest recesses of his heart—to petition Vidofnir for a draught of her blood to offer to Ariane. Perhaps, in partaking of dragon blood, her body might be strengthened against the strain of bearing a possible dragon spawn.

But such an endeavor still carries its own host of risks, namely, an insatiable craving for dragon's blood that could drive one to madness. Furthermore, depending on the strength of Ratatoskyr's essence flowing within her veins, Ariane might very well find herself irrevocably altered, much like Aymeric himself.

He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that a part of him yearned for Ariane to be joined to him thus—to share his long lifespan as a fellow dragon, as his true consort. To see her clad beautifully in scales of purest white, to see her shed the fragility of a soft, human body...

Closing his eyes, he carefully puts that selfish thought away as he leans his chin comfortably against Ariane's head. No, best not to give voice to it, especially now. The choice must lay with Ariane, and if she has yet to broach the topic, well... then surely her heart has not considered it a choice at all.

"Tomorrow, then? That is, if you're feeling well enough for it. I daresay we should also call upon Estinien to give him the good news." He smiles against her hair. "Though, I suspect he may already be apprised of your condition."

And why wouldn't he, given the strength of his connection to Nidhogg? Surely, Estinien had to have known for as long as Aymeric himself!

in which Estinien fucks off to Othard because he can't handle being fussed over while eggnant

[lostandfoundation]

Estinien had disappeared without a word to gods knows where about a week ago, leaving neither a hint of his whereabouts nor a trail that could be followed. It was as though he had simply vanished, carried away upon the wind. Julien generally didn't worry about it, given that Estinien was as untamable as a wild gaelicat.

But when their gut began to twist and churn like a bed of snakes, leaving them crippled with pain and nausea, they knew without a doubt that it was somehow connected to the erstwhile dragoon. They could sense his anguish faintly in the back of his mind: an impression of him curled upon his side, crippled by the self-same pain.

What in the seven hells had he gotten himself mixed up with now?

They made their way to Zenith, to seek out Ariane and Aymeric. Julien had stumbled into their abode, pale and wan and clutching at their abdomen with obvious pain. They explained that, due to their shared connection being so weak, they could only surmise that he must be somewhere halfway around the world by now. Othard, most likely. They had travelled there once, after all, to tame the mad black dragon, Faunehm. It would make sense that he might retreat there once more.

As to why he left Eorzea in the first place, well...

He was carrying Aymeric's clutch. Idiot.

Julien continues to curse the former Azure Dragoon's name as the drape pathetically over the railing of the Prima Vista, their stomach emptied of all contents, yet still somehow feeling impossibly full and bloated.

They cursed his name as they staggered down the gangplank at the airship dock in Kugane, their head fairly swimming with dizziness, like a bad case of aether sickness.

"I need to... sit down for just a moment..." Julien groaned, collapsing onto a nearby bench. They hung their head, hands dangling between their knees as they willed another wave of nausea to settle down.

One of the smaller broodlings flitted to their shoulder and chirped querulously. Julien shook their head and immediately regretted the motion. "'M fine, just... gotta catch my breath, 'sall...."

Gods, was there any magic or medicine that could avail them of this hellish aether sickeness?

[nophicascounsel]

Ariane was the last one off the ship, thanks to the pair of dragonets she was forced to roust from the wardrobe compartment at the last minute. Though they were gracious hosts, she rather suspected the Majestic troupe would be glad to see the back of their party for a while. Julien did warn them they were coming with an entire flock of young dragons in tow when they arranged for the flight, right?

Keeping the brood out of trouble and out of the crew's way ensured Ariane and Aymeric (as well as Alma, who found them entirely charming) stayed busy for much of the trip. Herding dragonets out of the galley, returning props the oldest hatchlings had appropriated without permission to stage a mock battle, making sure they gave Julien space to themselves while they were being sick, rescuing Montblanc and his brother from the brood's curiosity about their differently-colored poms...

And Ariane had her work cut out for her yet while Aymeric and the children were at leisure to sightsee around Kugane!

She didn't actually begrudge them that. She would get her turn after she and Julien brought Estinien back safely. And there'd be plenty to see along the way, if only they had the time to enjoy it...

"Trisselle, please. You have wings," Ariane chided gently, prying one of the youngest broodlings off of her head. With a token protest, Trisselle flitted back over to Aymeric to use him as a perch instead, and Ariane crossed to the bench to join Julien.

"May I try something?"

Pulling out her soul crystal, Ariane drew upon the ambient aether, weaving it into the familiar melody as she hummed the Warden's Paean. This was probably well outside its intended use, but she didn't have much else to work with at the moment.

[lostandfoundation]

Okay, so maybe Julien had neglected to mention the specific number of passengers onboarding, but is anyone going to argue with the Warrior of Light over something as inconsequential as a few dragonets? Besides, Jenomis owed them a debt after saving both his children during their adventures in Dalmasca, so really, he shouldn't complain about this wonderful opportunity to study a dragon close-up! Surely, it would help them to craft more lifelike models for their next stage play, right?

Right, anyway! If a few props were accidentally singed in all the excitement, it was a small price to pay...

Julien continued to sit there with eyes shut tight, willing the world around them to stop spinning. They could feel the little hatchling flatten against their shoulder, tail curled loosely around the back of their neck.

It helped. A little. Emotional support comes in all shapes and sizes, it seems.

Julien cracked one eye open at Ariane's approach, forcing a smile. "Couldn't hurt. Hells, might actually help!" That's said with a bit more confidence than they actually feel right now.

They could feel Ariane's aether weaving around them with the same warmth and familiarity of a favorite blanket. There was subtle differences in the way people wove their spells, and having fought together so often in the past, Julien had learned to recognize the feel of Ariane's spells, in particular.

The dizziness, at least, seemed to abate, but the pain in the gut was a constant companion, all the same. They heaved a sigh, leaning back on the heels of their hands. Their eyes grew unfocused as they stared skyward.

"A little better, thanks." The dragonet chirped once more against their ear. "Maybe now I can walk without the risk of heaving bile all over my boots, eh?"

There was literally nothing left in their stomach to expel, and now they were simultaneously ravenous and bloated, but they needed to eat something. "Lets grab a bowl of miso soup before the next leg of the journey, what say you?"

Twelve forfend, if they can't even keep a bowl of soup down after this? They really will be tempted to strangle Estinien when they finally catch up to him!

somewhere in the city, to the shock of the poor saps who have to serve a couple dozen dragonlings...

[nophicascounsel]

"On our way— Stop that. You have your own food," Ariane chided, raising her chopsticks to block one of the dragonets from making an advance on her noodles. The hatchling, a snowy-feathered little thing who she could already tell would grow into the spitting image of Hraesvelgr someday, grumbled something under his breath in dragon tongue and flitted over to try for Aymeric's food instead.

"On our way out of the city, I'm going to pick up some ingredients," she finished. "I know he can't abide a proper meal right now," and here she nodded to Aymeric, acknowledging the fasting she'd seen him have to go through with every clutch of eggs, "but at least a broth of some sort, to get his strength up."

She tapped the clean end of a chopstick against her chin in thought, looking over at Julien. "And mayhap yours as well. Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask..." The tips of her ears colored faintly pink. "This sharing of what he feels with you. Has that been happening for long?"