H - 34: The Balls on This Girl (Patreon)

This was a disaster in so many obvious ways that for a second Kaln was frozen, his mind locked up as he tried to simultaneously parse everything that was definitely going to go wrong as a result of this. What jarred him out of it was Izayaroa, who began stalking forward toward her son with a snarl of animal fury unlike anything Kaln had yet seen her display.

And Vanimax somehow chose this as the moment to finally stand up to her. Rising up to his full height, he flared his wings and hissed aggressively, which only made her approach faster.

There was no longer any time to dither.

Kaln flashed across the room in an instant, landing practically at Vanimax’s feet, right between him and his captive. That, of course, instantly made him the full target of the dragon’s focus, but Kaln didn’t give him any time to react. Instantly he pushed out with the full force of his power, sweeping Vanimax bodily off the ground and hurling him against the wall.

Before he could gather himself, Kaln knelt to seize the princess by her shoulders, and fixed his focus now on Pheneraxa. One more swift teleportation and he had deposited Vanimax’s captive across the room, right in front of his bemused sister.

“You!” Vanimax bellowed, scrambling back to his feet and starting to charge forward. “She’s mine!”

With a roar that deafeningly filled the vast chamber, Izayaroa lunged, crashing into her son with her full weight and seemingly tearing into him with her teeth and all four claws. Kaln didn’t bother to watch how it went, turning to focus on their new captive.

“Are you all right?”

She was not all right. She was sufficiently not all right that Kaln didn’t get a coherent answer to his question, but he also didn’t really need one. The second he’d let go, she had dropped to crouch upon the floor and now had her head clutched in both hands, chanting rhythmically to herself in a whisper.

“Gallimarde, three terrestrial: Gallimarde One, Gallimarde Two, Gallimarde Three. Verrax and Misophene, binary, two gaseous, one dwarf terrestrial: Verrax/Misophene One, Verrax/Misophene Two, V/M Zero Point Onw. Toraena, type one white, zero known satellites. Nimix, four terrestrial, one inhabited, three gaseous…”

“Ah, miss?” Kaln said nervously. “That is—I mean, your Highness. I promise you are safe now. Please don’t do anything to…complicate this further.”

No reaction; she was rocking slowly back and forth, eyes squeezed shut, muttering to herself.

“What exactly do you think she’s going to do?” Pheneraxa asked pointedly. “Just look at the poor thing.”

“I don’t know what that is she’s chanting, but if she starts casting spells—”

“If she could, she’d have done it well before now,” Emeralaphine commented, extending her head over them with her neck twisted around so she could look directly down at the muttering princess. “I sense no magic, husband. That, to me, has the cadence of a mantra—a little verbal ritual that helps center an agitated mind.”

“She is reciting the names of nearby stars and their satellites,” Pheneraxa added, “in, I believe, ascending order of distance from our sun. There are forms of astromancy and astrology with verbal components, but they don’t sound like this.”

“I see,” he said. Okay, well, that was another potential crisis averted; now he just had a traumatized kidnapping victim to deal with. “My apologies for the presumption. Princess—”

There came a particularly loud crash from across the room as the brawling dragons tipped over the largest Timekeeper sculpture, followed by an outraged roar from Izayaroa.

“I DID NOT HATCH AN IMBECILE!”

The princess broke off her soft recitation and hunched down further.

“So you say,” Emeralaphine commented, raising her neck to point her head in their direction, “but…there he is.”

The next wordless roar sounded like it was aimed in their direction.

“Emeralaphine, stay out of that,” Kaln snapped.

“Hmph!” The white dragon stuck her nose into the air, offended, but at least she kept quiet.

“Pheneraxa, please give her some space.”

“You brought her to me,” Pheneraxa commented, but did so while shuffling backward away from the huddled princess, so he let it go.

Kaln knelt before her, pitching his voice as gently as he could. “It’s all right, your Highness. I can only imagine how…distressing this must be, especially after what you’ve just been through. But I promise, that part is over. I won’t let anything else happen to you.”

He wasn’t even sure she could hear him; she was rocking faster now, once again rhythmically mumbling the names of stars and planets.

Then a particularly loud bellow sounded through the room, accompanied by a crash as someone was slammed full-force into a wall, and the princess let out a terrified wail and toppled over onto her side, where she curled up into a fetal position, face completely buried in her arms.

Anger spiked through Kaln’s fog of worry, and he shot to his feet, turning to face the other end of the room.

“IZAYAROA.”

His bark brought a moment of stillness. Vanimax had very clearly gotten the worst of their struggle, and was currently pinned under his mother’s full weight; she had her jaws clamped around his neck just behind his skull and was viciously yanking him back and forth as if trying to decapitate him. At least she stopped now, fixing one golden eye on Kaln.

The expression in that eye was so angry it should have made him quail, even though he knew her outrage wasn’t directed at him. In that moment, he probably wouldn’t have cared if it had been.

“We have a guest,” Kaln stated, holding her gaze firmly. “One who has just been through the most traumatic experience of her life. That is not helping!”

For a long moment she just stared at him in stillness and silence. Vanimax attempted to squirm out of her grasp and she tightened her jaws, prompting a most undignified squeak from him.

Then, suddenly, she dropped him.

“Quite right, Kaln. My apologies; we must prioritize.”

Izayaroa turned fully around to face them directly, contriving to stomp on her son’s head with three out of four talons in the process. Then she strode forward, shrinking to her smaller form as she came.

Behind her, Vanimax, though clearly beaten, found enough energy to begin scrabbling upright, fixing his glare upon Kaln. “You can’t just—”

“Vadaralshi.”

“Pants?” she replied warily.

“If your brother attempts to interfere or even approach here, kindly drag his ass outside and throw him off the mountain.”

Vadaralshi straightened up to her full height, grinning. “Can do will do!”

Vanimax turned a wary and resentful look on her but made no outward moves, and Kaln took that as evidence his hunch was correct. Vadaralshi was a playful sort by nature, but having sparred with her he was keenly aware that she’d spent her century of life being exhaustively trained by her mother, one of the greatest warriors who had ever lived. It was very likely that in an actual fight, Vadaralshi was well more than a match for either of her siblings.

Hopefully Vanimax wouldn’t make this the moment Kaln got to see it firsthand.

Izayaroa swept past him in her customary stately glide, inclining her head deeply to Kaln in an apologetic expression, then carried on to approach the terrified princess. The Golden Empress sank to one knee, and Kaln took note that it was a formal posture—a position of humility, not simply placing herself physically closer to the fallen girl’s level.

“Your Royal Highness,” Izayaroa said in a soft, deliberately soothing voice. “There is no apology that will suffice for the affront done you by my son. I am shamed beyond words, that you are so mistreated in my very household. I vow my the last drop of my ancient blood that you shall henceforth be safe here. No harm or indignity will I permit to befall you, and this is only the beginning of my penance. Please take any time and any measure you require to compose yourself; know that not for anything will you be judged by any gathered here. Anything we may do to aid you, you need only ask.”

Kaln had his doubts how much of that the young woman was consciously parsing, at least at first; she seemed to have retreated fully within herself. But while Izayaroa softly spoke and nothing else violent or loud happened, gradually she began to un-tense. Whether it was the words or just the Empress’s soft, measured tone… Well, Izayaroa undoubtedly had more experience than any of them in dealing with distraught people.

Warily, the girl finally parted the hands covering her face to peek up at them. She had eyes a light shade of brown that Kaln had never seen in Rhivaak. Izayaroa slowly extended a hand; looking at it, the princess flinched once again at the sight of her claws. But the dragon simply held it out, open, palm up, calm and unthreatening.

After a long pause the princess finally spoke to them. Her voice was soft and understandably somewhat hoarse.

“…Izayaroa? The Empress? Of Rhivaak?”

Said Empress let out a very small sigh, but nodded. “My failure to control my fool of a child arose from my inability to imagine that he would ever conceive of such an idiotic and depraved action as abducting a princess, much less carry it out. Truly, there is no way I can apologize enough, your Highness. But I am here now, and aware of what is happening. I dare to hope that if you know of my deeds, my word will suffice to assure you of your safety.”

Very slowly, the princess uncoiled a bit further, raising her head and blinking up at Kaln. “Did…didn’t he say Emeralaphine?”

“He did,” Emeralaphine herself commented, extending her neck back into the conversation from above. The sight of her huge reptilian visage appearing directly overhead caused the princess to flinch again, but this time, she seemed to regather herself much more quickly.

“You’re… Huh. I didn’t know you were still alive, much less…here.”

“We like our privacy,” Emeralaphine said pointedly. “Not that any of this is your fault, of course, but…still.”

“Then, this is…” Their guest suddenly looked more haunted than before, peering warily about. “This is Dragonvale? The…the very home of the Dread?”

Kaln heaved a sigh. Well…this was good and blown wide open. There was no practical way to conceal it from her, not without tormenting her further with fear. Perhaps that would be the correct thing to do, from a strategic standpoint, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The poor girl had been put upon more than enough by this family.

“The Dread is gone,” he said, then when she turned again to look at him, bowed. “I am Ar-Kaln Zelekhir, and I now lead this household. I add my heartfelt apologies to my lady wife’s for your ill treatment, your Highness, and my assurance that despite your rough handling till now, you shall be safe here henceforth. I will exert every power necessary to guarantee it.”

Her Highness blinked owlishly. “But…you’re just a guy.”

“He is, in fact, a godling,” Emeralaphine explained.

“I…I don’t know what that is.”

“A mortal in the process of becoming a god,” Pheneraxa said, grinning. “It’d take something like that to fell the likes of Atraximos.”

“Gods come from…” The princess trailed off, clutching her head again. “This is too much.”

Very gently, Izayaroa reached out further, this time taking one of her hands. The girl flinched, but did not resist or pull away after that, and in fact, allowed the Empress to assist her in standing.

“Confusion is the least of the reactions to which you are more than entitled,” Izayaroa reassured her. “Please, take the time you need.”

“So…no one’s going to…eat me?” she asked tremulously.

Emeralaphine snorted. “Well, not now. It’s terribly awkward, after we’ve been politely introduced.”

Kaln and the other dragons turned to glare at her, but oddly this seemed to jog a memory in the princess.

“Oh! I, um…forgive me, I was…um.” Awkwardly, she clutched her skirts in both hands and spread them, bending her knees and dipping her head momentarily in what he presumed must be some ritual gesture in her culture. “I am Perseverance de Clairmont, second princess of Boisverd.”

“We are honored by your presence, despite the untoward circumstances,” Izayaroa replied, bowing. “A great debt is owed to your household by ours for this offense, Princess Perseverance.”

“Everyone calls me Percy,” she said vaguely, craning her neck to peer around. “This is…huge. Well, I guess it would have to be. How many dragons are there here?”

Kaln cleared his throat. “Yes, well… Please be assured that you are not to be held against your will. We will return you to your home with all haste, Princess…Percy. That will necessarily involve flying, which…I should think you’ve had enough of for now. So please don’t feel pressured to hurry, either. You are welcome as our guest until you feel composed enough to make the return trip. All of it will transpire on whatever timetable is preferable to you.”

“It is the very least we can offer,” Izayaroa added. “That, and such hospitality as we are able to furnish. I fear we are…some what ill-equipped for mortal guests here, but I shall spare no effort or expense toward your comfort.”

Perseverance stared at her, wide-eyed, then at Kaln. Then she turned to look at Pheneraxa, who grinned. This show of teeth was ordinarily the opposite of reassuring to humans, but despite her earlier panic, the princess showed no outward reaction to it at all, just craning her neck again to peer over at the two green dragons, who were watching silently in the distance.

As the silence stretched, Kaln and Izayaroa exchanged a glance. Finally he cleared his throat to try again.

“If it will—”

“Sanctuary!” Perseverance burst out.

Everyone stared at her.

After a moment, she winced. “Oh! No, wrong, that’s the religious one. Um… Asylum!” Nodding firmly, she seemed to gather confidence as she spoke. “Yes, that’s it. I formally request political asylum from the Rhivaak Empire, on the grounds that…that I have a…” Eyes narrowing, she was obviously struggling to recall an exact wording she’d been taught at some point. “I have a credible fear for my life, well-being, and freedom if I remain in my country of origin.”

Everyone continued to stare at her.

She stared back, eyes wide and expression…difficult to parse. Kaln had never seen someone look intensely blank before, but it was the only way he could think to describe this.

“De Clairmont,” Pheneraxa said after a long, confused pause. “Hum. My information isn’t exactly up to date, since it all comes from whatever books and papers are dropped by whatever adventurers were fool enough to come too close to here, but… If I’m not mistaken, that was the previous ruling house in Boisverd. The current Queen is named Holtzmann, I believe.”

“Ah,” Izayaroa said in a carefully neutral tone. “Well that tells…a classic story. I must clarify, your Highness, that you are not in the Rhivaak Empire. On paper, I believe we are in fact still within Boisverd’s territory.”

“We’re what?” Emeralaphine demanded, snorting. “They would presume?”

“They would never have the brass to come here and say it to our faces, Mother,” Pheneraxa said, grinning more widely. “As I understand the politics, holding the fief of Dragonvale means they get a bunch of free aid and support from other Evervales countries. Boisverd might be the only country which stands to lose anything from Atraximos being gone.”

“Okay, but…that’s all just on paper, right?” Perseverance said, as if this were obvious and uncomplicated. “No one with any sense at all is going to contest your power here. You are the Empress. And…godling, I guess. I have no idea what that means in practice, but I know you have the power to…to do anything, really. May I have political asylum here?”

Vadaralshi barked a laugh. “Oh, I like her! Do you hear that? The balls on this girl! Let’s keep her!”

Tiavathyris smacked her to the floor with her tail.

“This…requires some further discussion,” Izayaroa hedged politely. “Your Highness, let us retire to a somewhat more comfortable setting, with perhaps some refreshments to lubricate what promises to be a most interesting conversation.”

“Oh, um. Thank you,” the princess said vaguely, reaching to accept the steaming cup of tea she was being offered.

Wait, she what?

One of the Phantom Legionaries had appeared, holding it out to her. It was, Kaln saw, the maid from before—or, well, perhaps another soldier who had drawn similar duty; it wasn’t as if he could tell them apart by their fleshless phantasmal skulls. More than that, he found himself impressed by the diligence on display here. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos happening, the ghosts had discerned what would be called for shortly and gotten it done. He had left tea out in his makeshift kitchen, which was apparently all they needed. The initiative was, he had to admit, praiseworthy. This was more than merely competent domestic service!

The discretion, slightly less so.

Absently taking a grip on the saucer, Perseverance turned to the one offering it to her, and found herself face-to-face with a grinning skull seemingly crafted of luminous blue mist. As she stared in dumbstruck horror, one of those flickering events happened, phantasmal scraps of rotting, semi-mummified flesh materializing on the undead maid’s face.

She had endured her abduction and recovered most admirably with some careful reassurance, but that, apparently, was a bridge too far.

Her eyes rolled up in her head and the princess collapsed to the floor in a faint.

“Okay, I take it back,” Vadaralshi scoffed. “Weak.”

Izayaroa heaved a sigh. “Thank you for the thought, Corporal, that was very adroit, right up until it wasn’t. I believe we will take it from here.”

The ghost saluted with the arm not holding the teacup. Then she dissolved into mist and withdrew, which created the uncanny spectacle of the steaming up streaking away seemingly on its own.

“All right,” said Kaln, rubbing at his temples. “Pheneraxa, could you help, please?”

“I’m not sure how you think my talents are applicable to this situation, but…sure. What do you need?”

“Nothing actually worthy of your talents. Would you please carry her Highness into my chambers and place her on my bed?”

Vadaralshi cackled. “Pants, you dog!”

“Shut up!” he barked, and had the satisfaction of Vadaralshi actually looking cowed. Kaln deliberately moderated his tone—slightly. “Unless anyone else has convenient human-sized furnishings set up to accommodate guests?”

They all stared in abashed silence.

“Sorry to set you to carrying,” he said more calmly to Pheneraxa. “This is the kind of thing I’d have the ghosts do, but after that…if she comes to at the wrong moment, that would just be a further disaster.”

“Considering the day she’s having, I’m not certain being hauled around by another dragon would be a whole lot better,” Pheneraxa commented, but did so while shifting into her smaller form. “Still, I do see your point. Better me than Vanimax, at least.”

“Izayaroa,” he said, turning to her, “I will obviously need your help; this kind of thing is exactly up your alley.”

“My talents are of course yours, husband,” she said, inclining her head toward him once again.

“And I think that had better be it,” Kaln added, glancing around at the others. “The girl needs less pressure and zero crowding.”

“Stop,” Vanimax rasped, taking a limping step forward. His mother had clearly roughed him up more than usual, but he still managed to glare and bare teeth, starting to approach them. “I took her, she is mine! I won’t have you—”

Izayaroa whipped her head around, bared her dainty human-sized teeth, and emitted a growl which resonated through the chamber as powerfully as a full-throated roar from a full-sized dragon. It was more than just a sound, too. Kaln felt magic flex, and she projected sheer rage across the room as a tangible force that stopped Vanimax in his tracks. Vadaralshi ducked her head and shuffled backward; even Tiavathyris and Emeralaphine leaned warily away from her.

“And you,” Kaln grated, pointing at him. “I know that as head of this family, I should take the time to address this personally, but you have finally managed to genuinely piss me off, Vanimax. So I’m going to let your mother deal with you. Good luck with that.”

Izayaroa’s glare had a nigh-physical force which had nothing to do with magic. She held it on her son for two heartbeats before contemptuously turning her back on him to follow Pheneraxa, who had gathered Perseverance into her arms with surprising gentleness and was already on the way to Kaln’s chambers.

Kaln inhaled and exhaled once, slowly, then went after them to see whether anything could still be salvaged from this mess.