Sins of the Father: Chapter Twenty (Patreon)

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Chapter Twenty

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Chaos surrounded Valyrym. Noise,  movement and color smothered him. Countless indiscernible voices rattled his eardrums. Myriad unfamiliar scents tangled into knots his brain struggled to untie. The dragon squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could block out the aural cacophony as easily as he could the visual turmoil. He took a slow breath, then held it till his lungs ached. As he exhaled, Valyrym slowly opened his eyes again, forcing himself to focus on a singular object.

Just down the street, signpost with vibrant, hand-painted lettering marked the intersection of two cobbled lanes. Valyrym stared at the golden letters, concentrating on them while his brain struggled to adjust to the world beyond. Bright crimson rooftops edged his vision. Banners of yellow and indigo fluttered from streamers overhead. Signs hanging from scarlet eaves were painted with images of wares for sale. Vibrant, stylized murals adorned the brick walls of taverns and eateries.

The colors were difficult enough for him to adjust too, but the motion and the sound were worse. People were everywhere. Groups of them milled about in the lane, staring at their strange visitors. Others skirted by on horseback, or in carriages. Armed guards walked ahead of him, and behind him. Further down the street, dozens more humans browsed through lines of market stalls. Their voices were like swirling currents, pushing and pulling at his mind, threatening to drag him under dark, uncertain waters. His ears buzzed.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Valyrym thought. Freedom wasn’t meant to be so difficult. These people didn’t even mean him harm, and yet, he found himself paralyzed merely by the sight and sound of them. When a group of laughing children running across the street paused to gape at the elderly dragon in their midst, Valyrym squeezed his eyes shut again. If only it was quieter here, he thought. If only there were fewer people. If only it was still, and silent, like his…

Like his cell.

Valyrym shuddered. Revulsion twisted his belly. No, he told himself, fighting back a snarl. No, he did not miss that place. And yet, it sickened him to realize that some small part of him did. Some anxious, worried piece of the old dragon’s mind longed for the quiet simplicity of a world he understood. For all the hatred and sorrow he poured into that place, for all the blood and tears he had shed upon those mossy stones, at least there was certainty there. Certainty of his own guilt, and certainty that he would never again see the sun, but certainty the same.

The sun.

Perhaps, he thought, that would help. Valyrym stretched his wings halfway open, holding them out above the streets. The warm sunlight was a balm upon the creaking membranes. Not that long ago, he never expected to feel that wondrous sensation again. Perhaps that was what he should focus on.

“You alright, Val?” Alia slipped in beneath his wing, to put her hand upon his leg. “I’m right here.”

“Thank you, Alia.” Valyrym opened his eyes to narrow slits, turning his head to regard her. “I’m just…” He licked his nose. “Overwhelmed. I have known only silence, and stillness for half my life. And now…”

As he trailed off, Valar pushed up beneath his other wing, brushing against Valyrym’s side in gentle support. As tall as Valar was, Valyrym’s wing ended up propped against his son’s. “Take your time, Father. There’s no hurry.”

Valyrym swallowed. Valar’s gesture warmed his heart just as the sun warmed his wings. “I’m trying. But I did not think it would be so challenging, just to…” He glanced at all the people milling about. “Walk amongst them, again.”

“I know, Val,” Alia said, rubbing his scales. “But it shouldn’t be a surprise. And there’s certainly no shame in it. Other than the workers who built your tub, you’ve seen what, a half-dozen people around you, since I’ve known you? And probably fewer before that.”

“It was so still, down there.” Valyrym flattened back his ears. “So quiet. Even on the city’s loudest days, it was muffled. And everything was so…” He lifted his head, gazing back at his own wings. The once-vibrant blues that edged had long faded to the color of cold ash. “Gray.” He lifted his eyes to the rooftops of the buildings around them, all the same cheery crimson hue. “But here, everything is…” He swallowed, turning his eyes up. “At least the sky is still familiar. I could see it, you know, through some of my vents.”

Valar set his paw upon Valyrym’s. “No one blames you for being overwhelmed, father. I cannot fathom what it must be like to go from silence, and solitude, to noise and crowds.”

“Do you know what is especially frustrating?” Valyrym kept his eyes fixed upon the sky, focusing on the great blue expanse above him, and the warmth of the sun upon his wings. “I still vividly remember the crowds of Sigil Stones. I know they were ten times larger than this. I know I walked among them every day, for many years. And yet, here I am, in some backwater village, immobilized by my own anxious mind and trembling heart. As though this were the very first time I’d ever dared set foot amongst humans.”

“It may as well be exactly that, Val.” Alia moved forward, brushing her fingers across his neck. “You spent almost as many years, surrounded only by gloom and silence, as your son has been alive. For an entire lifetime, you’ve known only that quiet, empty place. You may as well be stepping into the world for the very first time.”

Valar squeezed Valyrym’s forepaw. “Father, it’s worth considering that all of this is probably just now settling in on you. The first few weeks, you were too exhausted to feel anything but fatigue and pain every night. Then, you saw me. I can only imagine how that would have overwhelmed the rest of your looming trepidation and anxiety. But, now that we’ve been traveling a while…” He splayed his frills, gazing at his father. “It’s all truly hitting you. But, I promise you.” Valar patted his forepaw. “It will pass.”

“It had better.” Valyrym squeezed Valar beneath his wing in gentle gratitude. “Because I do not know how I could ever possibly face your mother, if I find myself paralyzed by a mere handful of humans, and a few loud voices.”

Alia patted Valyrym’s foreleg. “More than a handful, Val. But your son is right. It will get better, and we’ll both be right here with you every step of the way. Right, Valar?”

“Absolutely.” Valar lifted a blue-marked forepaw, pointing down the road. “How about we try and make it to that intersection, next? Whenever you’re ready to take a few more steps, father.”

Valyrym hissed, frustration coiling in his gut. “I’m ready now, damn it.” Valyrym steeled himself, flattening his ears back against the rolling waves of voices. He tore his eyes from the sky, then focused on the colorful signpost once more. He took a step towards it, then another. His limbs wobbled, but not as badly as when he’d first entered the town. “I fought armies, damn it.” He stepped forward again, his belly churning and legs like rubber. “I dodged ballista bolts in the sky! I carried my crippled companion to safety!” Valyrym forced himself to take a few more paces, lashing his tail. The spines skittered against the cobblestone. “This is nothing!”

“That’s the spirit, Father!” Valar walked alongside at his side, Valyrym’s wing still propped up across his back.

Valyrym glanced at his son. “How many steps was that?”

“Five.” Valar lifted his frills in playful draconic amusement. “But they were big steps.”

Alia rubbed his scales in a broad circle. “And that’s five steps deeper into town than you were a moment ago.”

Valyrym grunted, then tossed his head. “Yes, what wonderful progress I’ve made.” He glanced back the way they’d come, searching for his smallest friend. “Where’s Vatch gone? Have we left him behind?”

Alia waved her hand at the row of shops they were ever so slowly strolling past. “He’s in one of those.” Her eyes soon settled on a storefront with where a small crowd gathered, staring through its windows. “Probably that one. I swear, that urd’thin’s drawing more attention than you two are.”

Valyrym growled, a low, menacing sound. “They’d best well leave him alone. If they so much as mutter one threatening word in his direction, they will not find me so meek, any longer.”

Alia turned towards the dragon, reaching up to cradle his cheek. “As touching as your concern is, I don’t think it’s warranted.”

“Yes, Father, I think they’re just curious.” Valar raised his head to peer back across his father, to the other side of the street. “They’ve seen dragons, before, but I’m not sure they’ve ever seen an urd’thin.”

“Perhaps not.” Valyrym watched the crowd for a moment. They jostled one another, laughing and pointing at something beyond the windows. “Come to think of it, Vatch’s people were not common in Aran’alia, either. But they’re everywhere, in Illandra. They used to smuggle me things, now and then. But in the city, they’re about as well-liked as dragons are.” Valyrym growled again, his claw tips unsheathed. “If a crowd followed him like that through the Illandran streets, I’d fear for his life.”

Valar pressed his forepaw against his father’s. “Speaking of fear, let’s keep those claws sheathed, shall we father? We promised the city guard to be on our best behavior, remember?”

Valyrym swallowed hard, glancing down at the cobbled stones beneath his paws. “You made that promise, not me. You and the bird.” He forced his claws to retract, sighing. “But you’re right. I fear I’m veering from whimpering cowardice to snarling fury and back again. It’s as if my heart and my soul are at war for my emotions, and won’t stop dragging them one extreme to the other.”

“It’s not cowardice, Valyrym.” Alia cupped his muzzle in her hands. “And wanting to protect your friend is hardly what I’d call fury.” Her glittering emerald eyes bored into him, as if she sought to measure anew where most his soul needed patching. “You’re going through a lot, all at once. Honestly, it’s more than anyone has a right to ask if you. If things were different, and it were up to me? I’d have just flown with you out into the countryside somewhere, and let you spend months just…”

She stroked his pebbly scales, her warm smile soothing the turbulent waters of his stormy soul. “Readjust. To get used to living life outside that wretched hole in the ground, again. Because Valar’s right. All this?” She waved at the city around them, and the swarms of people roaming its streets. “It’s all piling atop you, right at the worst time. Right when your body is finally adjusting to all the activity, and your mind has finally accepted the fact that you’re free, and son is right here, with you. Which everything else you haven’t seen or experienced in a century and a half is finally getting through. All the color, all the noise, all the life you’ve missed out on. It’s all just…” Alia ran her hands along his head, gently stroking the spines of his frills. “Weighing down on you. But I promise you, Val. Your son and I are right here with you, and we’ll help you bear this burden, as long as it takes.”

“Yes, Father.” Valar bumped his muzzle against his Father’s neck. “We will. You don’t have to carry all this weight upon your wings, alone. We’re here for you.”

“Thank you both.” Valyrym nuzzled into Alia’s hands, hugging Valar with his wing. “Your support is immeasurably-”

“Look what Vatch get!” The urd’thin’s voice cut through the clamor of the crowd as he emerged from the shop.

Valyrym turned his head to keep watch over Vatch, and ensure the urd’thin was safe. He raised his own voice to ensure the group clustering around the storefront heard him. “What have you got there, Vatch?”

“Vatch get new bag!” As Vatch walked out, he held up a large, black leather satchel. Bright silver embroidery decorated it with ivy leaf patterns. More silver vines ran down its hanging strap. “And he also get…” Vatch trailed off as he lowered the bag, staring up at all the humans in his way. “Oh, hello again, many people. You can…” He waved at them. “Maybe let Vatch through?”

“Oh, right, sorry little guy.” A pudgy human in a purple vest and black trousers nudged others aside, making a path. “Right this way.”

Vatch smiled up at him, then offered a little bow. “That okay! Vatch not mind. Where Vatch come from, if big crowd follow urd’thin, is big danger! Is nice you only curious.”

“Ain’t never had one of your kind round here.” An older woman peered down at him, then clucked her tongue. “Don’t know why anyone back in the big city would treat you so poorly. You’re an adorable little rapscallion.”

“Vatch not know this word.” Vatch tilted his head, then skirted past her, holding his treasures to his chest. “But thank you, probably.”

On the other side of the makeshift path, a younger girl reached out towards him. “How soft is your fur? Can I touch you?”

“Please to not ruffle Vatch!” He hooked his new satchel over his shoulder, then held an arm out, pulling up his sleeve to reveal chocolate brown fur. “But you can touch Vatch arm, and Vatch tail.”

A few in the crowd took up his offer. The girl brushed hand across his arm, while a young man felt the fur of Vatch’s tail. Soon, they were commenting on its softness, or peppering him with questions about his species. Others peppered him with questions about his species.

As the girl stroked his fur, she asked, “Do you all have the same color fur?”

Vatch shook his head. “No, urd’thin come in many color, but all little different.”

An older man reached out to touch Vatch’s offered arm. “Is this as tall as you get?”

Vatch splayed an ear. “Vatch full grown, yes. Oh, you mean urd’thin? Some get little taller, some not as tall.”

“What do your horns do?”

Vatch blinked at the woman who’d asked. “Do? They not do anything.”

A fancifully dressed man in green and golden vestments, with a square-ish hat stepped forward. “Are you related to the koraa’gi species? Or perhaps the Valramaar?”

Vatch blinked a few times. “Urd’thin just urd’thin!”

Valyrym snorted, then tossed his head. “It seems you two were right. I think the only way he’d be in danger right now is if they annoy him to death. Speaking of which…” Valyrym lifted his voice. “He likes it when you ruffle his ears!”

Almost immediately, someone did exactly that.

Vatch gave a little squeal, ducking away from their hand to whirl towards the dragon. He thrust an accusing finger towards Valyrym. “Dragon do great betrayal on Vatch! This unforgivable!” Vatch hurried through the crowd, ducking under the arms of others who tried to pet him, or sought to ruffle his ears. When he emerged into the street, he ran towards Valyrym’s tail, his mace bobbling at his hip. “Dragon must pay great penance now!”

Valyrym glowered at the approaching urd’thin. “And what exactly do you expect me to do?”

“Dragon must…” Vatch leapt onto the back of Valyrym’s tail. He scrabbled up it, then clambered along Valyrym’s body. When he reached Valyrym’s shoulders, he settled down at the base of Valyrym’s neck. “Give ride to Vatch! Lazy gryphon not here, so Vatch ride dragon, like king of urd’thin!”

“Ah, I see.” Valyrym rumbled laughter to himself. “Showing off for your new fans, are you? Very well, Vatch. I shall indulge you, just this once.”

“Good dragon.” Vatch patted the base of Valyrym’s neck, then pointed down the road. “Now, forward dragon! We go!”

“Forward…” Valyrym swallowed. “Yes. Right, forward.” He took a careful step down the road, then another. “I can do that. I’ve been doing that. Just walking.”

Alia moved out Valyrym’s way, returning to walk along at his side. “There you go, Val, you’re doing great.”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” Valyrym gave another snort, then twisted his head around to glance at his passenger. “Where to, sire?”

“To food!” Vatch grinned up at him, his dark eyes gleaming in the sunlight. “Vatch hungry.” Then he tilted his head. “Dragon okay? He not walk very far while Vatch do shopping.’

“Dragon…” Valyrym gazed back at the urd’thin now riding atop him. With his oversized ears perked, his muzzle parted with a broad smile, and his bushy, chocolate-furred tail idly swishing against Valyrym’s back, the urd’thin had rarely looked happier. Something about his exuberant joy and his mischievous demands buoyed Valyrym’s heart. At least for a few moments, the worst of the world’s cacophony faded away, replaced by the simple delight of playing a stupid game with a friend who’d grown all too dear to him. “Dragon okay, Vatch. Dragon better now.”

Alia peered around him to exchange a look with Valar. “Looks like Vatch is all he really needed.”

“So it seems,” Valar said, grinning at Alia.

“Vatch is big hero, after all.” Vatch sat up straighter, tail twitching. He tilted his head. “But, what you talk about again?”

“Nothing worthy of continued discussion, Vatch.” Valyrym glanced at his love and his son in turn. “Suffice it to say you have simply provided a pleasant distraction from myself.”

“Ah, Vatch understand.” He patted Valyrym’s neck. “Dragon lost in own head again! Is like with caravan?”

Valyrym flattened his frills, even as he took another few steps forward. “Similar. But also different. I wasn’t…” He glanced ahead, to where one of several groups of armed guards stood. They moved when he moved, maintaining a respectful distance even as they maintained order among the crowds, and kept close watch over the dragons. “I wasn’t afraid, of them. I’m just…” He lifted a forepaw, waving it at the city around them. “Overwhelmed, by all this.”

Vatch peered around. “Is not not that big. Is fit in one district of Illandra.”

The dragon only chuckled. “So it would, Vatch.” He took another few steps, trying to keep his focus on his conversation with the urd’thin. “What else did you purchase?”

Alia reached up to brush her fingers across his throat, whispering. “There you go, Val. Focus on us.”

“Vatch get also gloves!” The urd’thin retrieved a pair of black leather gloves from inside the bag. “They for small human, but being little too big only mean they not uncomfortable against fur.” He pushed the gloves back into his bag. “Vatch want maybe hat, but no human hat fit right over urd’thin ears and horns.”

Valyrym tilted his head, glancing back again. “You want a hat? Why on earth would you want a hat, Vatch?”

The urd’thin gave him a blank stare. “To look good, yes? Vatch always must look he best.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” the dragon said, chuckling. “You’d probably have to have something custom made.”

“That what merchant say.” Vatch splayed his ears. “They never have urd’thin visitor, so they have nothing that fit.”

“I’m not surprised,” Alia said. She waved at Vatch. “The Illandran capital is filled with urd’thin, and we still had to have Paulson custom tailor all your clothes, and get your boots cobbled just for you.”

Vatch dug around in his bag again. “That true. At least people nice to Vatch here. And look what else Vatch find!” He pulled out a trio of books. “New books!” Vatch waved one of them around. It was wide, and flat, bound in striking crimson. “This one picture book, for human pups, but is cute! Have many colorful fairy tale.” Vatch held the other two up. One was bound up in gray, with golden lettering. “This one exciting adventure story about thief who rob bad rich people!” He flashed the dragon a toothy smile. “Is above Vatch reading level, but dragon help, yes?”

Valyrym rumbled, flicking his tail. “Yes, Vatch. Dragon happy to help.”

“I think it’s adorable you’re teaching an urd’thin to read, Father.” Valar bumped his muzzle against Valyrym’s neck, his ears and frills raised in slightly smug display.

“It is not adorable!” Valyrym tossed his head, hissing. “I am merely helping a poor, downtrodden little creature better its meager place in life.”

“No,” Vatch said, shaking his head. He stuffed the first two books away. “That not it at all. You help because you sad, lonely old lizard with no friend until Vatch come along. Now Vatch your best friend and you do anything he ask, because you secretly real big softie.”

Valyrym growled, baring his fangs. “You’re pressing your luck, rodent. Keep it up, and you shall receive the ruffling of your life!”

Alia slapped Valyrym’s shoulder. “Don’t you bully Vatch.”

“I’m not bullying him!” Valyrym lashed his tail, the spines clattering across cobblestones. “I’m the one being bullied! I shall not stand for these slanderous accusations of adorability and softheartedness.” He glanced over at his son. “When, when I was your age, I was slaying…” Valyrym trailed off, glancing at the guards ahead of them. He lowered his voice. “Well, whoever deserved it.”

“Yes, Father, perhaps don’t brag too loudly about your war victories against our current hosts’ ancestors.” Valar chuckled, then smirked at his father, his frills splayed. “Besides, conquering territory and slaying your foes does not preclude from having an adorable friendship with a furry little dragon tamer.”

Vatch smacked a book against his palm. “That Chief First Dragon Tamer, to you.”

The younger dragon made a show of bowing beneath this father’s wing. “Yes, of course, Vatch. My mistake.” He paused, and then swept a forepaw towards a familiar, colorful signpost nearby. “Oh, look at that Father. You’ve made it all the way to the marker, already.”

Valyrym licked his nose, fighting back a smile. Somehow, he’d managed to string together enough uninterrupted steps to reach their temporary destination. Though Valyrym hated the idea of feeling any sense of pride over so small a thing, a warm sense of accomplishment swelled his chest just the same. He feigned disinterest in his own achievement by pointedly reading the sign. It named the streets that intersected, and directed the reader to several other points of interest, including eateries, a blacksmith’s shop, and an open air market.

“So I did,” Valyrym finally said. “Vatch, speaking of your reading ability, shall we test it?” He lifted a forepaw, and used a single unsheathed claw to indicate one of the signboards. “Can you tell me what this says?”

“He’s only asking because he doesn’t want to us to notice how proud he is of himself for getting this far.” Alia folded her arms, grinning at him.

Valyrym glared at her, though his faux angry gaze lacked any true venom. “Shush, Alia. Don’t step on Vatch’s big moment.”

Alia nudged his other forepaw with her boot. “I could step on your paw, instead. That would also help distract you.”

“It say…” Vatch leaned forward, scrutinizing the sign from atop the dragon. “That way to market.” Vatch pointed down the road they were on, then gestured at the intersecting road. “And that way to where food is.” He sat up straighter, his oversized ears perked. “We go to food, yes? Vatch stomach cave in!”

“Very good, Vatch!” Valyrym turned his head to offer the urd’thin a wide smile. “I’m proud of you!” He snorted, glancing at the others. “And only of Vatch. But urd’thin stomachs are too small to have cave-ins. Your belly is more of a burrow, at best.”

Vatch swatted Valyrym’s neck with his book. “Yes, yes, urd’thin small, dragon big, Vatch get it. We go eat now! Do as king of urd’thin say!”

Alia put a hand across her belly. “I’m ready to eat too, actually.” She stepped out in front of Valyrym to address Valar. “Do you suppose Krek has actually finished arranging somewhere for us to eat?”

Valar’s muzzle twisted up in thought. “That depends on how much additional business he had to accomplish.”

“And how many human girls he’s stopped to flirt with.” Valyrym rumbled laughter. “Damn horny ego-birds.”

“You know, Father,” Valar said, his head cocked. “There was a time in your life when people could have said the same about you.”

“Nonsense, Valar.” Valyrym shook his head, glancing away. “I was never a gryphon. And besides…” He held up a forepaw. “When I was your age, human girls flirted with me.”

“Did they?” Valyrym lifted his frills, feigning interesting. “Because the way I heard things from Mother was-”

“An unreliable source of information about your father’s private life, if ever there was one.” Valyrym made a show of examining his own wings.

Valar continued, unperturbed. “Most of those human females back then would be more likely to kick you in the stones than flirt with you.”

“You see?” Valyrym tossed his head. “Totally unreliable. Only one human woman ever did that, and-”

“And you fell in love with her!” Alia poked Valyrym’s chest, grinning. “Perhaps that means I should make good on a few of my threats-”

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving!” Valyrym raised his voice over the others. “Valar, hopefully your fluffy boyfriend had succeeded in arranging for us to eat in town.” Krek had been gone most of the afternoon, ostensibly ensuring their safe passage. Valyrym was quite certain that bird was busying himself with other, far more illicit businesses and sordid spy craft. “Otherwise, we’re going to have to leave and hunt our own dinner. Mind you, if he’s been wasting his time strutting around as the Queen’s feathered butler again, I shall not hunt him a scrap.”

Valar laughed. “While he does have business to conduct here, he was supposed to set up our dining arrangements first. However, if he hasn’t…” Valar snapped his teeth. “Then I concur. Damn lazy bird can hunt his own food.” He slipped out from beneath his father’s wing. “Now, I’m going to let you walk on your own again, if you think you’re ready.”

The older dragon slowly retracted his wing. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” He lowered his hand. “Thank you, Valar, for-”

“Yes, yes, Father,” Valar said, waving him off with a smile. “You need not thank me for every little curtesy I extend you.”

“And yet, I shall continue to do so.” Valyrym lifted his head.

Valar scratched at his neck with a wingtip. “If you must. In that case, Father, since you’re feeling so courteous…” He flicked his tail towards the town’s soldiers escorting them. “Perhaps you’d like to do the honors, and inform them of destination? I think it would be good for you.”

Valyrym scowled, his ears pinned. Thus far, he had tried to avoid major interactions with their armed escorts. They had been a persistent sight ever since they’d first reached the city gates some hours ago, and found the soldiers prepared and awaiting their arrival. While Valyrym had been fighting back waves of panic at the mere site of traveling caravans, Valar and Krek were securing safe visitation rights in the city of Kartaros.

Though they were not the first dragons to seek entrance to the town and its market, they were still a rare sight. At least Kartaros had systems in place for such imposing visitors. All dragons were to be accompanied by several platoons of guards. They were to walk, not fly, and to do so slowly. All destinations and course changes had to be cleared with the guards. That way, the escorting soldiers could clear the roads and make room for their guests. They also kept the crowds of people from getting too close to the dragons.

Thus far, their attendants had proved polite, if not overtly friendly. That was fine with Valyrym. They were here to do a job, and ensure everyone was kept safe. They had no need to strike up a conversation with him, and he had no real desire to do so with them, either. Until now, Valar had handled most of the communications required between their two groups. But Valyrym knew his son was right. Now was as good a time as any for him to continue learning to readjust to existing outside his solitary tomb.

Valyrym gazed at the guards for several moments. He took a few slow, deep breaths, willing himself not to imagine them as Illandran soldiers. Alia put her hand against his chest, stroking his broad scales in slow, even motions. Her touch and presence helped to center him. When the darkest of his memories did not impose themselves up on his vision, he forced himself to speak.

“We should like to go this way, now.” Valyrym carefully measured his voice, ensuring it was loud enough for the guards to hear him over the clamor of townsfolk, but not so forceful as to seem aggressive. “There is an eatery, where our gryphon friend has arranged for us to feed. Is that acceptable?”

Their escorts had no trouble with the course change, and held a quick discussion amongst themselves about how best to facilitate it. They asked Valyrym’s group to hold their places while they cleared the intersection and the adjacent street. People were herded out of the way, carriages and wagons moved aside. Then they beckoned the dragons forward. Valyrym and the others turned onto the connecting thoroughfare, and resumed their slow march through town.

“Well handled, Father.” Valar offered him a smile.

“Yes, Val,” Alia said, walking at his side once more. She put her hand upon his shoulder. “That was well done. Are you feeling a little better?”

Valyrym grunted, his tail lashing a few times. “Not exactly. But I’m trying to focus on any distraction I can.”

“That’s good.” Alia patted him. “Keep focused on the happier things. Pleasant company, enjoyable conversation, and the rest will all settle into place over time. I promise.”

Valyrym forced himself to continue onwards, one set of steps at a time. Bright crimson color edged the blue sky above his head, where the cheery roofs lined the road. Humans milled about at the sides of the road, gawking at the dragons in the midst. Others pointed up at Vatch, questioning one another about him. A contingent of guards walked ahead of them, continuing to clear the road as they kept watch. Sunlight glinted off the studs in their leathers, the rings of the mail. Valyrym stared past them, fixing his eyes on another singular point. This time he selected a decorative, wrought iron sheep in the distance, standing alongside the road. Smoke wafted from somewhere beyond the line of shops flanking his vision. Wooden fencing hemmed in an area where a flurry of humans were busy carrying away tables and chairs.

“Valar, is that where we’re going?” Valyrym lifted a forepaw to indicate the metal sheep.

“It is!” Valar licked his blue-marked nose, purring to himself. “You’re going to like this place, Father. Krek took me here in the past. They have some incredible smoked meats.”

Valyrym lifted his frills, then sniffed at the air. Already the city’s scent was slightly tinted by the pleasantly acrid aroma of cook smoke. “Smoked, you say?”

Valar grinned, shaking himself. “I did! Sadly, I don’t they serve fish, but their smoked mutton was…” He shuddered, murmuring. “Delightful.”

“What?” The older dragon scoffed, stomping a forepaw. “How can they possibly run an eatery that offers smoked delights without including fish?”

“Look around, Val,” Alia said, waving a hand. “Where would they get them from? Have you seen any major lakes or rivers around here?”

Valyrym shrugged his wings. “Not my problem. Nonetheless, I shall endeavor to avoid judging them too harshly for their steadfast refusal to serve my son his favorite food.”

“Vatch not know what mutton is.” The urd’thin idly turned a book over in his hands, examining it.

“Sheep, Vatch.” Alia glanced up at him. “It’s just a fancy term for sheep.”

The urd’thin scratched an ear. “Then why not just call sheep? Vatch not have this before. He have smoke mushroom, and smoke rat. Once he even have smoke pigeon. But he never have smoke sheep. Vatch only try sheep when he work in castle. Is good!”

“Yes, Vatch, is good.” Valyrym turned his head to gaze back at the urd’thin upon his back. “When did you get to eat smoked things?”

“Is not uncommon in warrens.” Vatch gestured with the book. “When Vatch little, sometimes his area of warren gather mushroom, rat, other thing. They make fire under big air vent, then they lay damp wood around fire, hang food above. Air vent pull smoke up, smoke help cook food. Is good!”

“Sounds quite ingenious, actually,” Alia said. “Not that I’m surprised, after my trip through the warrens. Your people were very impressive in the way they utilized, well, everything.” She laughed to herself, then gestured at the book Vatch still held. “What have you got there? You haven’t told us about your third book.”

Vatch only smiled, cradling it to his chest. “This one secret. It present for dragon, but only if he not be grumpy. Vatch show you later.”

“A present?” Valyrym perked his ears, then gave a thoughtful, growling noise. “I don’t know, Vatch. While the thought is appreciated, being grumpy is rather in my nature.”

The urd’thin paged through the book, idly shrugging. “Maybe you be slightly less grumpy after food. This good enough.” He glanced up. “Is nothing special. Is just book Vatch think maybe dragon.”

“That’s very kind of you, sire.” Valyrym made a show of bowing his head. “Even if I assume there’s a second caveat.”

Vatch tilted his head. “What means ca-veet?”

Valyrym chuckled. “Caveat, Vatch.”

“That what Vatch say.” He playfully thumped the dragon with the mysterious book. “What it means?”

“It means,” Valyrym said, adopting a faux scholarly tone. “A condition upon which something relies. In this case, you’re giving me a book, with the caveat that I read it to you. Or, so I assume.”

Vatch gasped, placing a hand over his chest. His great, chocolate-furred ears flattened back. “You think Vatch only give present because he want dragon read it to him? This grave insult! Vatch very offend!” He huffed, then made a grand show of shoving the book into his new bag, and folding his arms. Slowly, his ears rose again. “But, if dragon insist on reading to Vatch, Vatch not mind listen.”

“Of course, Vatch, of course.” Valyrym chuckled to himself. Then a darker thought crossed his mind. His stomach twisted in on itself. “It’s not another book about Kylaryn, is it? I still haven’t brought myself to read the last one.” He glanced towards his son. “Did you know there are tomes in the wild, about your mother?”

Valar’s muzzle screwed up. He splayed his ears, his tail tip flicking back and forth several times. “I’m aware, yes. Mother had some human woman helping her. One of her assassins, I think. I’m afraid I tried to steer clear of that whole…” He waggled his paw. “Endeavor. I already know all too well what mother went through, after you…” Valar looked back at his father, his ears low. “Did what you did. Let us not dwell on it.”

Valyrym sighed, his frills sagging. “As you wish. I wonder, though. Do you think I should read it, before I see her again? To better understand where her mind is these days?”

“I don’t know, Father.” Valar shrugged his wings. “I haven’t read it myself, so I couldn’t tell you. It may prove helpful, or you may find absolutely nothing you did not already know. I’m not sure it would be worth the addition strain it may place upon your…” Valar reached out to tap Valyrym on the head, just beneath a horn. “Mental state.” Then he cocked his head. “How did you know there was a book about her out there?”

“Vatch find!” The urd’thin returned the mystery tome to his new satchel. “Vatch buy many books to share with dragon, including book about Valar mother. But Vatch not know it about her when he buy. Is just by author Vatch like!”

“I half wonder if it was planted for you to find, and bring back to him.” Valar peered up at the urd’thin, then shook his head. “Perhaps I’m overthinking it. That other book you just bought, the present. At the risk of spoiling the surprise, that’s not also about her, is it?”

The urd’thin shook his head. “Vatch not think so. But he did bring other book on journey, if dragons want to read.” Then he snapped his little teeth. “Unless lazy gryphon lose Vatch belongings.”

“Yes,” Valyrym said, snarling under his breath. “That damnable ego-bird had better not have lost any of our possessions. If we return to our things later, and Alia discovers that Val Jr. has gone missing, then I’m going to smack the smugness right out of his beak, and send him all the way back to Illandra to find a replacement.”

Alia gasped in horror. “You’d replace our son so quickly? But what about our mourning?” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “What about our grieving? I’m going to need at least a month to address and deal with my deep, and abiding anguish.”

Valyrym swirled a paw in the air. “I’m accounting for that, already. While the bird flies back to Illandra, we’ll stay here and mourn. And, you know…” He licked his muzzle as the scents of smoked, and roasted meats began to tint the air. “Address our grief by repeatedly eating all their smoked meats, every day, until at last we begin to heal. Eventually, we’ll be in a healthy place, ready to move forward and adopt again by the time the lousy bird finally returns baring Val Jr, Jr.”

Alia solemnly nodded. “It’s the only way forward. And we’ll be sure to tell Val Jr, Jr, all about his older brother. We’ll spin him tales of his many adventures in the dungeon, and that time he knocked Cuddly Korvorak right into that barrel of rum. In that way, they’ll still know each other as brothers, even though they never got to meet.”

“I’m starting to think you two have an unhealthy relationship with that thing.” Valar laughed, an incredulous sound. “With all those things.”

Alia shook her finger at Valar. “Listen here, young man. I don’t want to hear you talking about your little brother that way. Val Jr is not a thing.”

“He’s also not my little brother.” A lopsided smirk crossed his muzzle. “Though I would greatly enjoy seeing the look on my real younger brother’s face, should I ever have the pleasure of introducing him to your stuffed child.”

Valyrym lifted his head, his frills extended, spines on display. “Don’t talk back to your step-mother, Valar. I’ll not tolerate disrespect in this household.”

Alia finally burst out laughing, shaking her head. She braced a hand against Valyrym’s leg. “Alright, love, I don’t think I can keep this up any longer. We’re just drifting further from shore, now.”

“Vatch think you both lost at sea long time ago.” He hooked a thumb beneath the leather strap of his new bag. “But is make for good distraction for dragon. We nearly there.”

“Are we?” Valyrym returned his attention to road, only to realize the wrought-iron sheep was now just before them. A smile parted his snout. “So we are. That wasn’t so bad.”

“It’s the conversation that did it,” Valar said, looking over at Alia. “So the next time he’s having trouble, just bait him into exposing his own senility, and then play along again.”

Valyrym snarled, slapping his tail against the street. His spines clattered on the stone. “I am not senile! I was in on the joke, Valar!”

Valar only smiled, gently patting his father’s forepaw. “Sure, you were, Father. Sure, you were.” He looked away, battling back laughter. “Anyway, I’m sure our possessions are perfectly safe. Krek paid those porters good coin to take care of everything for us, while we wander the town. He gave them his belongings too, after all.”

“How is that supposed to put me at ease?” Valyrym flattened his ears. “The only things of value he carries are his coins and his armor, and he kept those!”

“That’s a fair point.” Valar scratched his neck with a wing tip. “I’m fairly certainly he’s carrying more secretive cargo as well, that he hasn’t turned over.” He held up a forepaw. “Nonetheless, if he trusts the porters, then so do I. Now, enough worrying, Father.” He swept his paw towards their destination, smiling. “Let’s eat.”

Just beyond the wrought-iron sheep, a small lane led away from the street, and towards a large, grassy plot of land. The lot was hemmed in by a fence of rough-hewn wooden planks and posts caved into the horned heads of stylized sheep. Valyrym guessed it to be an outdoor dining area, based on all the wooden benches and tables piled up at one side. As they approached the fence’s gate, a few more humans were busy moving the last of the furniture out of the way.

An odd building lay at the back of the lot. It was long, and triangular, with a sharply pointed roof. Aside from its angled roof’s crimson hue, the structure bore little resemblance to the others in the area. Two great doors outlined in white led into a large, open-air dining hall lined with more long benches. Smoke belched from a trio of chimneys at the far end. Great piles of wood were everywhere, some of it stacked in neat rows, others sprawling in all directions. A few humans carried some of the wood into the building. Towards the back, a butcher in a bloodied apron studious chopped apart some manner of animal. Valyrym imagined the whole scene would have better befit an assembly of farm buildings, rather than the shopping district of some market town.

“Wait here, Father.” Valar broke away from the group, padding along the path towards the restaurant. “I’ll go and ask if they’re ready for us.”

Valyrym glanced at the platoon of guards lingering nearby. Another milled about behind them. Despite their presence, other humans gathered at the edges of the street to stare at the dragons in their midst. More of them watched through windows, or from behind cracked doors. Valyrym flattened his ears, once more trying to dull the growing cacophony of too many indiscernible voices all chattering together. At least the area being cleared for them looked to be set far enough back from the road to provide at least a small sound buffer.

The old dragon turned his attention back to his son to try and focus his still-anxious mind. Valar ignored the fence’s gate in favor of simply hopping over it. A few bits of grass and sod scattered where his claw tips dug in for purchase. Valar’s tail spines hovered just above the top of the fence, never quite touching it. He strolled straight up to the human who seemed most in charge, stopping far enough away to avoid making the man too nervous. Valar bowed his head, and then addressed the human in a hushed voice. Valyrym could not make out his son’s words over the voices of so many other people, but he knew enough what Valar was discussing. Soon enough, the human man was smiling and laughing, as though talking not to a visiting dragon, but to an old friend.

“He’s so at home among them.” Valyrym found himself sharing the human’s smile. Warm pride radiated through his chest, and left his spines standing on end. “Just like I was, when I was his age, and living in Sigil Stones. Before…” Valyrym grunted, his frills drooping again. He waved a paw at himself. “Whatever this old husk is. Terrified of a few bright colors, and loud noises. Unable to tell the difference between someone who wants to rub my nose, and someone who wants to put a sword in my belly.”

Alia walked around in front of him, lifting her hands to stroke his neck. “You’ll get there, Val. You’ve been living in a moldering tomb for half your life.” Her face contorted, features suddenly twisted as if some sharp pain just knifed through her guts. “And I’d scarcely even call the hell you’ve put through, living.”

Valyrym lowered his head to nuzzle at Alia’s ebony hair. “I was but a hollow spirit, a ghost slowly fading from this world day by day. I may have drawn breath, but I was scarcely alive, anymore. At least, not until I met you, Alia. Only then did I open my eyes, and wake from my darkened dreams. Only then did my heartbeat truly matter. Only then, did I live.”

Alia kissed him, rubbing his scales. “I’m just glad I was able to help you find your way out of that dismal hole, and back into the light. But no one can blame you for having trouble being around people, again. You’ve dealt with isolation and solitude for longer than any human will ever be alive. None of this is your fault, Val. No one will judge you for it, nor should you judge yourself.”

“Logically, I know that.” Valyrym rested his chin atop Alia’s head. “But emotionally, my heart disagrees. And lack of blame or judgement does nothing to actually ease my anxieties. While it buoys my heart to know you understand why I am struggling, your understanding does not actually quiet the voices, or mute the colors, or slow the bustling movement all around me, or…” Valyrym trailed off. He licked his nose, his voice softening to a worried whisper. “Or stop the snow from threatening to fall inside my head.”

Almost imperceptibly, Alia tensed. She reached up, and took his muzzle in her hands. Her emerald eyes bored into his, shining and determined. “I’m your beacon, remember? Whenever you see the snowflakes start to fall, you tell me. And whatever is happening, what I’m doing, whatever is around us, none of that will matter until I’ve guided you back out of that terrible day. So don’t hide it from me when it happens, Val. And don’t be embarrassed.” She gently pulled his head down, leaning over his muzzle to kiss him between his horns. “Though your mind’s scars may be unseen, these are just as real as all the rest you bear. And right now, your mind still bears fresher wounds, still. I believe that they will heal, but I cannot help tend them if you do not let me.”

Valyrym sighed, a low, heavy sound. The old dragon knew in his heart that Alia was right. Alia was always right. But acknowledging his struggles made them no easier to face, let alone to speak aloud. “I shall do my utmost, Alia. Thank you.”

“Of course, Val.” She rubbed his nose, just above the whip scar, smiling at him. “I will do absolutely anything I can to help you through this. I hope you know that.”

“I do.” Valyrym gave her hand a thankful lick, then lifted his head when he spotted Valar returning towards them.

Valar stopped nearby. Concern etched itself across his pebbly scales. His blue-marked frills flattened back, and he tilted his head. “Is everything alright, Father?”

Valyrym shrugged his wings. “Not entirely but, no worse than it’s been the rest of the day. And nothing my dear Alia cannot help me find a way through.” He curled a foreleg around her, pulling her closer to hug her against his chest. Then he gazed back at his passenger, thankful Vatch had remained silent. “You heard none of that, by the way.”

The urd’thin clapped his hands across his oversized ears. “Vatch hear nothing! And if Vatch do hear anything…” He moved his hands to mime holding his muzzle shut. “He never speak of this!”

The younger dragon chuckled at Vatch’s antics, but turned his gaze towards Alia. “I’m glad he has you.”

Alia stroked Valyrym’s chest, her touch soft, and soothing. “And I’m glad I have him.” She looked across her shoulder at Valar. “And that he has you, again.”

Valar cleared his throat with a little growl, shifting his weight from paw to paw. “Yes, well. I’m increasingly glad of that, as well. Speaking of which, at some point, Father’s going to have break down and hug Krek.”

Valyrym snorted, tossing his head. “I’d sooner get my balls stuck in a bear trap.”

The young dragon groaned, a sound which soon twisted into uncomfortable laughter. “Oh, Father, must you put it that way?”

Valyrym only smirked, his ears splayed. “Well, I was going to say I’d sooner drown myself in a barrel of rum, but under the circumstances of our discussion, I was afraid that might ring a little too close to home to Alia.”

Alia slapped his neck playfully. “I appreciate the effort, but now all I can imagine is you asking for help in the highest-pitched voice I’d ever heard.” She laughed, shaking her head. “And yet somehow, still sounding grumpy.” She raised her voice a few notches. “Alia! Get this damnable contraption off my balls this instant!”

Vatch yipped happy urd’thin laughter from the dragon’s back. “Then must find healer! Be very embarrassing explanation!”

“I should think the ensuing examination would be more embarrassing still,” Valar said, laughing with the others. He shook himself as if shuddering at the idea, then gestured with a forepaw. “All jokes aside, Father. My presence at your side is due in large part to Krek’s insistence.”

“So I’m told.” Valyrym took a breath, then held it till his lungs ached. He exhaled slowly. “Very well. When I am able to work up the nerve, I shall endeavor to thank him.”

Valar perked his ears. “Good. I’d appreciate that.”

“The bird and I,” Valyrym said, idly scratching at a cobblestone. “Did have a bit of a breakthrough, so to speak.”

“Oh?” Valar cocked his head. “Do tell.”

Valyrym traced a claw tip around the contours of the paving stone. “Not that much to tell, really. We just…understand one another a little better, I think.” A smirk slowly returned to the dragon’s muzzle. “After we agreed that we are both bad people.”

Alia rolled her arms, her arms crossed. “Of course you did.”

Valar only stared at him. “I don’t even know where to begin broaching that, so I’m just going to leave it be. Anyway, the restaurant is ready for us. They’re giving us their entire outdoor seating area.” He turned, waving a wing towards the grassy expanse. “As you can see, they’ve removed most of the furniture to make room. I’ve been told we are to seat ourselves wherever we wish. They’ll bring some chairs for Alia and Vatch, and a table for the food. Then they’re going to serve us everything they have.”

“That sounds lovely,” Alia said, pivoting towards the restaurant. “I don’t suppose they told you how much this is going to cost us?” She held up a hand. “Not that I mind. But paying for enough meat for two dragons is definitely going to bite into the coin we were able to bring.” She scrunched her face. “No pun intended.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Valar turned around to head back up the path. “It seems Krek’s already paid them. I expect he’ll join us eventually.”

“Damn it.” Valyrym growled under his breath. “That means we’re going to have to wait for him before we eat, aren’t we?”

“Gods, no.” Valar tossed his head, laughing. “If he wanted to share our meal, he should have walked with us. Now come along, Father. You’re going to love this.”