H - 94: Diligence and Discipline (Patreon)

“You are improving,” Tiavathyris said, straightening from her balanced stance to signal the end of the morning’s lesson.

“I don’t really feel like I am,” Kaln admitted, carefully stretching his arms.

She favored him with the ghost of a smile. “Yes, progress in these matters is not usually of a kind that shows a marked change from one day to the next—not after you mastered the basic movements I taught you. When we begin training new techniques, you will again see noticeable improvement. For now, it is a matter of solidifying foundations, and the work must be steady and measured. I have trained many students, Kaln; I assure you, your progress is satisfactory.”

“Thank you for the reassurance,” he said, sketching a shallow bow. “I’m willing to hazard a guess that I’m not one of the best you’ve ever trained, though.”

“You are not the worst,” she said seriously, “nor even close to it. I would not even rank you among the worst. Though I see in you no outstanding talent for the martial arts, you are diligent and disciplined, and that really is all it takes.”

“I find it…like…” Kaln gestured aimlessly, searching for a metaphor. “Like taking medicine for a cold. Not even bad-tasting medicine.”

Tiavathyris raised one eyebrow.

“I see the value in it,” he hastened to explain. “I appreciate its effects, and I don’t resent it. But it’s…it isn’t something that brings me joy. I don’t consider it onerous, it’s just…a worthwhile thing to be done.”

“That is the mindset of many a soldier, husband,” she agreed, once more with that faintest of smiles. “Diligence and discipline, as I said. I am satisfied with our progress.”

She fell silent, the expression fading, and for a long moment just studied him with her head slightly tilted. Kaln finished working his arms and shoulders, experiencing the pleasant mild soreness left over from the morning’s exercise, and turned to face her directly. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow.

This morning had been…odd. Not strikingly, but slightly. Tiavathyris was as attentive an instructor as always as she guided him through a set of drills, first moving on his own and then against her, but there was a distance to her today. She had always been the most enigmatic of his consorts—the most in the family, for that matter. He felt like this went beyond her usual subtlety of expression, though.

Kaln had not fixed his attention on her to try to read her emotions. He avoided doing that with any of the dragons unless there was a specific need, or it happened as an accidental consequence of focusing on them closely. This whole relationship—all six of these relationships, in fact—would only work if he respected their autonomy and privacy.

Now, finally, Tiavathyris inhaled and exhaled once, the motion subtle but distinct from her usual breathing, as if she were coming to a decision, or bracing herself to act.

“I spoke at length with my daughter after she came inside last night,” she said at last. “Kaln, what you did for all three of them was beautiful.”

“I don’t think I can take a lot of credit,” he said. “And no, I’m not just being self-effacing. Seriously, it was their—”

“Let me guess,” she said, now with a smile that held more of the warmth he was accustomed to from her. “You feel you did little throughout that exchange—perhaps intervening only to stop them from attacking each other, or speaking a few times to guide the discussion back on course.”

“That sounds about right, yeah.”

“It was wise of you to recognize that they needed to do the actual work, husband. But they never would have, unless you prodded them in exactly the right way. That is…something none of us would have been in a position to do—nor, I think, would we have the aptitude. Even Izayaroa, who quite justly thinks of herself as a people person. Kaln…I am at a loss to express the depth of my appreciation. You healed a wound that would eventually have torn them fully from one another had you not been there. My Vadaralshi has not been as happy in decades as she was last night, and I’ve no doubt this place will be more of a home for all of us because of it.”

She paused, then shook her head, smiling again.

“Don’t diminish it because you used the lightest touch, husband. That was the only touch that would have worked. None of us could have done it.”

Kaln’s ears were burning by that point, but he mastered himself. And mastered, also, his first instinctive response. Tiavathyris valued sincerity above all else; this was no time for his customary deflections or self-deprecation.

“I’m only glad it seems to have held,” he said quietly. “Vanimax and Pheneraxa were nicer to each other at breakfast than I’ve ever seen them. And I am also happy that anything I’ve done brings you happiness, Tiavathyris. In the end, though, I don’t think I need to be thanked—or should be. Family means we do what we can for each other. All of us, whatever each needs that anyone can do. I recognize that dragons have a different and particular idea what family is, but y’know what? I like mine better. And I think I’m gonna insist on it going forward.”

Her smile returned, this time crinkling the corners of her eyes with just the merest shadow of mischief.

“You may find that a hard sell, husband.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it’s going to be a process. Possibly a very long one. But…we’ll get there. I believe in all of you, you know. All six—you are good people at your core. Being out from under his shadow, and interacting with the world again, you’ll all—we’ll all have opportunities to remember our better natures. I’ll be here to remind you of it, and I know you’ll do the same for me.”

There came that pause again, in which she just regarded him with wide, serious eyes. After a second, just as before, Tiavathyris inhaled and exhaled deeply, with deliberate slowness, seemingly working something over in her mind before saying it.

Kaln waited, and kept his nose out of her consciousness. She was wise enough to know her own mind, and if she needed help working through something… Well, they had been through that once already. Her means of seeking that help could be frustratingly indirect, but they were hers. Kaln gave her time, and the respect of not prying or pushing.

Her expression firmed, with a suddenness that looked deliberate, and she spoke. “And you think you have that power, to impose your will upon elder dragons? Much less the prerogative?”

Kaln, in spite of his best efforts, floundered for a moment. He reeled, struggling to fend off the rising anxiety and stress, the remembered panic. The certainty which still haunted him, that any rejection from a loved one was ultimate and final unless he groveled and…

And this was no time to deal with that, so he ruthlessly shoved it aside. Now it was time for Tiavathyris’s issue, whatever it was. She had helped him through the last time.

“Do I not?” he asked simply. “Or are you fishing for a reminder?”

She narrowed her eyes in a frown, but he couldn’t help noticing her pupils were still wide. It was a detail he’d never particularly noticed when talking to other people, but dragons’ pupils went to distinctive slits when they were angry. Her tail began to undulate behind her, lashing back and forth in long, whiplike motions distinct from the almost feline flicking he’d seen others do with their tails when annoyed.

It was always some kind of mixed signals with this one.

“You are a peacemaker, Kaln,” Tiavathyris said tightly. “I can’t imagine anyone here is fool enough to undervalue your talents, not after the way we have all benefited from them. I advise you to keep a sense of perspective, however.”

“My perspective is that I am dealing with intelligent beings,” he replied with the greatest calm he could muster, “half of whom are also learned and wise. I know my entire time here has been an eyeblink to the perspective of those with your lifespan, my lady wife, but it has been enough for me to figure out the basic pattern. Dragons—or at least the six of you—respond well to reason and respect. Beyond that, I have found some success applying persuasion as needed. And when that fails… You remember well that I can hold any of your heads to the floor until you listen.”

“Persuasion,” she spat. “Yes, that has become an unfortunate pattern, husband. I thought we had settled the matter of you being persuasive instead of sincere. Perhaps it will simply be an ongoing problem, however.”

Once again, he had to really exert himself to avoid betraying a flinch. That one hit far too close to heart. And worse, this time she knew that—it could only have been deliberate. That, from her, seemed strangely out of character.

What was with this sudden change? Even when she had lost her temper, he had not seen her stray this close to cruelty. And seconds ago, they had been so…warm. Talking so positively about what the future held. Why was she trying to pick a fight now? What had he done to anger her so?

Grudgingly, Kaln zeroed his attention upon Tiavathyris, the full depth of it. Taking in her entire state, the roil of her emotions. She was…

Oh.

Oh.

She was not angry.

All right… Well, it wasn’t as if the hints hadn’t been leading in this direction for a while now. He knew, at least in theory, how to handle this. He and Haktria had discussed such things, though it had not been one of her predilections. And of course, he had read some of the same…disreputable classics Pheneraxa had mentioned.

Theory was one thing. In practice…

Keeping his eyes fixed upon hers, Kaln stepped forward. At a measured pace, he reached her in moments, stopping well within her arm’s reach, close enough that she veritably loomed over him, that he had to tilt his head back to meet her gaze. And he found, now that he was here, that he got it. At least, on some level. Even dwarfed by her, he did not feel himself the lesser.

“I gather you are irate, my lady wife,” he said evenly, wearing a small smile that, to his surprise, he did not have to fake. “My sincere apologies. If it will make you feel better, why don’t you do something about it?”

Her eyes widened; her lips parted, baring her fangs in a display of incredulous aggression. In contrast, the delighted thrill which roared through her was strong enough that even the secondary echoes made him grin faintly in response.

“Or,” he added, “at least…try to.”

The ancient dragon snarled and lunged at him, and he flung her contemptuously to the floor.

***

“What did you want to show me, then?”

“I said it’s a surprise,” Pheneraxa chided, grinning. “I know you were listening. You’ll see when we get there.”

“Ah, okay then,” said Percy, gesturing around at the vista before them beyond the library door. “I thought we were there. I mean, look how big this city is! Actually, it’s smaller than Boisverd, but I know I’ve only explored the tiniest fraction of it.”

“You thought this was your surprise?” Pheneraxa asked. “You’ve already seen this!”

“Not all of it, as I said! I figured… Well, there must be all kinds of fascinating things in there.”

“In fact, yes,” the dragon admitted. “There’s a lot to explore, but…well, we also have plenty of time for that. And I didn’t think it was, um, that close to your heart.”

“Archaeology isn’t a passion of mine,” Percy agreed in a serious tone, “but I can’t imagine anyone would have so little curiosity in their soul that they wouldn’t want to explore an ancient Timekeeper city. I mean, even if you don’t care about the historical value…look how pretty it is! I wouldn’t want to wander around in there alone, though, it looks rather dangerous. But I’m certain I’d be safe with you.”

She delivered that certainty with utter matter-of-factness, and Pheneraxa’s entire body seized up for a second. It took her that long to resume breathing, close her mouth, and figure out what to do with her claws. Fortunately, Percy didn’t seem to have noticed anything even momentarily amiss.

“Ah, yes. Well, on that subject… Do you trust me, Percy?”

The princess paused, blinking and tilting her head, obviously giving actual thought to that question. Only a second’s thought, though. Almost immediately, she nodded decisively and stated, “Yes, I do.”

Pheneraxa was braced for it this time, but again, the girl’s reaction made her nearly freeze up. She covered for it by shifting forms. Percy stepped back as the shadow of a blue wing fell across her before Pheneraxa folded them against her back.

“Good. So, no, this is not your surprise. We will have to go to it. I brought you out here because, well… I can’t exactly fly through the ceiling. And if I take off inside the library, Mother will turn me into a collection of handbags, boots, and belts, and frankly I wouldn’t blame her.”

“We could’ve flown out the front,” Percy suggested innocently.

Pheneraxa grinned. “The corridor isn’t wide enough to stretch my wings, and too long for the momentum to carry me all the way through, even from a dive. There’s a reason everybody goes outside before launching. Vadaralshi would take off from right in her mother’s lair every time if it was actually practical.”

“Duly noted,” Percy said with a solemn nod.

Pheneraxa hesitated, gathering her breath, and then cleared her throat. “Ahem. So… Without spoiling the surprise… Well, this is going to be a pretty long flight.”

“I probably shouldn’t go anywhere in the Evervales,” Percy said seriously. “Nowhere populated, anyway. Most people won’t know what I look like, but intelligence services assuredly do.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not where we’re going,” Pheneraxa assured her, shaking her head. “I just want to warn you… Well, this is going to take…quite a bit of doing. I am going to need to employ way more magic than I normally do to pull this off…enough that I probably won’t be able to do it for very long. So, I hope you enjoy it as much as you can while we’re…there. And I probably won’t be able to talk to you until we’re safely back. I will need to concentrate.”

“The suspense is starting to get to me,” Percy stated.

“Patience,” Pheneraxa grinned. “I just want to assure you… Well, you know your stuff. You’ll be able to tell pretty quickly where we’re going, and just how dangerous it would ordinarily be. Which will tell you exactly how much effort I’m having to put into making sure it’s safe for both of us, but especially you. That means I might cut the trip a bit short, but I am not going to take any chances with your safety, Percy.”

“Understood,” she said gravely, nodding. “I’m starting to see why you asked. But yes, Pheneraxa, I trust you.”

The dragon wasn’t able to repress the delighted grin those words brought involuntarily to her face; hopefully her reptilian features in this form would save her from looking…goofy. She covered it by lowering her body to the Timestone patio.

“Climb on, then.”

Percy grunted as she began clambering up the side of Pheneraxa’s neck, awkwardly making use of the arm the dragon lifted to provide her a foothold. “Oof. I wonder if I could get Kaln to teach me that teleporting-onto-dragons’ backs trick he does.”

“I think you have to be the nascent god of dragons to pull that off.”

“Hmm… On second thought, maybe not. That sounds like an awful lot of trouble.”

***

There wasn’t much in the way of furniture or obstruction in the vicinity of Tiavathyris’s sparring platform, just a few nearby benches and a couple of striking dummies. In the struggle they had managed to knock every single thing over, some of them a great distance over.

Though perhaps “struggle” wasn’t the right word. It had been more like a bored housecat toying with a helpless bug.

Now the warrior dragon was stretched out on her back, both arms extended over her head, where Kaln had pinned her wrists to the floor with nothing but his will. He was sitting astride her waist, with one of her legs bent forward to a degree that would have been very uncomfortable for someone less robust and flexible; he could tell she was not in pain, only troubled by the sheer indignity. Her tail was wrapped around his entire body, attempting to strangle him and pull him off. Kaln wore it like a scarf, no more affected by her strength than he chose to permit.

“Are you done?” he asked in a carefully measured tone—pleasant and just slightly condescending.

She snarled and wrenched her body skillfully, trying to buck him off, which obviously he did not allow. Still squirming, Tiavathyris snapped her fangs at him, then inhaled; thus attuned to her, he didn’t need to see the flicker of orange in her throat to know what was coming next.

“Ah, ah. No.”

Kaln grabbed her by the neck with his free hand, putting a stop to that.

He was aware, in theory, of how things like this were supposed to work—aware that doing it this way would have gotten him roundly cursed out by the authors of those tomes he’d had to read surreptitiously in his youth. Dealing with dragons sent a lot of the usual rules out the proverbial window, though. Her pride wouldn’t have permitted the requisite negotiation of boundaries and signals, and more importantly, his power over her obviated the need. Kaln could feel what she felt as keenly as she did, and in a departure from his usual respect for her privacy, he was staying as fully attuned as he could manage. It was crucial that he be able to back off instantly if something happened that she actually did not like.

Now, despite her snarling and struggling, he could feel the truth of her. “Consent” was far too paltry a term for the avid eagerness roaring through her mind. Her desire was so intense and joyful that even secondhand exposure to it intoxicated his senses.

“Airflow,” Kaln said smugly, “is a privilege for good girls. I want to see some improvement in your behavior, pet.”

She tried to growl, the noise muffled and strangled by his grip on her throat.

Obviously, his paltry human fingers wouldn’t even have indented her skin at their greatest exertion. Kaln’s power over dragons meant he could have done anything to her at all, physically; more important, his intuitive sense of her enabled him to measure that strength to the most precise iota. Limiting her airflow just enough to create a sensation he discovered that she liked very much, without actually suffocating her or constricting any of the important veins in her neck.

He held her pinned for a full minute, then another, as her complexion grew gradually more red and her struggles began to falter.

Until finally, the ancient dragon whimpered and relaxed.

Kaln softened his grip, allowing her to gasp. He leaned toward her, bringing her own leg with him—bending her body like a toy, smirking down into her glaring eyes, reveling silently in the joy that sang through her.

“Good girl.”