Amael soared through the sky like he’d been born to it which, in many ways, he had.
His feet carried him forward, the wind parting to his will. He was a Demigod, yes, but more than that, he had the Core Bloodline of the Falkrona House flowing through his vein. Flight wasn’t sothing he did, it was sothing he was.
He moved through the air better than most birds that had been born with wings specifically designed for the purpose in fact.
Though he’d be the first to admit he still wasn’t quite as good as a dragon. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
That thought brought a smile to his lips just as several of those very creatures ca into view around him, massive, powerful shapes gliding through the high altitude winds with quite grace. Dragons. Several of them, moving in loose formation through their mountain domain.
The mont they noticed his presence, they turned their attention toward him warily.
Then they saw the silver hair whipping in the wind. The distinctive silver eyes.
The tension evaporated almost instantly, replaced by sothing that couldn’t quite be called warmth, dragons weren’t particularly prone to warmth but was perhaps the closest they could manage. Recognition and familiarity.
The acknowledgnt of soone who belonged here, or at least had earned the right to pass through without being incinerated on principle.
This was the man who visited their den with a frequency and fearlessness that still baffled most of them. Who walked among them without armor, without weapons drawn?
A friend of the dragon race. The words would have sounded absurd coming from almost anyone else’s mouth, but in Amael’s case they simply... fit.
It was genuinely rare. Dragons as a species had very little use for humans and with good reason. Humanity had a persistent, maddening habit of looking at creatures of extraordinary power and beauty and thinking the first order of business should be finding a way to chain them. Dragon enslavent had been a problem for as long as the two races had shared the sa world, and the dragons’ response had always been consistent and straightforward: if you tried to put them in chains, they would burn everything you owned to ash and consider it a fair exchange.
But Amael was an exception to almost every rule that applied to humans, starting with the rather significant fact that he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.
Half God or maybe three quarter God was exact. Born from the union of an half Goddess mother already and Nihil himself, Guardian God of Eden and one of the most powerful divine beings in existence. That heritage alone placed him in an entirely different category, set him apart from the ordinary humans who made up the bulk of dragonkind’s grievances.
And beyond the bloodline, beyond the divine heritage, there was the small matter of his friendship with Vysindra. Even the dragons who found Amael’s presence irritating couldn’t really do much about it when he had the ear and the genuine affection of their King.
Amael crossed through the mountain range that served as the dragons’ domain, weaving between peaks; heading instinctively toward the largest mountain at the heart of their territory. He’d made this journey enough tis that he could have done it blindfolded.
Even from a considerable distance, he could already spot Vysindra—the massive purple wings were rather difficult to miss, spread out lazily across the flattened peak of the mountain like a king who had decided his throne needed to be entirely outdoors and preferably at the highest available point.
A smile spread across Amael’s face as he picked up speed, shooting toward the summit.
He didn’t bother landing nearby and approaching respectfully. Instead, he ca in at an angle and touched down directly on top of one of those great purple wings, his feet connecting with the scales.
"Napping as always, Vysindra," Amael called unceremoniously, crossing his arms and looking down.
"Get off," a growl answered him as Vysindra shook his wings with sudden strong force, the motion sending a shockwave of air in every direction.
Amael launched himself forward off the wing before he could be properly thrown, executing a neat arc through the air before landing lightly on the flat stone of the summit, directly in front of the enormous dragon’s face. Vysindra had lifted his great head from whatever comfortable position it had been resting in, his large dark amber-gold eyes fixing onto Amael.
"Why do you look so grumpy this morning, Vysindra?" Amael asked, tilting his head.
Vysindra’s response was a short, sharp snort accompanied by a burst of purple fire.
"Let guess," Amael said, completely unbothered by the casual display of fla re feet from his face. "Challenge of your authority?"
"That, and your cursed race," Vysindra snorted. "Again. Always your cursed race, finding new and creative ways to try enslaving us and our children at every opportunity that presents itself." His amber-gold eyes narrowed. "As though they haven’t tried before. As though they don’t already know exactly how it ends for them."
"I can’t speak for everyone’s choices," Amael replied. "I can’t answer for what other people decide to do, Vysindra. Much as I’d sotis like to."
Vysindra let out another snort.
"One day," Vysindra said. "I will no longer be able to hold them back. The ones who want blood rather than justice, I can only restrain that for so long before the restraint becos its own kind of betrayal." His massive eyes locked onto Amael with an hardened glint. "When that day cos... I hope very much that I won’t find you standing across from ."
"I hope I won’t have to kill you either, Vysindra," Amael replied simply.
"Hmph." The sound was sowhere between a scoff and a snarl. "As if you could."
Amael laughed. He stepped forward and reached out, giving one of Vysindra’s great wings a solid pat with his palm like a shoulder clap on a shoulder of his friend.
"Don’t worry about it," he said, lightly. "I an it, Vysindra. I won’t let things get to that point. If it cos to it, if real intervention is needed, I’ll step in. I’ll use whatever status and influence I have and make it count. I’ll make sure the right people hear about it and feel the consequences."
He didn’t particularly enjoy leveraging his position. Amael had spent most of his life keeping distance between himself and the divine politics that ca attached to his heritage. But there were limits to his detachnt. The dragons were worth breaking that rule for because he genuinely liked them, genuinely respected what they were, and understood better than most that a race capable of extraordinary things deserved protection from the worst humanity could offer.
Besides, like every race, the dragons had their good and their terrible. He knew which side Vysindra fell on.
"If only your father shared that concern," Vysindra said, appreciating Amael’s words but unable to not bring up Nihil’s na. "Is he not one of the Guardians of this world? Does that title not carry so obligation to, perhaps, guard it? To seek so semblance of peace between the races that inhabit it?"
"He is a Guardian," Amael agreed, "but their philosophy runs more toward observation than intervention. They prefer to watch, to let fate and consequence play out naturally. Unless sothing rises to the level of a real danger for them, world-ending crisis, they consider it beneath their mandate to step in directly."
Vysindra snorted another spray of fire in contempt. "An ongoing conflict between dragons and humans isn’t considered significant enough for concern? The more I hear about your father and his kind, the less respect I find myself able to summon for them."
Amael laughed again.
"I share your sentints, Vysindra. You know, I don’t condone his thods either. His way of thinking, his priorities, none of it sits right with ." He shrugged. "I would have happily wanted nothing to do with him, or with Eden, or with the rest of that entire world if I’d had the choice. But unfortunately, being born as the Vessel of the infamous Samael Eveningstar makes staying completely uninvolved a bit of a pipe dream."
"If I had been born to a father like yours, "I would have dedicated considerable effort to placing the maximum possible distance between myself and him as well," Vysindra retorted.
"Oh, I have tried," Amael replied sighing. "He always manages to find eventually, no matter where I go." He paused slightly. "Though I did find a rather wonderful place recently. Sowhere I’m fairly confident even he would never think to look. Whenever I need really to be alone and unbothered, I would flee there and he would never find ."
Before Vysindra could respond to that, Amael took a short running step and leaped, landing back on the broad expanse of the dragon’s wing. He dropped down onto his back without ceremony, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the open sky above them.
This ti, Vysindra didn’t even attempt to shake him off.
"A wonderful place where no one could find you, not even Nihil himself," Vysindra repeated interested. "Now I am all ears."
"Not happening, old wing," Amael replied without even opening his eyes, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. "That secret stays with . Even from you."
Vysindra snorted and let it go.
"I heard the war between Celesta and Arvatra is still ongoing," he said instead, shifting the subject.
"As always," Amael replied. "Mortals, humans, or really any of the mortal races fighting each other over pride and greed. Different century, sa story."
"That is simply your sick nature," Vysindra said curtly.
Amael opened one eye and turned his head slightly. "When are you going to stop lumping into that group?" He grimaced. "I have nothing to do with these morons."
"You pretend you don’t care," Vysindra said, his amber-gold eyes glancing sideways at the figure draped across his wing, "but you do. At the very least, you love this world. You want to see it at peace. That has always been true of you, whether you admit it or not."
Amael was quiet for a mont. The smirk faded into sothing smaller and more genuine.
"I was born here," he said simply, staring back up at the sky. "So was my mother. I don’t want to watch it turn into a nightmarish, burning furnace." He paused. "That’s all it is."
Vysindra let out a low growl. "It won’t co to that, as long as your people stop giving us reasons to make it so. Your race has a remarkable talent for inventing new and creative ways to provoke creatures considerably stronger than themselves." His voice darkened. "There is a particular man right now who seems to think extraordinarily highly of himself. A certain Redhoran."
Amael’s brow lifted slightly. "Redhoran." He turned the na over in his mind. "That rings a faint bell, actually."
"A son fathered by Apollo on a human woman," Vysindra said.
"Apollo." Amael grimaced. "What a pain in the ass."
"As are all the sons of that despicable man who calls himself God King," Vysindra cut in with contempt. "The arrogance of the title alone is enough to curdle one’s patience."
"I won’t argue against any of that," Amael said, holding up a hand in easy agreent. Then, after a beat— "Although, in fairness, his daughters have generally turned out considerably better than his sons. The few I’ve actually t among his... many, many offspring, anyway."
Vysindra cackled in agreent.
"A man of truly ferocious and apparently inexhaustible libido," the dragon said, eyes gleaming with amusent. "One could say that at least he has ensured beyond all doubt that his legacy will be passed on to future generations. Perhaps you should be taking notes."
Amael’s grimace deepened. "Take notes from that despicable man? A man who has almost certainly forgotten the nas of the majority of his own children? Hard pass." He shook his head. "Besides, I am already spoken for, by two won, as it happens."
"Oh?" Vysindra’s interest sharpened imdiately. "Now I find myself curious."
"My mother," Amael said, with perfect deadpan timing, "and Ephera."
Vysindra was silent for exactly one mont.
"I will act as though I did not hear the first na ntioned," he said. "However, I have heard you a lot yapping about this mysterious Ephera before. This woman I have sohow never laid eyes on despite the amount of ti you spend here. She remains entirely theoretical to ."
"She exists," Amael said, groaning. "And I’ll bring her here myself one day to prove it. When the ti is right."
"And what exactly would I do with that?" Vysindra scoffed. "I have no need for proof of your romantic situation. I have a perfectly wonderful wife of my own, thank you."
"Such a devoted and loving husband," Amael said, rolling his eyes. "Truly, an inspiration to us all."
"The best thing that has ever happened to ," Vysindra replied, completely without irony. Then those massive amber eyes slid back toward Amael once more. "But if you are feeling that lonely, and you clearly are, regardless of what you say about your mother and this theoretical woman, there is genuinely nothing wrong with seeking soone who can fill your heart properly. Otherwise, given enough ti, you may very well die a virgin."
The dragon laughed right after mockingly.
Amael stared up at the sky for a long mont before responding. When he did, the usual lightness in his voice had shifted into sothing quieter. More honest.
"I’m practically a God, Vysindra," he said. "I don’t particularly want to outlive everyone I love. To watch the people I care about age and diminish and disappear while I stay exactly as I am. I’ve thought about it enough to know it’s not sothing I can be casual about."
"Then find soone among the divine," he said, more gently than before. "Other Gods, beings who will endure as long as you do. Surely soone out there has caught your interest, soone whose lifespan might actually match your own."
"You know," Amael said, with a sideways glance and the ghost of a smirk, "you are remarkably invested in my love life, Vysindra. Considerably more invested, I might add, than my own father has ever managed to be." He paused. "I genuinely cannot decide whether that makes want to laugh or weep about it."
Vysindra let out another rumbling laugh.
Amael’s smile lingered for a mont, then softened as he looked back at the sky.
"Well," he said, quieter now, almost like he was speaking to himself, "there is one. Soone I do love maybe. But she feels... out of reach. Impossibly so, maybe. And neither of my parents would exactly celebrate my interest in getting close to her."
"And who," Vysindra said, "could possibly be out of reach for you and objectionable to both your parents simultaneously?"
Amael’s smirk returned. "Oh, you know her rather well, actually. Better than most. You are the first race she ever created, born directly from her own blood."
Vysindra went completely still.
Then his enormous amber-gold eyes went very, very wide.
"You love that Khaos Princess." He said it like he was confirming a natural disaster. "rithra."
"I never said that," Amael replied imdiately, inspecting the sky above him with exaggerated nonchalance. "I said I love her rebellious attitude. The few tis I saw my irresponsible father losing his composure was around her."
"I don’t want to hear another word about it," Vysindra said. "Your taste in won is genuinely, profoundly twisted and I refuse to engage with it further. And I have absolutely no doubt that this Ephera is cut from exactly the sa cloth as rithra herself."
"Ephera is a sweet girl," Amael said, glaring at him. "She wouldn’t hurt a single fly. She is the furthest possible thing from troubleso."
"I do not believe a single solitary word you say when it cos to the won in your life," Vysindra snorted. "Now get off my wings!"
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