Winter 4986, 22 Aoimoth

They never locked the door. She checked the handle just in case. Did they honestly expect Her to stay in this white room forever without locking Her in? She opened the door just a crack and peeked out. No one.

The Cleric coughed. She closed the door quickly and pretended to examine the altar of Hengist on a nearby shelf, Her neck itching. The kindly man finished straightening his papers, slipping them into a desk drawer and locking it. So they locked their documents away but not the door? Or did they think he alone would be enough to stop Her if She chose to go out?

She watched the Cleric out of the corner of Her eye as he stood and stretched, but looked quickly to the altar again when he walked Her way. He stopped beside Her, bringing his hands up in a short prayer. He seemed nice enough, and She found Herself wanting to trust him. But Archmage Morndancer had moments when he was nice too.

She scratched the scales on Her neck, still unaccustomed to having unimpeded access to the area. The collar had become so much a part of Her that She felt awkward without it, never mind that it had been used to keep Her in line. She wondered again how these Paladins planned on keeping Her under control and debated different ways to find out without going so far that She would end up tied to one of these beds and stuck full of needles.

“Do you pray, Miss?” the Cleric asked, eyes still closed.

She shrugged, “I don’t really like one-sided conversations.” She glanced at him, half hoping he would get angry, maybe punish Her just a little, so She would have a better idea what methods they might use.

He laughed, “Yes, I remember occasions, before I took my Oath, when I wondered if Hengist could hear me.” he reached down and held Her shoulder for a moment, as long as his heat tolerance would allow, before letting his hand fall back to his side, “It's hard to take the word of others sometimes, but I know he’s listening. He delivered you from the Warlocks...” he let the idea trail as if he expected Her to thank the god for his intervention. But if Hengist had really wanted Her free, then why not come sooner? Why not when they had isolated Her? Even just an hour sooner would have saved Her treasures…

“Perhaps, when you’re ready, I will take you to the chapel.” he continued to smile, “Or perhaps you will find a greater calling to one of the other gods,” the Cleric shrugged, “We are not ones to proselytize.” She could only return his shrug.

She moved back to the window, Her favorite place in the infirmary. Below, a group of boys, young men really, practiced with weapons too small for Her to see. One stood apart from the others and She wondered what he'd done to be ostracized from the rest. She hadn’t met any of them yet and wondered if they were being kept from Her intentionally. She'd met with the Major General, Selibra, as well as another high-ranking Paladin, a woman, and a handful of Mages. Seeing the Mages, She'd been sure they were about to take Her to another tower, to lock Her in the basement again. They'd assured Her that wasn’t the case, and explained the difference between Her Mages -Warlocks- and true Mages -Guild members- though She still had a hard time believing them.

She wasn’t afraid. She'd gone past fear. There wasn’t anything more they could take from Her that the Warlocks hadn’t already taken. Instead, She was curious, what would they do? And how would She work around it?

Behind Her, the Cleric cleared his throat, “I’m going to the chapel,” She nodded without looking at him. Brom and Ran would leave Her alone for most of the day. This was a new place, but some things would always be the same. The door opened, then clicked closed again.

She stood at the window for a while longer before turning around and tilting Her head at the door. He hadn’t locked it… It must have been a mistake. She moved for the door and cracked it open just in case… The hall beyond was empty.

She looked back into the room with all its white, then back into the hall. Well... She'd wanted to test Her limits. She slipped out of the infirmary.

No one stopped Her, and nothing happened. She walked slowly at first, glancing at each door as though She expected it to swing open and reveal one of the Mages, fingers ready to snap. In the distance, a set of Paladins rounded a corner, and She froze. They spoke to each other, one laughing at something the other said. She glanced around for somewhere to hide before remembering that this was exactly what She'd wanted. If they saw Her out of Her room, they would undoubtedly take Her back, and if She resisted, they would have to play their hand. She just hoped the friendly Cleric wouldn’t get in too much trouble for forgetting to lock the door. 

The Paladins' steps faltered when they noticed Her. Exchanging glances, one stepped forward, “Are you lost, miss?”

“No,” She answered, looking over Her shoulder. For a heartbeat She expected Brom to be there. He wasn’t. He never would be again. She forced the thought away. Locking it somewhere it couldn’t interrupt Her exploration, focusing on the Paladins.

The knight exchanged another look with his companion, who shrugged, “Well, if you need any help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” they continued past Her.

Turning to watch them go, She tilted Her head to one side, then the other. Slowly, a grin began to spread over Her face. With a wicked giggle, She set off down the hall, ready to explore until someone stopped Her. 

***

Shon stood well away from the others, his dagger clenched too tightly in his left hand. The first day back, Master Daunas had tried to include him in training as if nothing had changed. Then Shon had frozen the practice grounds, and no less than ten of the sixteen squires had fallen on their backsides, letting slip a variety of colorful curses that had them all doing pushups in full armor for at least five minutes straight. After that, he had been ordered to do drills alone while the others practiced. “Just until Ivelm finishes your item,” Master Daunas had assured him.

The little dragon that now followed Shon everywhere, whistled from the roof covering the weapons racks. Shon tried to loosen his grip on his dagger. He was getting sloppy, focusing too much on not extending the blade with an extra three inches of ice and not enough on the precision of his strikes. He tried to keep the power pulled in, but it made him tense, and he often found himself holding his breath unintentionally. Getting frustrated only made it worse. Instead of fighting his visualized opponent, he felt like he was fighting himself. And losing.

The pseudodragon swooped down and landed on Shon's extended arm, distracting him further. Growling, Shon tried to shoo it away, shaking his arm but only causing the tiny beast to dig its sharp claws deeper. "Not now," he hissed at the dragon, who hissed back, sending a wave of annoyance into Shon's mind to join his own. It walked up his arm to his shoulder, wrapping its tail around his neck to help keep itself balanced as Shon continued to try and finish his form.

He'd been confused but intrigued by the flying cat-like lizard on the night it had shown itself, but was quickly finding the thing to be as annoying as the Sorcerer magic it represented.

On the first day he'd resumed training, the little dragon had attached itself to his shoulder, as it did now, and wouldn't get off no matter how in the way it got. He'd asked, threatened, and begged, but at most, it would move from one shoulder to the other.

On the second day, he'd ordered it to stay in his room, closing the door quickly before it could slip out. Shon had been pulled out of drills for the first time since his arrival to clean and reclean his trashed room after the pseudodragon had dug through his uniform box and desk drawers.

On the third day, he had to physically resist the urge to grab the thing by the neck and throw it across the courtyard. Though to his surprise -and annoyance- Master Daunas had actually stepped in. Speaking to the pseudodragon kindly but firmly, the Weaponmaster ordered it to leave him alone during lessons at least. And for the most part, it obeyed. The fact that it was pestering him now meant the lesson had to be almost...

The bell for their break rang out from the tower high above the fortress. Shon snapped to attention with the others, the little dragon twittering happily and swaying with the motion. When dismissed, he was the first to return his dagger, then cleared off to give the others room to do the same.

No one said anything when he went to the water barrel instead of the fortress. His friends were still mostly supportive, but even they were growing annoyed by his occasional loss of control. Like freezing the running trail, so on the next pass, they had to dodge icy footprints.

Breaking the thin layer of ice that had formed over the top of the water barrel and splashing the back of his neck with it, Shon stared at his wavering reflection until the water stilled. Cold blue eyes stared back until the little dragon stuck its head in the way, smacking Shon's nose with its wing. He slapped the water, sending it splashing up into the pseudodragon's nose. The little dragon hissed, then scooped up a huge wing-full and splashed it over his face and chest. He could feel the little dragon's mirth as it chortled its clicking laugh.

Shon could only sigh, he'd come to cool off out of habit, not necessity. He didn't really feel hot in the same way as before. The exercise and exertion still made him sweat, but he only seemed to grow colder. Like even his body was acting out of habit...

He waited for the others to finish crowding into the fortress, most heading to the showers, some heading for their rooms, and a few to the library to play cards and socialize. Shon glanced towards the weapons storage -with the boxes of daggers and racks of various swords and polearms- but shook his head. He was in no mood to continue the fight with himself, and instead made for his rooms. 

Squires laughed in the halls, and Shon stayed close to the wall to give them space as he walked. The pseudodragon draped itself over his shoulder like a scarf so it wouldn't hit the stone or passers-by. Apparently, sometimes, it was conscientious of Shon's desires. Once in his room, Shon retrieved his journal and opened it on the desk, but then focused out the window without sitting down. In early winter, the sun was already setting, painting the skies in colors he could never hope to match with simple pencils and white paper. He normally enjoyed this time of year, when the wind grew chill and snow occasionally fell as a promise for the deeper winter to come.

Now, he wanted to hate the cold. He wanted to toss it and everything like it to the wind. But not only could he not rid Clearhelm of winter, he also couldn’t convince himself to hate it. The little dragon sent a wave of concern over him, whistling quietly.

Closing his journal Shon scooped it up and left. Even if he opened the window, not much of a breeze would reach him from there, so he made for the stairs to the central tower.

Though now the tower was used only to house the hour bells, it was originally designed to be a lookout. It offered a complete view of the surrounding area through ten tall glassless windows around the perimeter.

He picked a window ledge facing west and sat with his journal closed, just enjoying the cool breeze. The knots in his stomach eased, and the power he could still feel swirling around him calmed. The pseudodragon purred, and he reached up to pet its side. It was okay to still enjoy the cold, wasn’t it? He just wished he didn’t inflict it on others who never seemed to like it as much as he did.

Someone hummed behind him, and Shon jumped, spinning in his seat. A girl with golden hair stepped up to his window. Her eyes were closed, and the wind blew her hair back, revealing three scarlet stripes across her right cheek. They merged together on her neck into a single line that disappeared below her white hospital dress.

She smiled, and Shon had to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry, “I was sure they wouldn’t let me up here,” she said, opening her eyes and looking at him, still smiling, “But I suppose if you’re up here, then I can come and enjoy the view too.” She perched herself on the sill next to him and tilted her head to the side, looking for all the world like a curious kitten. The pseudodragon mirrored the expression with an inquisitive chirp. Were her pupils slitted? "You have a pseudodragon... are you a Mage?" She asked.

Shon looked away, but the little dragon wrapped its tail around his neck and chirped again, "I'm a Squire," he stated, though if more to himself or the girl, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, so you're here to be a Paladin?" she accepted his answer without argument, and Shon looked her way again to find her still smiling, "I don't understand the appeal, but if it makes you happy," she shrugged, but then narrowed her eyes at him, leaning closer and squinting. Shon leaned back, keeping his distance. “Your eyes... You were there, weren’t you? At the tower?”

Shon blinked. She'd switched topics so suddenly. He nodded in answer, and she sighed, turning in her seat and bringing her knees up to her chest. She was probably annoyed he hadn't answered verbally...

As she wrapped her arms around her legs, he saw that her red stripe continued out her left sleeve to break apart into three again along the back of her hand. Looking down, he noticed three more pointed stripes on her bare right foot that merged at her ankle to twist around and disappear back into her dress. Did they all meet somewhere in the middle? He had to shake himself to banish the mental image and turned to follow her gaze out over the horizon.

“Thank you…” she whispered, and he turned back to her, arching an eyebrow. It took her a moment to look away from the view and see his expression, but when she did, she continued without further prompting, “I don’t remember everything that happened, but I’m glad I wasn’t alone,” she smirked and looked back out to the horizon, continuing, “The Cleric thinks I should thank Hengist, but I don’t remember seeing him there, so I’d rather thank you instead.” Shon didn’t know what to think about that, but the girl didn’t seem to expect an answer.

The pseudodragon dug its claws into Shon's shirt and climbed down his chest, pulling at the fabric and scratching the skin beneath. It walked across his legs then over to the girl gingerly. Her giggle was small and quiet, and she didn't hesitate to reach out and pet the flying lizard, though she did so carefully with brief pats, "Careful little one, I'm not the safest person to touch..." she whispered down to it. Shon furrowed his brow in confusion at her words, and predictably the pseudodragon ignored them completely. Crawling up her knees until she lowered them again so it could reach her lap, where curled up like a cat, complete with purring.

She giggled again and stroked its back all the way down to its tail, "It doesn't even care..." she sounded in awe of the little dragon, and Shon couldn't blame her. He'd only ever heard stories of the beasties before he'd seen this one. But the dragon wasn't nearly as interesting anymore, not compared to this girl.

“What’s your name?” he blurted before thinking. And silently cursed himself into oblivion. He sounded like an idiot. Those were the first words he said? She was obviously content just petting the pseudodragon. Couldn’t he have at least waited for her to address him? Or ask something? She was probably up here to think. You have no idea what she’s been through; she probably wants to be alone…

But hadn’t she chosen to sit next to him? And she'd already spoken first...

As if to confirm his fears, she sighed in obvious annoyance, her head falling back to hit the side of the pillar with a whine. When she looked at him, he could somehow tell that if she was annoyed, it was with herself, “I know I should know it by now, but I don’t. Do you think I’m going to have to explain every time I meet someone new? It’s really embarrassing…”

Shon could only stare, trying to understand. She didn’t say she couldn’t remember her name, just that she didn’t ‘know’ it yet. But that didn't make any sense. “You don’t have a name?” he tried to confirm.

She shrugged, exaggerating the motion by bringing her shoulders all the way to her ears then letting them drop limply, “They always said that I would know my own name. But every time I tried to guess or make one up, they got mad at me. What’s your name?”

“Shon,” he answered slowly, still confused.

“And when did you know your name?” she tilted her head again, confirming Shon’s mental comparison with a kitten.

He shook his head, “No one just knows their name. They're given one when they’re babies.”

Her mouth fell open for a full heartbeat before it snapped shut again, and she glared into the setting sun. The air had grown strangely warm, the pseudodragon chittered, and Shon fumbled for something to say, “What did they call you if you don’t have a name?” She'd said 'they' had told her she would know her own name, so that must mean 'they' had spoken to her. He could only assume she meant the people at the tower. The memory of burned corpses flashed through his mind, and once again Shon regretted speaking.

She didn’t look at him as she answered, “Ran called me ‘Red,’ for my scales,” she ran the fingers of her right hand over the stripes on her left, “Brom called me ‘Goldy,’ for my hair,” she brought a lock over her shoulder and stroked it absently, “But the Archmages didn’t like it when they did that…” the pseudodragon watched her dangling hair, swaying its neck back and forth to follow its motion.

Those sounded like nicknames someone gave a pet… He remembered Ivelm saying something about her being experimented on, like an animal. Shon brought his hand up to run through his hair, thinking fast. “You could pick one.” she looked at him, and he rushed to continue, “No one can stop you, and it could be temporary, just until you know your true name." whatever that meant, "Even the gods used to have different names depending on the province.”

“A name,” her eyes glazed over as she stared into the setting sun and absently started petting the dragon again. It tilted its head up at her and whistled, “I don’t even know where to start…” she whispered.

Shon searched the horizon for inspiration but saw only trees and birds. “What’s your favorite flower?” he blurted.

She focused on him again, “Flowers have names?” she asked. When he nodded, her cheeks puffed out, and she glared at him. Looking away again, she grumbled, “Even flowers get names, and I just have to sit around and wait for one to come to me?”

Shon opened his journal, turning it to the side and drawing quickly. The girl stopped mumbling to herself and looked over his shoulder, the pseudodragon crawling to the edge of her knees so it too could tilt its head at his drawing. He usually hated when people tried to watch him draw, but -for some reason- was able to continue without being distracted. It was a drawing for her after all, it made sense that she should see it. Never mind that she was so close... close enough for him to feel the warmth from her skin... or perhaps that was his imagination. 

Finishing the final flower, Shon turned the book towards her. “Which one do you like most?”

She stared transfixed at the six flowers depicted, and Shon suddenly felt self-conscious. He'd only personally seen four of them, the other two he'd copied from memories of other drawings in books. She reached out, and her fingers hovered over the rose for a moment before she rested it on a six-petaled lily. The little dragon trilled in approval.

“Lily,” Shon said, then tried to explain, “I trained with a girl named Daisy,” he tapped the daisy flower on the page, “Daisies were also her favorite flower, so I thought…”

“It’s so beautiful…” she whispered, then grabbed his hand, desperately searching his face, “Can I really use it as a name?”

Shon’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand was hot, and he felt his power flow to where she touched, cooling his skin and making it tingle. Even before his power had awakened, everyone else had gotten colder the longer he touched them. As if he were pulling the warmth from them.

Her heat seemed unending.

Even more transfixing was the desperation in her eyes, which were dark blue and slit, like the pseudodragon's, who had crawled from her lap onto his journal and was studying the other flowers. Finally, Shon managed a nod, adding, “You can have whatever name you want. It’s yours.”

She looked at the flowers again and whispered, “Lily…” she seemed to chew it over for a moment, then smiled. And Shon realized all those before hadn't been in true happiness. This was her first real smile. “Lily.” her joy lit up the darkening sky and caused Shon’s heart to race, making up for its lost beats, “My name is Lily!” Lily pulled his hand closer to her and gripped it with both of hers, “Thank you. Oh wow, thank you, Shon!”

He could bask in that smile for hours. He stared at her, trying to memorize every line. Then she finally looked down at his fingers, and her brow furrowed. Oh no…

“It doesn’t hurt?” she asked.

Shon pulled away from her, looking away so he wouldn’t have to see her rub her palms on her dress, “No.” he answered shortly. She'd held his hand longer than anyone even before his awakening, but she'd been distracted by picking her name. She was probably freezing now…

He didn’t want to see her trying to warm her fingers after holding his, so instead, he focused on his journal, pushing the pseudodragon gently off so it wouldn't scratch the papers, then slowly working the page with the flowers out of it.

The breeze picked up, and Shon ran his hand through his hair, stealing a glance Lily's way. Her eyes were closed and she'd turned to face the wind again, “Refreshing…” she whispered.

He sighed. He could still feel her hands wrapped around his, a phantom memory he would just have to hope would last. Shon held out the drawings to her. She blinked at them, then at him, then back down to the page again. “You can have it,” he told her.

Lily hugged him.

Shon stiffened instantly. He'd never been hugged like this before. She smelled like cinnamon… Before he could fully register the sensation, Lily pulled away and took the page carefully with just her fingertips, “I will treasure it…” Shon felt himself blush, looking away to try and hide his face. Luckily Lily didn't seem to notice because she asked, "What's its name?"

Shon turned to look at her questioningly, only to see her tilting her head down at the pseudodragon. Shon's blush deepened. She was so happy to have a name, and now he had to tell her, "It doesn't have..." shame burned his cheeks, and he actually flinched when she looked at him in shock.

"You're not going to make it come up with its own, are you?"

"I... I just haven't..." Shon stuttered around for an excuse, but he really didn't have one, "I didn't think about it..." he finally finished, defeated.

He expected Lily to get upset, maybe chastise him, but instead, she just clapped her hands and smiled, "Well, we can fix that now." reaching down, she scratched the little dragon's chin, "Any ideas?" the pseudodragon purred, then climbed back over to her lap, wrapping its long tail around Lily's forearm so she couldn't pull away from the scratches.

"Pest," Shon mumbled.

Lily giggled, "That's not a name," she tried to stop scratching only to have it reach up and grab her fingers, forcing it back to its chin with both clawed hands. She giggled again, "Could be a nickname, though." the little dragon huffed but still wouldn't let her stop petting it.

"Pest..." Shon told it directly. Feeling jealous; the realization almost made him blush again. He was doing an awful lot of that all of a sudden.

"Well, it's a tiny dragon..." Lily mused, "So maybe something in draconic?"

Shon arched an eyebrow at her, but Lily just tilted her head at his unspoken question. "Draconic? Isn't that a dead language?" dead with the dragons who spoke it, he asked.

"You mean you don't speak it?" she answered with her own questions, "How do you read books written in it if you can't speak it?"

Shon shook his head, "I don't know of any books written in draconic..." he was becoming more confused by Lily every moment. The provinces all had their own ancient languages, but learning it these days was only an old tradition. No one actually used it. And yet the ones who'd held her, the ones who hadn't given her a name, had taught her a second language? A dead language?

"That's so weird..." Lily said, looking back out over the horizon. Just when Shon was sure she wasn't going to say anything else, she hopped a little in her seat, shaking the pseudodragon in her lap, "What about Ryuuko?"

Once again, Shon's eyebrow went up and Lily explained with a giggle, "It means 'little dragon.' Not very creative, I know, but if it likes it..." she dipped her head, lifting the pseudodragon's face to her nose, "Do you like it, little one? It's a bit feminine with the 'ko' at the end, but..." the little dragon licked her nose and Shon felt a wave of approval from the creature.

"I think it likes it." He told Lily as she laughed, pulling the pseudodragon in for a real hug, rubbing her cheek along its scaled neck.

Around them the bells sounded at full volume. Shon and Lily covered their ears, and Ryuuko took off, flying in circles around the bell tower, chittering angrily at being surprised. Lily laughed, but Shon could only hear the resonating rings shaking him from his head to his toes as the bells counted out the hour.

When the last bell faded, Lily dropped her hands, her laugh turning to a snicker, “I suppose that means it’s dinner time.” her smile faded, disappearing over the course of a few heartbeats, “I should probably get back to my room…” she clutched the page Shon had given her to her chest as if afraid it would be snatched from her fingers.

Ryuuko landed on Shon's shoulder as he stood, and Lily slowly lowered her feet back to the ground as if heading towards a hangman’s noose. It had been at least six days since the incident that brought her to Hamerfoss. Had she been eating in the infirmary all this time?

Shon arched an eyebrow at her, and Lily met his expression with a confused tilt of her head again. Shon asked, “Come to dinner with us?” and Lily’s smile lit up the night.