#melusine of the sunlit song

[ascalonsmercy]

my haldrath & melusine commission from @/Ya__n1n from crepe . i'm still overwhelmed with this + accepting a new j ob today i need time to recover i

[ascalonsmercy]

9/05: BARBAROUS.

adjective: savagely cruel; exceedingly brutal.

rating: t

characters: prince haldrath, mélusine of the sunlit song

tags: post-tharl oom khash, the dawn of the dragonsong war, reincarnation, past-life, u can hear my heart being thrown across the room & shattering into a thousand pieces

summary: i’m already missing you when i shouldn’t be.  

wordcount: 465

Mélusine knows they can be cruel.

Both of them—for all the youth and vigor that is alive and well in her she has seen things that his kin could merely glimpse in their short lifetimes. Both dragon and man were capable of reprehensible things…things that became anecdote, parable, warning in the coming years to a century.

But now she stood on the riverbank—the tall looming trees and their gnarled, intertwined roots where the ground sloped and gave way to where the water coursed ever so gentle. Now she felt none of the sparse sun touching her human flesh nor the pearlescent scales that persisted even past her glamour. She heard none of the beasts that called the Forelands their home. Nor did the wind make itself known in the stillness of even the infant branches, nor did a single ripple stir in the waters of the Whilom.

Neither sound nor song did her mother leave behind.

Yet Mélusine was full aware that the prelude to another song—this time, a roar so deafening with the chorus of her bereft kinsmen—was in the making. And they beckoned to her, to become one with it as they all had. Not one, but two thrones, he promised her, would be left vacant. Bitterly she had listened, her breath hitched and her stomach turned inwards with his face so close to her, with her mother’s blood on his breath—to still want to touch him even then—even now—feels like fingers to a fire. The exhilaration of taking him to the skies, piercing through clouds in the day and calling to the stars in the velvet of night—then, that was the love she wanted. The love that was meant to last. Young as she was Mélusine could sense her Uncle Hraesvelgr’s sorrow, veiled as disdain towards her and Haldrath. Part of it had always been true—the inevitable of her outliving her beloved, and whether or not she would be prepared for such a parting, and if she would accept the great wyrm’s alternative. She learned the hard way. A way that only a select few would have ever thought possible.. That it would still mean losing him.

In the flesh of mortals she felt vulnerable—but as a wyrm she felt vulnerable still. It was the form her mother had been in when they slaughtered her, their barbarous feast leaving her bereft on the floor of Tharl Oom Khash. It was for her eyes that they killed her, and the question with its obvious answer had followed her all the way here: to her, would they do the same?

Of all the promises the two of them had sworn to one another the last was left unspoken. 

For she had seen in his eyes that he dreaded the answer as much as she.