the thing about dragons

interlude one (I)

in which death really is the next great adventure.

part I

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warnings: death, afterlife, religion, gods (as speaking characters), existential musings, child loss, mental health issues, eldritch fuckeryTM

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Interludes are effectively supplementary materials for ttad. They will expand on worldbuilding and the goings-on outside of Lyra's scope. As of right now I'm not sure if the interludes will be only about Aemma in the afterlife and the worldbuilding relating to the gods, their past, and their reason for bringing Lyra to try to change the future, or if some will take place elsewhere.

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"You're plotting something," is the first thing Shrykos says as they sit down on the bench next to him. Balerion looks at them out of the corner of his eye. "I know you. This is your plotting face."

"You make it sound like I'm about to collapse a civilization."

"Wouldn't be the first time!"

Balerion huffs, amused, and looks at the fractured sky above them. "Aemma Arryn will die soon."

"Oh. You were at the Waytree recently?"

"Yes. Tyraxes was there, whatever she was doing, so I figured I'd ask a few questions. Maybe she saw things," he shudders. "She had. Predictably centered around Lyra, like the tree wants us to follow her future now."

Shrykos turns to look at him, eyes sad. "Don't overdo it. Meleys is still at our tails for bringing Lyra in. And don't encourage Tyraxes to go there!"

"Meleys worries too much," Balerion huffs. "Sometimes the knowledge of the future is necessary to divert the worst of it; and even if not, have you tried to stop Tyraxes?"

Shrykos face sours. They tried before. All of them tried before. They shake their head.

"But Aemma Arryn won't be influencing that future anymore. So let me ask again; what are you plotting?"

"Damn, didn't I knock you off the topic enough?"

"Never. Speak."

Balerion sighs. "I'm going to meet her."

"Personally?" Shrykos jolts up, turns to look at him. "But you—Meeting souls isn't your job? You're only supposed to make sure everything goes smoothly—"

"I'm going to ask her if she wants to come here," Balerion says, cutting Shrykos off. Shrykos narrows their eyes at him. "What? It's been done before!"

"Yes, and now Tyraxes has a minion. Do you want a minion too?"

"No! I just—I want her to be happy."

"Happy, huh," Shrykos says with a glint in their eyes. "Very well."

Balerion shudders. "It's not like that!"

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. I'll be saying 'I told you so' soon enough."

"You will not!" he protests hotly, cheeks darkening.

"Keep telling yourself that."

○

It's peaceful when she opens her eyes, even though she doesn't think it should be at all, let alone be peaceful. She gets up slowly, reveling in the newfound lightness of her body, in the lack of pain that comes with it—that she thinks should come with it. She looks at her hands, only to find them translucent and faintly aglow. A dress of misty, white gossamer hugs her body and flutters in the non-existent wind, melting into the blindingly white nothing all around her.